#having done nothing. which means his expectations r never met and whatever
Text
i think every girl should have at least one oc to project onto and make their story a cautionary tale for themself by exaggerating their own traits to the point of total destruction while learning nothing.. like here have this lesson i need but have no intention of learning. and it’s gonna ruin your life. lol
#writing#oc tag#ziggy speaks#guess it’s vagueposting about laszlo hours…he is so…#idk does this make sense#like i give laszlo my same always unsatisfied kinda feeling where i need to go out in a blaze of glory or not at all and like the need to#live our life like it’s a story or whatever#and he has that in the way of always having to be remembered and being afraid of having no affect on the world and just dying one day and#having done nothing. which means his expectations r never met and whatever#so it ends up with him realizing that it doesn’t matter that he’ll never be a constellation of his own and it’s enough to have had a#temporary impact on the world but a lasting one on the people he loves.. and that it’s more valuable to be seen for himself than being some#impersonal tragic hero#but yeah i write all that and make it fuck him up severely and i’m just like. yeah looks fun for u 😝😝 cant relate#sorry for long tags i like talking
0 notes
Text
SKZ vs. their crush
Pairing: Gender neutral Reader x Member
Word count: 3.9k
Genre: Fluff
Summary: It’s just them crushing on you
Warnings: -
Masterlist
A/n: I tried a different format this time and used bullet points rather than just making it like a full story since my brain was going crazy when I wrote this. Let me know which format you prefer and maybe I might incorporate both bullet points and the essay ones since I actually quite enjoy writing using both.
Chan
You guys only met because you knew Jeongin
The tiny babie brought you to meet his friends
Chan was smitten when he first met you
He thought you were so pretty when he saw you following behind Jeongin
“Innie,”
“Yeah?”
“Who is that?”
He wants Jeongin to introduce you two
Sensing the vibes, the maknae is more than happy to introduce you two
if he was being honest, he already knew Chan would pretty much fall in love with you immediately
Chan’s flustered when he introduces himself to you
He’s almost blubbering all over the place
You find it kinda cute but he’s scared you found him really weird
He tries to steal little moments to be with you
Like ‘accidentally’ bumping into you in the hallway
Or how he just so happens to walk into Jeongin’s room when you’re on a call with him
Or how he just so happens to be lingering around the flea market nearby your college campus
Chan takes care of you without even realising it
If you bump into each other he asks whether you’ve eaten or how your day is
He loves the way you seem to parent his friends like he does
“Jisung, put the knife down. You’re going to hurt somebody”
“Hehe, make me”
“PUT IT DOWN 〴⋋_⋌〵”
Chan’s surprised he listens to you
He loves how everyone only seems to listen if you’re the one talking too
If you’re hanging out with them at the dorms and Chan can’t seem to control everyone, you just step in
“Guys, please”
And suddenly the chaos has calmed down
Chan finds it amazing
Everyone just… stops when you ask them to
You find it amusing
It’s like watching a single dad trying to control his seven wild sons
He chases after Felix around the dorm a lot because he’s usually done something weird with Minho and Jisung
He manages to get your number using an excuse of needing you to calm down the boys
“Please… they don’t listen sometimes”
Jeongin finds reasons to push you two together
“Yay! You guys made—oH nO I ComPleTeLy foRgoT!!”
Leaves the two of you alone
He honestly just thinks you two should get together and so does the rest of the group
So they find excuses to get you two alone together
But your relationship takes f o r e v e r
Only because Chan wants to be absolutely certain that he likes you
He doesn’t want to commit to someone he’s worried he’s not sure of yet
Slowly but surely, he starts to ease into the relationship
He sends you music he thinks you’ll like
Eventually he’ll start sending you his own music
He only confesses when he’s absolutely sure he’s pretty much falling in love with you
The way he does it just wins your heart immediately if you weren’t already as whipped for him as he was
He writes a song for you (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡
Minho
Bumped into you at a dance studio he goes to often
He thinks your dancing is amazing
At first he doesn’t want to bother you
But then he’s all like “heyyyy I’m Minho”
And you’re pretty much taken away by how gorgeous the man is
Minho wouldn’t be too flustered
He would keep his cool around you
Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try to impress you with his sexy dance moves
Tries to win your heart the romantic way which doesn’t work because half the time you’re too busy dancing to actually realise he’s trying to flirt with you
“Hey, baby ;)”
“Huh?”
“Nothing”
Wonders whether he should just make a dedicated advance towards you
He likes your humour
It’s similar to his
You both just laugh at really weird stuff together
When you share your numbers, he sends you weird videos that he thinks you’ll like
Minho’s not much of a texter, but when you do get a message from him, it’s either something he’s really excited about or something really weird
Only realises he’s actually crushing on you when Changbin points it out
“Why are you so nice to them”
“Who?”
“(Y/n)”
Then Minho realises that he really likes you
Starts slowly working harder to win your heart
Helps you with your dancing
“Your body looks a bit stiff”
Buys you lunch
“I got you the lunch box from 7 11”
It’s always something you end up liking if you hadn’t tried it before
Buys you drinks from the vending machine
“What is this???”
It looks like a double shot coffee
“Energy?”
Minho doesn’t know either but you both drink it anyway
And end up being at the studio until 3 a.m. because you’re both so hyped with caffeine
Offers to walk you home if it’s getting late
“It’s not safe on your own”
“Minho, I’ll be fineeeee”
Doesn’t take no for an answer and forces you to let him
His advances work
You’re pretty much whipped for him by the time he confesses
Which Minho does by buying you flowers and bringing it to the studio
Changbin
You work at the music shop that he goes to often
When he’s browsing the CD’s and the vinyls, he spots you at the counter
His heart almost explodes when he sees you
The first thing that caught his eye was the way you were dressed
:0
Fits Changbin’s style
He’s nervous to approach you with the vinyl in his hand
Why was he so nervous?
Oh right, he was pretty much completely smitten by you
“Hi!”
He loves your voice even more
“H-Hey,”
Changbin’s so nervous
He likes your bracelets too
He thinks they’re really cool
He ends up coming back a lot and you wonder why this man needs so many CD’s and vinyls
Eventually, he builds up the courage to talk to you
Changbin comes by every once in a while just to say hi
Sometimes he just comes in to talk to you during your break
You tell him you’ve always wanted to try making music
He tells you he makes music
You’re all :0
Changbin tells you about it
And you get really interested in his music
He starts coming after your shift or during your break to play you his songs
He gets all uwu when he sees the way your eyes shine
You have him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it
Doesn’t admit that he’s pretty much whipped
Even though he visits you almost every other day
And how he buys you your favourite snacks
Or how he stays way longer than he expected to just bcs he’s talking to you
You’re just as whipped tbh
You love talking to Changbin
You like his music taste and he’s fun to be around
Confesses to you by taking you out on a date
He brings you to his studio
Shows you how he makes music
He finds it adorable how you’re so amazed by his equipment
So he teaches you whatever he can in the time you’re together
You both spend the evening just messing around
You make a short track that you’re sure sounds really off
Changbin reassures you that it’s nice
He teaches you how to layer the different tracks
And eventually teaches you how to edit them despite the few hours you have
You’re so excited
He smiles every time he looks at you
Bcs you’re so adorable he feels like he might burst
Confesses at the end of the night
“I like you a lot”
He blurts it out and it catches you slightly off guard
But you like him back so it’s fine
Ends up offering to take you to the studio anytime you’re both free
Hyunjin
Met you through Felix
Felix invited you to play a game with him and his friends
Hyunjin hears your voice the first time and he’s already curious
He thinks you’re really chill and he likes your vibe
You end up playing more games with them
He ends up wanting to get to know you more
The thing that honestly gets to him the most is the way you take every loss so lightheartedly
“There’s always another game”
You don’t rage or stress out over it
Over time, he starts spending one-on-one time with you
Until you’re both just doing literally anything else but gaming together
He denies them as dates whenever his friends ask, claiming that it’s just friend time
Until one night you’re both awake at four a.m. and talking about everything and anything
He likes the way you think
“Hyunjin, did you know that sometimes in movies, they use trash cans to replicate tiger roars”
“What???”
He likes how you’re joking talking about starting a revolution
He knows you won’t
“So, yeah, fuck capitalism!”
“Yeah!”
He loves the fact that you’re so open about what you think even if it’s something small or weird
“Mercy’s ass is so thick… for what reason…”
“She’s a video game character??”
“Felix, her ass is so thick, she could kill someone with it”
Hyunjin loves hearing you rant about your day
“And?? It’s so stupid!!”
“Calm down, (Y/n)”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, you egg!”
Hyunjin thinks you’re adorable when you’re all riled up
He finds it amusing because he likes hearing you talk
“You live there too?”
He didn’t expect to be so close to you
“Yeah, that’s how I met Felix”
He never realised you and Felix knew each other in real life
You spend more time together
Talking about whatever comes to mind until the dead of night
Sometimes you watch movies together
You stay away from horror movies because he doesn’t like it that much
But you’re always talking about something with him
The two of you are always the last to leave the call because you end up talking after games
Hyunjin asks you out without even realising it sounds like a date
“Is that a date??”
“Sure”
He didn’t even realise he asked you out until after he’s left the call
?!?!?!?!
Goes into panic mode
He just asked you out!!!!
Starts asking Felix about you
He laughs at Hyunjin but helps him anyway
Shows him what you look like on your Instagram
Hyunjin thinks you’re so pretty on your posts
When he sees you in person for the first time
He’s so taken away
You’re gorgeous
Whatever feeling he didn’t realise he had for you comes rushing in
Hyunjin loves your laugh
You spend the whole day together just walking around town
It’s nice to hear his voice when it isn’t coming out of your headphones
By the time the date’s over, Hyunjin wants more of you
So he tells you he wants to take you out again while he’s walking you home
You accept
He turns to you with a c: before asking if he can kiss you
Jisung
You’re a barista at the cafe nearby the JYPe building
Jisung was designated as the drink buyer that time by the rest of his group
If he was having trouble remembering all their orders before
He has even bigger trouble now when he sees you
YOU LOOK SO CUTE IN YOUR APRON
He freezes the moment he sees you at the cashier
“Hi! What would you like?”
Jisung’s eyes go ◑.◑
“Uhm… sir?”
“Sorry!”
He struggles to get his order out properly
But you’re patient with him and even though he barely knows you
He likes that you are
Jisung’s watching you the entire time you make his order
He can’t take his eyes off of you
You do notice it, but you find him adorable so you don’t say anything
He seems to be easily flustered
When you hand him his order, he’s still a blubbering mess
“T-Thank you…”
Your name tag says (Y/n)
So he thanks you using your name which you smile
“Have a great day!”
Jisung comes back the next day
He doesn’t even need any drinks, he just wants to see you again
When he does, he feels all fluttery on the inside
“Welcome back”
He orders a dark chocolate smoothie and an iced mocha for Minho
Minho would kill him if he found out Jisung went to the cafe without him
Jisung sits at an empty table and watches you again
The next day, the cycle repeats
And the day after that
And the day after that
Minho follows him at some point, wondering why Jisung seems to obsessed with the place
“Why do you like this place so much?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT”
Something’s definitely up with him
Minho only finds out when he sees the way Jisung’s face seems to light up when he sees you
“You like the barista, don’t you”
“WHAT BARISTA ಠoಠ”
That’s all he needs to confirm it
Minho lets Jisung order, seeing just how excited and giddy he is when he’s talking to you
Jisung’s practically bouncing up and down while you talk to him
When they leave, Minho’s all up in it
“You really like them, huh”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about >:c”
Knowing Jisung, he wouldn’t do anything about it
So Minho takes it into his own hands to bring you two together
The group is having a mini event and they need someone to serve drinks
Who else to ask other than you?
Jisung’s eyes almost bulge out of his skull when he sees you because
What are you doing here????
He’s so nervous
Minho practically shoves him your way
Again, you find him so cute that you don’t even realise he’s practically dying to know you more
“Hi Jisung!”
You learned his name over the course of him constantly coming back and Jisung just loves hearing it from you
“Hi (Y/n)”
“I can’t make anything ice blended, but I can trade if for an iced dark chocolate”
“Okay!”
As long as you make it, he’ll take it
The event comes to an end but Jisung’s pretty much spent more time with you rather than his group mates
Even they’re amused by how into you he obviously is
“Hey Jisung”
You stop him before you leave and he’s immediately at your side
“Since you keep coming over, here’s my number”
◑.◑
“Give me a call before you come in so that I can have your drink ready for you to pick up”
He’s so happy :D
He sends you pictures of cute animals and random snippets of his music
Felix
Met you through League of Legends
You have good synergy so you became friends through that
At first, he only managed to play with you occasionally
When he’s able to, he notices how you always sound so bright
“Hi Felix!”
He likes playing with you
You’re laid-back
You don’t stress over losses too much
“Ah, what to do?”
But when you’re irritated, Felix finds it funny
“Fucking asshole!”
“You were in the way, (Y/n)”
“Shut the fuck up!”
You’re so funny to him
“Felix, don’t go into bush”
“I can bait them”
“DON’T”
His character dies
“Oops ( ͡° ͜V ͡°)”
“-`д´-”
You’re easy to game with and that’s what he admires the most right off the bat
You always seem to be up for games
Even when he’s not able to play, whenever he logs into Discord he sees you’re online
Wonders whether you sleep at all
“I don’t need sleep. I am gamerrrr. Gamers don’t sleep”
“Please sleep”
“Lix, sleep is for the weak and I’m not weak”
“You passed out last night in call”
Honestly slightly concerned for you
Overtime he realises that he really looks forward to games with you
Before Felix would just go to sleep after practice or shows
But he’ll start waiting to see if you’re up for even one game
Which you always are
Slowly starts spending time with you just talking
Eventually it leads to the both of you staying up until 5 a.m. laughing at really stupid memes
During the day when Felix can’t join call
He sends you funny tiktoks and memes
You appreciate it because you like him
But you don’t admit it because you’ve never met him in person before
Until you both find out that you live only a few hours away from him
Invites you down to Seoul to spend time with him
You’re nervous
Felix is nervous
He knows what you look like
You exchanged Snapchats and started streaking a while before
He sends you funny pictures of his members
You send him selfies with random filters
But nothing could prepare him for when you appear from around the corner
He sees you appear and he’s all (゜ロ゜)
Your photos don’t do your natural beauty any justice
Is a bit of a mess when you’re walking around together
Eventually loosens up around you
Compliments you a lot and it makes you blush
You spend the day just wandering around the place
Felix takes you to his favourite places and favourite cafes
He wants to share his favourite things with you
You find it endearing
Tries to make you laugh a lot because he’s just grown to really like the sound of your voice
Since you’ve spent most of your time talking over call
Felix just loves hearing your voice
When the day’s over
He asks for more nights that aren’t just filled with games because owo he wants to do more with you
Seungmin
Bumped into you at JYPe because you were visiting a friend
Hears you singing with Yeji and he immediately falls in love with your voice
He peeks into the dance studio to see the two of you just sitting on the floor together
There’s no music
It’s just the two of you singing together
Your voice makes him :D
Seungmin leaves the two of you bcs he doesn’t want to intrude
But he ends up seeing you more often
Turns out you’re in Seoul for a while so you’re spending quite some time with Yeji
He sees you in the hallways a lot
When you walk past each other, it’s always just a polite bow
You don’t really think much of Seungmin other than the fact that you think he’s pretty handsome
Yeji teases you for that
When you’re walking through the building to look for her
You hear someone singing in one of the rooms
You peek through the glass
It’s Seungmin!
ಠoಠ
And he’s so good
You listen from outside the door
You knew he was good since he was an idol
But you didn’t think that he was that good
You don’t even realise he’s done when the door swings open and you’re standing there
When Seungmin sees you, he realises you were most likely listening
Now you’re just staring at each other like
(ﾟωﾟ;)
Because now he knows you were listening
And now you know he knows
“Uhm…”
You’re embarrassed
You’re lucky Yeji pops from around the corner and your eyes plead for her to drag you away
Which she doesn’t
“Sunbaenim!”
“Hi Yeji”
“Have you met (Y/n) before?”
You actually want to tear her apart
“Not properly, no”
“Well... “
“WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME”
You drag her away before she can say anything else
The next time you see Seungmin
You pass by him in the hallway once again while you’re looking for Yeji
“(Y/n)”
ಠ_ಠ
“We keep passing each other but we’ve yet to actually meet each other properly”
“Haha…”
“I know you were listening the other day”
“Haaahhhhhhaaaa…”
“I don’t mind that you did.”
“Huh”
You’re actually bit surprised that he doesn’t mind
“I overheard you and Yeji singing the other day in the dance room”
༼ : ౦ ‸ ౦ : ༽
“You sing really beautifully, (Y/n)”
There’s an awkward wall that takes a while before you two actually break it down
But when you do
It’s almost like you visit the building to see Seungmin rather than Yeji
She doesn’t mind since she saw it coming
Doesn’t mean she can’t tease you about it
Seungmin looks forward to having lunch with you in the cafeteria
At this point, the staff don’t even question your now daily appearance
You end up falling for Seungmin way faster than you thought possible
The feeling’s mutual
He just likes everything about you
You’re so sweet
You’re also really caring
He notices that when you follow him to the practice room where Stray Kids are
Changbin trips over Hyunjin’s legs
You’re rushing over to help without any of them really realising it
He loves how nice your voice is too
“Can you sing for me?”
You’re shook
You wonder why he wants to hear your voice specifically
“Your voice is just really nice
He realises he really likes you when you briefly disturb their practice to give Seungmin lunch
He briefly mentioned that he forgot his wallet and his lunch
Since you aren’t an idol or staff
You had to use your own money in the cafeteria
Seungmin’s heart flips at the realisation
Ends up asking you out so that you don’t have to spend so much time inside the JYPe building all the time
Jeongin
Meets you through Changbin
You went to the same high school as him and you kinda just stuck around
Changbin brings you to the dorm bcs he borrowed a hoodie
The entire dorm greets you really brightly
Jeongin’s the only one just watching in awe
He’s so shy when you wave at him
Seungmin notices and raises a brow
“I-I’m Jeongin”
“Hi Jeongin! Changbin talks about you guys a lot”
He’s so nervous
He wants to know you more, but he also doesn’t want to make it obvious that he’s taking interest in you
The others don’t really notice because they’re too excited by the new person
Seungmin, on the other hand, tells Changbin about it
Changbin now makes it his mission to bring you two together
He brings you over to the dorm more often
Especially if Jeongin’s the only one home
“(Y/n), you’ve met Innie before right?”
You nod
Jeongin’s adorable
Changbin ends up bringing you over for movie nights
Now you’re just an honorary member of the group
Everyone else loves you
Jeongin always tries to sit next to you during movie nights
Especially if it’s a horror movie
When you get scared, you hug his arm and he likes that
Makes him feel like he’s able to protect you like a big strong man ᕙ(`▽´)ᕗ
You kinda like him too
So you test the waters around him
You start talking to him more since Changbin told you he’s really shy
Jeongin slowly eases into your company
It takes a bit of time, but he’s started getting more confident around you
You visit the dorm thinking Changbin’s there because he stole your favourite belt
When Jeongin opens the door he’s all :D but when you ask where his hyung is he goes D:
Tells you he’s not home but lets you in anyway
No one else is home except for Jeongin and Chan
So you sit in the living room with Innie
You start talking about random things
You end up talking about almost everything because it turns out that Changbin’s gone way longer than both of you thought
Chan eventually emerges from his bedroom and waves at you
He orders fried chicken for you guys
You and Jeongin continue talking while eating
Chan finds it super cute
Jeongin’s playful around you
But he doesn’t want to make himself appear immature
But you like when he’s being playful so you slowly ease him into being more comfortable
He still just wants to impress you so you like him back
Wait, when did he start liking you???
He realised it when you were over for a regular movie night
You fell asleep in his lap
Jeongin thought you were so cute
When you wake up he asks you out
You accept
He cuddles you for the rest of the night and asks you to spend the night at the dorm
#kwritersworldnet#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids fluff#bang chan#lee know#seo changbin#hwang hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#chan#minho#changbin#hyunjin#jisung#felix#seungmin#jeongin#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#kpop fluff#skz x reader
490 notes
·
View notes
Text
death by a thousand cuts - asami x fem!reader
i listened to this playlist while i wrote this in case you wanna feel my pain while you read this
summary: in which you and asami fall out of love.
wc: 3.1k
a/n: good god i am so sorry
warning(s): so much angst. breakups. falling out of love. crying. there is no happy ending
based off of death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift | gif credit
breaking up with asami sato was the hardest thing y/n ever had to do.
she had never met anyone more.. perfect.
her raven hair that she loved to tangle her hands in, the emerald green eyes that sparkled whenever she smiled, her infectious laughter that never failed to brighten y/n’s day. the confidence she carried herself with was extremely attractive, and it was one of the first things that caught y/n’s eye.
she never understood her long-winded rants about engineering or what was going on in the business world, but she would listen to her girlfriend read the phonebook if it meant she could hear her talk about something so passionately. the way that she put her full heart into everything she did, the way she loved so fully, it was impossible not to fall for her.
asami was the smartest, kindest, most beautiful woman that y/n had ever met in her life, and it tore her apart to have to let her go. if someone took a knife to her heart a thousand times then ripped it out of her body, it still wouldn’t hurt as much as losing asami.
but that was the thing about falling out of love. it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t asami’s fault. it just.. happened.
and it was terrifying.
at first it wasn’t obvious. they were both college students with full lives, so they knew things were going to be busy. y/n was doing an unpaid internship at her dream job in hopes that she would be able to work her way up the ladder, while working another part time to keep herself afloat. asami had always said if she had any money troubles she would be more than willing to help, but y/n preferred to be able to support herself. she never denied an opportunity for her girlfriend to spoil her though. asami was working with her family business and it took a lot of time up as well. combine that with their classes, it was a miracle that they had any free time at all.
but they made time. any spare moment they had was spent together. they always made it back to the apartment at the end of the day, and they would stay up far later than they should’ve to make up for the time apart. whether it was cooking something together at 2am and making a mess of the kitchen or telling each other about their day or just laying together in bed in each other’s embrace while they fell asleep, they did it together.
together, together, together.
there was no better place to be. because when they were together, asami and y/n could face the world.
people envied them. hardworking women that managed to do it all, high school sweethearts that had been madly in love for years ever since they met their junior year. they danced around the topic of marriage, never fully stepping onto it, but both knew that it was something they wanted. they both thought they were going to be together till the end, so they had plenty of time before they took the plunge.
y/n didn’t know that asami looked at engagement rings in her spare time, trying to think of one that her girlfriend would love, something that would be able to express how badly asami wanted to spend the rest of her life with y/n.
asami didn’t know that y/n had a folder of numbers for wedding planners, caterers, musicians, lists of people that would work at a wedding or a reception. the thought of proposing was on her mind constantly, and she wanted to be able to express how badly she wanted to spend the rest of her life with asami.
but things started to change.
late nights got later, and they no longer ended every day at the apartment. asami had to start going on business trips — future industries was in trouble, and she had to do everything to keep it afloat. this business was her livelihood, her family’s life work, and she couldn’t let it go. y/n understood and was nothing but supportive at first — she knew who her girlfriend was, and she admired her work ethic.
but the time apart did something to them. just like their love slipping away, it wasn’t noticeable at first. small. but it grew, and the cracks started to form in their perfect relationship.
asami had been called away on another business trip, this time to the fire nation to try and negotiate some kind of deal between another company. it was taking much longer than expected, so calls like these had become a regular. they would usually start after y/n got home from work, and they would just.. be with each other. sometimes they talked for hours, sometimes they just sat and got their respective tasks done — it was easier when they knew that the other was there.
y/n was in the worst mood today. she had spent the last ten minutes ranting about the horrible day she had at work, and how she didn’t earn nearly enough to pay for the classes that she took, and textbooks should not be this expensive, and unpaid internships were bullshit. asami was being the same helpful angel as always, but for some reason y/n couldn’t stand it today.
“y/n, if you’re having money troubles, you know that i can help you. i want to help you, all you have to do is ask! you don’t have to work these insane hours and stress yourself out.”
“asami, how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t need it? how many times have i told you that i want to be able to forge my own path? i don’t- i don’t need you to baby me.” she regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. they had come out so much harsher than she meant and it was obvious by the moment of silence that it had hurt asami. they didn’t have many arguments, so when they did their jabs hit hard, even when they were the smallest of things.
