#i did not proofread any of this this so apologies if it doesn’t make sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horrorartsworld · 2 months

Text

like a prayer

nun alastor/f!reader

warnings: religious talk, religion, religious themes, sacrilegious, sex in a church, choking, manipulation if you squint, mentions of blood, referring to al as ‘it’ for most of the read since reader doesn’t quite know who he is yet, didn’t proofread RAHHHH

a/n: sooooo sorry for my little hiatus, i’ve been stuck to adulting lately that i haven’t had a chance to write for shit, but here i am!! 😌 also i just wanted to say thank you to a lovely follower (@urmynextvictim) for the nun alastor idea!! and as always i hope you enjoy ;)

♪ Like a Prayer ~ Madonna ♪

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The only noise in the chapel was the clicking of your heels echoing amongst the sacred walls as you strolled in, nobody else in sight with it oddly enough being a Sunday afternoon. Giving off an eerie feeling that coursed through you while you looked around for any presence of life to no avail.

Shaking it off, you finally approach what you’ve been looking for. A giant yet beautiful articulated cross stood before you, glimmering in all of its holy glory and waiting for you to spill your sinful guts to it. In which you did just that, kneeling with your hands in a praying like motion while your muttered your forgiveness. Hoping to feel somewhat rejuvenated after your long unforgiving week.

Suddenly bringing you out of your thoughts a loud bang is heard from behind you, startling you so bad that you spring up almost falling into the cross in the process with your eyes darting every which way to find where the noise had come from, a tall candlestick holder had been toppled over and now laid at its side in the middle of the walkway. “W-who’s there?” Your voice so quiet and meek that you could hardly hear yourself when speaking out to what seemed like nothingness.

“My apologies..…” This voice was more sinister and distorted like an old radio, and so close to your ear it made you jump for a second time, quickly turning to finally get a glimpse of what was tormenting you.

Eyes widening at the sight of what looked like a nun though the grin plastered amongst its face said otherwise. Red ears twitching at your small shaky breathes in your alarmed state. “…I didn’t mean to frighten you my dear..”

“W-who are you?” You manage to stammer out, The nun snickers circling you like a vulture with its red piercing dial like eyes wandering up and down your body with a certain hunger.

“Someone who wants to help you…maybe someone who you could confess to? Seems you have a lot on your mind…” A hand then clamps down onto your shoulder as it stops and stands behind you looming down on your figure.

“N-no!” You absentmindedly shout, heat rising in your cheeks at your loud outburst as you then clear your throat sheepishly. “I-i mean no… i think i’ve confessed enough for today…I should be heading home before it gets too late..” Attempting to slip away from the mysterious figure and make a beeline for the doors.

“Oh but I insist,” A low growl seems to escape from the depths of its throat causing the static in its voice to boom frightfully, following a harsh grasp on your wrist pulling you back falling into its chest from behind. “Now what did you want to confess..,” A clawed finger coming up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear while it waited for you to go on.

“I-i…um-” You start to speak, but your mind was too clouded of what this nun or whatever it was might do if you didn’t abide by its commands. By you being too caught up it started to grow impatient with you and dug its sharp claws into your wrist tightly making you hiss in pain and quickly brought you to your senses once you feel the warmth of your blood start to trickle down your palm and onto the white marble floors. “I-i’ve been having thoughts I don’t think i should speak aloud!” You quickly say feeling the sting of its claws finally let up.

An amused look crossing its face, “Darling, if you don’t speak on it now it may cause you more trouble then you want…” Bitting your lip, you think of the likely hood of how the turmoil of it all might come back to bite you if you didn’t and if not it to confess to, then who else would be more fitting? Yet, the hum of anticipation that cascaded in the air made your palms slick with sweat and a lump form in your throat. The nun, however, remained still, trying to patiently wait for you to muster a syllable.

"I... I carry quite lustful thoughts," you reveal a minute later, the admission leaving a foul taste in your mouth.

The nun, veiled behind you, did not immediately respond. The stillness was near unbearable until it’s claws were around your wounded wrist once more, bringing it up to its mouth till you felt the coolness of its tongue lapping up the blood that spilt from the marks it made. Your eyes widening at the sickening sensation it brought, trying your best not to squirm as you didn’t want to upset it further though it snickered more at your attempts to conceal yourself.

“Lustful?…Is that right?..” It clicks its tongue at you disapprovingly before you continued, “Y-yes…it’s quite unbearable..y-you see i can’t help but act on it…by…touching myself.. The feeling it brings so insatiable everytime with my release that it haunts me into the next day. An endless cycle it seems I cannot break.”

"I see..." is all that came from the nun’s response, and silence fell amongst the two of you once more.

You were unsure of how to take this, in hopes that just maybe it was coming up with a groundbreaking, world changing response that would sustain all your worry and to ease your mind. However, a sudden feeling as hard as a rock rubs up against your backside making every fiber in your being run amuck.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a special someone to fulfill those needs would you?” The question knocked around in your mind for a moment before you muttered out a quick, “No”, and that was all it took to have you bent over a pew with your skirt pulled up to your hips.

“Good girl,” It purrs tracing its fingers up the backs of your thighs, until they ghost over the fabric of your panties where your clit would be.

“W-wait! what’s your name?” You asked in a mixture of emotions, big doe eyes trying to get a glimpse of it behind you, chuckling at your sudden question, retracting its fingers until it started hiking up its habit and showing it’s hardened cock that had been neglected for far too long as it was leaking with pre-cum.

“Alastor…a pleasure to meet you…now that I suppose we’re well acquainted and you have something to scream..” He trails off pulling your panties down in one go and immediately thrusting into you, not giving you any chance to adjust to his size. You squeal in pain, gripping the pew underneath you for sense of security but Alastor places a hand over your mouth, shushing you for your vocals. He then takes his hand off your mouth and lets it travel down to your throat giving it a nice squeeze in warning to be quiet, making you choke a little with the pressure causing Alastor to moan at the sound.

Moving in and out at a normal pace, not seeming to care at all about your poor cervix which he was currently beating up with his elongated cock.

Your body growing to love the feeling he was giving to you once you adjusted, making you a whiny and moaning mess. Tears ruining your vision and making Alastor more aroused seeing them fall down your flushed cheeks, therefore making him move faster.

He groaned as he pounded into you roughly and glared down at where you two were connected, seeing your cunt taking him so well. Then suddenly this feeling came over him that decided this wasn't enough, taking his hand away from your neck and bringing his thumb down to your clit.

You cried and whined as it was all too overwhelming. You felt filthy, absolutely disgusting, but also so alive. Something you hadn't felt before compared to your own pleasure. You were trembling from a cock too big for your own little pussy to comprehend and you loved it. It was now you realised there was no chance you could come back from this, enjoying such a lewd act, letting this creature you didn’t even know fuck you dumb in a church against a pew.

"Please! Alastor mhpm I need more!" You whined rolling your hips back into him.

He growled at your words and actions, pulling out fully and bringing to your feet.

“Open..” He then taps your chin seeing you without hesitation open your mouth wide, he then leaned down and spat into it.

"Swallow dirty girl." He snarled at you.

You eagerly did as was told, hoping there would be a reward in which there was, his eyes half-lidded as he grinned down at you when he saw you followed his orders well, then shoved his whole tongue in your mouth.

He tasted just as you expected, abnormally like death with an odd hint of whiskey. Noting his tongue wasn’t normal either. It was way too long and pointed for its own good, poking at your own as they battled for dominance (which obviously he won). Filling up your mouth once he concurred your cavern and made you choke slightly, but just like before, once you adjusted you were moaning like a slut again.

Cumming for what felt like the gazillionth time not knowing which number this one was though it was definitely better than the last. You started feeling drained now, and overstimulated was an overplayed word at this point. You had no idea when Alastor would let up and it made you nervous, surely he would stop once he came you thought. Then, when would he cum? When even was his limit? Not knowing Al could fuck for hours without cumming if he wanted.

Which that was the plan. He wanted to know what you looked like, excessively overstimulated. Only knowing the feeling of him and only him.

You wished you hadn't found out what made this church feel off.

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹 alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor nun #this has been hacking away at my brain for weeks #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel smut #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor imagine #alastor x reader

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eetherealgoddess · 2 months

Note

Hey, I just had a really good idea for u to write. A yandere bonten and a singer/ famous reader. I really love your writing style, and I get sooo excited when I see u post something 🫶🤭

Thank youu!! I get excited for good requests :)

ꨄMelodic Ruinꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Famous Singer Au

❦You’re an artist who caught Bonten’s attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey but you’ll see what I mean)

❣︎I know in real life the manager doesn’t “own” the singer, but in this story, the reader will have signed all of their artistic rights to the manager so that the plot will make sense❣︎

Not fully proofread

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Melodic Ruin

Claps could be heard echoing throughout the concert hall as you stood on the surface with a sweet smile, thanking the audience before walking off the stage, the lights shutting off behind you as the crowd began to make their leave. The long dress you wore hugging your figure as the train of the fabric followed behind. You had just completed the last performance for your concert, your hands rubbing along your sides as you released a breath of relief. Of course you don’t get as much anxiety as you did when you first started singing in front of thousands of people, you just really cared about your craft. A perfectionist you could say. This particular performance was important as well considering the extra onlookers your manager warned you about, you having noticed a few of the “important” people in the VIP seats when you were on the stage.