“i’m not trying to baby you, i’m trying to help my girlfriend so she doesn’t have to worry constantly about money! i mean, what’s the point of having a fortune if you can’t use it to help others? i love you, y/n, and i want to h-”
“i don’t need your help, asami!” she didn’t mean to yell. she never liked yelling — the couple had always been able to work out their problems before with a level head and talking normally — but this just slipped out. the silence that followed after was deafening, and y/n let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i— i’m sorry. i have to go.”
y/n was about to hang up, but even during fights she didn’t leave without saying it. especially when her girlfriend was in another country, she couldn’t leave without saying it. “..i love you too, asami. goodnight.”
that was the first sign that things were going downhill. they never had arguments over something as petty as this — y/n wasn’t jealous of asami in any way, she was proud, and her girlfriend succeeding made her happier than anything — but lately it felt like mishaps like this were happening more and more often.
y/n passed it off as stress from the job — for some reason, asami offering to help just made her take even longer hours — but deep down, she knew. something was changing between her and her girlfriend, and she didn’t like it.
the things that she used to find endearing were now annoying. she began to tune out asami’s rants about the business world, and her confidence started to come off as cockiness. she was snapping more and more often and found it scary how easily their conversations now irked her.
the same things were happening on asami’s side. she used to love y/n’s brazenness and how she said whatever came to mind, but now it just bothered her. the independence she once admired was getting to her as well — why couldn’t she just accept her help? asami had money, she was willing to help, but she was met with the same stubbornness every time. it was tiring.
their calls that used to occur every night and last for hours became far and in between, replaced by goodnight texts and i love you’s. and even those ceased -- it wasn’t uncommon for them to go whole days without talking while asami was away. and the worst thing? it didn’t bother her. y/n used to not be able to go an hour without talking to her in some way, but now she was just.. okay with it.
asami could feel y/n slipping through her fingers, but she couldn’t do anything about it. because she was slipping away as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
they couldn’t keep going like this.
both women were ignoring the problem. it was partially out of shock, but mostly out of fear. how could they have lost their love like that? the flame that they tended together, the wild, passionate flame that was their love, had gone out. what were they supposed to do? what could they do?
asami was coming home today. y/n would normally pick her up and they would greet each other with the biggest hug and kiss, and then they would spend the entire ride home talking each other’s ears off. but not this time. this time, asami did it all herself. drove herself to and from the airport, taking the parking fees over y/n driving her. she was surprised at how much she enjoyed the silence on the ride home, but it gave her time to think. too much time to think about what was going on with her and her girlfriend.
but she already knew the answer.
asami fidgeted with the key into the apartment and pushed the door open, trailing a suitcase behind her as she walked into the empty room. “y/n?” she called, only being met with the echo of her own voice. “i’m home!”
her eyes drifted around and saw the door out to the balcony was open, y/n leaning against the railing. she looked absolutely beautiful in the moonlight, but the pang she felt in her heart was just sadness instead of happiness. and just like that, she knew she was going to have to bring it up.
they couldn’t keep going like this.
y/n turned around as she heard footsteps, her lips quirking upwards ever so slightly as she saw who it was. “hi,” she whispered.
“hi.” asami returned the greeting and she came to rest on the balcony next to her. neither of them said anything for a long time, but somehow they both knew. the statement hung in the air. five simple words, five words that would end it all. five words that neither of them could say, but both of them knew had to be said.
that was one thing about being together for this long — they knew each other better than anyone else, and they wouldn’t ever be able to forget.
“how was your trip?” y/n asked, wanting to break the silence. anything was better than standing here waiting for the hammer to drop. anything to stop those words from being uttered.
“it was alright,” asami murmured. “we secured the deal, so future industries is safe for now. i’ll probably be gone again on another business trip before you know it, though.”
“i’m happy for you.” that wasn’t a lie, but the thing that scared her was how she felt nothing knowing that asami was going to be leaving again. she wasn’t sad, she wasn’t disappointed, she just felt nothing. and that was the biggest sign yet.
both of them turned to look at each other at the same time, and y/n was almost taken aback by the pure melancholic expression asami wore. in that moment, she knew. she knew because that was the exact same expression she had when she looked in the mirror in the morning.
y/n opened her mouth to say something, say anything, but before she knew what was happening asami’s lips were on hers. her eyes shut and she instinctively pulled asami closer, hands already tangling in her hair. it was too easy to get caught up in it all again, too easy to forget. because they both wanted to forget.
y/n wanted nothing more than to stay like this. she knew it couldn’t stay like this, she knew that holding onto their broken love was unhealthy, but she just couldn’t let go. even though there was nothing behind the kiss, she just couldn’t let it go. it was the scent of asami’s perfume pervading her senses that caused her to pull away first.
y/n pursed her lips, feeling the familiar sting behind her eyes. she smiled sadly and breathed out a laugh, shaking her head in an effort to avoid eye contact. it didn’t last long. “we can’t put it off any longer. this— us. it’s over, isn’t it?”
“i’m so sorry, y/n.” y/n didn’t know if she was apologizing for kissing her or for their lost love — for all she knew it could’ve been both. her green eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and as she stared into them all the memories of the last couple years came back. years of happiness, laughter, nights spent together and waking up next to each other. “i.. i don’t know how it happened. it felt like one day, everything was perfect, and the next, i just—“
“you don’t have to be sorry, asami.” y/n took asami’s hands in her own as she spoke softly, and spirits. their hands fit together so perfectly that it hurt. “i felt it too. i didn’t want to acknowledge it, but.. i knew. i’ve known since that first phone call.”
“how did this happen?” she rasped, rubbing circles on y/n’s hand with her thumb with a far off look in her eyes. “did we do something wrong? i- i thought you were the one. i know we’re young, but i can’t see myself with anyone else. in every future i‘ve imagined, you’ve been by my side.”
spirits, that made things so much harder. that was exactly how y/n felt. asami sato had always been who she saw at the end of the tunnel, the one who she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. it was a rare feeling, the love they shared, and trying to cope with the fact that that love was gone was like trying to wake up from a walking nightmare.
“i.. i don’t know.” it seemed like the only thing she did know was that the love of her life was gone. she didn’t know how it happened, she didn’t know why it happened, she only knew that she no longer had asami sato. y/n blinked back tears and had to let go of asami’s hands. it hurt too much, knowing that she would never get to hold her hands, hold her, in the same way they used to. it hurt too much knowing that the spark was gone. she rested her forearms on the balcony, the faint night breeze blowing all around her.
“we’ll still be friends, right?” asami’s voice was faint as she came to stand against the balcony with y/n once more, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “we spent the last seven years together. that- it doesn’t just go away now that we’re no longer…” she didn’t want to say the words. saying it meant that it was real, it meant that all of this was really happening. it meant that she was really losing the girl she thought she would get to call her wife one day.
“i…” she bit the inside of her cheek. “i hope so. i sincerely hope so. but i’m going to need some time before we can be.. ‘just friends’ again.” y/n pressed one of her hands into the side of her head and shook her head. “i’ll- uh, i’ll move my things out this weekend. i have a friend i can crash with tonight and until i find an apartment.”
“yeah, of course. of course— as much time as you need.” her voice cracked on the last word and asami swallowed hard. “if you need any money, you can ask-”
“asami.” y/n hated how her name sounded on her lips now. it used to be so full of love, happiness, a reminder of every good thing in the world. now it just reminded her of what she no longer had. it felt empty.
she wished she felt something. y/n knew it wasn’t fair to asami, but yelling and screaming at her would’ve made her feel better than this emptiness behind her heart. anything would be better than this nagging feeling in her chest.
she stopped talking and they faced each other, so close but worlds apart. asami’s hands itched to reach for y/n’s again, and y/n wanted nothing more than to find herself in asami’s embrace again. before they knew it, they were both leaning in.
their lips met again in one final kiss, one final plea to all the spirits that their love would suddenly come back. that the butterflies, the electricity, the almost overwhelming happiness would re-emerge; that this was all just a cruel misunderstanding and that they could go back to being together. but as y/n pulled away, she felt nothing. and she knew asami felt the same way.
a single tear trickled down y/n’s cheek as she stared in the eyes of her former love with a sadness that words couldn’t begin to describe.
“i’ll always love you, asami sato.”
“i’ll always love you, y/n y/l/n.”
the whispered declarations were more like goodbyes, and as y/n walked back into the house, wiping away rapidly falling tears, asami was doing the same as she gazed up at the moon. their thoughts mirrored each other’s.
“why did it have to be us?”
#legend of korra#the legend of korra#lok#tlok#tlok blurb#tlok fic#writing#asami#asami sato#asami sato x reader#asami x reader#legend of korra fic#the legend of korra fic#sadie writes
148 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Lucien Headcanon
Right so this is the first time I’ve done this in years years years, but since the only talent I can claim besides acting (and I can hardly post a Lucien monologue) is an appreciation for words, this is how I can participate in Lucien’s week.
Here is my little headcanon @lucienvanserraweek.
Lucien kept his eyes to the fire burning, his hand around a glass with hard liquor, Vassa and Jurien were off doing what between themselves - the only ones who thought they were stealth were both of them-. He cherished the silence right now, nothing but the fire burning to accompany his thoughts. It was not unusual for him to visit Velaris, after he still worked for them, and why deny it he enjoyed seeing The Cursebreaker and his mate - stalemate filled with longing-.
Velaris always sat on his shoulders for a time after each visit, sometimes he could shake it off after a few hours, sometimes, sometimes it took longer. The mortal queens, Vassa’s curse, Koshei, Hybern, uniting Prythian, court politics, his mate, his friend, secrets, alliances, power, Nesta Archeron: no wonder he needed that drink. However the fire suggested only another topic of conversation.
Cauldron! it had been ages since he thought of his name without feeling distaste and anger coming only from deep sense of betrayal. The last few months he thought of him as an ally, which was indeed a step forward, but ally did little to add warmth to his name when he thought about centuries past when his name could only bring forth a secrete smile and eagerness, maybe even love if he let himself be truthful about him for a change.
Rhysand
Mother be dammed Rhysand! And a smile crept up on his face. Lucien wondered what their earlier versions would think of their situation now. He was going to be a father, mated with the one who saved them all, and he himself, mated to her sister. The Cauldron certainly had an odd sense of humor.
The fire took him to paths he had not walked on for more time than he can actually remember. Nonetheless the memories were waiting for him as bright as the day they had been made. Dancing through his mind, the first meeting when his father brought him along to stay with the Lord of the Night and his court in an effort to make amends and strengthen an alliance based solely on a power fed only by a wicked ruthelesness.
There he was, seeing him had been like stepping off a cliff.
Rhysand the first born of the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand in his black clothes staring at him across from the table during the feast. Rhysand smiling as a challenge when he entered the meetings. Rhysand with eyes dancing in starlight. The fire to the night, a hand brushing past the other. The court inviting him further and further. A challenge, one that came in a purple gaze. A challenge met, returned in a bright red agains the dark pillows.
Had it only been the nights, but the days too. Days in libraries, in treasure rooms. Hours of conversation laced with drinks. Lucien putting Rhysand against the bookshelves when no one was looking, eyes falling to the lips, hand traversing low low lower. Careful prince of autumn, you cannot treat an heir like this. Should i kneel before you then you highness?.
A week gone by in a haze and it all had his name. Confusion laced with expectation because no agreement, no further promise had been made, but Lucien knew and so did Rhysand. Their eyes could not shine like this if they had not known.
Lucien remembered all then. He remembered Rhys.
Rhys who taught him about astrology, Rhys who had read the same books as him; Rhys whose fascination with history was thankful for Lucien’s long talks about wars and emperors gone by; Rhys with the curiosity to learn the Autumn Court’s dialect; Rhys who listened, Rhys who understood; Rhys who would meet him up in his own court, in the the woods, in the Day Court, Winter Court; Rhys who had tried and failed miserably to braid his hair; Rhys who started wearing suits with a subtle golden and deep red embroidery; Rhys who always held something back; Rhys who always danced between a mask and bare skin; Rhys who couldn’t simply be with Lucien; Rhys who could only offer him stolen moments.
What’s a week when you’re immortal. What’s a year of hidden weeks, hidden hours. Had it only been the nights, but it had also been the days.
Maybe he wanted more or at least the possibility of more, more than weeks, more than the masks, more than double meaning. Maybe he had wanted it all. To see where no one else could, to catch more than just the glimpses of what lay underneath the wicked game Rhysand played. He had known it, in his heart he had known that Rhys was more and he wanted it all to be his present.
It was hard to hold on to an ethereal proof when after it all ended the masked settled in, the borders tightened and the performance picked up. When rumors started flying about the new High Lord of the Night Court; when whatever performance Rhys loved to put on for everyone else became the only face Lucien saw of him. Cauldron it had been hard to believe who he had known. It had stung. Deep betrayal: now Lucien was part of the charade, part of the audience.
The fire crackled startling Lucien. The Cauldron certainly has an odd sense of humor because now, Lucien admitted, now he had seen all of the picture he had craved to see centuries ago even without knowing exactly what the brushes would create: Velaris, his wings, his true court, his house, his library, his unrestrained smile, his morning look when he has breakfast, hell he even had seen him celebrate solstice and starfall. Now Lucien had seen and understood everything he ever wished during those years of his youth.
There you are, Lucien thought allowing the smile to claim his face again. There you fucking are... better late than never.
Still he could not help but wonder, had he arrived on time, had Rhys shown this when it would have made a difference for them...well who knows. They certainly never will. Time, he knew, was wicked like that. But never as wicked as the first time Rhys looked him in the eyes.
#Lucien Vanserra#Rhysand#Rhycien#Headcanon time#Not me dipping my toes again to this fiction writting world#apologies to all#I wish I could say i edited this but I think we all know who we are dealing with#Feysandfeelspost#My Headcanon#LucienVanserraWeek#speaking about bi!Rhys#Bi!Rhys
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Art of Inversion
Neil x Reader
Chapter 24 - If You Want Me...
Masterlist; Chapter 23
Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.
Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.
Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3
The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.
Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.
“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.
Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?
“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”
The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:
“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.
Interesting.
“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.
It was probably longer. But he need not know that.
“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.
The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.
“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.
TP snorted at your comedic timing.
“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.
“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.
The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.
“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.
Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.
“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.
Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.
“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.
The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.
“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.
An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.
“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.
It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.
“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.
In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.
“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.
There is a first time for everything.
“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”
Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.
“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”
Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?
Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.
“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.
“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.
The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.
“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.
Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.
“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.
Yep, too far. Still true, however.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.
“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.
You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:
“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.
Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…
“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.
That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.
“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.
A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.
“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.
Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.
“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.
You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.
“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.
But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.
“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.
That caught his attention.
“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”
The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.
“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.
Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.
“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.
Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.
“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.
Please buy the bullshit.
“Are you?” he didn’t.
Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…
“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”
It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.
“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.
As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.
“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.
As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:
“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.
“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.
Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?
“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.
“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.
You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.
“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.
“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.
That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?
“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.
“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.
Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:
“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.
“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.
“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.
MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.
“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.
***
You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.
The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.
You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:
“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”
There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.
“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.
There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.
“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.
Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.
“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.
With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.
“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.
“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.
“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.
You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.
“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”
Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.
***
Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?
The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.
“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.
You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.
“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.
An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.
“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.
Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.
“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”
It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…
“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.
You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.
“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.
She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.
“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.
That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.
“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.
There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.
“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.
There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.
“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.
You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:
“How do you know?”
There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:
“Let me tell you a story,”
You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.
“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.
You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.
“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.
Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.
“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god
You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.
“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.
That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.
“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.
You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.
“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.
Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.
“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”
Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:
“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.
It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.
“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.
It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:
“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.
One that you did not hesitate to take.
“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.
“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.
Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?
“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.
“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.
It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.
“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.
A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.
***
You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.
The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.
Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:
“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.
He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds.
What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.
***
No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.
Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.
There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…
The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…
“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.
The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.
“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.
But that was not the most infuriating bit…
“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.
Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:
“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.
As expected. But it still hurt.
That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…
Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.
“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.
A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.
“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.
He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.
“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.
The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.
“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.
You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.
“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.
Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life.
But you could never say that to him.
“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.
Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.
“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.
That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.
“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.
He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.
“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.
The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:
“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.
You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.
“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.
Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:
“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.
Easy question… right?
“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.
He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.
“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.
The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.
“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”
You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:
“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.
As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.
“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.
You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:
“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”
No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…
“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.
That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.
“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.
You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.
“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.
The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.
“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.
One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.
“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.
Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.
“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.
It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.
“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.
Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.
“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.
Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.
“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.
He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.
“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.
You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.
“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.
As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.
“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.
After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:
“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.
You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:
“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.
Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…
“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.
It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.
“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.
Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.
“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.
Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.
“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.
“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.
He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:
“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.
“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.
You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.
“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.
You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…
“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.
It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:
“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.
You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.
“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.
But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.
You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.
#tenet#neil tenet#neil x reader#neil tenet x reader#neil tenet imagine#neil tenet fanfic#tenet fanfic#robert pattinson#the art of inversion
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
Country Side Vacation (2/2)
Rating: R (AO3: E)
A.C.E Junhee x Reader x A.C.E Donghun
Word count: 3.3k
Genre: smut, romance
CW: smut, mentions of overstimulation, threesome, friends with benefits, a bit of unnamed ex bashing xD
Request: Ok so this is random and it just came to me and I just thought I need it from you bc you’re the only one I know who wrote Poly- So basically can I request something where it’s like you and all of ace are friends and there’s a water fight or whatever that you walk in on and coincidentally you’re wearing a white shirt and it becomes see through but you don’t realise and join the water fight and then ace get flustered and it’s just a nerve war and teasing back and forth and some spice and ty ❤️
Splash. The cold water brought you forcefully back to the present, to Junhee’s parent’s yard and the water gun fight that had escalated while you had been daydreaming.
There was a sudden silence as the five guys looked at you in shock. Sehyoon had not moved from the spot where he had swung the contents of the bucket at you. Chan who had been the intended recipient apologized.
“Oh no! I’m sorry!”
Junhee ran up to you but tripped and stumbled on the way.
“I guess Sehyoon thought you needed a shower.”
Donghun’s eyes sparkled mischievously.
“Oh, ha. Ha.”
You felt annoyed because of his taunt. It should not aggravate you as much as it did. Yes this was why you had never made a move on him. He had a cruel streak to him. An ability to put the finger where it hurt most.
“I will get you a change of clothes. Come!”
Junhee had composed himself, buttoned up his shirt halfway, which made it look even more inviting to take it off and gestured towards the house.
Inside it was cooler and you shivered. Junhee led you up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. There were not a lot of personal items here so you guessed this was a guest room. He opened the closet door and rummaged for something you could wear.
“Here.”
In his outstretched hand were a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Both look too big for you. Were you imagining it or was he a bit nervous?
Something soft and heavy landed on your head. You flinched.
“You will need one of these.”
Donghun’s hands rubbed the towel over your wet hair as Junhee watched, biting his lip.
“You really need to get out that shirt.”
The low whisper made a shiver run down your spine. He wants me to take off my clothes? An arm wrapped around your middle and you suppressed a gasp.
“It’s almost transparent after all. Now what do we do when the others see you.”
You were stunned. All thoughts had vacated your mind. There was only the heat of Donghun’s hand on you and the soft towel on your head. Was that his breath on your neck?
“Hyung.”
Junhee was still there. How you could have forgotten he was in the room was beyond you. The buttons on his shirt were not properly buttoned and your fingers itched to align them as intended. Junhee and Donghun looked at each other.
“I will leave you two alone.”
Donghun’s hand disappeared and he left through the open door. You were sure your face looked like a tomato and you felt a bit bad that Junhee had witnessed it. Even though you were not exclusive by any means, or even a couple, it felt like something you should be sorry about.
Trying to pretend like nothing happened, you took off your shirt. Getting naked in front of Junhee seemed normal at this point. He had seen you clothless many times, there was no point in getting nervous now.
You loved the fabric of the shirt. It was faded blue and very soft from frequent washing.
“So what do you think?”
The clothes were not very stylish or sexy but you could not have guessed by Junhee’s expression. A blush had crept onto his face and he swallowed audibly before answering.
“It suits you.”
An old pair of shorts and a wash out tee suits me? What an odd thing to say. He looked away trying to find anything else to focus on.
“Let’s go down stairs before they break anything.”
Downstairs you found Donghun and Yuchan sitting in the shade under a tree in the garden.
“Where are the other two?”
“Getting some food. For lunch.”
For the evening Junhee’s parents had left a feast to be prepared on the grill. They had marinated meat and filled the fridge with side dishes. You were sure that you were going to explode from the amount of food you would eat later.
A huff came from Junhee.
“More like they wanna have some alone time.”
“Oh Junhee, leave them be. At least that way they don’t sneak around here.”
Donghun did not give any indication that the situation upstairs had happened. Why had he done that?
Indeed Byeongkwan and Sehyoon returned an hour later with food from the convenient store that was 5 minutes away. Judging from the faraway look on Sehyoon’s face, Junhee had probably been right about their alone time.
By the time you had eaten, it was time to start preparing dinner.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be on holiday. You just eat and sleep.”
Chan grinned and sat the bag of coals next to the grill.
“Can you do this?”
Junhee asked and gestured at the bag. He did not trust any of the guys to do it and not burn down his parents house.
“Sure.”
Coal was not your favorite but you started the fire and watched the black glaze over white. Chan sat the container with the meat down next to the grill.
“You look like a miner.”
Donghun rubbed something off your face with a disapproving frown. You had smeared coal dust all over.
“Don’t.”
You swatted his hand away. _I know I’m dirty. No need to feel superior. _
“That looks perfect.”
Junhee beamed at you after looking at the white coals in the grill. That smile could melt ice and stop wars.
“I knew I could trust you with this.”
He handed you a can of beer.
The food was delicious and you ate too much. The sun was beginning to set and it was cooler now. The leftovers compelled you to take another bit and you gave in.
You picked up a spoonful of rice and sauce. Unfortunately halfway to your mouth you got distracted and felt the impact on your shirt. You looked down and saw a chili red stain on your chest.
“Look at you, so clumsy.”
Donghun whispered next to you. Your lips trembled. Why is he picking on me so much? You shot up and stormed into the house.
_I know I’m ugly and clumsy. No need to point it out every second. _
Junhee caught your arm on the stairs. You had not even heard him calling out your name.
“Hey. Is everything alright?”
HIs brows were furrowed and his hand had tightly onto your arm as if you were at flight risk.
“I just…Donghun…”
He took two steps up which put you on the same step.
“Let’s go to my room.”
His room turned out to be the one you had been in earlier and where you had gotten the clothes.
“What is with Donghun?”
You sighed.
“He is always saying these hurtful things to me…”
Junhee studied your face and you looked away. The double bed was made which seemed surprising to you. On the other hand you had never been to Junhee’s apartment and night had he ever spent the night at your place. He had always left.
“You think his comments are hurtful?”
What a weird question. He is always making fun of me. Does Junhee not see it the same way. He stepped a bit closer and his hands came up to your shoulders.
“Is it possible that you are a bit sensitive?”
Your first instinct was to deny that you were being “sensitive” but Junhee did not seem to agree with your point of view.
“Do you… maybe… like Donghun?”
The question came seemingly out of the blue, but it made you feel even more defensive.
“No.”
It had come out too fast to be convincing and sounded more like the opposite. Which, of course, was the case. Donghun had his good moments when he was not being a brutally honest sadistic jerk. Junhee for his part was pretty naive but even he could tell you were lying. You sighed.
“I like him, okay? It’s just…. He is so… he can be… ehmm… too much. He can be kinda brutal in what he says.”
“Because you care what he thinks of you and it hurts when he is making fun of you.”
Sometimes you forgot the Junhee was good at picking up social things. He could read your mind. Or so it seemed at times.
“Yes.”
You felt like a puncture balloon, slowly deflating. It had been on your mind for such a long time that it felt odd to have said it to someone. The fact that someone else knew made your feelings more real.
“Maybe you should do something about that.”
His thumbs drew slow circles on your shoulders. Junhee was so supportive it made you emotional. Such a good soul. Never leave me.
“Junhee…”
Arms wrapped around you and next thing you knew your nose was buried in the nape of his neck. He held you tight.
“You can do it.”
His smell was familiar and immediately, unconsciously relaxed you. It was the smell of cuddling, movie nights and good times.
“I believe in you.”
Don’t make me cry, Junhee. You hugged him tighter. He kissed on top of your head and rocked you from side to side.
“Let’s go back. You can get him alone later.”
You nodded. Even though you wanted to stay in his arms you let go.
When you left the room, your heart jumped while Junhee literally jumped. There was a figure standing in the hallway next to the door.