You are ranked as a famous singer in your country, not having been worldwide just yet besides the few videos of you singing at home or in the studio that went viral, as well as your first album that was released recently. You’re a new industry baby, but you’re still trying to keep your own personality in your work without getting controlled by any record deal which is why you’re an independent artist. You take pride in your art, creative by heart and ambitious by nature. It took you quite a few years of releasing singles and singing social media videos to finally get noticed for your talent. You’re proud of yourself which is something that doesn’t happen often enough. You’re not exactly at the top yet but you’re not mad with where you’re at.

“Good job, Y/n! You’ve caught quite the attention!” Your manager greets you just as you made it backstage, offering you the business card in her hand. You look down and take the paper on your own, eyeing the print. Your eyes widened.

“I got invited to perform in JAPAN?!” You exclaim. Never have you ever gotten an opportunity to go out of the country, only touring around local concerts although still popular by demand.

“A private, high classed lounge owned by club owners Haitani Ran and Haitani Rin! Isn’t this great news?” She beams as she holds her hands up. You look at her with your eyes glistening, a wide smile on your face as you feel so grateful for the opportunity. And to be personally invited to perform at this specific lounge is a huge deal for you. You’ll have more of a chance at getting acquainted with bigger connections. It’s intimidating, yet you couldn’t help the excitement that your hard work is finally paying off even bigger than it has.

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow so get your bags packed because it’s gonna be a long trip!” Your manager says before giving your arms a tight squeeze. “You deserve this, Y/n. Bask in it now because before you know it, you’ll be attracting even bigger opportunities.” She walks off, leaving you with the business card as you read the print once more.

You immediately change before packing your bags when you make it home, excitement making it hard to fall asleep although eager for the next day to come. It was early in the morning when you and your manager met at the airport holding your private jet. Checking your consistent notifications as well as scrolling through social media. Sitting on the plane was full of thought while you listened to the music blasting from your headphones, thinking about the venue you’d be performing at. How intimate it’ll be to sing amongst all of those people who will be judging you, observing your creativity to see if it’s worth the profit.

An empty estate was offered to you and your manager, coming upon a penthouse once your driver dropped you off. Your manager basked in the luxury as she unpacked, talking your ear off as if she’s more excited than you. You chuckle at the thought before heading to your own bedroom to unpack, an eyebrow raising at the name tagged on the door. When you opened the door, you were met with a modernized luxury bedroom. The body sized window gives you a beautiful view of the city from above. You stood there a moment before turning around to get your outfit ready for the night, already having notified your manager to not call the stylist since you already had an idea of what you were going to wear.

When evening finally struck you had just climbed into the vehicle, your driver helping you in before shutting the door behind you, along with your two security guards who traveled with you. Your manager sat in the passenger seat, the black suv moving along as you eye through the tinted window. Your nerves are struck, having never performed in a country other than your own. Especially with the presence of numerous important individuals, you couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes.

When you arrived, you were helped out of the car, different locals being held back by guards already posted for the lounge, keeping the crowd behind the ropes as you walked along the red carpet. You waved and smiled as people screamed your name and song lyrics, cameras flashing as well as paparazzi ready for the next best shot. Finally making it inside, you were greeted with a beautiful melody, red covering the walls with a marble floor. Gold decor plastered along as well as the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

A red rug sat in the middle of the floor along with cushioned chairs and glass tables, a bar across from the stage as well as many people conversing with champagne and other alcoholic beverages. A woman holds a microphone on the stage, entertaining the audience with beautiful harmony. Everyone wears all black formal attire, causing you to look down at your shimmery, golden gown with a grimace. You turn to your manager as you both walk down the hall in the opposite direction, heading for the dressing room.

“I thought I was supposed to wear gold.” You say softly. She smirks.

“You are. Don’t forget, Y/n. This is your special night.”

My special night, right.

You take a deep breath before one of your security guards opens the dressing room.

Your eyes perk at the man standing inside. He turns his head back before walking towards you with a smile. You eye his purple orbs before examining the suit accenting his broad figure. His neck tattoo displays a symbol you’ve never seen before, though it fit him well. Fingers run through his short, dyed hair as he gets closer.

“Welcome, Y/n. Haitani, Ran.” He states, holding a hand out. You smile politely, ignoring your anxiety as you shake his hand. You couldn’t help but notice how soft his skin felt against yours.

“Hello, Mr. Haitani. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” You beam, subconsciously rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress, refraining from picking at the dress.

“Please, call me Ran. The pleasure is all mine. We are grateful to have you here.” He says, before connecting his lips with the back of your hand, gaze still holding yours. You felt your face warm, having never been handled so gently by a man considering the type of males that live in your hometown. Your manager walks up, both of them greeting each other, though her body is slightly tense when she gives him a tight smile. You fail to notice the display of tension, too focused on the tingling sensation lingering from the contact with your hand.

“I see that gold fits you very well. Best choice I’ve ever made.” He chuckled. So he recommended it to your manager?

That brings you comfort knowing you hadn’t made a mistake, after all it never felt good to be the odd one out because of misinformation.

“Indeed it is. Y/n, let’s get you ready to perform!” Your manager eased her arm around your shoulder before pulling you off, Ran waving bye as he exited the room while you shifted your gaze at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” You question her as she fixes her own makeup in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way you just interr…”

“Y/n.” She breathes out. “Let’s focus on your music, yeah?” She says as she touches up your face. You nod your head right before an employee comes in to queue you. You exhale before heading down the hall behind the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Y/n!”

Straightening your back, you stepped onto the stage, revealing yourself to the audience who claps and cheers, giving you the welcome you deserve. You gaze at the beautiful view of the crowd, noticing a familiar suit sitting with eight other interesting looking men. You greet the crowd right before the music begins, beginning your performance as everyone quiets down, along with the light over the audience dimming.

During your performance, you allow yourself to get lost in the music. Closing your eyes as your hand moves along, flowing with the melody as your beautiful voice harmonizes well with the piano. Your head tilts as you release a stronger note that comes from the base of your voice, tightening your grip on the microphone as you walk along the stage. The slit of your gown opens slightly, exposing your thigh as you move across the stage. Your gaze shifts to different sides of the lounge, making eye contact with a few of the audience members as some of them sway their upper bodies with your song.

The frequency of your voice brings a sense of calmness to the crowd, some with their palm holding their cheek up as they wear a smile, pleasantly losing themselves with you as they seem to be in a trance that locks them in to only you. Some lean into your presence as they gaze at your figure, nodding their heads occasionally to the flow as well as admiring your overall appearance.

Your manager stands behind the stage, out of the sight of everyone as she chews her nails, shifting her gaze to the eight males that sit upstairs with the best view of the stage. Her eyebrows furrow while her arms tremble slightly, unable to focus on anything else but the intimidating gazes stuck on you. The platform of her shoe taps against the ground as she exhales.

The music goes out just as your voice lingers the last note, eyes fluttering back open as a grin grows on your expression, all the while one of your arms lie out to the side. You set the microphone back on the stand after you bow with a “thank you,” as everyone claps. You accidentally catch Ran’s gaze as well as the other men just as you wave ‘goodbye’ to the audience. You meet your manager behind the stage as she gives you a smile and pulls you into a hug.

“Great job, Y/n! Now let’s celebrate.”

The night was spent drinking as well as having conversations with various people, discussing their businesses and hobbies as well as asking you numerous facts about yourself. Your manager seemed to have disappeared a while ago, leaving you to sit by yourself on a lounge chair, the dress hugging your legs as if you were a mermaid. You eye your phone’s screen while taking a sip of your champagne, eyeing the recent post of your own performance until the shadow of a person steals your attention.

“We need to go, now!” Your manager says before snatching your wrist, pulling you along as drops of liquid splash out of the glass.

“M/n? What the hell?” You gasp as you’re caught off guard, almost tripping over your own dress while she forces you to rush to the dressing room.

You yank your arm out of her grip before glaring at her.

“M/n! What is going on? Why have you been so on edge tonight?” She quickly gathers all of your stuff as you stare at her with disbelief. She pauses, failing to look at you.

“L-look. I’ll explain everything later. We just need to get out of Japan right now.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were staying for a few days.” Your tone shifted to concern. “What’s wrong, M/n? Did something happen?” She drops the makeup supplies before turning to you and gripping your arms.

“I told you, Y/n! I will explain everything later, but right now we don’t have much time! We need to leave, now!” You gaze at her with shock along with fear as you become nervous by her own look of terror. Sweat sliding along the lining of her forehead along with her eyeliner slightly smeared with red eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? What’s the rush? The party was just getting started.” A smooth voice says with amusement behind you. You watch as your manager’s eyes widened before you turned to meet your gaze with three men. Your eyes met a familiar purple though the rest of the features were slightly different, the purple mullet being the most prominent as well as the matching tattoo you saw on the male earlier. You guessed this man to be the other owner of the club, Haitani Rin.

Standing to his right is a man with golden eyes, blonde strands falling over his face along with his black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His expression was light, holding a smile that you could mistake for politeness. He placed his hands in his pockets after shutting the door behind them. To the Haitani’s left is a man with narrowed blue eyes that seem to pierce into your soul, his pink mullet shaped perfectly around his beautiful features. Your gaze shifts to the scars placed at the corners of his mouth, furrowing your brows before you take in the situation at hand.

“What’s going on, M/n?” You side eye her as you watch her eyes widen. Her lips slightly apart as she tries to think of something to say.

“That was a beautiful performance, Y/n. Fitting for such a gorgeous woman.” The blonde says as he approaches, holding a hand out. The tiger in black ink on his neck added to the intimidating aura that contrasts with the expression on his face. He mimics Ran, bringing your limp hand to his lips while gazing into your eyes. A look of such intensity that you had to look away.

“Thank you…” You pause in expectance.

“Kazutora.” You nod with a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the others.

The tension in the room has yet to disappear. You couldn’t really focus on anything else but how scared your manager looks right now.

“M/n. It’d be in your best interest to follow us. The King wants to speak to you.” The pink haired one says, a look of satisfaction crossed his face when he states ‘the King,’ which causes you a little confusion by the title.

Kazutora takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along as you look behind to glance at your manager with a questioning look. You all walk out of the dressing room and through the hall. The only sounds being your heels clicking and their speech, nothing you could decipher because of the differing language.

“Surprised she’d be Mikey’s type.” Rin says to the other men.

“No kidding. Who knew a famous babe from Y/c would catch his eye?” Kazutora says while glancing at you.

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about Mikey.” The pink haired man replies.

“Hm, I guess you’re right Sanzu. Wonder how long it’ll take before blood sheds tonight.” Kazutora rubs his chin.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Sanzu smirks.

You turn back to glance at your manager who looks as though the color on her face has disappeared.

I hope I find out what’s going on with her.

You all arrive upstairs, walking down a hall before being met with an office. When you walked in, you noticed the other men who sat on the balcony with Ran, standing around the desk facing the entrance. Ran also in position though sitting in a chair next to the desk in the spacious room. A man with pale hair sits behind the desk with a sweater hanging off of his shoulders, dark eyes gazing into yours as Kazutora removes his arm and leads you to your seat. Your manager sits beside you on another chair, along with Rin standing by her side and Kazutora standing by yours, everyone facing the platinum haired male. Sanzu takes position beside the short man, standing by his chair with his hand holding the other.

You felt on edge, seven pairs of eyes focused on you, all the while silence filled the room. You turn in your seat to look at the blocked entrance, some other broad men blocking the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as the room seemed to get colder, turning back in your seat as you faced the mystery man.

“Speak.” His narrowed eyes meet your manager’s.

She hesitates as you watch her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her chest rises as she takes a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“U-um, I…” She stammers, fingers trembling against the arm of the chair. You stay quiet, concerned with her behavior as your own body glistens with sweat from stress. You shift in your seat, straightening your back as you cross your ankles, your legs fidgeting as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“You tried to leave? And so soon?” He questions, his expression stoic as his eyes bore into your manager’s. Her hands move to her lap as her foot taps against the ground.

“U-uh, no. No I didn’t.” She breathes out.

“I think you did. Didn’t she?” They all responded with “Yes Boss.” Before silence falls once more.

“Why?” M/n’s mouth shuts as she tries to think of something. You could only guess that she was nervous because of whatever business title the men hold so you decide to speak up for her.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity, really. It’s just been a long night.” You explain, only causing some of the men to chuckle at the naivety. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Okay, what the hell is really going on?”

M/n looks at you with wide eyes before holding her hands up and shaking her head.

“Y-Y/n, I’ll explain later, just give me some ti…”

“No, tell me right now why everyone is acting so weird. Stop wasting time.” You growl, sick of the antics and the vague conversations.

The man looks at you for a moment before nodding to Rin. To your surprise he pulls out a gun just as M/n hops out of her seat causing the chair to fall backwards. She runs to the entrance only for him to hold the weapon up, shooting the gun. The bullet penetrates her back, causing her to fall over, a shriek leaving her lips as the throbbing pain fills her senses. You jump out of your seat in shock, eyes staring at the blood staining her attire while she lays her head on the floor.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, heading to the bleeding girl only to get pulled against a chest, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your feet off the ground.

“You said to stop wasting time!” Kazutora laughs as the rest look on in amusement to the woman losing consciousness.

“Y/n! I-I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I had no choice! I had no choice!” She weeps, hand smacking against the floor as she covers her head with her arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whimpers.

“What are you talking…! Let me fucking go! She needs to go to the hospital!” You yell, beating Kazutora’s arms as you try to pry them off, kicking your feet.

Sanzu walks to the woman lying on the ground. Setting a foot to the wound before pressing down, causing a strangled gasp to come out of her mouth. You struggle harder as you watch him point a gun to her head from above.

“Explain yourself.” He growls, smiling wide with crazed eyes.

“I-I sold you! I s-sold… you! It’s… *gasp* all in their…*pant* hands!” She weeps, “I h-ha… *grunt* had no choice!” Her own nails pierce her palms as she turns her hands to fists, squeezing in pain as he continues to press his weight down.

You could only stare in silence as you paused your struggling.

“T-they’re a… a gang! A *pant* criminal….organization! Th-they…*grunt* threaten…!” She screams out in agony once Sanzu pulls his leg up and slams his foot down on her wound. You wince as you begin to struggle again.

“Let her go!” You were angry with her, yes. However, if the truth is that they threatened her, you couldn’t help but empathize despite your lingering resentment. Your only focus was to get both of you out of here alive. You wondered where your guards were.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanzu smiles before moving his foot off of her and cocking the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasts half of her skull open. The sickening sound of blood splattering the floor causes you to gasp before you yell out, tears falling out of your eyes at the traumatic display.

“Hey, save those vocals for the bedroom, yeah?” Ran jokes before lighting a cigarette, some of the other men chuckling at his response.

“Let me go! Let me go, goddamnit!” You growl angrily, crying as Kazutora forces you to sit down.

He cocks his gun, bringing the barrel to your head while putting a finger over his lips. You eye him with a look of horror.

“Shh.” He starts. “Boss isn’t done talking.”

You pant as you hold your chest, staring back at their ‘boss’ who eyes you quietly. The room calms down once more as everyone takes their original positions, a gun still pressed to your head. He slides a form over for you to read. You lean in your seat and look over the sheet that confirmed your manager’s signature, signing you over to Bonten, a criminal organization residing in Japan.

“The contract doesn’t lie. During this term and all others, you are now the property of Bonten.”

You shook your head while whispering, “No.”

“I own you, Y/n. You can either fall in line willingly or by force. I don’t care. You’re mine.” He says before standing from his seat.

“Mikey.” He says to you before shifting his attention to the others. “Take her to Bonten’s headquarters.”

Kazutora hides his gun and grabs your arm as you struggle against his hold. Just as Mikey and Sanzu, along with some of the other men, head to the doorway, he says, “Knock her out if you have to.”

A breathy laugh is released from Kazutora before he pulls back a fist.

“Sorry, doll.”

Darkness immediately engulfs your vision.

204 notes · View notes

maybankswhore · 9 months

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎.

SUMMARY: you see rafe for the first time since getting together with jj & it doesn’t hurt.

PAIRING(S): jj maybank x fem!reader + a little bit of rafe cameron x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: cursing.

you can read part one here! but it’s not really needed to read for this particular plot. this isn’t proofread & it is a bit long so maybe a dragging on dialogue warning ha.

Things had went really good with you and JJ. It had almost felt like a breath of fresh air , peaceful. He was always kind to you and loving , always making sure to dote on you even when you complained about it— picking you up after every shift at work and learning to braid your hair so you didn’t have to do it because you always whined about it hurting your arms. It was the little things that caused your heart to grow fonder and before you knew it , the two of you became attached at the hip.

Everyone on the island could see the red hearts following you two around wherever you went , always swooning and smiling when they saw you.

JJ had been the happiest he had ever been with you. As cliché as it sounded— he’d go on and on to anyone that asked about you that you literally were the girl of his dreams. He adored everything about you from the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed really hard , to the way you always slept with one leg out from under the covers. You were kind , and loving and everything he always swore he’d never get. Most of all— he felt safe.

Today his arm was thrown around you as you and the rest of the Pogue’s stood around the bonfire. Your giggles were contagious to everyone around you as you humored JJ’s antics , finding every joke to be the most funny. Perhaps it was a tad bit annoying , but you really just found JJ’s personality so fun. He always knew how to lighten the mood and make a joke that turned everyone’s day around.

In the middle of JJ leaning down to whisper in your ear , your eye’s flickered over to Sarah when she groaned loudly. “Of course he’s here.”