“Hyung! You scared the living shit out of me!”
Junhee whined at Donghun. You on the other hand were more concerned with how long he had been there and, more importantly, how much he had heard.
“I’m sorry.”
“You better be.”
Junhee pouted but Donghun was not looking at him.
“I’m sorry my teasing hurt you.”
He looked down and wrung his hands.
“I actually like you a lot.”
This was not how you expected this evening to go. You were speechless.
“Donghun…”
“Sorry for eavesdropping, too”
So he had heard. Oh this is not good. What do I do?
“Can I make it up to you somehow?”
He met your eyes and smiled sweetly. It seemed like he was sincere in feeling sorry about hurting you and your heart felt warm. A warm fuzzy feeling radiated from it through your body.
“Maybe you can make her feel good?”
Junhee suggested suggestively. You turned around to look at him in shock. If someone had asked you before, if Junhee would ever suggest to someone else to fuck you, you would have said no. He had always seemed attached to you and you always thought he wanted you to himself.
“Would you… like that?”
Donghun got your attention back with his question. Would I?
“…yes.”
Your answer was quiet and breathless. Donghun looked stunning, you noted. The sleeveless shirt showed off his arms and his long hair was untied now.
“Good. Have fun.”
Junhee passed you and was almost to the stair when Donghun said: “Wait.”
Junhee stopped with his hand on the railing.
“Do you want to stay?”
He looked very confused at this question. Donghun studied your face and added:
“I think she would like that, am I right?”
It was true. Junhee felt safe and if there was a way for him to stay, you would love that. You nodded.
“If that’s okay with you, both of you, then yes I would love that.”
Your face was on fire but you had gotten that out surprisingly confidently. Junhee thought for a moment while you tried hard not to let your nervousness show.
“Okay.”
He came back and three of you entered the room you had left before. Donghun closed the door and pushed you and Junhee against it. Junhee’s back was pressed to the door, you to his chest and Donghun was behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck, hot against your cool skin, and then his lips made contact. They moved down to the nape of your neck and you gasped. Junhee, who had been taken aback, started to move too. He cupped your face and brought your lips together. It felt like coming home after a hard day. Your hands dug into the fabric of his shirt. It was thin, too thin to keep the heat of his body from escaping. Junhee was an amazing kisser, but the way his thumb brushed over your face made your heart flutter even harder. It was so tender.
When Donghun switched to the other side of your neck you sighed into the kiss, starting to feel wound up. Being sandwiched between these two guys was hot, figuratively and literally. Donghun pulled away and you seized the opportunity to get some air. Junhee’s lips were redder than before, slightly swollen. It suited him well.
You turned around and grabbed Donghun’s shirt. He let himself be pulled in, as you leaned back so Junhee was still pressed against the door. Donghun’s lips were full and warm. The kiss started a bit more tentative but he got bolder fast. You revelled in the feeling of Donghun’s tongue in your mouth and the little gasps Junhee made, when you ground your ass against his hips. It was always lovely to hear him, to the point where you suspected a little kink coming in.
Donghun pulled away when it started to get interesting.
“I think Junhee really wants to take your clothes off.”
A wicked smile appeared on Donghun’s face. You looked over your shoulder at a very flushed Junhee.
“Now that you mention it, he has been very weird since it put them on…”
He bit his lip and avoided your eyes. His shirt was asking to be unbuttoned. You ran your hands up, over his chest to his shoulders.
“Tell me.”
“You’re wearing my clothes. It’s so hot.”
There was fire burning in his eyes as he said that. You had never worn his clothes before and the thought had never crossed your mind either. Now however you felt your face burn. You agreed, it was hot.
Junhee’s hands flew to your hips and began moving up. The palms of his hands ran over your sides as he pushed the shirt up and over your head. A kiss followed, but he cut it short and spun you around.
“Take his shirt off.”
You huffed but did as he wished. Donghun was slightly more built than Junhee and your hands flew to his chest as if it was magnetic. He watched your face as you ran your hands off his hot skin. Being shirtless was the optimal way to get as much of your skin against his. You wrapped your arms around his middle and kissed his neck. He even let his head sink to the other side to give you better access. Donghun was undeniably worked up as evident by how hard he was against you.
“Tell me, how do you want to go about this?”
They had both lost their clothes and you did not know where to look. Junhee was the most gorgeous person in every room he had ever entered and Donghun with his longer hair and piercings was positively breathtaking.
“I mean don’t think we have time for …ehm I don’t know if you like it..”
“In the butt?”
You offered flatly. Poor Junhee it’s not easy for him too, today.
“Maybe Donghun can fuck me and I will take you to my mouth?”
It sounded obscene to say out loud and your face had not stopped burning since this started.
“Fine with me. Junhee?”
He only nodded with a tense face. You got on the bed deciding doggy style was the way to go today.
“Do you have condoms?”
“Yes.”
Junhee opened his suitcase and rummaged inside. Donghun used the time to run his hand down your back to your ass and give it a squeeze. His fingers came down to your clit and he circled it. A sigh escaped you and you let your head sink to the mattress as he continued to rub it. One finger entered you, curled up inside and left too soon.
“Here.”
Junhee sat on the bed by your head. He patted your hair and you came back up to your hands.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, start already,” you whined.
He did not waste any more time and pushed in. You moaned at the wonderful feeling of being filled. This whole day had put you on edge and now it was finally paying off.
“You feel so good Hunnie. Don’t stop.”
His rhythm faltered when you said that. I hit a nerve, haven’t I?
“Fuck me harder, Hunnie.”
He grunted disapprovingly but his thrusts came harder now. You did not know if it was the nickname or something else that he liked. Junhee sat on the bed watching with an uncomfortable looking erection. It was hard to hold yourself up on one hand, so you got down on your elbow and used your other hand to stroke Junhee. He closed his eyes and bit his lips, so he did not see it coming when you took him into your mouth. His hips jerked and it took everything from him not to thrust up.
Donghun had slipped out when you had moved forward without warning. He ran his tip down to your swollen clit and back up, circling your entrance just to make you go insane.
Unfortunately you could not say anything about that because you were busy with Junhee. When he finally pushed back in, it was with a pace that was neither fast nor slow, but made up for it with force. You moaned and had to get your mouth off Junhee who was breathing very controlled. That, you had seen before. He was closed but did not want to come yet.
“Junhee, let me hear you, please.”
The control he had on his breathing broke and he moaned as stroked him. You clenched around Donghun at the sound, breathy and beautiful.
“Oh, Junhee, so good, so gorgeous, don’t stop.”
He shuddered at the praise and moaned again, louder this time. The sound almost pushed you over the edge. Almost.
You rested your head on his thigh and watched as he calmed down.
Donghun leaned forward and his breath tickled your neck.
“Do you want to turn around?”
“Sounds good.”
While the doggy style had been enjoyable, it was also unlikely for you to come in it. Donghun’s face was tense and his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, when he entered you again. This time you were on your back and wrapped your legs around his hips. He let you control the pace and settled for kissing your chest. His tongue ran over your nipple and you flexed your inner muscles for more friction. You were so close now, your fingers tangled in his hair and legs guiding him into the perfect pace. His moan came so unexpectedly. He had been very quiet before but now his wonderful voice came out. You came to his moan in your ear.
A few erratic thrusts later he collapsed on top of you.
Epilogue
Chan had his arms crossed and glared as you exited the house into the garden. A sour expression on his face. He sat completely alone in front of a dwindling camp fire.
“Seriously?”
He pouted but instead of funny it looked hurt.
“Everyone is off, having sex and I’m here alone.”
“Chanie..”
He looked away sulkily as Donghun tried to contain the damage.
“Maybe.”
You sat down on his lap which caught him by surprise.
“Maybe next time you say something beforehand.”
His hair was beautifully soft and twisted a finger in it. Mouth wide open he could not say a word.
A/N: I hope you liked it anon :))
#ksmutclub#a.c.e smut#A.C.E donghun smut#Donghun x reader#Jun x reader#star writing#request#kpop smut#a.c.e fanfic#A.C.E x reader#A.C.E jun smut#queue
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Broken Things 2/24
by: mldrgrl
Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall
See Chapter 1 for summary and notes
Mulder blinks in surprise at the widow’s sudden dismissal. He’s overwhelmingly concerned for the welfare of this woman he’s just met and he has no idea what to do about it, but he does know he can’t just leave her here.
Moments ago he was looking around this house, thinking that it might just crumble around them where they stood. The place looks to be already abandoned, far worse than when Old Man Goodwin was living here, and he wasn’t much of a housekeeper. There are no furnishings. No dishware or pots and pans that he can see. No lamps. Not a knick knack or vase of flowers. She has nothing. Less than nothing, really, and he finds that to be unbearable.
The only thing Mulder knows about the widow, Katherine, is that she’s well-spoken and has been educated. Somewhere along the way there has to have been a fall from grace. Life has handed her a raw deal, that much he can gather, but there’s a spark of determination in her to keep her head above it all. She’s utterly captivated him and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let anything happen to her.
A wild idea pops into his head and he’s never been one to pass on a whim, wild or not. His gut tells him what he’s thinking might be crazy, but he’s followed his gut on crazier notions before and he’s learned to trust his instincts.
“Marry me,” he says.
“I’m...sorry?” Katherine asks. Her right eyebrow lifts into a perfectly peaked arch and he’s never found anything so endearing in his life.
“Hear me out before you object.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do you have a copy of the lease your husband signed?”
“I do.”
“May I see it?”
She hesitates for a moment, but then turns and moves to the back of the room. She reaches under the bedstead and returns with a tattered bible which she thumbs through and takes out a folded scrap of paper. He takes it from her, unfolds it, and then reads it.
“This is good,” he says. “Exactly as I’d hoped. Your husband signed a five-year lease with an option to purchase at the end of the term. Do you know if he has a will?”
“None I’m aware of.”
“And there are no children?”
Her lips part on a breath and then she closes them again and swallows before answering. “I am unable to have children.”
“I see.” He folds the lease agreement back along the original creases and hands it back to her. She slips it into the pages of the bible again. “Well, in the absence of any will, you would be the sole beneficiary. If we were to marry, I would assume your assets as well as your debts. I can pay what’s owed and if Mr. Skinner will allow it, make good on the option early. And you do know that it would also mean that what I own becomes yours as well.”
“I am quite certain you could own this land without marrying me.”
“That’s true I probably could. But, then where would that leave you?”
“I haven’t quite solved that particular problem yet, but you certainly don’t need to concern yourself with it.”
“Oh, but I do. Now that I know you, I can’t leave you here. You’ll be removed from the property soon enough and with no people to come for you or to return to...well, I couldn’t stand by and see that happen. My conscience would not allow it.”
“I could find work.”
“Out here? The only spot in town that would hire you is a house of ill-repute. Unless you plan to walk to Fort Worth, and even then there aren’t a lot of...look, I bet you know how to mend things? Cook some? Clean?”
“Of course.”
“I would offer you a job in that respect, but towns are small and people talk. If I take you on as a single woman to a ranch with six men about, people may think something improper was going on and that would affect business.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Mr. Mulder.”
“All my friends just call me Mulder. You might not be my responsibility, but I happen to like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re smart and you’re kind and I enjoy speaking with you. And I know you don’t deserve to be put out on the street with nowhere to go and no people to turn to.”
She looks down and away from him and he moves his hand out to lift her chin, but thinks better of it and doesn’t touch her. He knows horses a lot better than he knows people, and hardly knows a thing about women, but she reminds him of a spooked colt and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her and cause her to retreat. Horses will hurt themselves out of fear, and she just might do the same.
“Think of it as a business arrangement,” he says. “You will be in charge of the household duties, and if you ever decide you’d like to leave, I will be sure you’ll go with the value of this land in your pocket.”
“Cooking, cleaning, mending,” she mumbles. “What else might you be expecting?”
“I’m not looking for sport, if that’s what you’re thinking. I told you, there’s a house in town and If it was sport I was after, there are certainly far cheaper alternatives. Excuse me for being blunt.”
“No, I appreciate your honesty.”
“You can trust me.”
“I’d like to believe that.” With her head still lowered, she reaches up and brushes the side of her hand across her eye. “What if one day you find a woman you actually wish to marry? Start a family. What would happen then?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a singular focus and nothing else matters to me. But, if you should wish to marry, one day-”
“I won’t,” she says quickly, and firmly, shaking her head down at the floor. “I do not wish to marry again. I mean...aside from what you’re proposing.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You would really do all of this for a bit of land?”
“It’s good land.” He pauses and twists his lips for a moment or two. “But, as I’ve told you, it’s not just for the land.”
She finally glances up at him, but then quickly looks away again.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asks.
“I believe God has a plan for everyone.” Her brows furrow. “But, fate? Logically, I would have to say no.”
“One of my horses threw a shoe today. I wasn’t supposed to go into town this morning, and yet I did. If Faithful Jenny hadn’t thrown that shoe, I wouldn’t have been in town and I wouldn’t have found out about your husband. If I hadn’t found out about your husband, I wouldn’t have ridden out here. If I wouldn’t have ridden out here, I wouldn’t have met you.”
“But, if you weren’t away on business, you could have had this land six months ago, as you said.”
“Exactly my point. If I had purchased this plot six months ago, you never would’ve shown up here. I think this is meant to be. I think this is fate.”
“I don’t know about that, but...may I have a day to think this over?”
“Of course you may. And please, let me take you away from here. There are coyotes and bears that are apt to prowl around at night and this door doesn’t look very stable. Not to mention the drifters that pass through and the Indians that roam about, though they won’t usually do you any harm unless provoked. Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me now.”
“Wouldn’t that look improper?” she asks, and her brow quirks again, only this time it feels a little more playful.
“Yes, Ma’am, it would, if I were to bring you home. I was planning on setting you up in town.”
“Surely not to the house of ill-repute?”
He smiles, glad that she’s in good enough humor to engage in a bit of banter. “John Byers and his wife Susannah operate the mercantile in town. They also have extra room since their boy, Franklin, has gone off to school. When I tell you that Susannah would be delighted for a lady friend, it might be an understatement.”
“If I leave with you, what if Mr. Skinner shows up?”
“I’ll handle Skinner.”
↭
Leaving with this stranger will not be the most rash thing she’s ever done, but it will be high on the list amongst the impetuous things she has done in her life. There’s something about him though that calms her insecurities and makes her feel like she can trust him. Besides, there really doesn’t seem to be any other option except to sit and wait to be evicted.
“Bring with you whatever you might need for a short time,” he tells her. “We can come back with a cart for anything else.”
But, there is nothing to come back for once she packs her nightgown, her bible, a tin cup, a broken hair comb, and a deerskin blanket into a burlap sack she’s been toting for the last few years. He looks at the sack and then at her and around the small sod house as if he’s waiting for more possessions to magically present themselves.
“This is everything I have,” she tells him.
“Alright then.” He nods and puts his hat back on.
His horse is very fine looking. Yellow, with a white mane. It whinnies when it sees him and he scratches it under the chin and rubs its nose. For a moment, it almost looks as though they’re holding a private conversation, with the horse nodding and whinnying and Mulder whispering softly to it. The horse scrapes a front hoof into the dirt and Mulder pats it gently on the shoulder.
“This is Blondie,” he says, smiling as he turns to her. “I was letting her know to be on her best behavior while you’re on her back. Do you ride?”
“I’ve ridden some when I was younger. I can walk, though.”
“We have to cross a creek up a bit and you’ll be safer and drier up here. Don’t worry, she’s nice and gentle. I’ll lead her. All you have to worry about is sitting straight and not falling off.”
“And getting up.” She eyes the stirrups on the saddle and estimates they’re at least as high as her shoulders.
Mulder chuckles and takes the sack from her. She notes the consideration he takes in placing it down on a patch of grass a few feet away and doesn’t drop it in the dirt. He comes back very close to the horse’s side and lunges forward a bit and slaps his knee.
“Go on and grab the saddle horn with your left hand and step on up with your left foot. You may have to lift your skirts a bit to throw your leg on over.”
It takes her three starts to gain the momentum to hoist herself up. She does what he tells her to though and gathers her skirts up. She knows she should be embarrassed by the holes in her shoes and that she has no stockings, but she lost the ability to care about such things a long time ago.
“Well done,” he says, and then passes the sack up to her. “I’m going to adjust these stirrups to fit and we’ll be on our way.”
He works the buckles and straps swiftly and expertly and apologizes for touching her ankle when her foot momentarily gets in the way. After he’s done, he brings the reins down over the horse’s head and turns it away from the house. Katherine realizes, once they’re some ways away, that she never even had the thought of turning back for a last look.
He tells her about the potential he sees in the land as they walk. He tells her about the corral he’d like to put up and how he would like to expand his business of training horses.
“You’re not from here,” she says at one point when he’s lost in his rambling.
“No, I grew up back east. Massachusetts.”
“How did you come to be so interested in horses?”
“Hand down that sack and hold on tight here, we’ll be crossing the creek and the horse could slip.”
She gives him her burlap bag and holds firm to the horn of the saddle. He throws the sack over one shoulder and guides the horse towards a small embankment and then tests the footing before they cross. She’s barely jostled by it. He stomps his boots once they’re back on dry land and hands the sack back up to her.
“That’s my girl,” he says, patting the horse lightly on the neck. The horse snorts and its ears twitch. “That creek was the dividing line of our properties.”
“Perhaps not for long.”
“Hopefully.”
The faint aroma of fire is in the air and she can see a thin curl of grey smoke in the distance. She sees Mr. Mulder breathe deep and then smile broadly.
“Looks like Melvin has noon dinner on the stove,” he says. “We’ll eat before we head into town.”
She doesn’t tell him, but she hasn’t eaten for almost three days. The pump behind the house gave plenty of water, but their food stock was depleted even before her late husband left last Saturday. She was able to boil some dandelions for a couple of days, but quickly ran out of matchsticks. Her stomach clenches and her mouth waters at the thought of food.
“So, you want to know how I came by the horse business,” he says.
“Mmhm,” she murmurs.
“When I was five years of age, there was a cholera outbreak in Boston. My parents, in their wisdom, felt that the city was unsafe for their children and they sent us away to live with my father’s dowager aunt at her country estate.”
“Was that difficult? Being away from your parents?”
“Not at all, actually. Auntie was a great lover of the outdoors and of children. She cared for my sister and I like we were her own, spoiled us as though we were as well. She gave me a little pony with a little cart for my birthday and that’s where it started, I suppose.”
“What happened when you went back to Boston?”
“Ah, well. I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?”
“The cholera took my mother. My father was not as equipped to care for children as Auntie was. He allowed my aunt to adopt us and then he eventually remarried and I have a younger stepbrother named Jeffrey who I don’t know much about except that he’s probably of the age to start college soon enough.”
“And what about your sister?”
“Her name was Samantha.”
“Was? Oh. I’m sorry to have-”
“You do not have to apologize.” He stops the horse and looks up at her. “It was a long time ago. She was eight when she passed on. Smallpox. She loved horses even more than I do. Blondie was actually her horse. Of course, she was a bitty little filly at the time, but Sam made me promise to take care of her, and I have. She’s been with me nigh on thirteen years now.”
Katherine doesn’t know what to say to this. The small smile Mulder gives her after he stroke’s the horse’s cheek is a sad one. It’s a painful reminder of the grief she also carries that she’s never spoken so freely about. She’s never spoken about it at all, in fact, and she can’t ever see a time when she will be able to.
The rest of the journey to the ranch is in silence.
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Determination of Death (pt. 2/2)
Continued from here.
All of the angst. If y’all thought this was going to secretly be angst with a happy ending, well...you’ve got another think coming.
Former E/R, modern AU. CW: car accident, major injuries, discussion of end of life care, referenced major character death.
Joly led the way out of the meeting room, and Grantaire remembered only upon seeing the expectant faces staring at them from the waiting room that no one else knew what was going on. “Oh, and can you, uh, fill everyone else in?” he asked Joly weakly, unable to bring himself to look any of them in the eye. “You have my permission, or whatever.”
“Of course,” Joly said quietly. “Though you should know...they’ll probably have some opinions on what decision you should make.”
Grantaire snorted. “Your friends? Having opinions? I’m shocked, I tell you. Shocked.”
Joly cracked a small smile. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” he informed Grantaire. “It never has. Besides, it’s ‘our’.”
Grantaire frowned at his back. “Our what?”
“Our friends. Not just mine.”
Grantaire’s expression softened. “Maybe that was true before—” he started, but he broke off when Joly came to an abrupt stop outside of a hospital room door. “Is this it?”
Joly nodded. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
Grantaire’s initial instinct was to say no, but judging by the look on Joly’s face, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone with him, at least at first. “Yeah,” he said. “Please.”
“Of course.” Joly pushed the door open and held it for Grantaire, who took a deep breath before stepping into the room. It was quiet, especially compared to the chaos of the hospital; the only sounds were the beeping from the heart monitor and whooshing sound from what Grantaire assumed was the ventilator.
And there, lying on the hospital bed, more still than Grantaire had ever seen him, was Enjolras.
Even with Enjolras’s head bandaged, even with his face bruised and bloody, even with tubes coming out of him from seemingly every angle, Grantaire still would have recognized him. Every line in Enjolras’s body was as familiar to Grantaire as breathing, even now, even like this, even after so much time had passed since he had last seen him.
He crossed to him almost without thinking, drawn as always to Enjolras like a moth to a flame. But this time, Enjolras didn’t glance up at him in irritation for disturbing him when he was working, or with his expression softening when he saw it was Grantaire. He didn’t tilt his head up automatically for a kiss or roll his eyes and brush Grantaire off. He didn’t scrunch his nose and groan because the alarm clock just went off and he didn’t want to get up yet.
He just lay there, completely still, and even though Grantaire had been expecting it, had been bracing himself for it, it still knocked the breath out of him.
Grantaire reached automatically for his hand, running his thumb automatically over the bare spot on Enjolras’s ring finger where his wedding ring had once sat. He wondered briefly what Enjolras had done with it. Grantaire used to joke to anyone who would listen that he had chucked his into the ocean because good fucking riddance, but he hadn’t – his wedding ring was in the back of the top drawer of his dresser.
He had never been able to articulate why he kept it, but looking at Enjolras lying there like that, feeling the way his own heart stuttered in his chest, he thought he might’ve finally figured it out.
“He’s so warm,” he remarked absently, turning Enjolras’s hand over in his own, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Enjolras’s palm in a way that used to make the man laugh and scold him for tickling him, though there was no reaction now. “I don’t know what I was expecting—”
That wasn’t quite true. He had expected him to be cold.
He had expected him to be dead.
Sympathy was clear in Joly’s expression, and he reached out to gently touch Grantaire’s shoulder. “Are you ok?” he asked softly.
Of course he wasn’t ok – he was never going to be ok again. But he forced a smile for Joly, and jerked a nod. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, looking back down at Enjolras again. “How – how soon do I need to make a decision?”
“Like I said, we’ll retest for brain activity in a few hours. If we still see some functioning, you technically have as long as you want or need—”
“Joly.” Grantaire didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to know – Joly knew him well enough to know he just wanted a straight answer.
“But I’d recommend making a decision on withdrawal of care sooner rather than later, especially if you want to donate his organs,” Joly finished. “The sooner we can harvest them, the better the chances are that they won’t suffer any damage.”
Grantaire nodded again, and Joly squeezed his shoulder. “If you need anything, just push the call button. I’m gonna…” Joly had to pause and clear his throat. “I’m gonna go fill everyone else in.”
“Good luck,” Grantaire told him, meaning it more than he could possibly convey. Joly patted him on the shoulder once more before leaving, and Grantaire was alone with Enjolras.
He had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this.
He sat down in one of the chairs next to Enjolras’s bed without letting go of Enjolras’s hand. Part of him wanted to touch Enjolras, to run his fingers across his cheekbone or trace the line of his jaw, but the bruising and swelling stopped him.
The last thing he wanted to do was cause Enjolras any more pain than he already had.
Instead, he raised Enjolras’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles like he had done a thousand times before. “Hey Enj,” he whispered. “It’s been a long time, huh? I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but...I think given the circumstances, we can make an exception.”
Enjolras didn’t respond, and Grantaire just sat like that for a long time, holding Enjolras’s hand in both of his, completely unaware of anything else, including the tears that streamed down his cheeks.
----------
Maybe it was the fact that he’d gotten no sleep the night before, or maybe it was the unbearable emotional trauma, but at some point Grantaire must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder gently. “Hey,” Joly said, sounding just as tired as Grantaire felt. “I figured you could use some company.”