Your stomach had flipped as you followed her eyes to the side of you. Her brother stood a few feet away from you with his friends , watching you. You were shocked to see him. He usually never came on this side of the island , always rambling on about how ‘disgusting’ it was and ran by Pogue’s. You hadn’t meant to make eye contact with him , but when you did your stomach had began flipping in knots.

“I’m sorry , Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was coming or I would’ve said something.” Sarah apologized. The sound of her voice finally made you break away and look at her , shaking your head with a smile.

“It’s fine , Sarah.”

JJ scoffed. “Like hell it is.” His grip tightened around your shoulders protectively , shooting Rafe glares that was only answered in cocky smirks. “He really has some nerve showing his face here.”

Your bottom lip became trapped between your teeth as you anxiously fell into JJ’s embrace , wrapping your own arm around his waist to settle his nerves. “Let’s not worry about him , alright?”

JJ glanced down at you and studied your face quickly. What was he looking for? He wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe it was him just being insecure or stupidly jealous , but he knew that Rafe had once been your everything. John B had told him numerous times the stories he’d heard from Sarah and how much you cried over him , how much the two of you would fight. JJ wasn’t an idiot and he knew relationships like that left their mark , but feeling you nuzzle yourself innocently into him while looking up at him with a small smile caused his shoulders to relax slowly. “’m okay. Fine. But he says one wrong things and it’s over—”

Sensing all of his tension melt away , you grinned and stood up as tall as you could to press a kiss to your cheek. You tried to ignore the way Rafe’s eyes burned in the back of your skull. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or uncomfortable— you just didn’t want any drama or conflict. You had avoided it thus far and you wanted to do your best to keep it that way despite Rafe being known as the biggest drama queen on the island.

JJ cheeks blushed that color pink you loved seeing. One that always coated his cheeks after every kiss , even though you had done it so many times before that. The butterflies were still very much alive.

The night went on pretty peacefully. You had drank a little but not enough to be absolutely intoxicated. The six of you had ended up sitting on the logs rather than standing , each pair engrossed in their own conversations. JJ wasn’t too far from you , laughing loudly with Pope and John B. You , Sarah , and Kiara huddled together giggling amongst yourselves.

“John B let me do his makeup the other night.” Sarah confessed with a girlish giggle , her eyes becoming slightly hooded from the drinks she had. Her confession made you and Kiara burst into laughter.

“Please tell me you took a picture of that.” Kiara clapped her knee , doubled over with laughter.

“Sadly I couldn’t. It was a part of the deal.” Sarah sighed sadly. “For my eyes only! Literally. I couldn’t even take a picture and hide it in a folder.”

The pout on her face made you chuckle before pulling out your own phone. You quickly searched for the picture of JJ that you had taken not too long ago , a full face of makeup on. After bugging him for days , JJ had finally given in. “Your man sucks , tell him get like mine.” You teased , giving your phone to them to see the picture of JJ posing proudly.

The picture had sent them over the edge. The expression on JJ’s face as he posed for you , holding out a peace sign and popping out his hip that you had for one of your Instagram pictures.

“Send that to me now.” Kiara snatched the phone away from Sarah to send it to herself. “This is definitely gonna come in handy one day.”

Gasping , you ripped the phone out of her hand before she could press send. “He’d never let me do it again if you did that.” You argued.

Kiara struggled to speak through her laughter. “Yeah right! He’d do anything you’d tell him to.”

“That boys got it bad.” Sarah drawled out , singing the last word softly. Kiara nodded in agreement making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah whatever.” You sighed.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh come on , Y/N. You’ve gotta know he’d get down on all fours and bark if you wanted.”

“Can we actually see that?” Kiara teased. “Please tell him to do that and let me know when so I can get my camera ready.”

“You guys , leave him alone!” Defending JJ , you glanced over at him to check on him. His hands were frailed in the area around him as he told whatever story he was telling passionately , and you couldn’t help but watch him with a smile.

Kiara pretended to throw up. “You guys are so fucking disgusting.”

“I think it’s adorable.” Sarah cooed , making you grin at her. “I never seen you that happy with my brother.” She said while crinkling her nose. The drinks making her tongue loose. The mention of Rafe made your blood run cold , the whole relationship still stinging at a certain part of you. You were over him— completely , but he damaged a big part of you. She must’ve noticed your face fall and her eyes widened in shame. “Oh shit , I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t be.” You brushed it off.

“Yeah don’t be.”

You jumped at the sound of Rafe’s voice booming behind you. Those three words making everyone’s head snap towards him. Before you had a chance to say anything JJ was on his feet , walking right over to you. “The fuck are you doing?”

JJ’s hand wrapped around your bicep and gently helped pull you up , bringing you as close to him as he could. He kept his shoulders square and his jaw up , showing Rafe who was in charge.

Rafe chuckled lowly and put his hands up defensively. “What? Can’t come see my sister?”

“Don’t use me as your excuse , Rafe.” Sarah snapped at him , annoyed her brother was yet again— causing more drama with her friends.

“Yeah we all know you’re here to be some creep and stalk , Y/N.” Kiara snarled towards him. Her hands were in fists at her sides.

Rafe ignored them and discarded them with the roll of his eyes. They flickered to JJ’s attitude , then to his arm on your shoulder then back to your face. He was quiet for a minute as he thought of what to say. Though you could barely meet his eyes. “So that’s why you blocked my number.” Rafe’s nose scrunched at the thought of you with JJ , disgust dripping off his words. “Thought you had better taste than that.”

“You got a problem , man?” JJ’s arm was off of you as fast as it was put there. Bucking up to Rafe who didn’t so much as flinch.

“Let me talk to her.” Was all he said.

“Not gonna happen , Cameron.” JJ laughed bitterly. He made sure to stand in front of you , blocking you away from him.

“Why?” Rafe cocked his head to the side. “Scared that’s all it takes to have her come running back?”

JJ was fast as he lifted his arm but not fast enough for Pope to come to your defense , knowing that was the last thing you wanted. “JJ , bro , calm down.”

Taking in a shaky breath , you grabbed JJ’s shoulder to get his attention. The minute he felt you touch him , he spun around— ignoring Rafe’s existence. “Let’s just go , me and you.”

Nodding with a small smile you slid your arm down to his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I need to talk to Rafe first.” You muttered. JJ’s eyes went wide and immediately shook his head.

“Y/N , no.”

“JJ , yes.” You told him softly. You cupped his cheek gently in hopes it’d calm him down. “We’ll leave right after. We’ll leave.” You emphasized.

Rafe grumbled at the interaction in front of him. Like a child , he held his stomach like he was going to he physically ill from it but you ignored him.

JJ studied your face , scanning it for any sign he needed to worry. But your eyes were soft , and your touch felt genuine. He couldn’t help but sigh and nod , knowing that you needed that closure— and he’d even feel better knowing it was closed.

“If he touches you it’s over with.” JJ muttered before kissing your lips softly , holding it there as a message to Rafe.

When you pulled away , he stepped to the side and Rafe’s attention went to you— a smirk on his face. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“Shut up or I’m walking away from you.” You glared at him , walking away in the opposite direction knowing he’d follow. Rafe winked at JJ who flipped him off , and did as you expected.

You crossed your arms as you stood to face him , the sight of him didn’t make your heart clench , it didn’t make your throat close or your head hurt like crazy. Standing in front of you was just Rafe , not the Rafe you had once loved. Not the Rafe you spent months with— years , almost with. A person.

“I need you to know that it’s over you.”

“It’s not—”

“It is.” You cut him off with a shake of your head. “What happened between us means nothing to me anymore and frankly , you mean nothing to me.” Instead of hurt , you felt angry. Angry that he had the nerve to walk up to your group of friends , that he thought it’d be light hearted and quirky and somehow gain your attention once again.

“You don’t mean that.” Rafe shrugged. “You’ve had your fun , okay? We’ll work it out. I forgive you for messing with that dirty little Pogue and you can forgive me about what happened—” He went to move closer but you backed away.

“No.” Firmly standing your ground , you looked him in the eyes. “I don’t forgive you for what happened and believe me I tried that ‘forgive but don’t forget’ bullshit but you don’t deserve for me to forget. You hurt me , Rafe. You really hurt me. I loved you so much and you did time and time again. I loved you and you took advantage of that so honestly— fuck you.” Your pointer finger stared at him accusingly. “Fuck you for wasting my fucking time. This is it. This is the closure and after this I never want to talk to you again.”

Rafe stared at you like you had grown a third head. In all the time he had known you , he had never seen you like this. So bold and outspoken. You weren’t that timid girl who was too afraid to order her own meal at a restaurant anymore. “You don’t love him.” Was all he could say , his tongue poking his cheek. He wouldn’t show it and he wouldn’t say it— but it hurt him more than he thought it would. Maybe he never thought you’d get over him. Maybe he assumed you’d take him right back and blow off whatever guy was occupying your time. Sure it had been a couple months , but you couldn’t have fallen in love. You couldn’t have.

“I–I do.” Though you hadn’t admitted it to JJ just yet , you knew that you did. “And it’s right this time.”

“JJ Maybank?” Rafe said his name like it was the most outlandish thing in the world. “Really?”

“Really , Rafe. He doesn’t cheat on me at every party. He doesn’t laugh at me when I cry because the movie’s sad. He lets me listen to whatever I want in the car and he laughs at my jokes. He likes when I wear that red dress and heels. He loves me for all that I am and never tries to change that.” Everything had seemed to make sense in your head as you explained it to him , saying it out loud like that.

“Y/N—”

“You don’t love me , Rafe. You loved how I loved you.” You told him with your voice going softer. “But I know somewhere inside of you is capable of loving someone the way JJ loves me and when you find her , don’t make out with every girl you see and take lines of their ass.” You laughed , laughed at something that once broke your heart into a million pieces but now it humorous to you. Healed.

Rafe couldn’t find the words to say. His mouth couldn’t even open at that. He just stood there and watched you walk away back into JJ’s arms who instinctively wrapped around you , rubbing up and down the skin. He watched as he kissed you and the way you wrapped your arms around his neck , giggling and blushing like you once did with him.

It was too late to be sorry and he realized that.

You had started over. You began to fall in love all over again and Rafe was old news to you now— and it hurt a little more than he realized it would.

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heliads · 1 year

Note

sorry to send in two requests but if you've got the time Luke Patterson x reader where she is his tutor for English or something and he develops a crush, so even when he understands the stuff she's teaching him he pretends to be confused so that the tutoring sessions last longer. And then one day he gets a good grade and she's proud of him but that means the sessions are over so he builds up the courage to ask her out? You can put this at the bottom of the list or not even write it because I know how swamped your requests get, but ily.

do not apologize for two requests!! my blog exists for you!! and jatp s2 may be dead but my feelings for that show are not. xoxo

masterlist

Luke Patterson is currently fighting a one-man war against his English class, and he is losing. Badly. This was not supposed to be his problem class, he was thinking the biggest struggle would be math or science, but surprise surprise, there’s no such thing as a class you can just skate through. He tried to skate through English. He tried really, really hard, but instead of Spark Notes-ing his way through whatever classic book they threw his way, Luke’s staring at a bright red D on his latest essay.

This would happen to be the most recent essay they were assigned, the one Luke pushed off until the last minute because he was too invested in getting some good songs down on paper. He hadn’t meant to procrastinate, he never does, it’s just that whenever Luke had a spare hour or two, it’s always far more tempting to head out to the studio and mess around with some chord progressions than to do homework.

This essay had gone just like all the other ones so far this year. The book had been assigned, the essay followed not soon after, and Luke told himself that he was going to start it on time for a change. The only problem was that he came home late that day after a shift at his job, so he couldn’t start it that day, and then he was studying for a test the next day, and after that he was working on songs. Before he knew it, it was the night before and he was speed writing to get everything down in time. Luke doesn’t even think he had time to proofread before turning in that mess.

So yeah, he shouldn’t really be surprised about this grade in particular. Still, he isn’t pleased about it. He doesn’t want to see the look on his parents’ face when he dodges another question about his grades, nor listen to all the other kids in his class talk about how easy that essay prompt was. Everything just makes him feel worse.

And, if Luke’s day couldn’t get any better, his English teacher pulls him aside after class to talk about it.

“I noticed your last few assignments haven’t been going as expected,” she says sympathetically, “is there anything you want to tell me about that?”

There’s a lot Luke wants to tell her, such as the fact that this class is dry as a saltine and twice as bland. They’ve spent the last few classes just going over social hierarchies around the time when the book was written, talk about boring. If Luke wanted to study history, he’d read a textbook.

He can’t say all that without damaging his final grade even more, though, so Luke plasters on a grin and does his best impression of an earnest student who’s just had a bad string of luck. “Not really, I’ve just been so busy recently that I didn’t have enough time to really ponder the prompt, you know?”

Usually, this is Luke’s best strategy for getting out of these kinds of nonsense conferences. He’ll whip out a few key words like ‘time commitments’ and whatnot and his teachers will fall for it every time.

He might have done this too often, though, because his teacher just nods and refuses to let him go. “That makes sense to me. Do you think it would help to spend a little more time exploring the prompt or connecting the book to the essay topics?”

“Sure,” Luke says vaguely. He’s only half paying attention; he just saw Reggie outside the door mouthing the words what did you do?? as dramatically as he could.

The teacher looks pleased by this. “That’s what I thought. I’ve gone ahead and signed you up for some tutoring sessions, you’ll start this afternoon after school.”

Luke blinks. “Wait, what?” Clearly, he hasn’t been paying attention nearly enough. Since when was tutoring on the table?

The teacher spreads her hands. “You need a little more help and organization to stay on track. Tutoring is the perfect answer to this.”

“Is it?” Luke asks feebly.

“Absolutely,” the teacher decides, and that’s that. Luke tries to wheedle his way out of it through repetition of how busy he is, like, all the time, but it doesn’t matter. She’s caught him in a half-lie and there’s nothing he can do to avoid it.

Reggie’s waiting for Luke outside the door when he finally leaves. “What happened in there?”

“Pure misery,” Luke groans, and contemplates giving himself a concussion by ‘accidentally’ falling down the stairs so he can go home without having to go to tutoring.

Unfortunately, Reggie enlists Alex in keeping Luke free of head trauma, and so he finds himself in an empty classroom later that afternoon, mournfully watching all of the other students leave the school with no doubt wonderful plans awaiting them.

Luke’s just starting to wonder if his tutor isn’t going to show up after all (after fifteen minutes, he’s legally allowed to leave, right) when someone slides into the seat in front of him.

“Sorry about being late,” they gasp, “I just found out I was doing this like ten minutes ago.”

Luke breaks his desolate stare out the window to glance at his tutor and instantly, he feels the crushing weight of shame bear down on him tenfold. It would have been one thing to have a total stranger be his tutor, someone Luke could avoid looking at in the hallways and never speak to again, but he knows this girl. More importantly, he’s thought she was cute for at least the last four years.

This is the worst case scenario, then. Y/N L/N is smart, she’s pretty, and judging by the fact that Luke always sees her in a group of friends laughing at her jokes, she’s funny, too. Definitely someone Luke would want to impress through gigs or shows instead of, say, his crumbling English grades.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, and Luke realizes that she’s probably been waiting for him to say something. Great, he can’t even introduce himself properly.

“Luke,” he answers, “but you probably knew that already.”

Y/N laughs, and judging by the slightly manic tone behind it, she’s just about as composed about the whole thing as he is. That makes him settle slightly in his chair, lowering his guard. “I was told that I would be tutoring you when I was trying to leave class. Ms. Brown pulled me aside when the bell rang and told me about it.”

“That makes two of us,” Luke grumbles.

The corners of Y/N’s lips quirk up before she manages to tamp them down again, and if Luke weren’t totally out of his mind, he might even say that Y/N has the same attitude towards their English teacher as he does. That would certainly make this whole tutoring experience a lot more interesting.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound official, “you wanted to talk about essay pointers, right?”

Luke starts to say something about how he didn’t want any of this, actually, but Y/N arches a brow and he relents. “Yeah, essay stuff. The last one didn’t go over too hot.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, contemplating this. “Did you agree with her grading?”

“Yeah,” Luke admits, “she wasn’t wrong to mark me down, I kind of did it the night before in one sitting.”

Y/N frowns. “Really? Why’d you put it off so long? I thought you liked writing. Whenever I see you, you’re always jotting something down in that notebook of yours.”

Luke grins. “You’ve been watching me? That’s creepy, you know.” He’s obviously holding back a laugh, though, so the comment has no trace of a barb.

Y/N rolls her eyes, although her face looks a little hot at the moment. “Just answer the question.”

“Alright,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender, “you’re right, I do like writing.”

“Then why wait until the last minute to do the essay? I mean, I get not having a ton of time to work on assignments, but if you really do enjoy writing, it shouldn’t be all that bad, right?”

Luke groans. “ This is different. It’s not fun writing,” he tries to excuse himself.

It sounds bad even to him. Already, Luke can see how this is going to play out– she’ll laugh at him, maybe, say that someone who just got a grade like him can’t possibly be thinking about writing and fun in any way at all. She doesn’t, though. Instead, she nods and smiles at him. A real smile. Not mocking in any way.

“What is fun writing, then?” She asks.

Luke blinks in surprise. “Well, writing songs is fun, I guess,” he stammers, “stuff that actually matters, you know? All these essays are the exact same, but songs are all different. That’s why I care about them and not some pointless paper.”

Y/N nods. “That makes sense to me. So you release music, right?”

Luke isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but he’s perfectly happy to talk about music instead of that offensive red scribble all over his paper, so he plays along. “Yeah, me and my band. We try to, at least.”

“Have you ever gotten a review that bothered you? Not because they didn’t like it, but because they disliked your songs for the wrong reason? Like you had a whole story in mind for your album but the critics just ignored it?” She prompts him.