Grantaire slowly sat up, looking automatically at Enjolras, who hadn’t so much as shifted in the bed. He was still holding Enjolras’s hand, and he squeezed it once, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “I’m always happy for company, but you’ve had an impossibly long day. Shouldn’t you be getting home and getting some sleep?”
“I actually wasn’t talking about myself,” Joly said, opening the door. “I brought some other folks who want to see Enjolras.” Grantaire blinked as all of Les Amis filed in, many with telltale red eyes and exhaustion tightening their features. “Visitors are supposed to be limited to no more than four, but I figured no one in the hospital would mind. Provided, um, you don’t mind either.”
As if Grantaire could very well kick them out now that they were all in there, looking at him expectantly. “Of course not,” Grantaire mumbled, looking back at Enjolras before standing up stiffly. “Someone else can sit with him for a bit—”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Combeferre and Courfeyrac had sat down, Courfeyrac taking Enjolras’s hand, and Grantaire bit back the jealousy he had absolutely no right to feel at that.
He ducked his head as he pushed through to the back of the room, nodding in response to the few murmured greetings he got from the friends he hadn’t seen in almost as long as he hadn’t seen Enjolras. He found himself next to Jehan, who didn’t even hesitate, looping his arm through Grantaire’s and pulling him close, resting his head against Grantaire’s shoulder as if no time had passed at all.
“You doing ok?” he asked him in an undertone, and Grantaire just shrugged.
“Define alright,” he murmured, giving Jehan a tight, strained smile. “I’m alive. Which is about where the bar is at right now.”
Jehan stifled a laugh, which Grantaire found a little gratifying. Then again, if anyone would appreciate morbid humor at a time like this…
Judging by the dirty look Feuilly shot him from his other side, Jehan was about the only one who appreciated it.
He forced himself to look at Enjolras, watching as Combeferre reached up to rest a hand lightly on the top of Enjolras’s head, almost as if he was trying to stroke Enjolras’s hair despite it being hidden by bandages. Courfeyrac let out a shaky sigh. “He could almost be sleeping,” he said.
It took everything in Grantaire not to laugh, though clearly something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, because Jehan arched an eyebrow at him. “What?” he whispered.
Grantaire shook his head, not intending on explaining, but this time, it wasn’t just Feuilly who gave him a look – everyone swiveled to stare at him, as if he had just sworn in church or something. “Nothing, it’s just…” Grantaire cleared his throat. “Clearly none of you ever saw Enjolras sleep. He was the least peaceful sleeper of all time. I think I’ve still got the bruises on my legs from him kicking me as he thrashed around, and it’s been a few years since I was subjected to it. It was like sleeping with a very large, particularly violent fish.”
Bossuet looked very much like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. “That’s – that’s horrible.”
Grantaire shrugged, managing another small smile. “Maybe. But it’s also true.”
“I really don’t think,” Combeferre interjected, his voice sharp, “that this is an appropriate topic of conversation. If this is the type of thing you want to talk about, maybe you should step outside.”
Combeferre’s disapproval was hardly anything new, and maybe it was just because Grantaire’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point as it was, but he met Combeferre’s icy glare with one of his own. “And seeing as how this is still my husband and I’m still his medical proxy and you’re all here with my permission, maybe you should go fuck yourself,” he said pleasantly.
Combeferre stood up so suddenly that Courfeyrac, who had been resting his head against Combeferre’s shoulder, was almost knocked out of his chair. “Is that really how you want to do this?” he snapped, angrier than Grantaire had ever heard him. “You want a long, protracted legal battle while we get a judge to agree that while you were married to him for all of thirty seconds, we’re his family?:
Joly cleared his throat. “Guys—”
“Good luck with that,” Grantaire said with a smirk. “Just because you hate me doesn’t change the law. I know this wasn’t what you had in mind when you marched and protested in favor of gay marriage, but unintended consequences and all that—”
“Guys,” Joly repeated, louder this time. “All of you need to go outside. It’s time for us to do Enjolras’s repeat brain function tests.”
It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Combeferre’s shoulders slumped, and all the fight left Grantaire just as quickly. They all filed out just as they had filed in, though this time, Grantaire went with them, refusing to look back at Enjolras, mainly because he wasn’t sure he would make it outside if he did.
As soon as he got out in the hallway, Grantaire slumped with his back against the wall, slowly sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. He wanted nothing more than to hide his head in his hands, to block the world out so that he could pretend this was all a bad dream that he might still wake up from.
But that would just delay the inevitable, and Grantaire had never much cared for that option.
Instead, he forced himself to look up at Combeferre, who was avoiding looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and Combeferre’s eyes met his. “Of course I don’t want that. And I didn’t mean—”
“Neither did I,” Combeferre told him, exhaustion clear in his expression. “I know Enjolras loved you. Even after everything. We all do.” Grantaire glanced around the circle of his former friends, and all of them were nodding. His chest suddenly felt too tight, but before he could say anything, Combeferre continued, “And you know just as much as any of us. Probably better than most of us.” Combeferre gave Grantaire a tentative smile. “Besides, he and I had to share a bed at a conference once and I’m pretty sure I limped for about a month afterwards from how many times he kicked me.”
But Grantaire didn’t smile, Combeferre’s words picking open a scab on his heart that he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying with him. “I don’t know him anymore,” he said softly, and Combeferre’s smile disappeared. “I mean, honestly, I don’t know if I ever did. I thought I did once, maybe. But now…”
He trailed off, and they all fell into silence. After a few minutes like that, quiet, unrelated conversations broke out. Grantaire watched all these people he had once considered his closest friends, watched Courfeyrac wrap his arms around Pontmercy from behind, resting his head against Marius’s back because Marius was too tall for him to rest his chin on his shoulder. He watched as Jehan and Combeferre sat down across the hall, discussing some article they had both read in quiet tones, both clearly looking for a distraction. Bahorel and Feuilly offered to get coffee for anyone who wanted it, and both headed in the direction of the cafeteria, neither walking quite as fast as they usually did. Bossuet sat next to a pretty woman in scrubs who Grantaire didn’t know but realized must be Musichetta, who he had heard about but never gotten a chance to meet before everything fell apart.
That was nice, Grantaire thought distractedly. They all had someone.
Well, except for him.
Grantaire was alone.
When the door to Enjolras’s room opened and Joly stepped out, all conversation died. Joly’s expression was unreadable as he looked down at Grantaire. “We should talk privately,” he said, but Grantaire shook his head.
“Whatever you have to say, you might as well tell all of us,” he said tiredly. “Saves you from just having to repeat it in five minutes.”
Joly nodded. “Ok,” he said before taking a deep breath and glancing around at all of them. ��The scans revealed the same level of brain activity as before. Meaning he is not legally brain dead.”
Grantaire groaned, tipping his head back to rest it against the wall. “So the ball’s in my court,” he said heavily, and Joly nodded again.
“Yes. It’s your decision where we go from here.”
Grantaire exhaled sharply before barking a laugh. “You know, the irony is, he said that I would know,” he said to no one in particular.
“What?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed.
“That’s why he picked me,” Grantaire said, staring up at the ceiling. “I told Enjolras when we got married that he should still make Pontmercy his medical proxy like everyone else did. Told him that I would probably be right there with him getting my ass kicked so I’d be useless anyway. But he said that he trusted me.” Tears pricked in the corners of Grantaire’s eyes but he didn’t bother trying to stop them as they fell. “He said that I’d know when his work was done, when it was time to let him go.”
Silence again fell over everyone, but this time, it was Bahorel who broke it, blurting, “That’s seriously what you two would talk about?” Everyone stared at him, and he shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I just – I always wondered.”
“I think we all did,” Jehan muttered, and Grantaire cracked a smile.
“In fairness, we talked about a lot of things, not just what to do in the case of a traumatic injury.” His smile faded. “But given the likelihood that he’d get his head bashed in at a protest one day, it wasn’t exactly a random hypothetical.”
But in the end, it hadn’t been Enjolras’s activism that had killed him, the way Grantaire always feared it would. It had been a car accident, a random, cruel accident that had ended his entire world, and he was sure there was some lesson to be drawn from that, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
Instead, he twisted his head to look up at Joly. “Anyway, I, uh, I need some time.”
“Of course,” Joly said instantly. “Take as much time as you need.”
Grantaire looked away, glancing around the circle before adding, “And, um, everyone should take some time with him. To say...whatever you need to say.”
He let them work out who was going to go in first as he instead picked himself up off the floor and made his way over to Marius to ask in an undertone, “Can we talk?”
Marius nodded, looking concerned, and they walked away down the hallway. “What’s up?” he asked when they were out of earshot.
Grantaire let out a shaky breath. “I, uh...honestly?” He let out a noise that might’ve been a cough, or a very dry laugh. “It’s going to sound stupid, but I wanted to make sure I haven’t committed tax fraud.”
Whatever Marius had been expecting, that was clearly not it, since he stared at Grantaire as if he’d grown a second head. “Tax fraud?” he repeated.
“Yeah, since I’ve been under the impression that I’ve been divorced, I’ve been filing my taxes as single.”
Marius barked a laugh, quickly covering his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not funny. None of this is funny. I just can’t believe that’s what you’re worried about.”
Grantaire flinched. “I mean, I’m worried about a lot of things. This is just something that I can do something about.” He glanced at Marius. “Or not, and the IRS is putting a warrant out for my arrest as we speak.”
Marius laughed again, but gentler this time. “You will not be going down for tax fraud,” he said. “The designation is single or married filing separately, which you technically are. Or were.”
The past tense was like a knife to the gut, and Grantaire jerked a nod. “Good,” he said hollowly. “Because if I go down for tax fraud because Enjolras forgot to file our fucking divorce papers, I swear to God, I’ll kill him myself.”
Something shifted in Marius’s expression. “You know, I’m not sure he did.”
“Did what?” Grantaire asked tiredly.
“Forget,” Marius said, before adding in what he clearly thought was a helpful way, as if Grantaire was incapable of following the simple thread of the conversation, “To file the papers, I mean. I think he didn’t file them on purpose.”
Grantaire stared blankly at him. “And yet he clearly didn’t want to be married to me, so…”
Marius shrugged. “Maybe not. I can’t speak to that.” He hesitated before telling Grantaire, “Technically this is breaking attorney-client privilege, but...he came to me, after you had signed the papers. And he asked me what would happen to his trust fund in the divorce.”
“His trust fund?” Grantaire asked blankly.
“Yeah,” Marius said. “According to your pre-nup, in the case of divorce, all of his original assets revert to his sole ownership, save for what he would owe in spousal support.”
Grantaire shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I never wanted his money—”
“But Enjolras didn’t want that,” Marius continued as if Grantaire hadn’t spoken. “He wanted to make sure you had more than that. So I started to tell him about the process of signing over certain trusts to your name, and he blew me off. Said he’d take care of it.”
“Right.”
Grantaire wasn’t sure what he was agreeing with, but it didn’t really matter, since Marius ignored him. “But I think what he meant is that he’d take care of you.”
Again, Grantaire’s chest felt painfully tight. “By pretending we were divorced?” he asked skeptically.
Marius shrugged again. “Well, I’ve never once argued that the man’s methods were anything resembling sane, but…” Almost despite himself, Grantaire laughed and Marius managed a small smile. “But yeah, I think that was what he was trying to do.”
Grantaire shook his head slowly. “After all this time...I really didn’t think he could surprise me anymore.”
“He loved you,” Marius said simply. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly, I don’t want to. But I know that much is true.” Grantaire couldn’t seem to speak, but Marius looked like he understood. “Anyway,” he said, “can I answer any other legal questions for you? Or do anything at all?”
Grantaire was about to tell him no when a sudden realization hit. “Actually, yes,” he said. “Can you get Combeferre and Courfeyrac for me? I want to talk to them.”
---------
As it turned out, between everyone saying their goodbyes to Enjolras and the general chaos of the hospital, including a very angry nurse coming to tell them that they were all liable to get kicked out if they didn’t keep it down, Grantaire didn’t get a chance to talk to Combeferre and Courfeyrac together until it was just the three of them left in Enjolras’s hospital room. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were seated on either side of Enjolras, and Grantaire stood at the end of the bed, wanting to be anywhere but there, talking about anything but what he needed to.
“What would you two do?” he asked finally, when the silence had gotten truly unbearable.
Combeferre looked sharply at him. “Legally, it’s not our decision to make.”
“I know that,” Grantaire said tiredly. “But you knew him better than I did these past few years, and I want to know what you would do.”
Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glances, and it was Courfeyrac who spoke first. “Enjolras wanted to help people,” he said simply. “Yeah, his aim was always more systemic, because he knew as well as any of us that to truly help folks in the long term required breaking the system that was oppressing them in the first place, but that’s still what he wanted to do: to help.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And I think that in this case, even though it’s not a systemic help, he would still want to help people with his death, if he could. So I would– I would withdraw life support so that he could donate his organs.”
Grantaire nodded slowly. “What about you?” he asked Combeferre hoarsely.
Combeferre shook his head, looking back at Enjolras. “I know what the statistics are,” he said, his voice low. “And logic would say that pulling the plug probably makes the most sense, given the odds of him recovering. But as long as there is a chance, any chance…” He swallowed. “Science is progressing rapidly and he could live like this for years, until they’ve developed a treatment that could bring him back to us. We learn more about the brain and healing from brain injuries every single day, and he deserves a chance to see if we discover how to heal him.” He raised his chin as he looked back at Grantaire, something like defiance in his expression. “His work is not done, and I can’t imagine him giving up that chance, no matter how slim the odds are.”
Again Grantaire nodded. “In other words, you’re both completely fucking useless.”
“Enjolras said as much, many, many times,” Courfeyrac said with something like his usual cheerfulness. “Everytime he wanted us to agree with him on something and we didn’t.”
“So like, once a week, at least,” Combeferre muttered, and he and Courfeyrac exchanged a smile at the shared memory. Then he looked back at Grantaire. “But at the end of the day, we’re not the ones making this choice. He didn’t—” His voice broke. “He didn’t choose us. He chose you. And you know him better than you think you do, because you know the parts of him that none of us ever got to see.”
Grantaire opened his mouth to argue with that, but Courfeyrac stood, squeezing Enjolras’s hand once more before releasing it. “We should leave you alone,” he said softly. “Give you some time with him.” He looked at Grantaire, his eyes shining. “Whatever choice you make, you have my full support. Because despite everything, I know you loved him. And that’s enough for me.”
Grantaire could feel tears threatening to fall again, but this time, he brushed them forcefully away as Combeferre and Courfeyrac slipped away. Grantaire took Combeferre’s vacated seat, staring down at Enjolras as if the man might give him a sign, any sign.
He had hoped Combeferre and Courfeyrac would give him some kind of clarity, but he should’ve known they wouldn’t. Especially since they were both completely wrong.
They had known Enjolras, yes, and loved him, but they hadn’t loved him like Grantaire had. Like Grantaire still did. Loving Enjolras for Grantaire had always meant seeing more than just the leader of Les Amis, but seeing the whole man, even for all his many, many faults. Enjolras cared deeply like Courfeyrac had said, yes, but not about helping any one person; he cared only about destroying the systems that kept people in whatever metaphoric chains he cared about that week. He wouldn’t be swayed by the argument that he could save lives or else he would’ve been a living kidney or partial liver donor.
And he wasn’t a hopeless believer either like Combeferre seemed to think. The thought of Enjolras waiting around for a miracle that might not even happen was utterly laughable. The man’s patience was non-existent. He wouldn’t be content to lie in bed for years on end. He was a man of action, and if there was nothing actionable, it wasn’t anything worth his time. It was, after all, probably why he had been so quick to give up on them, since there wasn’t anything left for him to do or fix.
There was only one argument that would sway Enjolras, one way or another. An argument about the Cause, about the work left undone, and as much as Grantaire was the wrong messenger for anything relating to the Cause or Enjolras’s work, he knew that only he could tell Enjolras what he needed to hear.
Grantaire would obviously never know, but he couldn’t help but think that this was why Enjolras had chosen him. Because whatever else he was, or wasn’t, had been or hadn’t, Enjolras was already gone. Whether they removed the ventilator today or tomorrow or in a week or a year, Enjolras would not be any less gone.
But Grantaire had already lost him, years ago now, and maybe that’s why Enjolras had let this be his decision.
Because he was the only one who could make it.
And he knew what he had to do.
So he squeezed Enjolras’s hand one more time before standing and going to the door, his eyes clear for the first time all day. “Can you get Joly for me?” he asked Courfeyrac, who was standing closest to the door as if keeping watch. “I’ve made my decision.”
----------
Grantaire stroked the top of Enjolras’s head, pretending that the rough bandages under his fingers were instead the fine blond curls he had never quite been able to capture with the right color when he painted Enjolras. He had spent hours some evenings just running his fingers through Enjolras’s hair, watching the different shades of gold tumble through his fingers, while Enjolras had worked on something or other.
He would always miss that, in particular, those evenings they spent just the two of them. He would always miss the version of Enjolras that had been his husband. But that was an old hurt now, no matter how much circumstances might make it feel brand new again.
“Damn you,” he said, which wasn’t exactly how he had anticipated starting his goodbye speech, but if he couldn’t be honest in these last moments, then when could he? “Damn you for loving me, and leaving me, and still somehow putting me in this position. For making me be the one to decide, and the one who has to live with that for the rest of my life. You always were an asshole, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but…”
He trailed off, and took Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together, marveling as he always had at how well their hands fit together. There had been a part of them that had always worked, even when nothing else between them seemed to, and it had been that part that he had clung to even when they were well past their expiration date.
He wondered if that was the part that had stopped Enjolras from filing the papers.
“We were supposed to die together,” he whispered, the breath hitching in his throat. “That’s what I promised, when we got married. That we would be together until we were old. And even if we died early, because of a protest gone bad or something, I still just assumed it’d be you and me leaving together. I never– I never thought I’d be the one left behind.”
He lifted Enjolras’s hand to his mouth again, this time pressing a kiss to the finger where, years ago, he had placed his ring and promised Enjolras he would love him forever. “I didn’t lie, you know,” he told Enjolras. “I still love you. I never stopped loving you.” He shook his head slowly. “I will you until the day I die, no matter if you’re still here or not. And—” His voice broke. “And Joly wasn’t supposed to tell me this, I think it’s supposed to be confidential, but...at least a part of you will still be here. Because there’s a 10-year-old girl in Pennsylvania who’s going to get your kidney. And a 45-year-old father of two who’s getting part of your liver. And your heart—” Again his voice broke. “And your heart is going to keep beating for a very long time because it’s going to a 28-year-old woman.”
When Joly had told him where Enjolras’s organs were going, when Grantaire signed all the consent forms, he had told him as if it was a comfort, somehow, as if Grantaire didn’t now have a list of people to resent because they were going to live, and Enjolras was not.
But it was better than no comfort at all.
“You have done more in your brief life than most people could accomplish in two lifetimes,” Grantaire continued, “and more importantly, you are leaving behind people who will continue doing your work. That’s the part of you that I know you care about, so you can rest easy knowing that they will carry you with them for the rest of their lives, fighting the battles you always wanted to. And as for the rest, well—” He was sure that he was crushing Enjolras’s hand with how tightly he held it. “I’ll carry that with me. I’ve got you, I promise. I always have.”
He had figured he would cry, would weep, but instead, he felt strangely at peace, looking down at Enjolras and telling him all of the things he had always wanted to say but had never been able to bring himself to. Just their fucked up luck that it had taken this.
He leaned in close, his voice no more than a whisper as he told him, fiercely, “Others will take your place in the Cause, and keep fighting. I promise you that. So you can rest now, ok?” He bent over Enjolras and kissed his forehead, his eyelids fluttering closed. “It’s all I ever wanted for you, was for you to rest. And maybe this is selfish of me, maybe it's the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t care.” He opened his eyes, searching Enjolras’s face for some sign, any sign, that he heard, that he understood. He knew he wouldn’t find any, but that didn’t matter.
“The work will never be done, but your part in it is.” His voice cracked. “I love you, and you can stop fighting now.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, Grantaire holding onto Enjolras with everything that he had left. Then a nurse poked her head into the room. “Are you ready?” she asked softly.
It was an asinine question. Of course Grantaire wasn’t ready. He was never going to be ready.
But he jerked a nod anyway and stood, taking a step back so the flurry of doctors and nurses could make Enjolras ready to move, so they could take him to the operating room where they would remove his life support and take the organs he was able to donate. “I love you,” he told Enjolras one last time, something desperate in his voice. “I love you. Don’t fight anymore, ok? Just...just rest.”
“Sir,” one of the nurses said, her voice gentle. “Sir, you have to let him go.”
“Oh,” Grantaire said numbly. “Of course.”
And he let go of Enjolras’s hand.
#enjolras x grantaire#exr#enjoltaire#enjolras#grantaire#les amis#fanfiction#les miserables#modern au#former relationship#car accident cw#major injury cw#end of life care cw#major character death cw#angst#all of the angst#truly
30 notes
·
View notes
Note
Need serious advice about setting boundaries or communicating when dealing with a person who:
Is a parent
Has unhealthy communication methods -- it takes very little for them to start full-blown screaming, shouting out all your 'negative' things/mistakes/past, can continue to scream-criticise you even after you've gone silent, for WHOLE MINUTES even if you've shut up, will not accept anything that even hints at them making a mistake
You can't trust since childhood coz u made the mistake of confiding in them with a serious issue as a young teen --- mental related --- and they belittled and invalidated you, and since then pretended you never confided in them and have NO IDEA how you've been coping without them or ANYone else for years... Yeah thanks, parent, what u said back then made me think I was the one at fault and so I stopped trusting even friends coz yeah, when ur own parent doesn't give a damn, why would anyone else?
Is a master at silent treatments without explaining what EXACTLY they're punishing you for, then when theyre in the mood, will start talking to you as if they hadn't ignored you for days. Lol I'd rather be water boarded I think. Especially for all the damage this caused when I was a child
Won't openly talk about what they want, yet expects ALL FHE TIME others (in the family) to know what they want, then will complain/scream/angry for AGES about how no one cares, no one gives a damn... And when someone asks them what they want, they either say: nothing, or "you should know! Can't u see?"
Upon asking them to please talk normally, will blow a fuse, and lose it --- happened multiple times today
Literally will use me as a scape goat to unleash their frustrations upon. Even when I leave the room, I can hear them b*tch about how much of a failure I am etc. The trigger being anything that bothers them, from a phone call to something other siblings did, bla bla. I limit my time with them... But it's like, it feels impossible to have them treat me normally, without ridiculing or criticising me. I'm already a very low self esteem person... This doesn't help AT ALL
In short, refuse to tell/ask/discuss important stuff, and getting mad randomly that no one read their mind, bcoz everyone's 'old enough to have enough sense' to know what they 'should' do... Eg will not pikc up the phone when we call them from the store to ask when what the needed isn't available, so what other alternative can we get... And then when we get home, will instead blame us for being fussy and not getting the alternative, completelt skirting around the issue they didn't deign to pick up the phone... I mean, I don't get it. In the past I HAVE in fact asked them to just openly tell me what they want/expect from me to make them happy... Got passive aggressive answers like "don't you know? Are you dumb?" Bla bla
Passive aggressive to the max when they've lost it
Expect me to drop anything I'm doing and immediately cater to them, and expect me to help them in their hobbies (while simultaneously, as I learned many years ago to much heartache, not being interested or even pretending to be interested in my hobbies. The disinterest taught me very quickly how much what I wanted meant, leading to years of self-invalidation. Luckily I've learned it really is them, not me. My hobbies are valid)
Will not talk about why they're feeling angry, what causes it. Instead will blame me, who's like the golden scapegoat in our amazing family, by saying :YOU made me negative. They've said it many times now... It hurts a lot, when I'm also struggling with my own issues which I ofc can't confide in them about :)
Today I manned up -- the outburst of hatred happened again! Over a simple thing. It was NIGHTMARE and made me angry/sad/frustrated/triggered---, and so I told them to stop talking like that... Boy was that the wrong thing to say... I don't think I can accurately tell u what happened afterwards...