“Yeah,” Luke says, eyes widening with irritation, “Man, it’s so annoying. You go to all the trouble of writing out these ideas, and you make them have a really good meaning, too, and then it’s like they never read it at all. It makes me so mad sometimes, I want to write a column or something in response about how they totally missed my point.”

“Like, say, an argumentative essay about the real strengths of your chosen piece of writing?” Y/N says as casually as she can.

Luke’s about to argue and say that’s not like this at all, but on second thought, it is. It totally is. “Wait, you’re right. I never thought about it like that, but you’re right. Y/N L/N,” he decides on the spot, “I really like you.”

She grins back at him. “Luke Patterson, I like you too.”

That settles it for him. Luke had been annoyed at the thought of having to suffer through tutoring beforehand, but maybe he’ll be alright with it now. Y/N isn’t a part of the oppressive legion of teachers all conniving to make his life a living hell because he wants to be a musician instead of a doctor or a banker, she’s on his side. That makes it all better somehow.

And, unsurprisingly, it is better. Luke actually ends up having a really good time in his tutoring sessions with Y/N. They don’t feel like tutoring at all, more like a chance to hang out with a friend. They talk about Jane Austen and tell awesome jokes, read Shakespeare and spend more and more time together. Luke knows this is only a temporary thing until his grades get back up, but it’s too easy to forget that.

Until, one day, it isn’t. His English teacher hands back an essay with a bright red ‘A’ marked on the front, and tells him that she’s proud of all the progress he’s made so quickly. Instead of a sigh of relief, the only thing escaping Luke’s lips is a desolate sigh. After all, if Luke’s improved to this point, that kind of means his tutoring sessions will be over, right?

Y/N doesn’t know that, though. Y/N doesn’t have access to his grades. All she knows is what Luke tells her, and if informing her of his latest essay win means she’ll stop seeing him after school, why should Luke let slip a single syllable?

So, later that day, when Y/N asks him how the latest essay went, Luke shrugs and pretends to be disappointed. “I’d hoped for more,” he says, “she, uh, didn’t like my commentary.”

“Really?” Y/N questions, frowning slightly, “I thought you were really good at that.”

Luke’s eyes widen, caught in a lie. “Who knows with teachers, right?” He laughs weakly.

Y/N pretends to shudder. “I know, right? I feel like half of your grade is literally just how much she likes you. English classes are always so subjective.”

“Subjective?” Luke asks, grinning and propping his chin up on his hand, “Tell me about that.”

Y/N laughs. “Only if you promise we’ll talk Jane Eyre immediately afterwards. Immediately.”

“I so swear,” Luke intones, holding up his right hand with all the solemnity of a president being sworn into office.

Y/N swats him on the shoulder with her notebook, but she obliges, and maybe they don’t talk about Jane immediately. Maybe they laugh a little longer than usual. And maybe, just maybe, Luke thinks that he’s perfectly fine with obscuring the truth if it means he can have more of this when he needs it the most.

The truth, unfortunately, has a habit of making itself heard regardless of who is inclined to hide it. Luke comes into their usual study spot in the library one day to see Y/N waiting for him, not already in her seat like normal but standing tentatively at the side.

He frowns, slinging his backpack down on the ground and pulling up a chair. “Everything alright? You look like you’re about to run. If you’ve got something planned, we can do this another day.”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “No, I’m free all day.”

Luke gestures towards the table. “Then sit down, my legs are getting tired just looking at you. We’ve got stuff to study, don’t we?”

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask about,” Y/N says, “Ms. Brown stopped me after class today, said she had someone else she wanted me to tutor. I said I was already booked with you and she was confused. Apparently you’ve been doing just fine for quite some time.”

Luke feels his breath catch in his throat. This is not how he’d wanted Y/N to find out. For what must be the hundredth time this year, Luke sends out a silent curse to all meddlesome English teachers.

“Yeah,” he says as carefully as he can, “I have, but only because of your expert tutoring. It’s like antibiotics, you know? You don’t stop taking ‘em when you start feeling better, only when the prescription is over.”

Y/N blinks at him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to feel like everything is slipping out of control in an instant. “It was a simile, sorry. A bad one. All I mean is that we don’t have to stop this just because I got a good grade or two.”

Y/N almost looks like she’s smiling, but that could just be Luke being delusional. “I thought you didn’t want to do tutoring.”

“I didn’t at the start, but you’re different. We’re cool. We are cool, right?” Luke starts rambling more and more with each passing second, but he can’t help it. He’s overthinking everything. What if he’s literally just been a tutee this whole time, and she doesn’t think they’re friends at all?

Y/N stares at him a second longer, then takes a seat at last. “Luke Patterson, are you telling me that you like my company so much that you’re willing to keep going to extra English practice just to see me?”

Luke can feel his face heating up, but he does his best to ignore it. “Well, when you put it that way, it sounds–” He still has a little bit of self control left, so he cuts himself off before he can make a truly terrible mistake.

Y/N catches him, though. “It sounds like what?”

“It sounds like I like you,” he admits, and Y/N’s smiling at him, so he decides to take the leap of faith and just do what he’s been wanting to do for quite some time. Since the start of this, actually. “And I do like you. I like you a lot. I might not need the tutoring anymore, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you. So what if we met up sometime soon? Not for English, for us.”

Luke decides that he likes Y/N’s smile more than anything. “Are you asking me out?” She says.

“I am,” he affirms. “Are you saying yes?”

“I am,” she repeats.

Suddenly, Luke feels like the luckiest kid of all. Maybe he does have to throw in a good word or two for meddlesome English teachers after all. Sometimes they have a way of connecting you with the best people in the world.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

jatp tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @callsign-scully, @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson oneshot #jatp #jatp imagines #jatp x reader #jatp oneshot #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms oneshot #jatp luke #jatp luke imagines #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke oneshot

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lelengerine · 9 months

Text

the sun in your system

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

synopsis | the one where haechan is hopelessly in love with you, it's sick.

genre | one-sided pining au, college setting, a mix of fluff and angst

wc | 0.7k

notes | i apologize for any errors in this bc i got the biggest brainrot for softie!hyuck and this was created from that spur... this isn't proofread or anything but i hope u like it :> likes and rbs are highly appreciated!

m.list

it’s a sunny saturday afternoon and haechan’s accompanying you to the school’s treasured library to study for an upcoming exam. it was an odd occurrence to even spot him near the premises of this god-forsaken building (as he likes to call it), yet the two of you have been here for a total of five hours and he hasn’t complained about going back to the dorms once.

you did tell him you were going to do some additional research for a class you were taking, but that no longer seems to be the case when you’ve dozed off an hour ago, and your best friend doesn’t seem to have any plans of waking you up.

the faint glow of sunlight peeks through the library’s windows, grazing your features with a soft touch. it doesn’t seem to disturb you, yet haechan takes it upon himself to grab a book and hold it over your eyes, silently shielding them from the warm rays. your nose scrunches a little from the change despite being asleep, falling back to slumber just as quickly.

why would the poor boy ever ever want to leave when he could see you like this?

he may look like a sick fool—and perhaps he is one for following you around like a golden retriever pup who’s lost his owner—but he’ll gladly let others think so if it meant he’d be able to spend his days with you.

it hadn’t been long since he’s fully realized how he felt about you all this time. no, it took a lot of nightly conversations with his dorm mates who were probably tired of the hearts in haechan’s eyes every time you randomly pop in their conversations. at this point, they’d prefer the boy to grow the balls to confess his heart out to you. it’s not like he doesn't profess his love for you in a different way at least once each day in the middle of their dorm anyways.

there were many people who called haechan the sun (hell, even he agrees with it), yet he believes he’d only be a small, burning star when compared to you, his entire solar system. the one that keeps him afloat, the one who makes him feel like he’s destined for greater things ahead of his life, the one who grounds him when he needs it the most so he wouldn’t be floating in a pit of dark space without meaning.

“you’ll never know just how much i love you, y/n.” he breathes without much thinking, each syllable falling from his lips with utmost care, afraid that if he spoke any louder, they’d only get caught up in the depths of his throat.

you stir in your sleep, or at least that’s what he still thinks you're under until you rise up groggily, rubbing your eye. “you love me?”

“it was a joke!” he brushes the topic off, words leaving him through an awkward laugh.

“uhuh, as if i believe that!” you exclaim before covering your mouth in haste, forgetting you were still residing in the library.

haechan chuckles at you, absolutely adoring the way your eyes widened in sheer shock, cheeks flushing from the sudden rush. “hey, don’t laugh!” you whisper-shout this time, a small pout on your rosy lips.

“sorry! i can’t help it- you just look like a dork.” his statements clearly refuse to align with how he feels about you, a pang of frustration bubbling up within him for being unable to speak his mind freely—the constant fear you might turn your back on him if he did staying hidden in the furthest depths of his mind.

he was okay with this—admiring your presence, as a friend—or rather, he was okay as long as you were.

“was that really a joke though?” you question properly, and haechan can already sense the hesitation behind your voice.