Usually children learn communication skills from the parents... I at least learned to recognize the unhealthy ones, and what NOT to communicate like lol. Like, other parent is even worse, believe it or not. But that's another complex situation
I'm not bashing on the parent. Lord knows I even have that much of a right huh? I hate myself eveb more when they invalidate me if I try to show how MUCH THEY HURT me after a 'communication session'. As in, heaven forbid me if I BE SILENT afterwards and DON'T wanna listen to their retardation. Nope. Even then they provoke me, rage at me, you know how sometimes enraged people hiss vitriol thru gritted teeth? Yeah, that's what they did today after I stayed silent and tried to ignore them an hour later after the 'session' when they wabted something. It's like they don't even need me to say a word and will carry on and on for minutes 🤢
I feel alone, helpless and at a loss what to do
I want to move out. Due to severe mental issues I can't even move out rn coz it scares me even more. But this has to stop. Things are only okay if I'm absolutely passive, say yes to whatever they want, kill my wants and needs, and become a perfect robot bred to cater to them (parent)
I hope you can help me out, dear
Hi darling,
It sounds like you’re in a considerably toxic environment. I'm sorry you're going through this. Know that this is not normal, nor is it how a parent/child relationship should be. In case there's any doubt, let me start by saying you deserve to be supported, respected, listened to, to have your needs met. You deserve to live in an environment that offers you all of these things.
With that being said, from the many scenarios you’ve mentioned you’ve already tried reasoning and setting boundaries, to no avail. There is only so much you can do on your own, if the other person in the equation is not meeting halfway or at all. After all, a healthy conversation involves two people, not just one.
Here's my advice, in this order:
Calmly and maturely asking the respective parent to have a serious discussion with you and to listen to what you have to say. Share how their actions and behaviour is making you feel, let them know you care, and make sure to mention several solutions for the issue as well. If this doesn’t work…
Bring up the subject of needing help from outside, such as the assistance of a specialist/therapist. Family counselling can shed a lot of light on toxic behaviours that are ingrained from childhood (both in their case and yours), on fears your parent may have, stress from their work, whatever is causing their outbursts and anger - because there is always a reason. Behind anger is sadness, and behind sadness is some need not being met, or an underlying fear, trauma, etc. This is not a justification for their behaviour, they are responsible for it; this is simply the fact of how energy dynamics work. People bottle up their frustrations, fears, etc, and let them out on those closest to them, to whom they feel superior. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy, but it is frequently how this pattern works. If this solution doesn’t work either…
Then unfortunately, all you can do is focus on yourself. If they refuse to meet you anywhere along the road, you have to pack up your things and go your own way. Literally or metaphorically. They may be your parent and you may love them even in spite of their behaviour, but you cannot hold yourself responsible for anything they say or do; that is on them. In those cases, you have to prioritize your own mental health and wellbeing, and focus on moving out. If your (home) environment is toxic, you have to focus on first changing it. That’s vital. Only afterwards can you start healing, refinding yourself, reclaiming your self-esteem and confidence, your sense of worth. As long as you stay stuck in a toxic environment, you cannot really heal; if there is abuse of any kind (physical, mental, emotional), the causes are still there, leading to re-traumatizing.
If for whatever reason moving out is not (yet) an option, I would emphasize seeking some sort of counselling for yourself, if nothing else. You need an anchor, some sort of support that will help you along your path until you do get out.
Now, I don’t know how old you are. I am going to assume you are over 18 and of age, so only mind my advice if that is the case. (As disclaimer, I don't provide advice to minors as it's not the scope of my blog nor am I specialized/focused on that area.)
I understand moving out seems scary because it is unknown, but with that line of thought you may wait another 10 years in the same situation. Wouldn’t you wake up 10 years later already having done the hard work on moving out, finding your independence, claiming your sense of individuality and moving on from this sort of environment, this phase in your life?
Sooner is better than later, but do so with mindfulness and care over your mental health, of course. I know it’s scary. But being an adult requires some difficult decisions at times, and setting boundaries begins with choosing your wellbeing and doing what needs to be done, even if it is something uncomfortable short-term, but highly rewarding and beneficial long-term.
Hope this helps... and wishing you much luck, clarity, gentle guidance and comfort.✨
PS: Lately I've been receiving longer and longer letters in my inbox. As solution, I was thinking of having longer asks/letters redirected to my blog where there isn't any length limit, and readers can more comfortably browse both my tumblr and blog - and those requesting advice can share and receive a more in-depth response.
-Lumen
#mental health#toxic relationship#toxic environment#boundaries#parenthood#ask#tw? not sure what to tag just in case#tw: swearing#tw: mental health#tw: anxiety
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
So a few weeks ago I wrote a thread on twitter about wanting to write a reguri soulmate fic where they decide to not be soulmates and make the decision for themselves. like it’s a mutual thing that they both decide on instead of it being this sign from the universe or fate or whatever. basically, they just go against fate.
and i tried writing out that idea and forcing it into the standard path of r/g/y/fr/lg but i ended up not liking that and i didn’t like a few other things that i did. so this was a learning experience! if i ever write this, it’ll have to be an actual..au with no canon ties. which is probably better because i can do whatever i want with the world building!
but i wrote 2.3k words... and i’m not going to post this on ao3 bc it’s not finished and it never will be. it’s not polished and it never will be, but i figured i should post it here so that it’s somewhere, at least.
They were considered to be two of the lucky ones. Finding one’s soulmate so early on in life is a blessing from the universe, a sign that their bond is under the ever watchful gaze of the divine. Luck will follow them, surely. What do they have left to despair over? What do they have to fear? The greatest challenge of their lives has already been solved, and so they are told to walk freely and without pressure clinging to their shoulders.
They found each other at the fine age of six, and from now on, they will be blessed and find wealth.
“I don’t believe any of it,” Green whispers. He keeps his voice low, eyes darting around the blanket fort they’d built in Red’s living room. The only light they have is a single flashlight that keeps flicking on and off due to low battery. Red’s in charge of turning it off and on in hopes that it’ll last just a minute longer while Green is pouring over the books he’d taken from the bookshelf at his grandfather’s house.
They’re all self-help books with titles like How to Find Your Soulmate and Gut Feelings Can Get in the Way of Love and other crap that Red doesn’t care for. Green turns pages and looks at indexes, his mouth forming words but no sound coming out. He skims over paragraphs meant for people twice his age to read, but Green’s smart, always has been, and he’s handling the bulk of the work while Red turns the flashlight on and off again.
Green stops on a page and Red leans forward to read the chapter title: Life is Always Better with a Soulmate! Green scoffs and rolls his eyes. “That can’t be true. What about those couples that break up? Your mom and dad did, right Red?”
Red nods, lips thinning. There’s a nervousness in his heart, heightened by the darkness that comes and goes with the dying of the flashlight. All of these books are telling lies and the adults believe them. But both he and Green know that it’s wrong, that soulmates aren’t all that they’re cracked up to be.
After all, when he’d first met Green, when they’d first shook hands and looked into each other’s eyes, their bond was formed.
It felt like… It felt like what volcanoes erupting looks like. A loud, earth-shaking feeling that filled Red with shock and fear of what was to come. It felt like the air was being forced out of his lungs, like an ekans squeezing a rattata. It felt like being lost in the woods at night and getting an expensive toy as a birthday present. It was frightening and too much all at once, so much so that they both jumped back, startled and scared.
But it was a bond being formed under the eyes of the universe. A pact being sealed without their consent or understanding. They had found their soulmate, and the elation and joy swept over Pallet Town like a wind with Red and Green staring at each other in confusion through all of it.
Green is Red’s best friend, but he can’t say for sure if that’s because of the bond or because Green likes to talk about pokémon with him. There’s no one else around who has such a strong interest in the creatures, but Green will flaunt his knowledge and sneak them into his grandfather’s lab to look at some of them. They fed a growlithe together, they ran from a nidoran together, but Red doesn’t feel that special feeling again.
“I don’t feel it either,” Green admitted to him when Red had written out his question. “Maybe that’s all we’ll ever feel. Maybe it’s normal.”
There are no marks to make the process of finding soulmates easier. It’s a feeling, it’s a gaze, it’s a touch that one feels when they meet their special someone. Because of this, everyone is overly friendly. Shaking hands and hugging strangers is commonplace. Eye contact is expected, and Red is secretly relieved to have met Green because now he can avoid meeting people’s eyes.
Everywhere around them, people are almost desperate to find their one. It’s so deeply ingrained in their way of living and looking at the world. So Green wonders and ponders and thinks. Red asking that question only opened up other possibilities, and Green is curious and intelligent, so he runs with it in search of the truth.
Which brings them to the blanket fort and the lies printed in black ink. The two of them sit there comparing what they’ve experienced in their lives to what the world at large believes. Red’s parents were no longer together, and yet they’d been soulmates. What does it mean? They’d been told repeatedly that once they found their special someone, the world would right itself, the universe would sing their song and they’d face little to no hardships.
“It’s a lie,” Green spits, closing the book with a loud slam. “They’ve been lying to us, Red.”
Red puts down the flashlight and reaches over to take Green’s hand.
There’s no spark or visions of celebration to differentiate the touch from any other one.
When Green turns seven, he puts distance between them.
When Green turns eight, he starts being mean.
When they both turn eleven, they begin their pokémon journeys.
It’s a monumental undertaking and when he was younger, Red had thought he and Green would face it side by side. But now, Green runs forward, spewing taunts in his wake. There’s no link between them that offers Red a peek into what Green’s really feeling, no sign given by their bond that could explain his behavior. Red is left alone, confused and hurt by his own soulmate shunning and belittling him every chance he gets.
Red keeps walking because that’s what he’s always done. He catches pokémon, forges bonds with them, and trudges through grass and mud and rain to get where he needs to go. It’s fun being outside so much. He gets to be on his own, away from people and it’s not seen as him being strange or weird. Pokémon aren’t afraid of him. Pokémon don’t whisper hurtful things behind his back. It’s him, his team, and the four badges in his case.
That is, until the foreboding air and eerie light of Lavender Town comes creeping closer. An unsettling presence hangs over the town like a smog, and Red finds himself thrust into the city's problems as he chases Team Rocket. And in doing so, he runs into his soulmate once more in the Pokémon Tower.
Red has a reason for being here; he’s been chasing Team Rocket thugs his entire journey. Green, however… Well. There’s only two reasons for visiting the Pokémon Tower, but Red doesn’t pry. Green tries once again at intimidation, and it ends as it always has previously; Green hiding his hurt behind a cracking mask and Red never being able to find the right words to say.
And yet, when he leaves Lavender Town after driving out Team Rocket and saving Mr. Fuji, he spots Green on Route 7, leaning against a tree. It’s not like Green to stick around in places where there’s no gym, so Red is confused...until he understands that Green’s been waiting for him.
A feeling of dread weighs him down. Was their fight at the Pokémon Tower not enough? Were the insults not enough? Red has had enough, and moves to the left to give Green a wide berth. He doesn’t want to battle or deal with the complex feelings that follow. He’s spent enough time here. He needs to go.
“Red.”
Green’s voice stops him. It’s not because of the bond or any other false truth that’s been shoved down his throat. At one point, Green had been his best friend. And now, he still remains Red’s soulmate. Red keeps handing out chances for change, opportunities to fix things, but nothing ever comes. He needs to go.
Green pushes off of the tree, his arms still crossed. “Camp out with me tonight.”
Not a battle. Not an insult. Not a pointless taunt. A proposition. An opportunity for change? Red would be a fool not to take it.
He nods.
By the fireside, Red and Green stare into the flames and keep their words to themselves. Their tents are already set up, their teams have already eaten dinner and they’ve done the same. There’s nothing left to take care of, but still they prolong what brought them together in the first place.
Red has no idea what it is that Green wants, so he’s confused, but that’s not the only thing that’s confusing him. He hasn’t spent this much time around Green in years, and yet...he feels nothing from their soulmate bond. There’s no relief or itch for touch, there’s no yearning in his heart and no sudden impact of feelings like when they’d first locked gazes. If feels normal between them, as it always has since that first meeting.
Is this normal? Is this how it’s supposed to be?
Green tosses another twig into the fire that it didn’t need and looks up at Red. “Do you want to break our bond?”
Red’s eyes widen. His lips part. He forgets to breathe. He stares.
“I’m not going to force you,” Green holds up a hand. “But I… I’ve been thinking...about this whole soulmate thing…”
Red keeps silent, his heart racing and it’s the most feeling he’s ever felt since that day.
“I don’t know about you, but luck hasn’t been following me,” Green says, glaring at the flames. “Wealth hasn’t found me. And I know… I know we aren’t close anymore, but…” Green sighs, looks up at Red and the fire in his eyes is unlike anything Red’s ever seen. It’s volcanoes erupting and stars bursting into dust. “I want to make this decision myself.”
Quickly, Red reaches into his backpack for his notepad and a pencil. He bites his lip as he thinks on what to say. When it comes down to it, there’s just one question that hasn’t left him and probably never will.
Have you felt anything since that first day? Even now?
Green looks over the paper and he takes a minute to respond. When he does, hurt chokes his voice, reality making his throat tighten. “No, I haven’t.”
Red sits back. The last bit of hope up and fades and he’s left with this choice. What is a soulmate bond if there’s no feelings attached? If there’s no constant affirmation that this is right? How do they know for certain that they’re each other’s soulmates? The feelings had been immense, but they’d vanished since. But who was to say that was a bond being formed? What if it was just them, the two of them, and nothing more?
But it had to be a bond, because that’s how it’s always been described. That was the one part those books got right. That initial feeling of everything at once, like the universe crashing in on them. Amazing and scary and beautiful and sad. Everything that they are and could be leveled against them in one, single gaze.
Then after, there’s no more. That is all they are afforded.
Green is his soulmate, but Red thinks of him as a lost childhood friend, someone who isn’t interested and wants nothing to do with him. Still, those old times when they were younger… Red wouldn’t mind going back to that. He prefers friendship over this bitter rivalry that hurts much more than it should, that tears and rips his skin.
But isn’t this the same? Green wants nothing to do with him yet again. Not as friends, not as soulmates, only rivals competing for something that they were supposed to do together. Red grips his pencil tight.
Do you hate me that much?
Green stutters. “Red, I…” He shakes his head, leans forward to set his elbows on his knees. He stares into the flames but then looks past them to regard Red. “I don’t hate you. I just think this would be best for both of us.”
Why?
“Because have you ever felt anything for me?” Green asks, turning the question around. “You always ask if I’ve felt anything, but have you? What is this bond doing for us, huh? Everyone talks like it’s the best thing, like it’s an amazing necessity, but it’s not!”
Red looks away, feeling Green’s frustration and understanding it. They always sang of soulmates, sang of love and fate, but it’s done nothing for them. Are they too young? Too ignorant of the world? And if so, shouldn’t they figure this out themselves? They can’t trust what they’re told, they can’t trust what people say. This is a step that they have to make on their own.
With every step on his journey, Red’s been making his own choice and how freeing it’s felt. He decides where to go, who to battle, what pokémon to catch. He decides his place in the world and who he wants to be. He dives into caves and crosses rivers. He looks up and dreams of snow, he looks back and yearns for times long past. But those are still his choices to make.
This is the same. This is something that they can choose for themselves. There was always the possibility for more, an opportunity for the two of them to become more, but…this opportunity, this chance may be what they need.
What does Red have to lose? There’s never been another feeling or indication. They’ve grown apart despite being fated to be together. They’ve already defied all logic and reason.
And he wants… He wants to know. Maybe if they break the bond, another feeling will happen and they’ll know for certain, then.
How do we break it?
#reguri#namelessshipping#unpolished and abandoned wip's#my writing#nameless#with how red's path goes in the games this is difficult to write#because their relationship is already strained#so i had to write around that#and i don't like how it alters the tone and intent of it#to red feeling like green hates him#instead of it being 'hey this shit is just not working out at all let's end it'#i want them to be on good terms when they do#so it has to be an au#text
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
only the black rose (chapter 7)
pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)
warnings: descriptions of vomiting, borderline nsfw, a hobbit reference, fluff as always
words: 4.3k
summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.
author’s note: y’all are gonna think these bad things didn’t happen but like. tour straight from hell or something. anyways! a few chapters left, and then this baby is done. I’M SORRY THIS IS A BEEFY CHAPTER IT’S IMPORTANT FOR PLOT STUFF kinda. hope you all enjoy :)
masterlist
playlist
chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
----------
“As long as I don’t have to room with Pagey over here, I’m fine with anything.”
“Hey! Bonzo, come on!”
“What? You snore.”
Touching down in Detroit, the band drives down to the hotel, set on a good night’s sleep before a crucial performance. Stuck in the lobby, jetlag slowing their movements as their eyes drift shut briefly, they attempt to sort out the rooms for their stay. With three rooms available, the five of them work out who gets the coveted single room.
“I think Jimmy and Robert should take a room together: everyone already thinks they’re together anyways. I’ll take the solo room.”
Robert squawks in surprise, which turns into a full-blown coughing fit, as he nearly doubles at the waist from the force. Layla brings a hand to his back, rubbing a soothing circle into the fabric of his light shirt. How he wasn’t shivering in the face of Detroit in January was beyond her. The coughing finally ceases, and Robert sucks in a breath, breathing ragged from the strain.
“Are you alright, Robert?”
“Of course, little dove,” Robert answers, patting the hand that now rests on his shoulder. “My throat is just a tad dry, I bet.”
“Okay…”
“If you don’t mind,” Robert moves toward the sitting area behind them, casting a hand out dramatically to show it off, as though it were the height of luxury. “I’ll be over here, resting my weary legs.”
With a puzzled glance towards Robert, the group continues bickering.
“Jonesy, you know Jimmy’s gonna want to room with his petal,” Bonzo says, emphasizing the nickname, and Layla didn't even need to see his face to detect the smirk that was surely playing on his lips. “Robert can room with you, so I can have the solo room.”
“Excuse me, do we not get a say in this?” Jimmy asks, hands gesticulating wildly as he speaks. His cheeks are suspiciously flushed, as if he was embarrassed by Bonzo’s teasing. He’d never admit it, but the pink flooding his cheeks serves as evidence.
“Nope.” Jonesy and Bonzo reply in unison.
Robert, uncharacteristically silent, slithers up behind them, standing from his post on the comfortable lobby chair. Spotted by the concierge at the front desk, he puts a long finger up to his lips, and sticks a hand towards the solo room key that rests on the counter. Snatching it up with practiced ease, Robert smirks, and walks carefully back to his seat. Layla, casting an eye over the remaining keys, notices the disappearance, and locks eyes with the rest of the band.
“Guys… Where’d the solo key go?”
“What?”
“It was— It was just here!”
“Well,” Robert stretches as he stands, unfurling his long limbs. Raising his hand, the stolen key dangling from it like precious, golden treasure, he steps backwards jauntily. “I had better get to my room, now. It’s been lovely chatting.”
With that, he’s off, scrambling for the elevators, leaving his friends in the dust. Bonzo and Jonesy share a glance, and lunge for a key, walking away from the couple, who look after them with wide eyes.
“Do I really snore that bad?”
“I mean…”
“I’m injured, that means you can’t be mean to me.”
“Since when has that stopped me? Also,” Layla pauses, turning to Jimmy, unconsciously taking his hand in her own. “You took a pill before we left the venue, right? You’re not in pain?”
“I took one, but… I’ll be fine.”
“Jimmy—”
“Come now, let’s go find our room.” The guitarist pulls her towards him, resting an arm across her shoulder as they walk to the elevator. Idle chatter follows as they walk to their shared room. Unlocking the door, Jimmy pulls it open, to discover a finely furnished room, with a sitting area accented by maple wood. The blinds were pulled back to reveal a view of downtown Detroit, dark sky bringing the city to life. The only thing out of place, however, was the bed. A single, queen-sized bed, clothed in a tan comforter, sat in the middle of the room. The couple glance at each other, and, finding the other looking right back, force their eyes elsewhere. Layla, fishing a pair of pyjamas out of her suitcase, moves to the bathroom to change into the ensemble: a pair of grey shorts, and an old threadbare t-shirt, at least two sizes too big. Walking out of the ensuite, her eyes fall upon Jimmy, laying on one side of the large bed, dressed in green plaid pajama pants, and a soft cotton top. His head turns as he hears the woman approach, and he gives her a sweet smile. Layla climbs into the bed, turning to face him.
“You look cozy.” Jimmy says, nudging her lightly as she laughs.
“As do you. I would’ve expected you to be dressed in a black satin ensemble, if I’m being honest.”
The laugh that flies out past Jimmy’s cupid’s bow lips warms Layla to the core, and she can’t help but slide closer to the man.
“And why is that?”
“Your image, it’s just very… mysterious. It’s a good thing I know the truth, now,” She leans closer to him, slotting her head into the junction of his neck, resting on his shoulder. “You’re just a softie.”
“You’d be surprised, petal.”
“I’m sure.”
As they drift off, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s heartbeat, they can’t help but feel at home. Their arms wrap around each other, legs tangling together as they sleep soundly.
----------
The morning sun bright against her eyelids, Layla nuzzles further into Jimmy, black hair tickling her nose. All is tranquil, until a deep rumble pierces the fragile silence: her stomach. Layla extricates herself from Jimmy’s lax grip, and changes into a colourful button-up, tucked into a pair of dark flared jeans. Intent on taking the hotel up on their offer of a continental breakfast, she rushes down to the lobby. It’s when she passes the men’s restroom on the main floor, that she hears it. A groan, muffled through the closed door. This is followed by harsh dry-heave, as if someone had been throwing up.
“Uh… Excuse me, sir, ” She knocks on the door, hoping that whoever was in there could hear her voice. “Are you… okay in there?” Seconds pass, until a familiar voice breaks the tense silence.
“...Layla?”
“Robert?”
“Fancy…” A gasp stops him in his tracks as he chokes once more. Layla can imagine the scene: Robert kneeling on the floor, face pressed to the cool tiles, whatever he had in his stomach lost to the porcelain throne. Finally recovered, he tries again. “Fancy meeting you here, little dove.”
“Robert, I’m coming in.”
Opening the door, she’s met with an unpleasant smell, and the sight of blonde curls falling across hunched shoulders. Kneeling down beside the sick man, she puts a hand to his back, the other rushing to hold his hair back. He puts a hand on her thigh, the only part of her he could reach in that particular position, and gives it a light squeeze in thanks. A few seconds pass as Robert coughs out some more, until, spent, he sits back against the wall of the tiny stall he had run into.
“Are you okay, now? What happened?”
“I was… hankering for some breakfast, maybe a spot of tea, and I got halfway through a helping of eggs,” Robert explains, leaning his head on Layla’s shoulder, exhaustion lining his tan face. Somehow, he had kept his hair out of the way before she had gotten there, and it was as lush and as soft as ever. “When my stomach decided, ‘maybe eggs aren’t the best choice for today.’”
“Were you feeling like this yesterday?”
“Had a cough yesterday, wasn’t feeling sick, though. Must be a simple flu.” Layla maneuvers to place a hand on the man’s forehead, which feels as though it may just scorch her palm.
“Robert, you’re burning up!”
“I’m okay, little dove.”
“What is with you boys and saying you’re fine, when you’re clearly not?”
“It’s a habit…” Robert trails off, head slipping lower, chin touching his chest. He’s about to pass out, eyelashes fluttering gold under the harsh restroom lights, when Layla nudges him.
“I’m up, I’m up…”
“Robert, I need to go get you some help. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Layla sits up, just about to get to her feet when an overly warm hand grabs hers.
“Layla, don’t go…”
“Robert,” she starts, running a soft hand through his unruly curls. The singer melts into her side, eyes drooping. “I’ve gotta get someone. Please, just… stay here. Do not move.”
She jumps to her feet, rushing out of the bathroom in search of someone that can help. Turning the corner hastily, she nearly runs into Peter, who had been making his way to breakfast, Bonzo at his side. Stopping the men in their tracks with a hand held out in front of her, Layla relays the situation.
“Guys, Robert’s got the flu, and he’s been throwing up,” Layla points to the bathroom sheltering the blond in question, and turns back to the two men, who look frazzled by her rambling. “Please, can you get him up to his room? I’m gonna get him some Gatorade, something to help hydrate him.”
Immediately, Layla’s eyes widen at the slip, though the men think nothing of it, passing her with a nod and scurrying into the bathroom to retrieve the singer. Walking to the vending machine in the lobby, Layla places a number of loose coins, dug up from the depths of her jean pockets, into the slot and punches the button painted with the design of a lightning bolt. The machine rumbles, and Layla soon holds in her hand a can, labelled ‘Gatorade’. Huh, she thinks, it seems that some things remain the same after all.
Dashing to Robert’s room, she finds him tucked into his bed, bare-chested. Layla sets the drink down, sitting on the edge of the man’s bed. Her fingers begin to thread through his hair once more, and he stirs.
“Layla?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Rob.”
“Isn’t… Isn’t Jimmy gonna be jealous?”
“Go to sleep, Plant. You’ll be okay.”
“But…”
The woman shushes him, and he relaxes into her touch, drifting off finally. Layla stays, guarding the man, until he wakes up. The Gatorade sitting on the bedside table goes warm, Layla too preoccupied with the bedridden blond.
----------
Layla, leaving the sick vocalist in Peter’s capable hands, walks out of the room with a yawn. He should be okay, though the same might not be true for his voice. If she thought it had been a little hoarse yesterday, it was nothing compared to when he had awoken. Thoughts occupied, she had almost walked right into Jonesy, who had just turned the corner. Layla startles at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, and looks up into Jonesy’s eyes.
“Sorry, Jonesy. Guess I was a little distracted.”
“No worries. Is Robert okay? Bonzo just told me.”
Layla looks towards the closed door of Robert’s room, scratching the back of her neck. Turning back to Jonesy, she nods, smiling at the bassist.
“He should be okay, yeah. His voice might be a little rough, and he’s got a bit of a fever, but it’ll pass.”
“That's great to hear! Oh, Layla,” Jonesy starts, bringing his voice down to a whisper as to not alert anyone to their conversation. “Can we talk about something quickly? It’s about the… time travel… thing.”
Layla nods, and follows Jonesy into his room, the bassist flicking on the lights. Bonzo had been with Robert ever since they’d brought him up, so the hotel room was completely empty. Perfect for a private conversion. Sitting on the bed closest to the eggshell wall, Jonesy turns to face Layla, his hands fiddling with one another.
“I may have found some answers. It’s not much, but…”
Layla jerks, stunned by the admission, as her mouth opens and closes, doing her best impression of a fish out of water. She shakes her head, willing herself to respond, as Jonesy patiently waits.
“Wh-What? How? Jonesy, you—”
“Do you remember how, when we first talked about this, I had mentioned that guitarist? The one that had the same thing happen to him?”
“Yeah, you said he’d just vanished, listening to some playback?”
Jonesy nods, giving the woman a kind smile. He looks down at his hands again, and continues.
“Layla… What do you remember about the day you came here?”
“I was just getting ready for work,” Layla recounts, her face a picture of confusion. “When the turntable I have in my room started playing out of the blue.”
“It… It started playing on it’s own?”
“It started playing this song… I swear I don’t even have it on vinyl, but the lyrics were… they were beautiful. I reached out to stop it, and… then I was in the middle of the road.”
Jonesy fidgets again, eyes flitting around the room as he works out the best way to present his findings. Finally, he catches her gaze, and takes a small hand in one of his. Layla looks up at him, worry gleaming in her dark eyes as she waits for him to speak.
“The other day, I placed a call to my old friend, asking about his experience. He said… He said that the playback started on its own. He didn't push a single button.”
“But that means that…”
“...That this… time travel, seems to happen almost randomly.”
“The music. That’s what starts it… Did he say anything else?”
Jonesy looks down, shaking his head, his short hair flopping across his forehead. Looking back at Layla, he smiles apologetically.
“He wasn’t very forthcoming about what happened… though he did sound… sad? When it happened, he did mention a girl... I’m not sure exactly how this works, or why it works, but, Layla… He told me he had been there for years. He was…”
“Jonesy?” Layla calls his name, the man in question jolting, having gotten lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. Locking eyes with the woman beside him, he continues, tone serious.
“He was gone for three days. If this is the same situation, I doubt you’ll have been gone for more than two days at most, when you go back.”
“This is,” Layla starts, hand coming up to run through her hair. She shakes her head, meeting Jonesy’s eyes. “This is insane…”
“Layla, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help. He just didn’t want to share, and—”
The bassist is interrupted by the sensation of arms around him, and sweet-smelling dark hair in his face. Hugging the woman back, he can’t help but be struck by the thought that he’s going to miss her, when she leaves. Pulling away, Layla swipes a finger under her eyes, obscuring any tears that might have fallen. Jonesy looks down at her, brows furrowed in concern.
“Jonesy, I… I want to apologize.”
“For what? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Is this like, a Canadian thing? I’ve heard you people apologize a lot.”
“I… I acted like… a bitch, to you all, when I first met you. I was rude, and I was… probably a little too sarcastic, and I never told you, or anyone, how—”
Jonesy pulls her in for another hug, and feels Layla bury her face into his shoulder, pulling away after a good while.
“I, uh… You probably don’t want to hear all the gory details, but… I learned to put up walls. To not let people in, ‘cause they’ll just leave. Looks like I’ll be the one doing the leaving this time…”
She chuckles wetly, scratching her arm unconsciously. Jonesy puts a steady hand on hers, stopping the movement.
“Layla…”
“When I got here, I was… scared,” Layla sniffles, looking away, too embarrassed at the admission to meet Jonesy’s pleading eyes. “Peter was the first face I saw when I woke up, and he was trustworthy. He helped me. You guys walked in and… I shut down. I put up walls, and I acted like… like nothing was bothering me.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain—”
“Look, Jonesy,” Layla interrupts, gaze still firmly on a scuff mark on her sneakers. “I just… I do appreciate everything you guys have done, especially you, and… I didn’t show that. Maybe I still don’t.” Jonesy gives the hand still in his a squeeze, prompting Layla to finally look at him. He’s shocked by the tears threatening to fall, her brown eyes dark with sadness.
“That’s not true. You make me smile every day, and you’re fun and… you’re like my little sister. It’s the same for Bonzo. He’s fond of you, even if he hides it, most of the time. He’s comfortable with you. You took care of Robert, and you comforted him. If you didn’t care, would you have stayed with him, stroking his hair for an hour?”
“Jonesy…”
“No, Layla, listen. Jimmy�� God, he thinks so highly of you. He listens to you, which is a feat in and of itself. His face lights up whenever you’re around. The way he talks about you… We know you care. You care too much sometimes, if anything. You don’t have to apologize, because there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”
Layla gazes into his stormy eyes, and nods, a fragile smile lighting up her face. Jonesy smiles back, and stands from his spot on the bed. Holding out a hand to help her up, Jonesy waits for Layla to take it, sliding an arm around her shoulders in a familiar embrace.
“God, Porter, you’re like…Bilbo Baggins, with how tiny you are.” Jonesy rests his arm on her head as he says this, smirking down at the woman.
“Says you, Jones.” Layla laughs, smiling gratefully at the bassist as they walk out the door.
----------
Slipping the ornate key into the lock on the door, Layla enters the room, spotting Jimmy sitting at the table near the window, a notepad and a ballpoint pen resting on the surface. The sunlight streaming in illuminates his face, as he squints against the brightness of it, writing furiously. Layla steps closer, taking in the sight before her. Perhaps sensing the eyes upon him, the sound of pen on paper ceasing as he looks up at the intruder.
“Hey, Jim. What’re you writing?”
“Oh, it’s nothing…”
Glancing at the paper strewn across the tabletop, Layla spots hastily drawn staves, neat music notes decorating the lines. At the top of the page, reads: ‘Tea For One”. It didn’t seem like there was much to it yet, but Layla couldn't wait to hear it.
“Hey,” Jimmy starts, a hand scratching at the back of his neck, tell-tale nerves making their appearance. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, Robert’s still sleeping, Peter’s keeping an eye on him.”
Jimmy huffs out a laugh, as he beckons Layla closer with a hand outstretched towards her. Taking it, Layla moves into his space, running her fingers through his hair as he looks up at her. She takes a handful of the soft sable locks and brings it up to the top of his head, a curtain of curly bangs falling over his eyes. Layla laughs as he frowns, looking up at her through emerald eyes sparkling with hidden happiness.
“I wasn’t talking about Robert, petal. How are you doing? I saw you walking with Jonesy, and you looked… nervous?”
“Oh,” Layla said, dropping her hands from the guitarist’s hair, scrambling for an adequate response. “I was just… a little on edge about Robert being sick and all, so Jonesy reassured me.”
“He’ll be okay, Layla. I hear you took great care of him.” The tail of the sentence is accompanied by a soft smirk, as he gazes at the woman, eyes roaming head to toe.
“Are you jealous, Page?”
“Well… I can’t help but want you all to myself, you know.”
“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.”
Jimmy scoffs, taking her hand in his, threading their fingers together. Layla looks down at the joined hands, and Jimmy uses this to his advantage, pulling her even closer to sit in his lap. She lands with a soft noise of surprise, and Jimmy presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss.
“Romeo… That’s a new one.”
“What can I say? It fits you.”
“How?” Layla tilts her head to the side at this, a finger pressed to her chin in mock contemplation. A hand strokes the apple of the guitarist’s cheek, as she smiles winningly.
“Well, for starters, you’re too romantic for your own good. I wouldn't put it past you to recreate the balcony scene. Full dramatics, of course.”
“That must make you Juliet then, falling for my charm.”
“I mean, I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”
“Truly, I’m flattered,” Jimmy jokes, looking down at Layla, lips quirked in a smile. “And I thought you just liked me for my hair. You do keep messing with it, after all.”
“Well…” Layla giggles, tugging on a stray curl that frames his squared jaw. “That’s your fault for keeping it so long. Free real estate.”
Jimmy, smiling fondly at the woman in his lap, taps her leg, and she stands. Layla sticks a hand out to help him up, surely just an excuse to touch him again. Jimmy takes the offered hand, and places a hand on her hip as he pushes russet curls behind her ear.
“Bonzo was saying something about a trip down to the hotel pool, if you were interested. I can’t swim myself, but I’d be happy to join you… If you want to, of course.”
“Sounds like fun,” Layla exclaims, face lighting up at the prospect of a fun night at the pool. “Who else would I splash when they’re not paying attention, but you?”
“I shouldn’t have offered…”
With a wink, Layla bounds over to her suitcase and pulls out a swimsuit, heading into the bathroom to change. Jimmy changes into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and sits on their shared bed to wait for Layla, who walks out of the bathroom, a hand running up and down her arm shyly. She clears her throat, wincing at the volume of it, as Jimmy lifts his head to look at her. A sharp intake of breath rings out in the silence of the room as his mouth falls open, blatantly checking her out. Dressed in a simple, sleek black one-piece that accentuates her curves, dark hair cascading down freckled shoulders, Layla stands in front of him, arms crossed shyly over her chest. Jimmy nears, a hand going to her elbow.
“Petal, you look…”
“Is it okay?”
His response to her question comes in the form of a heated kiss, hand moving from her elbow to her cheek. Finally pulling away, he looks her up and down once more.
“You look… gorgeous.”
“You’re not too bad yourself.” Layla runs a hand across his chest, making the man shiver, mind going haywire from the electric touch. The man looks down at her with a question in his eyes, dark with desire, and she nods. Jimmy walks her backwards until she’s pressed up against the wall, the man moving further into her space.
“Is this alright, petal?” he says, smirk in place as he gazes into Layla’s eyes, teasing her.
“God, just kiss me.”
And he does.
The couple’s lips move in unison, noses bumping together in their haste to connect. Jimmy’s uninjured hand moves back to its place on her hip as he groans into the kiss, biting her lip as she melts into him. Layla takes the noise as an invitation, slipping her fingers closer to the waistband of the man’s shorts. They pull away, Jimmy nodding, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen with the force of the kiss. Layla’s hair is mussed, Jimmy’s hands running through it as they move together. Layla’s hand slips lower, as Jimmy's own rests at her shoulder, fiddling with the bathing suit, hoping to uncover what lay beneath.
“I hope you’re not having sex in there! Let’s go, the pool won’t be open all day!” Bonzo’s voice booms through the closed door as the couple spring apart, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed scarlet. With a huff, they walk to the door, pulling it open to find Bonzo and Jonesy, dressed for a swim.
“You guys look… Um… Did we interrupt something?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Layla and Jimmy respond in unison, eyes wide as they look at the rhythm section, who shake their heads in exasperation.
“Whatever, just…. Keep it in your pants for a little longer, please.” With that, Bonzo and Jonesy walk away, Jimmy and Layla scrambling to keep up. Finally reaching the pool, Bonzo and Layla dive in immediately, while Jonesy sits on the edge, legs dangling in the water below. Jimmy takes a seat next to him, slipping a foot into the water hesitantly. Immediately, he pulls it out with a gasp, much to the amusement of his friends.
“That was so cold!”
“How about this, then?”
A wave splashes Jimmy right in the chest, and he shrieks, curling up to avoid the spray. Layla laughs, having splashed him in the first place. Jimmy, recovered from the shock of freezing water on his bare chest, frowns at the woman. His eyes, however, held an air of mischief, as if he was planning something.
“Come here for a second, petal?” Layla swims closer to him, a smirk tilting her lips upwards, dark eyes dancing with amusement. She stands up when she nears him, slotting herself between his legs
“Yes, Jimmy?”
His response was to bring a hand up to her cheek, drawing her in for a short, sweet kiss, a small taste of what they had been doing until they were interrupted. They pull away, and stare into the other’s eyes, as if nothing else existed in that moment but them. Bonzo, sends a glance to Jonesy, who smirks at the couple, knowing exactly what was coming.
Bonzo sends a burst of frigid water at them, laughing uncontrollably as Layla, who had received the brunt of the splash, turns around, dripping hair plastered to the sides of her face.
“Oh, it’s on, Bonham.”
“Let’s go, Porter. ”
The two engage in a splash war of epic proportions, water flying everywhere. Jimmy and Jonesy dodge the tidal waves that jet towards them, as laughter bounces off the tiled walls. This was a reprieve from the bad luck that seemed to follow the band as of late.
It’s a shame it won’t last.
--------
taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso (let me know if you want to be added!)
#only the black rose#jimmy page#led zeppelin#jimmy page fanfic#jimmy page fanfiction#jimmy page x oc#led zeppelin fanfic#classic rock fanfic
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
Gives nose/forehead kisses, breaks the gift rule and remembers anniversaries fo r Benoit blanc!!!
Some rather tasteful things for the resident gentleman . . . I like that!
Gives nose/forehead kisses:
Benoit, being a practitioner of “gentlemanly affection”, has perfected the art of non-liplock kisses. You see, boys think way too small: They tend to think that kisses should be reserved for seduction, or given out of exasperation. If a kiss is done in anything positive, it’s on the lips or the neck. The decidedly more minute kisses should be reserved for when one is in a rush, or when their partner -- especially when said partner is female -- has pestered them about something and the boy needs to try and quiet them down.
But men understand that it goes much deeper than that: Kisses aren’t just a means of seduction or equivalent to a lazy pat on the back, they’re a means of assurance. Sometimes even respect if they’re done right.
And far be it from the last of the gentlemen sleuths to devoid you of any such kisses.
Socially speaking, kisses on the nose or forehead tend to be interpreted as something more innocuous. But there’s just something that lights a fire in your tummy when Benoit does it, even when it’s just because he’s about to head out for something relating to a case, or because he’s soothing you. Because it’s actually never just because he’s leaving or just because he’s calming you down: In every kiss he applies, there’s a warmth. There’s safety. There is a reminder that he adores you and is there for you even in this arguably unconventional relationship.
They’re never just simple pecks, either: They linger. They are deliberate. They’re words that flavor his lips and are applied to your skin, writing invisibly on you reminders that all will be well.
And just for assurance, it’s in his eyes when he parts from you (assuming you dare look into them). It’s so adoring and splendid that no matter how sweet the intent, you are always left wanting more.
But, of course, absolutely nothing beats the kisses Benoit gives you on the backs of your hands. But those are for another time . . .
Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas:
When you first started dating, you thought you were under a silent agreement to keep a $25 budget on the gift-giving. You weren’t even sure what make you so certain of that besides just your own mind functioning in a way that assumed enough people thought similarly enough to you, at the very least your oddball boyfriend did.
And certainly, while $25 didn’t always lend itself to the most high-qualitied materials, it still allowed for you two to be somewhat on the same page as to how wild the gifts could be.
After all, it was just enough to purchase a lovely wooden bow tie with intricate designs carved in the wings. A small gift, admittedly, but imagining the rich wood with the blue tartan middle complimenting whatever snappy outfit Benoit chose to wear with it just excited you! In fact, you were actually quite proud of yourself leading up to the date when you both decided to exchange your very first Christmas gifts to one another . . .
And when that day came, the pride got smacked to the ground.
A weighted blanket. That beautiful, blond bastard went and bought you a weighted blanket. And not just one whose fillings felt a bit on the cheap side, all gritty and such -- this bad boy was quality. The texture was perfect, not even threatening to set off your sensitivities in the slightest. And it wasn’t even just one with the regular grey coloring -- this one had constellations on it. A glorious, beautiful star map etched in greyish-silver thread.
Did -- did he get somebody on Etsy to do this? Did anyone on Etsy actually make weighted blankets!?
You weren’t very good at hiding your distress (or pouting face) over the gift-exchange. To your further dismay, Benoit only found it amusing. Adorable, even, as he offered a low, “Aaaww” before pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“No need to pout there, darlin’,” he tried to assure you. “I love the bow tie. Really.”
“But you got me an entire weighted blanket,” you muttered, glowering at the beautiful cloth in your hands.
“Because I remember you saying you always meant to buy yourself one, but it always fell out of your budget.”
“But like -- Benoit -- ” You weren’t even sure what to argue. If you should argue, even. Probably not . . . But the worry didn’t go away. Not until your boyfriend took it upon himself to unravel the blanket and gently drape it over your shoulders. To your dismay, the damned thing worked like a charm as it squeezed out all the bad feelings and instead forced your body to squeeze good hormones into you. To the blanket’s credit, its effect did make it a lot easier for you to see that Benoit genuinely did find absolute delight in the gift you gave him. He wasn’t even much of a bow tie man, but he certainly loved the swirls and curls in the wooden accessory.
Following that Christmas, you still fell into the trap of assuming he would keep a cap on the gifts. Would it have been smart to just sit down and flat-out tell him to keep it under a budget of some kind? Oh, most definitely. But you had the sinking suspicion that even if he demanded it, he would somehow manage to get his hands on something superior in presentation that you never would’ve thought to have given him. So in a way, it’s probably best to leave him to his devices. Even if said devices simultaneously drive you made and make you super excited against your stubborn will.
Remembers anniversaries:
Benoit, to your dismay. It’s not that you want him to forget, per se, but sometimes the way his memory can put yours to shame makes you feel a bit self-conscious. You know you probably shouldn’t expect anything different, though: The man is a detective, after all, so having a profound memory is a part of the gig.
. . . But does he really need to remember the day you both met, down to what you were wearing!?
Really, remembering anniversaries should be simple: All you need to do is write it down somewhere. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where it can’t be lost. Not like on a receipt like you did the first year you were together. Or on a calendar, which Duke the cat tore up. Or in a planner which, through a series of seemingly impossible events, wound up becoming a part of evidence for a case you technically weren’t even involved in.
Hell, even your phone wasn’t safe after, in an act of some sadistic god, it wound up glitching and deleting only a couple cat photos -- and the reminder of when your anniversary was. And only those things.
Benoit doesn’t seem to mind your occasional forgetfulness, actually. It makes it easier for whatever he plans to come across as more spontaneous. Sure, it would require planning to set up a reservation at a high-end restaurant following a show for a touring version of a Broadway production you’d been dying to see, but it’s a lot easier to get genuine surprise and delight from you when you entered that weekend without any expectations beyond catching up on episodes of Law & Order or something.
Besides . . . With how often you forget certain dates, grabbing good gifts tends to become a bit of a task due to how last-minute it is. Which means you sometimes have to rely on things that come . . . naturally to you . . . Make of that what you will, but just know: Benoit never minds it.
Aaaand that’s a wrap for this round of ship memes! Thank you very much for your participation and patience!!
#benoit blanc x reader#benoit blanc imagine#benoit blanc imagines#knives out imagine#knives out imagines#regrettablewritings#character shenanigans#ship meme
122 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi! may i request Zuko x gender neutral reader with a prompt of: “you’re pretty cute when you’re nice” “what am I when I’m not nice” “hot”
I love this idea! I’m gonna set this as a Firelord Zuko thing because I just love me some Firelord Zuko. Who doesn’t?
•••
Reparations (Zuko x Gender Neutral Reader)
Warnings: None
Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst (like TINY angst)
Part: 1/1
Summary: See request
•••
The town looked drastically different than how it looked the last time he had been here. The streets were bustling with life, the town itself looked more structurally sound, and the atmosphere was no longer suffocatingly tense. His presence, however, seemed to bring at least a tiny bit of that tension back.
As he walked through the streets, he did his best to smile at everybody and be as careful as possible. Some of them recognized him but none of them said anything. That didn’t really matter to him, though. He was only there for one person and he knew exactly where they would be at this time.
Walking up to a tiny bakery, he couldn’t help but smile as the familiar smell of freshly baked bread wafted out of the door. He smoothed down his clothing nervously before mustering up the courage to go inside. He told the guards to wait outside to he could have some privacy.
“I’ll be out in a moment!” you called from the back room.
The sound of your voice made him more nervous than beforehand, cementing the fact that he was actually here and that he had to repair all the damages he had done. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes finally landed on you.
You had flour dusting your face and a bright cheery smile that sent a symphony of butterflies off in his chest. Unfortunately for him, your smile immediately dropped into an expression of shock. He smiled nervously and waved.
“Hi.”
He wanted to kick himself. He came halfway across the world to try and make amends and hi was all he could come up with? This was not off to a good start.
You blinked back in response, letting his presence register before your open mouth shut into a firm line and you met his nervous greeting with a cold hard glare. If he wasn’t sweating already, he was now.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked through gritted teeth.
“W-Well uh...now that I’m the Firelord, I thought it would be a good idea to revisit some of the places I traveled and make amends with the people I hurt. So...,” he trailed off, not sure where to go from there.
“You’ve gotten even more dense if you think I’m going to forgive you,” you seethed angrily.
He could almost see smoke billowing out of your nose. If you were a firebender, he didn’t doubt you would be spitting fire from your mouth as you spoke.
“If you’re not going to buy anything then get out.”
He winced slightly but didn’t fight back. He simply looked over the menu quickly and picked the first thing he saw. You disappeared into the kitchen to warm up his order and returned a few minutes later with his order in a paper bag.
You thrust it unceremoniously into his hands and told him his total, voice void of emotion. He handed over the money like asked and watched nervously as you put it into the register. He swallowed.
“I-“ he began before getting cut off.
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say!” you interrupted angrily.
“Please. I know I’ll never be able to fix everything and take it back, but at least give me the chance to apologize. Five minutes and then you’ll never have to see me again,” he begged, desperate for you to agree.
He watched you stop to think it over, holding his breath and trying to get a read on you. Having Toph here would have been a great idea. Finally, you sigh and look up to meet his eyes.
“My shift ends in an hour. You know where to meet me.”
Elated, he spews a million thank you’s out before rushing out of the shop. He gave whatever he had ordered to one of his bodyguards, not interested in eating it in the slightest. Right now, he was focused on preparing.
He walked around the market place of the village and couldn’t help thinking of the last time he had been here. You had found him sleeping behind the bakery and offered him a place to sleep. He had begrudgingly taken you up on the offer and was less than pleased to have been dragged to the market place the next day. Something about a favor for a favor.
He also remembered you stopping by a cart that sold various flowers and remarking that you always loved the way lillies smelled. At first, he had thought it weird, but after he had left you, he couldn’t stop smelling them. A small part of him said it was because it reminded him of you but he muffled that voice quickly.
He was here to make amends not court you.
With a small amount of blush dusting his cheeks, he managed to buy a small bouquet of lillies. Not because he liked you. Just to apologize. Yea, that was all. He found himself beginning to doubt that.
One hour later, Zuko was standing at the outskirts of town, right by the forest. Eventually, out you came, eyeing him suspiciously as he waved. He couldn’t stop the flutter in his chest as he noticed how good you looked. It was like the sun was illuminating you. He cleared his throat when he was caught staring and held out the flowers.
“They’re for you. As a thank you for meeting me,” he mumbled, an innocent smile on his face.
You couldn’t help but stifle a grin and take the flowers. As if on cue, you raised them up to your nose and sniffed, sighing in satisfaction. Your smile up at him made his heart stop.
“You remembered,” you said softly.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and nodded. You rolled your eyes and set off down the path that lead into the forest. He followed after, eventually pacing himself to stay by your side.
“So, you wanted to talk?” you said, snapping him back to reality.
“R-Right. Well, I wanted to apologize for...for being such an asshole. You were nothing but kind to me and I ruined that. I’m really truly sorry,” he said honestly, looking down with what he hoped was an open, honest expression.
Judging by the way you gave a small smile and looked ahead, he would say he did.
“Yea, you were kind of a jerk,” you said with the air of a laugh before you became more serious and asked, “Why did you do that, anyway?”