“mhm, don’t worry about it. i really was just kidding.” he tries reassuring you, another small pang hitting his heart right where it hurt.

“if you say so… but that joke wasn’t funny at all!” you point out with a huff, returning back to studying as you open the forgotten notebook laying in front of you. “you need to get better at making them, hyuckie.” you tease, dangling your feet happily.

“yeah… maybe i should.” his reply is muffled, but you pay not much heed to it, now immersing yourself in your studies once more. perhaps that’s exactly why you don’t notice the gloom washing over him, your sun glowing a little less brightly in its solar system.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

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starqueensthings · 3 months

Text

Dork Love: Part Four

chap1 | chap2 | chap3

Pairing: Tech x GN!reader (can be read as ND!Tech x ND!GN!reader if you squint)

Summary: never thought I'd see the day, but here is the final part of Dork Love! Things happen, questions are answered. I won’t say any more for fear of spoiling things. Make sure you’ve read the previous three parts before proceeding.

Rating/WC/POV: Teen+ readers, but no real warnings. 7847 words (I hate myself too, don’t worry). 2nd POV but from Tech’s perspective.

A/N: thank you to the always lovely @staycalmandhugaclone for proofreading, and for reminding me that unstiflable, as much as I’d like it to be a word, is not LOL like “so fetch” it just ain’t gonna happen!

That autonomic demand to narrow his eyes was irrepressible, and the onslaught of light pouring in through the open door dazzled him to near paralysis as he stood in the shadows, pistol raised and poised to fire blindly if or when the situation required. But even through long lashes near-opacifying his vision, Tech’s astute mind instantly noted the familiar, swaying cadence of the figure stepping through the threshold, its movements much less hurried and frenetic than his sergeant’s broad-shouldered, deliberate strides would have been as he hastened to provide backup. In that subsequent second, as Tech’s eyes screamed in protest and the alleged assailant stepped delicately atop that worn wood floor, a cresting wave of unadulterated relief and realization crashed into his heaving chest and forced the bated breath from his lungs.

“Thank the Maker,” he exclaimed as he attempted to swallow the panic that had taken up residence in the back of his throat.

His feet took him urgently toward you, stowing his pistol in it’s holster with a deftness that his trembling hands should not have possessed, and the now-redundant flashlight fell with a thud to the floor, spinning away to uselessly brighten a forgotten corner as he closed the space between you and flung his arms around your shoulders.

The startled gasp that escaped your lips at the unexpected movement went ignored. He spared no consideration for the way your arms balked against the restriction of his unexpected embrace; your choked and stuttered demands for distance and clarification registered even less in his mind than your obvious sense of alarm. He would explain after… He’d offer a million apologies in just a minute… What mattered most to him in this second was that you were safe— you were there in front of him unailed, injury free and not bludgeoned to death by the bloodied hammer still imprinted in his mind's eye.

“T— Tech?!” you stammered, the futile attempts at tugging your arms free creating barely enough leverage to tip your head back and peer upward at your captor. “Is that you? What— what are you doing here?”

“You are alive,” he spoke, seizing the brief opportunity that your acknowledgement presented and retightening his grip around your shoulders.

“Of— of course I am?” you answered, the snort of incredulity almost completely muffled by the power of his embrace as you slowly reciprocated his affection by encircling his narrow waist. “How did you get in here?”

But your behest for an explanation once again failed to pull even a fragment of reasoning from his lips, that brilliant mind utterly failing in its feat to process the emotional undulation of your perceived murder, and he hung his head silently into the gap above your shoulder, greedily breathing in the same scent he’d spent countless mornings trying to imagine were in the bunk next to him.

“This doesn’t look like any ‘perilous and life-threatening event’ that I’ve ever been a part of.”

Hunter’s amusement, while somewhat muffled by the modulator in his helmet, was entirely apparent in the small chuckle that followed his quip. Tech snapped his head toward the door, the intrusion he’d utterly forgotten was on its way taking quick advantage of the adrenaline still doping his blood and setting every inch of his akin aprickle. Yet… having your form pressed against his in that quiet moment of long-anticipated reacquaintance had embedded him with a need for you equally as powerful, and releasing you from his clutches felt oddly like he was willingly permitting a limb to depart his body.

“Who— who are you?” you voiced as you turned toward the door, shielding your eyes with the same hand that had last been the recipient of Tech’s converged affection.

“Hunter,” the sergeant chirruped, boots treading thoughtlessly atop that trail of morbid, red breadcrumbs as he crossed the room and extended a hand. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“Why would I be dead?” you asked as you shook his hand, a very potent confusion still swaddling every word that left those lips.

“Good question,” Hunter chuckled, tipping his head forward slightly to pull that painted plastoid bucket from his head. “Can’t say I have an answer. Tech was losing his marbles about a limp fickle tree or someth—?”

“Ficus,” Tech interrupted, feeling a fresh surge of embarrassment rise to his already heated cheeks. Those frenzied emotions… the atypical and unbridled panic from mere minutes ago was being quickly usurped by a coursing regret for the composure he’d altogether abandoned the minute your safety was in question.

He cleared his throat and shifted his goggles on his nose, shying away from your inquiring gaze as it returned to him. “My apologies for the infiltration,” he continued, readjusting his helmet needlessly under his arm. “My brother and I returned with every intention of completing the required electrical repairs, only to find the premises looking uncharacteristically derelict. Regrettably, I had no means of contacting you, so I permitted myself entry hoping to affirm your safety, or collect clues to identify the assailant.”

He chanced a glance in your direction; the way your wide eyes darted intently yet curiously back and forth between his instantly threatened to steal the justification still poised on his tongue, and watching your lip disappear between your teeth saw the battle against that implacable itch to reach for your hand vigorously resurrected.

“There was undeniable evidence that harm may have come to you,” he offered, reaching instead for his datapad and tipping the screen toward you. “My scanners indicated blood of a human origin splattered in several places, with a significant percentage of it congealing atop the handle of a hammer still perched in the sink. Objectively, all access points to the establishment appeared to have been boarded to prevent any external supposition, eliminating any obvious need for an investigation. Your beloved flora was presenting with several signs of neglect, and I noted a discarded caf beside the computer that my scanners confirm has been sitting undisturbed for nearly two dozen rotations.”

“Ew, what?!” you exclaimed as your expression shifted abruptly from concern to disgust, nose scrunching as you peered over your shoulder toward the counter.

“Is that what that smell is?” Hunter queried under his breath, his throat bobbing heavily as if trying to steel himself against the cresting heave in his stomach.

But the notion of the abandoned dish and its putrid contents didn’t befuddle you as it had Tech, instead he watched your eyes soften and roll before an incredulous scoff huffed from your nose.

“Figures,” you groused with a small shake of the head. “He has the wherewithal to put a bloody hammer in the sink but not the dirty mug.”

Tech paused, your grumbled words failing to establish even a scrap of sound reasoning in his already overladen mind, and the slight cock in Hunter’s brow as he turned to glance inquisitively at his brother clearly indicated he was equally as confused by your insufficiently explanatory grievance.

“Who’s ‘he’?” the sergeant asked on their behalf.

“My father,” you answered with another disgruntled roll of the eyes. “I asked him to come here and seal the place up for me.”

“Your father left this carnage?” Tech posed, unable to keep the bewilderment from his voice. “How peculiar.”

“But… why?” Hunter added.

“It’s a long story,” you replied, failing to conceal a large yawn with the back of one hand as the other stretched high above your head. “And I’ll happily tell you the whole thing once I get some caf in me. Give me a few minutes to turn the power back on and then we can catch up.”

The first twinge of an adoring smile tugged at Tech’s lips as he watched you first heave a preparatory sigh before squaring your shoulders and reaching for the handle of that soiled mug. With your nose pinched tightly between your fingers, and your cheeks expanded to their full capacity under the strain of a held breath, you carried the dish at arms length and retreated to the back door. Tech watched you go without even really seeing you… eyes unfocussed, mind spinning tirelessly. It seemed wholly impossible that attempting to ascertain his feelings for you during their trek along that sunlit pathway had rendered him so uneasy that he nearly faceplanted; then mere seconds later, he’d hurled headfirst into a panic so foreign and inexplicable that even Hunter, his most astute brother and the person who likely understood him most in this galaxy, had difficulty navigating Tech’s discombobulated fears. Now here he stood, the ravaging tornado of emotions spanning the last half an hour, only a thing of the past. His mind, instead, brimming with nothing but absolute certainty of his affection for you, and it wasn’t until (“...oof!”) you tripped over the long-abandoned spools of wire and nearly slooped that rancid liquid all over the floor, that a distant glimmer of reality returned to him, and he hastened to retrieve the discarded flashlight and hand it over to you.

“Was that a hug I just saw?” Hunter jeered, knocking his fist against the dome of Tech’s shoulder the second your figure vanished into the enshadowed hallway.

The genius soldier did not answer, offering his brother a mildly embarrassed, reproachful glance before shifting his attention to the device in his hands.