He didn’t need to ask to know what you were referring to. He sighed and looked to his side to see you, patiently waiting for an answer as the two of you continued walking to your destination.
“I was scared. It’s a shitty excuse, I know. But it didn’f seem as shitty in the moment,” he admitted sheepishly.
You stayed silent as the pair of you finally reached the small clearing. There was a small wooden bench that sat by a small pond. He smiled, remembering all the evenings the two spent sitting by the pond. The two of you sat down together before you spoke.
“You really hurt my feelings, you know.”
He winced. That was to be expected. Thinking back to their last conversation, he was surprised that was all you had said. He had spewed some terrible bullshit about how you lived in a perfect bubble where nothing was wrong. That you should join him in the real world for once.
He still couldn’t erase the pained look his words had caused from his mind. He also couldn’t even begin to forgive himself, so he highly doubted that you would either.
“I really am sorry. I was just so scared of opening up and getting hurt that I shut you out and ran away. I was too afraid of my feelings,” he said softly, eyes staring into the clear pond water.
“...Feelings?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yea. If I’m being honest, I’m still scared. I’ve spent the entire past few months trying to convince myself I didn’t like you, but that’s been failing miserably,” he sighed, chuckling slightly at his own dispair, “I just hope I can make it up to you.”
He braved a glance over at you to see you smiling. You were still clutching the flowers to your chest as well. His heart skipped a beat as you laughed. It was a happy laugh that filled his heart with warmth.
“Well. Would you look at that? You’re pretty cute when you’re nice.”
It took him a minute to process your words. He has a million thoughts running through his head as he felt himself malfunctioning. He sputtered around for a few moments before managing to speak.
“What am I when I’m not nice?” he asked hesitantly, voice holding a hint of confusion.
You actually flat out laughed at that point, which caused a burning red flush of embarrassment to wash over him and color his cheeks and neck. Even the tips of his ears burned.
“Hot,” you said decidedly.
This caused him to gape, his blush growing more furiously. Reality finally caught up to him and he grasped the gravity of the situation.
“Wait. Does that mean-“ he began to ask before being cut off by a short kiss on the cheek.
You returned to your sitting position, smiling lightly with a blush of your own. He couldn’t stop the smile he was holding back from breaking out onto his face.
“You’re a real character, you know that?” you asked with a giggle.
“But you like me anyways?”
You smiled. He could swear his heart melted on the spot at your response.
“Undoubtedly so.”
#zuko#prince zuko#prince zuko fanfic#prince zuko fanfiction#prince zuko fic#zuko imagine#zuko x reader#firelord zuko x reader#firelord zuko#fire lord zuko x reader#fire lord zuko
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yes, Mr. Langdon---Fire & Reign!Michael Langdon x Reader
Word Count: 3228
Summary: Reader is F&R!Michael’s assistant, who is always quick to do whatever he asks. Michael wants to see how far she’ll go to do just that.
Warnings: NSFW, lots of swearing, masturbation, Reader gets a facial, bootlicking, degradation, humiliation ish?, some Mean!Michael, but also kinda Soft!Michael at the end bc I’m soft and lonely at heart, that’s all I can think of idk
A/N: Hi I’ve literally never written any AHS stuff before so I apologize if this sucks but I really hope it doesn’t
Being the personal assistant to the Antichrist was definitely not the easiest job in the world.
But when held in comparison to your time in restaurant service, it definitely wasn’t the hardest either.
At least here, you rarely had to deal with obstinate customers. Most people were too frightened of your boss, Mr. Langdon, to yell or be rude in his presence, which you were constantly in, and on the occasion that they were rude or stubborn anyway, he had a tendency to give a little wave of his hand, incinerating them before your very eyes.
No, the rudest and most needy person you typically had to deal with was Mr. Langdon himself.
The rude came and went in waves. He could be cruel, demeaning, downright evil at times. He acted, in short, much like one might expect the Antichrist to. But sometimes, he could be charming, gentle, occasionally even sweet.
The neediness came and went in waves too, although it was more often very subtly present than anything else. Usually he was commanding, powerful, clearly in charge. But sometimes, although still commanding, he could be almost childlike in his confusion and frustration.
He was kind of an asshole, but he wasn’t the worst boss in the world. There was something about him that was compelling, that made you feel a great desire to please him. He was always specific about what he wanted, and you always complied, no matter how out of the box, how insulting, how simple or extreme, how kind or how demeaning. You said yes to everything he asked you.
And he had begun to take great notice of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Fucking, fuck, dammit to hell, this fucking, son of a bitch!”
You sat at your desk just outside of Michael Langdon’s office, transcribing a giant tome of text as instructed by the Cooperative, and listening to your boss curse loudly at inanimate objects.
You should probably get up, check on him, but you decided that until he reached the point of breaking things-
“Fuck!” He shouted, and then there was a bang and a very, very loud crash.
Yeah, until he started doing stuff like that.
You rose with a shake of your head, knocking sharply on his door three times.
“Come in,” Michael sighed, and as you walked in you took note of the shattered computer against the opposite wall of his desk, turning back to look at your boss with his head laying against said desk, hands gripping at his golden curls.
Dammit, he was frustrated.
Frustrated Michael could be particularly difficult to deal with.
You stood before him, hands folded neatly in front of you, smiling pleasantly even though he wasn’t looking at you yet, “You sounded like you might be in need of assistance, Mr. Langdon. Would you mind fixing your computer?”
He grunted quietly, giving a little swirl of his hand, although he didn’t lift his head, and you stepped out of the way as the technology flew back into place, drifting into its original position.
“Very good. Now, if you don’t mind, could you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m not a child, Y/N,” Michael growled, and you bit your tongue gently to resist the urge to laugh.
Moving to the side of the desk, you smiled to yourself at his little temper tantrum, “Of course not, Mr. Langdon. I am merely at your service.”
“Of course you are,” Sitting up finally, he turned to you, and you were amused to see the pout that sat on his lips, the intimidating man looking suddenly very young, more his own age, “The mouse won’t work.”
“May I?” You didn’t wait for him to agree, already wiggling the mouse once and then moving to the wires of the computer, fiddling with them quickly before sliding the mouse back to Michael, “That should do it.”
“What was wrong with it?” He glanced up at you, voice gruff, although you could hear a hint of curiosity.
You shifted where you stood, trying to mask your discomfort, “Just, uh, just technology stuff.”
“Y/N,” Turning in his chair, Michael pinned you in place with his gaze, and you were unsure whether this was metaphorical pinning or not, with how frozen you felt, “Tell me what was wrong with it.”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Trying to keep your smile in place rather than let a grimace take you over, you grit your teeth in preparation for him to do something violent, “The mouse wasn’t plugged in all the way. It’s a fairly common issue. Happens all the time.”
You tensed, but to your surprise Michael didn’t yell or break something or curse, like he usually did when he felt a sense of ineptitude. Instead, he laughed, and normally that would’ve scared you even more, but it was such a warm and gentle laugh that you felt yourself relaxing ever so slightly as he spoke, “Of course it was. Tell me, Y/N, is there anything wrong with you?”
Shrugging, you let yourself perch on the edge of his desk with a giggle, “Plenty of things, believe me.”
“Tell me some?”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” Pausing, you mused over your words, testing each on the tip of your tongue before you said it, “Let’s see. My left foot is bigger than my right. I think jealousy is a very ugly emotion, and I hate it, but I have a lot of insecurities, and often find myself jealous of people around me in spite of my best efforts. Um, I read cheesy romance novels in my free time even though the writing usually makes me cringe. When people ask me what type of lipstick I use I always lie because I don’t want anyone else to have lips that look as good as mine. Oh, and even though I exclusively call you Mr. Langdon out loud, I will confess that in my head I usually refer to you as Michael. It’s faster, y’know.”
Chuckling softly once more, Michael nodded, “Those don’t sound too bad, as far as problems go. You’re lucky.”
“I prefer to think of myself as adaptable.”
“Fair enough,” He grinned, but something dangerous glittered behind his eyes, “You can go now, Y/N.”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You flashed him a small smile before hurrying out of the room.
Michael watched you leave, musing over your words.
How far, he wondered, how far could he go with his wishes, before you gave in, before you said no.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why the hell wouldn’t you say no to anything?
It was beginning to drive Michael crazy, watching the way that you gave in to whatever he asked, even when he was being absurd.
You spent a full day doing all your work in nothing but your underclothes, simply because he asked.
You gave sat on his lap through a whole meeting with other members of the Cooperative, your superiors, simply because he asked.
You let him order you to do tiny things. Hand him pens that were two inches away from his fingertips. Kiss the floor where his chair had been sitting. Adjust the brightness of his computer screen for him only to come back and adjust it to its original brightness approximately two minutes later. Simply because he asked.
What wouldn’t you say yes to?
He was musing over this as he waited for you to return from a coffee run.
There you were, carrying two paper cups, a pleasant smile on your face.
Always that same damn smile.
“I have your hot chocolate, Mr. Langdon,” You set the cup in front of him on the desk, “Thank you again for allowing me to get myself a drink.”
Michael glanced up at you, frowning, “Y/N, I always let you get yourself a drink.”
Shrugging, you raised the cup to your lips and took a sip, “I know you do, Mr. Langdon. But it feels right to thank you. You’re a good boss.”
Maybe not so much, He thought to himself as he twitched his hand, watching you drop the cup almost in slow motion, watching as the lid came off and your drink spilled just a bit onto his lap, just a bit onto his legs, cursing as the rest came splashing down onto his shoes.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, staring at your now empty hands in shock.
Sneering at you, Michael snapped twice, “Don’t just stand there, Y/N. Clean up your mess.”
“Right, I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, let me go get-”
“No,” He grabbed your wrist, not allowing you to move away, and you turned back to him in confusion as he continued to tug you closer, “Get onto your knees, open your mouth, and clean up your mess.”
Holy fuck.
Ignoring the way your face burned, you averted your eyes, whispering, “Yes, Mr. Langdon,” As you dropped to your knees.
Where exactly were you meant to go with this?
Michael raised his foot, nudging your chin with it until you looked up and met his gaze, his eyes holding something dark and urgently, compellingly dangerous, “Well? Get to work, Y/N.”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”
Before you could even think any further, he had touched the toe of his boot to your mouth, pushing gently against your bottom lip until you opened for him.
He was a remarkably clean person, and beyond the taste of your coffee even the shoes themselves didn’t taste particularly bad.
Probably because they cost more than your apartment.
You moved slowly at first, but as Michael brought his hands down to wind tightly through your hair, you sped up. You lapped at the droplets of coffee, over the grooves of his laces and up to the sharp, pointed toe of the boot, and when you were done with one you switched to the other. He gripped your hair tightly, guiding your head, forcing you to bob up and down as you cleaned his shoe, and you wondered vacantly to yourself if he did the same thing while he was getting a blowjob.
Probably.
“Good girl,” He praised as you worked, his voice softer than you expected, and even Michael seemed surprised as he cleared his throat, his tone becoming darker, “You’re not bad at this. Do you do this often?”
Pausing your ministrations briefly, you shook you head, “No, Mr. Langdon.”
You were back at it immediately, feeling him tug at your head.
Michael was trying hard to sound intimidating, and of course he did, he always did, but there was something shockingly gentle behind his voice even as he growled, “Good. I should be your first priority. Tell me, do you enjoy this?”
You had finished against his shoes, pulling away, and he released your head as he examined them, smirking at your heavy breathing, at the way you panted your answer, “Would you, uh, do you want me to enjoy this, Mr. Langdon?”
Narrowing his eyes, a frown etched across his face, “What? I mean, no. No, I don’t want you to.”
“Then I don’t,” You shrugged, rocking backwards.
Fuck, you were going to kill him.
“What if I wanted you to?”
“Then I would.”
Clearing his throat again, Michael stared at you for a moment before patting his thigh, “There’s coffee on my pants, as well. You’ll need to take care of that, too.”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”
He didn’t touch you this time, instead bringing his hands up, reclining further back in his chair and resting his head against his palms as he watched you.
Starting at the cuff, you stroked your tongue up his pant leg, pressing absentminded kisses occasionally as you went. By the time you’d reached the tops of his thighs, Michael was straining forward ever so slightly, dragging the chair closer to you with one ankle hooked around his desk, and then meeting up with his other ankle to lock behind your back.
You took the hint, mouthing along the outline of his cock.
Holy shit, he was huge, and you hadn’t even seen it unconstrained.
He hissed, quietly, his hips bucking forward as you licked your way up to his zipper, clamping your teeth onto it and tugging down without much thought.
“Stop,” He said firmly, almost laughing as you scrambled back, “Don’t be greedy.”
“Sorry, Mr. Langdon,” You dropped your gaze and licked your lips, tasting the remains of your coffee.
“Is this...” Trailing off in thought, Michael guided your face upwards once more, forcing you to make eye contact with him, “Is this embarrassing for you, Y/N?”
“Do you want it to be embarrassing for me?”
“Stop that,” He snapped, his grip on your chin tightening, “Stop bullshitting me. Give me a real answer. Truthfully, is this embarrassing for you?”
Tapping your fingers along your thighs, musing over your answer a moment, “Truthfully? Of course it is. A lot of the things you have me do, especially lately, I find humiliating.”
There it was. Now would you finally give in, finally reject a request?
He didn’t say anything, just reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock.
Neither of you spoke, staring at each other instead, and hesitantly you reached for it, flinching as Michael slapped your hand away just as you brushed your fingers against him.
“I told you not to be greedy.”
“Sorry, Mr. Langdon.”
After a moment more, Michael nodded, wrapping his own fist around his cock and beginning to pump it. You watched in fascination as moved, at the way his long fingers wrapped around his thick, long, perfect cock.
“Y/N,” Snapping you out of your daze, Michael paused to spit into his hand, moving rubbing along the head of his dick before returning to his former position, “I want to jerk off onto your face. I want you to sit there, and watch me, and I want to finish on your face, and when I’m done, I want you to thank me, and I want you to leave it there. Leave it for the rest of the day, so everyone can see how desperate you are to please me.”
Surely, surely you would say no to this.
“Yes, Mr. Langdon.”
A growl made its way out of his throat before he could stop it, and he sped up his pace as he watched you fold your hands in your lap, adjusting your knees a little, staring up at him through your fluttering lashes.
Snarling, Michael grunted, “You’re pathetic, do you know that?”
Did he want you to answer?
“Keep your pretty little whore mouth shut, got it?” He spoke like he could read your mind, and you decided he probably could as you clamped your teeth shut, nodding quickly as he continued, “Fuck. You’d do anything I asked you to, huh? If I told you to kill someone, you’d do it without question, wouldn’t you? Hell, you’d kill yourself without question, if I asked you to. I think you like feeling humiliated. I think that your pussy gets wetter and wetter every time I tell you what to do. I- shit- I’m your fucking boss, and you’re on your knees for me before I can even finish telling you that’s where you need to be. It’s absurd. You probably want me to fuck you right now. You’re probably wishing I would let you open your mouth so you can swallow me down, you’re so desperate to get a taste of me.”
He was getting closer to finishing, you could tell, his rhythm getting faster and faster, his words becoming more sharply articulated.
Michael kept going, almost like he was talking himself into cumming, “You can’t wait for me to finish, can you? You can’t wait to feel completely possessed by me, like I’ve somehow claimed you. You can’t wait for everyone who you see to stare at you, full of disgust and confusion. You want it, don’t you? Don’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. Langdon,” You nodded, shutting your eyes as he let out a low, shaky groan, his warm cum coating your face.
Fucking hell.
You opened your eyes slowly, carefully, unsure of whether or not you should move. You watched as Michael stuffed himself back into his pants, zipping them quickly, and then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to you.
You didn’t take it but blinked up at him, staring, “I, um, I thought you said to leave it.”
Clicking his tongued, Michael started wiping your face himself, his touch incredibly light, “I thought you’d say no. Tell me to stop. Maybe report me to HR.”
You flicked your eyebrow up, an amused smile settling on your lips, “Do we have an HR for the apocalypse?”
Chuckling mirthlessly, he raised the handkerchief to his mouth and spat lightly, cleaning your face more intently, “You could say no, do you realize that? Why don’t you ever say no to me?”
You closed your eyes as he rubbed across the bridge of your nose, dabbing delicately at your eyelids.
“Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” You asked, finally, as he moved to your hairline.
His brow furrowed in confusion, “I, uh, no? No, I’ve never seen it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” His hand moved to your cheek and you leaned into it before you could stop yourself, humming as his thumb moved to run across your skin, “You should watch it sometime. Before you do the whole ending the world thing and kill me and pretty much everyone else in the world and inevitably ruin Netflix. Forget about that. Let’s just say it’s because I’m afraid of you, yeah? You scare me, so I do whatever you say.”
Hesitating for just a moment, Michael pulled his hand away, eyes closed, frowning, “Is that what The Princess Bride is about? Being afraid of your boss?”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and you found yourself wishing that he would touch your face again, although you didn’t dare say so, “Not quite. Just, uh, forget about The Princess Bride. It doesn’t matter.”
He nodded, folding his handkerchief and slipping it into his pocket without opening his eyes, which you found oddly impressive.
You kept waiting for Michael to say something, to look at you, to move, to do anything, but he wasn’t and he didn’t and so you stood, and started to move away.
“Wait,” He spoke finally, and you felt as though you’d been in silence for hours although you knew it must’ve only been a few moments.
“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Michael opened his eyes, looking at you carefully, “I mean, the apocalypse. It’s not going to kill you.”
“It’s not? I thought only members of the Cooperative, and the people rich enough to buy a ticket, I thought they were the only ones who were going to make it.”
He wrapped his hand around your wrist, just as he had before, but this time it wasn’t aggressive, wasn’t rough. He was very gentle, his fingers skimming along the veins, pausing to feel your pulse thump against him, “And you. There will be a place for you in the new world, Y/N, I promise you that.”
And then Michael had released your wrist and turned away, and you made your way out the door and back to your own desk with a soft, “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”
#ahs#ahs apocalypse#ahs: apocalypse#american horror story#apocalypse#fire and reign michael#f&r!michael#f&r!michael langdon#michael langdon#f&r!michael smut#f&r!michael langdon smut#f&r!michael langdon x reader#f&r!michael langdon x reader smut#michael langdon smut#michael langdon x reader#michael langdon x reader smut#michael langdon fic#ahs fic#idk what to tag i'm all excited and nervous and stuff#but#yeah#okay#woo#first fic heh#nice
191 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alpha Pt. 3 (Grayson Dolan)
a/n: I think its actually been two years since I wrote the first two parts of alpha but idc I’m actually in college now i feel like I have actual insight on how Mr. Alpha of ATO would act around y/n.
After their date, or forced casual hangout according to y/n, Grayson doesn’t necessarily keep his end of the deal.
y/r/n = your roommate’s name
warning(s): sexual allusions, cussing, drinking
(part one/part two)
_______________________________
When you return home from your, well you’re not actually sure what to call it, with Grayson, your roommate immediately sits up to see your face, looking for any indication of how your night went. She throws her chem textbook to the side and give you a look as to say well?
You close the door behind you before putting your face in your hands and taking a seat at your desk. You keep shaking your head, there is not a chance in hell you have feelings for this boy. The boy who preyed on a freshman at her very first college party. The boy who stalked you around all of your classes, got your phone number and somehow found out all about your life in the span of a week. You keep reminding yourself of the weird and uncomfortable things he’s done to distract you from the way he planned out an entire evening for the two of you, or that he actually helped you find your sister and her friends or how good he looked when the setting sun hit his tan skin in his topless Jeep only hours ago. Jesus, y/n, snap out of it.
“Come on, spill!” Your roommate begs, she had to deal with your ranting about not wanting to go all afternoon, she deserves to at least know how it went. “What did you do? What was he like? How’d he dress? Oh my god did you hook up?”
“Ew, y/r/n, no!” You gasp at her last question. How could she expect you to hookup with someone you hate? “It was fine. We ate dinner in some park then he took me to that neon sign museum. Nothing fancy, he had a shirt on which was a first. He acted nice but I don’t buy it for a second.”
“Neither,” She replies, knowing the boy only from how you’ve described him. “He’s probably just trying to get in your pants so he can bug your sister about it.”
She’s right. You can’t fall into his trap, he has ulterior motive. They always do. You just have to go on and find some boy on your floor to kiss and get him out of your head for good. Every part of you wishes your sister hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend, he would’ve given Grayson a piece of his mind if he knew that he was bothering you. Unfortunately for you and her ex, y/s/n does not like to be tied down and she needed to “have her fun” for her last first semester. You and y/r/n talk for a little while longer, about classes and whatnot, but mostly end up talking about Grayson again.
“We should go to bed.” You finally say, yawning and looking down at your phone screen that read 12:47 am. Your roommate huffs, obviously wanting to hear more about your night with the infamous Alpha Dog of ATO. “Recruitment starts tomorrow, we have to meet our groups at eight in the morning, remember?”
“I know, I know,” She replies, slipping out of her bed so she can gather her things to get ready for bed. You grab you toiletries bag as well and head toward the bathroom with her. “We’re talking about this tomorrow, don’t think I’ve let up.”
Recruitment happens over the span of four days, this weekend and next. It’s a dry rush period so no potential new members can be seen on frat property, giving you a good enough reason to avoid Grayson. Going into recruitment you’re already around ninety-two percent sure you’ll end up in Delta Gamma, just like your sister and your mom. The next few days of recruitment go well, you meet new friends from your rush group who help through the stressful process. Throughout the week you get sporadic texts from none other than Grayson Dolan wishing you luck with those days rounds, giving you unsolicited pointers of where to pref, and telling you that he saw you walking on greek row. You don’t respond to any, hoping he gives up on trying to woo you. So much for leaving you alone after one date. You pref Delta Gamma and Kappa Alpha Theta, but end up ranking DG first, not wanting to end your legacy but also because you felt you fit in most there. It was no surprise when you got a bid. Your sister is over the moon, shrieking over how her biological sister is now her deegster. You still have to get used to the lingo.
You come to find during bid day, which is Space Cowboy themed of course, that your new pledge class will be going out for bid-night with your bid day bigs. You don’t understand half of the things they’re saying to you, the language of sorority girls still lost on you. You’re added to a GroupMe with the new pledges of Alpha Tau Omega, just when you thought you could escape that fraternity as a whole, your bid night is with them. You almost immediately get a text from Grayson.
following in sissy’s steps? see you tonight miss delta gamma, anchor down ;)
What is it with him and these nicknames? You show your sister and she fake gags, saying she can’t believe he’s still texting you after all this time. She still has no idea about last weekend, you intend to keep it that way. When you get back to your dorm, you and your roommate talk all about bid day, she ended up going Kappa. Her bid night was with Phi Gamma Delta, or Fiji. If only you could have been so lucky. She can’t help but snort at the fact that you’re going to ATO tonight, she says it’s the universal pulling you and Dolan together.
Your sister won’t being coming out with you tonight, having a lab tomorrow morning that she simply cannot miss. You’re partly grateful for it, now Grayson can’t let it slip to her that you two went out together. You end up getting ready in the room of a girl of your floor who you met today at bid day, wanting to base your outfit on someone else’s to blend in as much as possible. With the massive group of girls coming into his house, surely he won’t be able to find you. You meet up with your bid day big along with the girl on your floor’s and you all walk toward the ATO house together. You’re nervous, extremely nervous, but you don’t show it. As you near the house, you’re met with the mix of conflicting basses coming from any frat basement on the block. There are a few girls waiting outside the familiar house, and thats when you see it.
Grayson Dolan at the door, personally greeting every single one of your new sisters, his eyes scanning over every single one of the freshman walking into the door, earning him plenty of groans from the older girls. You don’t mean to say anything out loud, but you let an oh god slip. Your bid day big turns to you with a confused look.
“My sisters warned me about him,” You tell her, which is half of the truth. “Real scumbag I’ve heard.”
She just laughs, not even needing to agree with you for you to know she feels the same way about him. The closer you get to the front door, the more your stomach aches. If only you could be in your dorm watching Barbie Mermaidia with your roommate like last night. You try your best to hide within the group you came with, but it’s no use, he has his single file, one over strategy down to a science.
“Hello you.” He greets you with a shit-eating grin. You hope the girls with you don’t catch him singling you out. “I’ll see you inside.”
“Fuck off Dolan,” Your bid day big calls over to him. “She’s not one of your play things.”
She pulls you inside before Grayson can say anything else. Luckily he doesn’t follow the two of you either. She gets you a drink and you socialize with the girls and some of the guys. You’re more focused on making girl friends tonight, as much as you’ve loathed your time at ATO, finding a group of girls to wander around greek row on a Saturday night is and essential part to your freshman year plan. You don’t even realize how drunk you’re getting, you follow your sister’s order to never take a cup from a brother, only ever allowing something you or one of your sisters have mixed to travel down your throat. You recall the words of your sisters earlier in the night, ‘bid night means black out ladies.’ You certainly don’t want to black out, but getting a little tipsy won’t hurt anyone. Toward the middle of the night you’re all dancing, body to body in their packed and sweaty basement. You have to admit, you’re actually kind of having fun. When you feel a pair of hands dig into your hips you don’t even flinch, simply moving your hips along to whatever shitty remix is coming from the massive speakers. You swing yourself around to face the boy and wrap your arms around his neck while his stay on your hips. You don’t recognize him, but from what you can see under the dim colored lights he’s cute. Mostly everyone in ATO is. He gives you a grin, letting one of his hands travel closer toward your ass, you don’t mind it, at least it’s not Grayson.
Grayson. Where is that boy? He said he’d meet you inside and it’s been at least an hour and a half. You don’t know why your mind is suddenly wandering off to Grayson. How he must look right now, definitely shirtless with some stupid phrase painted across his chest. How the sweat from the sheer amount of bodies in the house is probably making his tan skin glisten under the LED lights. How his hands are probably wrapped around a red solo cup so perfectly. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip until your lips are connected with the boy you’re dancing with. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, suddenly feeling all hot and bothered after picturing Grayson, wherever he is in this house. Snap out of it. Finding Grayson even remotely attractive would go against everything you stand for, your sister would probably smack your head to make sure there is still a brain in there.
You keep drinking, everything practically going down like water at this point. Your speech is slurring and the room spins around you. You leave the boy you’re dancing with for another drink, finding the stairs to the main floor and gripping onto the handle for dear life. You stumble towards where some boy is pouring a mystery liquid into a cup and stop in front of it. Your new drink is swiftly taken from you and placed back on the table and you’re pulled from the crowd of people.
“How much have you had to drink.” It’s Grayson. He looks so good, you think. He’s shouting over the music for you to answer him. “I’m serious y/n, I need a number.”
You try and do the mental math but the only clear thought in your brain at the moment is how good he looks with his shirt off. You start to count on your fingers but lose track at five so you just shrug. He rolls his eyes, knowing that if anything were to happen to you your sister would beat his ass like it was somehow his fault.
“Why do you care, dad.” You mock him as he tries to think about what he should do with you. “I have to drink this much, I’m in a sos-sorotity you know?”
He can’t help but laugh at the way you’re butchering the words coming out of your mouth, the slurring evident on your tongue. “Okay, miss sorotity, follow me.” He grasps your hand, interlocking your fingers and begins to pull you up another flight of stairs that you’ve never been up. This house is massive. He pulls you into a room and locks the door behind him. Even with the room spinning you can make out a few features. A bed with a white comforter that lies low to the ground, a big frame holding what looks like a yearbook page of girls, and a lava lamp.
“Is this your room?” You ask, leaning up against the wall for some stability. He just nods, fiddling with something in his drawers. “I’m not having, s-sex with you Grayson. You can’t make me.”
“I don’t want to have sex with you, sweetheart.” He mumbles back, pulling an article of clothing out of the open drawer. Once you process what he says all you can think is ouch. He’s fucked practically every girl on at this school, are you so repulsive you’re excluded from the campus wide Grayson Dolan body count? “Oh don’t be sad, I meant I’m not having sex with you tonight, y/n. Contrary to your hilarious nickname you came up with for me the first night we met, I don’t fuck drunk girls.”
You realize you may have said ouch out loud, have you been doing that all night? He’s only telling you this because he’s almost one hundred percent certain you’ll remember none of this in the morning. Between the jungle juice and natty seltzers, the only thoughts in your brain tomorrow will be getting to a toilet bowl immediately. He pulls out a shirt and a pair of boxers and tosses them your way. You don’t catch them, just start stripping your shirt off.
“Jesus, y/n, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were giving me a little strip tease.” He jokes with you, turning his head away from you, letting you keep at least part of your dignity. “Tell me when you’re done.”
“I can’t put them on, Grayson.” You whine, your drunken brain unable to comprehend how to put on a t shirt. You pick it up off the ground and hold it out for him to grab. “Help me.”
He huffs out and takes the shirt from your hands, he should at least be getting paid for babysitting you like he is. He pulls his shirt over your head and forces your arms through their respective holes. As he’s about to walk away from you again, you put and point at your shoes and jeans. He rolls his eyes and pulls both your shoes and socks of both feet before carefully undoing your zipper and shimmying the fabric off your sweaty legs, then pulling the pair of boxers over your hips. He’s usually taking underwear off girls, not putting a second pair on. His breathe hitches at the oddly intimate moment he’s sharing with you, you won’t remember any of it but he doesn’t usually do this. You suddenly feel very tired, almost collapsing on top of Grayson before he steadies your hips. He pulls back his comforter for you to slide under. You sink into his mattress and smile at your need for a bed being fulfilled. The lights shut off and you hear him unlock and open the door.
“Wait!” You call after him, making him stop in his tracks. “Can you stay?”
“You’re one needy chick when you’re drunk, huh?” He asks, walking back into the room and locking the door behind him again. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, you know that?”
You just give him a cheesy smile, not sure if he can even see you in the dark room, but you don’t care. You hear his shoes hit the ground and the bed dips next to you. You can still hear the music coming from the basement, it’s muffled but you can still make out every word. You roll over to face Grayson and he’s already looking at you.
“What’re you looking at?”
“You.”
A goofy grin graces your lips when he says it. If you were sober you’d probably protest, whack his arm or something, but now you don’t care. You let your index finger drag along his bicep, up over his shoulder and neck, around his face and then boop his nose. You can feel his face shift when he smiles.
“You have a pretty smile,” The words leave your lips before you can even think if it’s an okay thing to say. He lets out a short laugh, finding your drunk self’s inability to filter your thoughts amusing. “You’re handsome, Grayson.”
“You’re drunk, y/n.” He teases you. “You need to stop talking before you say something you regret.”
You whine, faking a pout on your lips. “I think it when I’m not drunk too.”
He can’t contain his smile, pushing a piece of hair that has fallen into your face. “We’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight, y/n.”
You wake up with a pounding headache and no recollection of last night past kissing some boy in the basement of ATO. You rub your eyes, shielding them from the light coming in the large window. Large window? This isn’t your dorm, you’re not in your bed and that is certainly not your roommate passed out next to you.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You whisper repeatedly as you try your best to slip out of the bed you’re currently in. Your shirt and jeans and shoes are strewn across the floor and your in someone else’s shirt and pants. Underwear is still on, two pairs now which is comforting. In your attempt to sneak out of whoever’s room this is you ram your knee into the dresser beside the door. “Goddamnit!”
Before you can continue gathering your things, the figure that you were just sleeping next to takes in a deep breath and let’s out a loud groan, stretching out his arms. “Y/n?”
You know that voice from anywhere, you’re so fucked. “Grayson?”
He sits up and runs his hands through his hair. The contrast of his tan skins against the white comforter is breathtaking. His hair is going in all different directions but he still looks good, how does he always looks good? His silver chain hangs loose around his neck and falls just belong his collar bone. You genuinely believe, at least physically, he is without flaws.
“Surprised?”
“Obviously I am!” You shout back, hurting your own head in the process. “Oh god, oh fuck, did we?”
“God, no, y/n.” He stops your spiralling. You let out a breath of relief that you didn’t even know you were holding. “You think I would have sex with you if I had any doubt that you would remember it in the morning? No, you were hammered and about to keep drinking and I saw where the situation was going so I room you out of it. End of story.”
“So I changed myself?”
“You were meant to, but you started whining like a three year old that you didn’t know how to put a shirt one.” He replies. You’re not really sure how to feel about it, but it’s better than the alternative. “I put your clothes on and put you to bed.”
You let out a sigh, plopping yourself back onto the bed now that you know who it belongs to. You wish you could remember last night, knowing you probably did and said some things in your drunken state that you’re sure you’ll regret if you ever hear of them. Grayson just looks at you, wondering what’s going on in your mind and thinking about what you said to him last night. How you complimented his smile and called him handsome. He couldn’t get it out of his mind. When you turn your body to face him, he scans your features. Hair a mess from both the dingy basement and the hours of sleep you just got, your mascara has collected under your eyes but you still look pretty.
“Stop looking at me like that.” You pull him from his thoughts of you, he didn’t even realize he was staring. He shakes his head and puts on his signature smirk to prevent you from thinking anything other than that he’s an asshole who’s mind is on girls 24/7. He has a reputation to keep and all.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to kiss me or something.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you.”
“Oh fuck off, Dolan.” You scoff at him before he makes the decision to bring himself just inches from your face. So close that you can feel the warmth from his body. Your first instinct is to touch him somewhere, anywhere, but you don’t act on it. “What are you doing?”
“Just getting a better look,” He replies making your eyes roll. Anytime you think you’re letting yourself fall for him he says something gross. “Do you want me to be doing something?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, y/n.”
It’s silent. There’s nothing to say. Your chest is moving up and down at a rapid pace, you’re not sure why you can’t seem to catch your breath but you can’t. His eyes flicker between your and and your lips. Before you can stop yourself you reach your hand to sit on his cheek and inch your body closer to his. The closer you get the more you can feel his hot breathe on your lips and without a second thought you bring your lips to meet his. Your brain is fuzzy and your body feels like it’s on fire but it feels right.
It doesn’t take long for Grayson to kiss you back, he’s actually shocked you gave in given the way you ignored him for weeks. He rolls over so that he can steady himself with him one arm beside you and the other gripping your waist. You can still barely breathe and he notices. He pulls away from you and give you the biggest shit eating grin. “Can believe you gave in.”
“Shut up before I change my mind.”
#grayson dolan#ethan dolan#the dolan twins#the dolan twins imagine#grayson dolan imagine#ethan dolan imagine#dolan twins
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quiet Hands - Persona 5
Pairing: Yusuke & the Phantom Thieves (platonic), Yusuke & Natsuhiko (familial)
Genre: Oneshot, Angst with a bit of fluff, Found family.
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: In this fic, Yusuke deals with a lot of internalized ableism and ableist remarks from Madarame. There is also some physical abuse, emotional abuse and depiction of a panic attack. The r slur is also used. Please bear these warnings in mind before proceeding.
Summary: Madarame never understood Yusuke. He was quick to punish Yusuke for fidgeting. Yusuke learns that loud hands get him hurt. It is much better to have quiet hands. It is better to hold down all the stuff that makes him different. It is better to be who Madarame wants him to be. The Phantom Thieves seemed to disagree with this.
- - - - -
Yusuke was a creature of unbreakable habit. He enjoyed order and structure, and liked to know when he was expected to do things and how he was expected to do them. The slightest disruption to his routine would send him spiralling, leaving him in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.
Today was one of those days. Madarame had invited a guest over without warning Yusuke beforehand, and that had sent him into a tantrum of epic proportions. He didn’t like strangers and he didn’t like surprises, so this was a particularly detestable event in his eyes.
Madarame dragged him downstairs despite his vehement protests. “I don’t want to,” whined Yusuke, trying to pull his arm out of Madarame’s grip. “Let me go!”
“Oh, grow up Yusuke!” snapped Madarame. “You’re not a little kid anymore, and this whining is completely unacceptable for someone your age. Sometimes you must do things you don’t want to do. That’s life, and complaining isn’t going to change anything. Now, you will behave and act normal in front of this curator, or I will ground you for the rest of the week. Do you understand me?”
Yusuke squirmed in his grip. “But it’s so difficult Daddy. I don’t like new people.”
Madarame scowled. “I am not your father. What do you call me?”
“Sensei,” sniffed Yusuke. “Do I really have to do it Sensei?”
“Yes, the curator is expecting to meet you. I’m not having you embarrass me again,” said Madarame, shoving Yusuke into the living room.
The curator stood to greet them as they came in. He was an aggressively friendly man, who immediately went to shake Madarame’s hand with a wide, toothy smile on his face. “Is this your son?” he asked brightly.
“No, he’s my student. I took him in after his mother’s death,” explained Madarame, pushing Yusuke forward. “Why don’t you say hello Yusuke?”
Yusuke mumbled a hello, doing anything to keep from making eye contact, which was made difficult by the fact that the stranger seemed to be attempted the exact opposite at every opportunity. “I apologise for his behaviour,” said Madarame. “He’s a little shy.”
He punctuated the last word with a sharp glare. Yusuke curled further in on himself.
“I understand,” laughed the curator. “My daughter’s shy too. Anyway, what layout are we thinking for this new exhibit?”
Madarame and the curator launched into a lengthy conversation about the upcoming exhibition, thankfully leaving Yusuke out of it. He didn’t want to talk anyway.
All this stress of meeting a new person was making him feel a bit shaky. Similar to how a kettle filled with boiling water needed a way to release the rising pressure, he had found his own way of release. It varied by situation and circumstance, and today it had manifested as fluttery fingers. The curator hadn’t noticed, still engrossed in the work that Madarame was showing him.
Madarame shoot Yusuke a murderous glare and reached over a hand. He pinned Yusuke’s wrist to the table, forcing his hands to a standstill. The curator happily continued with the conversation, having not noticed at all.
“Quiet hands,” hissed Madarame. “You know the rules.”
Yusuke knew he was in trouble.
Nothing happened until the curator left. Madarame was cruel, but he wasn’t stupid. He never struck Yusuke in public and never in front of others - he had his reputation to worry about after all - but things were different behind closed doors.
As soon as the front door slammed shut, Madarame struck, like a viper leaping from the brush. He yanked Yusuke forward, sharp nails digging into his wrist. Stumbling, Yusuke desperately tried to regain his footing, but was thrown of balance again when Madarame smacked him on the side of the head, sending him lurching to the left. He was lucky enough to grab a hold of the coffee table before he hit the ground.
His ear was ringing with discordant chords of a half-finished song, and his vision was blurred, but he could still make out Madarame’s scowling face.
“Sensei, I—”
“Ten fucking minutes! That was all I asked,” screamed Madarame. “And you couldn’t even do that. What is wrong with you?”
Yusuke stared down at the ground. “I don’t know…” he muttered.
“You don’t know?” Madarame said incredulously. “I’m not having a retard for a student. You need to learn to control yourself. No more of that stupid fidgeting. I’ve let it go on for far too long anyway.”
“But I can’t control it,” said Yusuke.
“You will learn. You are not a wild animal that is completely lacking in self control. I raised you better than that.”
“Sensei, you can’t—”
“I’m doing this for your own good Yusuke. No one is going to take you seriously if you act like that. Now go to your room and think about what you’ve done,” spat Madarame. “Don’t think I’m feeding you after this outburst.”
Things only got worse after that. Madarame stayed true to his word and punished Yusuke for the fidgeting whenever he saw it. That didn’t mean that Yusuke stopped though; he just learned to hide it in front of his mentor. He learned to bottle it all down and release it when he was on his own so he could avoid the punishment.
Even so, the pressure was always building, hissing and screaming to be let out. Sometimes he couldn’t stop it from erupting out of him. Those where the worst days. He would be left shaking and crying, scratching at himself, trying to alleviate that crushing feeling deep down in his soul.
He was only hurting himself – he knew that – but it was the only way to make himself feel better.
Madarame didn’t understand it, just as he had never understood anything about Yusuke. As always, he resorted to violence. He would smack Yusuke on the back of the head every time, repeating the same words.
“Quiet hands.”
Like how a dog can be made to salivate at the sound of a ringing bell, Yusuke was conditioned to associate exhibiting these behaviours in front of others with fear. With pain. Whenever Madarame had guests over, he played the role of the perfect protégé and dutiful student, exactly how Madarame wanted him to, so that he could avoid his ire.
Not once did he question it.
Madarame just wanted what was best for him.
That was the only explanation.
As sad as it was to admit, Yusuke had never had friends before he met the phantom thieves. He had always been too busy with his art and studies and never had enough time to socialise. No one at his school liked him enough to talk to him anyway.
The closest person he had to a friend when he was a child was Natsuhiko, who had been more like a brother to him, but Natsuhiko left when Yusuke was ten years old. Ysuuke didn’t even get to say goodbye. He just found his bed empty one morning and was informed of his departure over breakfast. Yusuke never quite forgave Natsuhiko for leaving him like that.
The Phantom Thieves were a motley crew, but they were the kindest people Yusuke had met in a long time, so he was happy to call them his friends. They were all kindred spirits, people who had been beaten down and abused by the world, and people who wanted change.
He found solace in their friendship. It was comforting to be around people who were so much like him, who had similar pasts and experiences, and who could understand him.
That day he was reminded of how kind the Phantom Thieves were.
Yusuke had started yet another one of his passionate rants – this time about an artist from the Edo period, who was well known for his unique handling of colours and composition – and instead of blowing him off and ignoring him, as he had expected them to, everyone was paying attention to what he had to say.
And he loved it. Art was a second parent to Yusuke (it had certainly done more to raise him than Madarame ever had) and he would happily ramble about it for hours on end. Once he got going, he could rarely force himself to stop.
There was a lull in his ramble, and he realised how rude he was being. “I apologise,” he said. “I let that go on a bit long, didn’t I? I have a bad habit of running my mouth. It won’t happen again.”
“We don’t mind man,” said Ryuji. “Art makes you happy and shit. We get that.”
“It’s like me and computers,” added Futaba, who was crouching on the couch and fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Sometimes you’ve just got to talk about these things.”
“Whatever makes you happy Yusuke,” said Ann.
“We’re your friends,” explained Ren, leaning dangerously far back in his chair. “We only want you to be happy, and if this is what makes you happy, go for it.” Haru and Makoto nodded in agreement.
Yusuke couldn’t stop himself. He felt bubbly and ecstatic. All that energy had to go somewhere and he found his hand flapping, quite without his input or permission. He rocked on his heels, riding that wave of joy.
It didn’t last long however, and a wave of horror came crashing down upon him as soon as he realised what he had done. Everyone was staring at him and he was frozen in place.
It was like he was the painting in Madarame’s palace. That damn thing haunted his dreams. He would never forget it – the reminder that he was nothing than a thing to the man who raised him. The man he thought of as his father. It sneered at him, as he tossed and turned, reminding him that he would never truly be free.
A tiny sliver of his brain knew that Madarame was gone, and couldn’t hurt him anymore. But it was overwhelmed by everything else that was screaming at him that he was in danger. That he needs to run and not look back. But he couldn’t even do that.
They’ll only hate you after this.
He tried to force himself to say something – anything – but couldn’t force out a single sound. He swore that he couldn’t breathe. Everyone’s eyes were on him. His heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through his veins that he wouldn’t even use because he was too terrified to run, let alone move.
“Yusuke is something wrong?” asked Ren, ever the gracious leader. Yusuke wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it if Ren hit him. He was usually so composed, but Yusuke knew he packed a mean punch. He had seen him use it on shadows before.
Maybe, if he uses it on you, you’ll turn to dust and blow away as well. Then you won’t bother them anymore. They’ll be happy that you’re gone.
“I can’t— I don’t— I need—" he stammered, unable to form the words correctly. Everyone was staring at him. This was so humiliating.
Ren cast a desperate look to Futaba, who nodded and swayed to her feet. She inched toward Yusuke and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. Yusuke flinched and she pulled away.
“You need to breathe Yusuke,” said Futaba. “I know it’s hard, but you need to breathe. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight. Come on, do it with me.”
Yusuke took in a single shaky breath. And then another. Soon, his heart stopped palpitating at a million miles an hour, and he finally felt stable.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what came over me. I- I don’t know. It simply happened.”
“It’s okay. You were just having a panic attack. Have you never had one before?” asked Futaba.
“No…” said Yusuke. “I can’t believe I lost control like that in front of everyone. This is mortifying.”
“No one’s going to judge you or anything. These things happen,” said Futaba, with a shrug. Everyone else nodded. “Do you know if anything triggered it?” she asked.
Yusuke chewed on his fingernails, a nervous habit that he never managed to kick, despite Madarame’s best efforts. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“We won’t. Trust me.”
“I am different to other people,” he admitted. “I always have been. When I was young, I had bad habits that were beginning to cause problems, so Madarame took it upon himself to… fix my issue.”
Futaba frowned. “You don’t mean..?”
“He used to hit me. It was never anything that bad, and never enough to bruise or scar, but it was adequate, and corrected the problem. I believe losing control and exhibiting that behaviour again in front of others was enough to remind me of it. I apologise for worrying you all.” He bowed his head, staring down at the ground.
There was a long, empty silence, which was broken by Ryuji. “Dude. He was abusing you.”
Yusuke blinked. “And that’s… bad?”
“Of course it’s bad!” exclaimed Ann. “He hurt you. It’s no wonder you’re afraid of him.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ren, staring Yusuke down.
“I didn’t think it was important…”
Futaba walked over to the couch and took her previous crouched position. “So, Inari, are you autistic?” she asked.
Yusuke scowled. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. I was diagnosed as a child, but I grew out of it.”
He was a little surprised when Futaba cringed and Ren shook his head. “You don’t grow out of autism Yusuke,” said Ren, as gently as he could. “It’s a part of who you are.”
“But I’m not autistic anymore! I’m not. Madarame fixed me,” exclaimed Yusuke.
“Man, not to rude or anything,” interjected Ryuji. “But he lowkey traumatised you. He didn’t fix shit.”
“Hitting someone for stimming is like punishing your puppy for wagging it’s tail,” said Makoto. “You’re just doing what your body wants you to do. It’s normal. We all do it.” She gestured between herself, Futaba, and Ren.
Yusuke’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’re all like me?” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Ren “You’re not alone.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Why was he crying? “You’re all too kind.
Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Nah. We’re just not shitty people like that bastard. Sorry if that’s rude or whatever, but it’s true.”
Yusuke couldn’t stop himself from snickering. “That’s absolutely true. He was a grade A asshole”
“Group hug!” announced Haru, launching herself at Yusuke. Soon, Yusuke found himself in the middle of a crushing group hug with every single Phantom Thief except Morgana, who was still peacefully sleeping on the windowsill.
“You’re a bit weird,” said Ryuji. “But you’re our weirdo.”
It was Yusuke’s turn to decide where the group went on their weekly outing, and he chose the planetarium. Natsuhiko had taken him there once, when Yusuke was about ten years old. Looking back, he knew it was because Madarame had come home drunk again and Natsuhiko didn’t want him to see that.
It was funny how many of his good memories were tainted by hindsight.
Even so, the day stood out in his mind. It was a single happy moment in the sea of abject misery that was his childhood. Natsuhiko had spent the entire evening pointing out different constellations and telling Yusuke stories about them.
Even after Natsuhiko left, Yusuke remembered the stories. He would trace the constellations onto his palm and whisper the stories to himself, desperately clinging onto the few things he had left of Natsuhiko. He remembered every single word, exactly how Natsuhiko had told him.
He and his friends found their seats and settled down. The lights flickered on above them, stars appearing in the dark expanse. He remembered Natsuhiko daring him to try and count them. It was impossible; there were just too many. An incomprehensible number.
It was beautiful. He would paint it, but he could never capture its majesty quite right. All the swirls of purple and blue and black, with pinpricks of light shining through, filled the entire domed ceiling. It would never fit on a canvas.
Futaba leaned over and whispered to him, “Do you know any stories about the stars?”
“Are you sure you want to hear?” replied Yusuke. “You know how much I can go on about these things.”
“Of course. We all want to hear!” said Ann. Yusuke looked around to the smiling faces of his friends and couldn’t help but grin himself.
“Okay,” he said, flapping his hands, as he collected all the right words. Flapping was his favourite stim. There was nothing quite like it for that fluttery, excited feeling in his chest. “Can you see those three stars over there that form a line?” he said. “They are a part of a constellation called ‘Take No Fushi’. They represent a bamboo cane, being held by a young girl. The story stays that she and her sister were carrying buckets of water balanced on canes of bamboo, when they were attacked by a fearsome Oni. There was no escape, so they climbed a rope towards the sky. The elder sister became the moon, and the younger sister became the stars that trail after her…”
Everyone was listening to him. No one minded his stimming. He knew, for the first time in years, that it was okay to be himself around those he loved.
17 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
kitxvoss
it's a good look
creamecrossing-blog
Creame Crossing
onlineera-blog
Online Era - Digital Marketing Services
alexderik-blog
Alexderik
vanessa73sworld-blog
Bruxa