“You know Tech,” the sergeant persisted, keeping his voice tactfully low. “You’ve pulled some really impressive tricks out of your arsenal over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more impressed by you than I am now.”

Tech let his brother's indirect praise wash over him, turning his response over in his mind several times. “It is most peculiar,” he uttered quietly to the screen as the lights flickered into life overhead, “That simply the notion of this companionship can trigger such dichotomous sentiments.”

“What do you mean?” Hunter queried as he stepped toward the front door and pushed it closed.

“Well… it seems implausible that one individual could initiate both anxiety and comfort in another, as they are contradictory emotional responses that otherwise do not theoretically coincide.” Tech kept his eyes pointedly downward to the illuminated device in his hands as he spoke. “How is it that my fear for the safety of another is rendered so paramount, that the notion of having lost said person clouds the judgement in which I hold in such high regard, particularly so when the person in question is one of whom I hardly know? Yet, the moment I deem their safety established, I am overcome with a protective urge so robust that I would unquestioningly forfeit the use of my limbs if encircling them promised a shield from any potential harm?”

The momentary silence that ensued post-confession was undoubtedly amplified by the recent extermination of fracas from the outside world, yet nothing reverberated louder amongst the walls of that dusty shop than the proud pause that proceeded Hunter’s answer, the smile doming his inked cheek as he stepped back toward his brother entirely missed by the genius still staring deliberately downward.

“I don’t know,” the sergeant answered slowly, placing a discerning hand on the top of Tech’s shoulder. “Feelings are powerful things… I guess we don’t give ‘em enough credit.”

“Indeed,” Tech agreed as he finally lifted his gaze, eyes flashing as he peered at the space where you were due to appear at any moment…

“Hunter?” he added quietly as a thoughtful silence reemerged.

“Yeah, ‘vod?”

“I do not think I will ever tire of this ‘feeling’.”

Hunter’s response was stolen off his tongue by the squeak of old hinges as you pried that back door open with the toe of your shoe, reappearing moments later in the doorway with a green mug held carefully in one hand and a clear glass of water in the other; the way your lips pursed and hitched to one side as you focussed on maneuvering toward the counter without spilling either liquid, rearousing the tingle under Tech’s skin.

“What’d’ya say we pull these boards down?” Hunter spoke loudly, clapping his brother on the arm before turning to face the obstructed windows.

“That would be fantastic,” you said, carefully depositing your steaming mug beside the computer. “I’m handy enough in my own right, but I don’t trust myself not to pull a ‘Dad’ and take a finger off trying to get them down.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hunter answered, dismissing your comment with a wave of his hand as he crossed the room and debated which of the wood panels to dismantle first. “Tech, let's start with the one on the right—”

But Tech heard none of his summons, too enraptured with the charming crease between your brows as your concentration shifted toward your drooping plants, hands lovingly tipping that glass of water into the clay pot housing your limp, little tree.

“—and then we’ll just go along the front and rip 'em down one by one. We can stack them in the corner out of the way for now. Ready? Tech…? Tech.”

“Coming.” Tech wrenched his gaze from you and hurried to meet his brother next to the furthest of the boarded windows.

“I’m a little alarmed at how easily you broke in,” you admitted with a smirk as the duo trod past the counter moments later, carrying the first the half-dozen bulky boards between them.

“It was quite simple,” Tech offered, lowering his end of the board to the dusty floor in the corner and keeping it stable while Hunter tipped it against the wall. “With the correct tool and the appropriate leverage, one can deactivate such an unsophisticated deadbolt system with relative ease. If the security of your store is of utmost concern to you, I would recommend installing a mechanical upgrade; one that permits only those who carry an individually coded microchip to ent—”

“What’s with the boards anyway?” Hunter interrupted, leading his rambling brother back toward the windows.

“I, uh… I was on Ryloth.”

The soldiers froze, hands stalling in their feat of tugging the next of the boards down while they exchanged fleeting, dark looks. “Ryloth?” Hunter repeated. “In the middle of a war? Hmm… that’s kinda—”

“Kinda risky. I know,” you agreed, looking somewhat crestfallen as you perched your chin in your palm and gazed listlessly out the now transparent window. “In my defense, the war hadn’t really reached Ryloth when I bought my ticket. Though, admittedly, I would have gone anyway with the situation being so dire. Those poor kids… Maker, I feel for them. And it’s only going to get worse as access to medical supplies gets increasingly challenging…”

Hunter looked back at Tech and raised his eyebrows, confusion etched into every superficial line of that tattooed face as he readjusted his grip around the edge of the wood panel and tugged it free of its shoddy adhesion.

“Are you being intentionally vague?” Tech voiced innocently while shifting his goggles on his nose. “Or have I simply overlooked a myriad of implied details?”

“No,” you snorted, glancing at him with an unexpected affection and igniting a blush to his cheeks potent enough to force his gaze away from you again. “Sorry, I’ll backtrack a little…” As you picked your head out of your palm and perched yourself, instead, in the desk chair behind the computer, Tech reached for his end of the nearest board and gave it an assertive tug. “About a month or so ago, an impoverished family came in here looking for some help. There were these three kids– cute as a button, but losing their eyesight pretty rapidly. Their mom has a degenerative visual disease that the kids ended up unknowingly inheriting, and Dad was at-a-loss for what to do. There’s no cure for the condition itself, but I told them I’d make some glasses for them that would help preserve the vision they had left. I tried to expedite the process as much as possible, but they fled the planet before I could finish.”

“They wouldn’t stick around for free glasses?” Hunter asked incredulously, eyes attuned to the floor below him as he walked carefully backward to the corner where they’d stashed the first panel.

“Their situation was pretty destitute,” you answered sadly. “Anyway… once their glasses were done, the only option left was to hand deliver them, as I don’t particularly trust inter-stellar couriers anymore with all the rampant piracy these days, and… well, part of me has always wanted to do some missionary work. Unfortunately, it was barely an hour after my shoes hit the sand outside of Lessu that the blockade was implemented, and all public transports were barred from entering or leaving the system. So I—”

“You’ve been trapped on Ryloth!” Hunter groaned. “For weeks!”

“That explains the fetid caf,” Tech chimed.

“Please don’t take this as a complaint,” you continued quickly. “Being on Ryloth and living with that family was an unforgettable experience, and one of which I would never have been granted the opportunity, but… I was more than a little worried about this place; this level of the Undercity is notorious for petty theft and pickpockets thanks to its proximity to the lifts, and the affluent clientele that trickles in from the surface one level above. A few days after I landed, I managed to get a transmission back to my Dad and asked if he’d come and secure the store until I could figure out how to get back, but… I think I might have drastically overestimated his handyman skills. He admitted to me afterward that a poorly-aimed hammer strike had done some damage to both his left thumb and my floor. He conveniently didn’t mention he was growing a mold farm in my favourite mug.”

“Any substantial trauma to the thumb could prove detrimental,” Tech spoke up, tipping the second board on top of the first. “The thumb houses several primary vascular bodies including the Princeps Pollicis, a major artery branching from the deep palmar arch. If the artery itself has sustained enough significant external force to cause a secondary dermal laceration, it has the potential to elicit substantial blood loss, not to mention warrant a possible surgical repairment.”

“And that explains the mess,” Hunter agreed, pointing toward the puniceous trail still adorning the floor beneath their feet.

“Mess is an understatement now that I’m looking at it,” you chuckled. “I’m still not sure if I want to thank him for helping me or invoice him for all the cleaning I’m going to have to do before I can reopen this place.”

***

It took just shy of an hour to remove and rehome the barriers your father had inexpertly installed, and the welcome addition of the dazzling sunlight through the now-unobstructed (albeit dusty) windows had the store feeling nearly exactly as Tech remembered. As he and his brother trod back toward the counter, dabbing droplets of sweat from their brow with the backs of their hands, the Ficus Elastica on the counter stood proudly erect in, what appeared to be, its own personal ray of sunlight.

“Thank you so much,” you sang as they approached, the grin atop your lips challenging that bright celestial body in the sky for its title as the most radiant entity in the galaxy.

“Not a problem,” Hunter answered as you hopped out of the chair and walked around the counter to meet them. “If the panels are still here the next time we’re planetside, I’ll get Wrecker to come rip up 'em and throw ‘em out back for you.”

“That’d be great,” you nodded eagerly. “He’s the only one I haven’t met yet.”

“Actually speaking of…” he continued, “I should check in and make sure Crosshair hasn’t lost his temper and used him for target practice. Gimme a second and then we can start the wirin–”

“I can manage.”

His interjection was abrupt, slipping off his tongue nowhere-near as passively or nonchalant as he’d intended when Tech opened his mouth to reassure his sergeant, and the responding look on Hunter’s face readily confirmed that Tech had also failed to conceal that burgeoning need to be alone with you. But he was fighting a losing battle; the trio stood only inches from where he’d first wrapped his arms around you. Despite continuing to dodge each other’s bashful glances, the near-irresistable urge to grab your hand and wreath you with his arms hadn’t left him since releasing you, and he was more determined than ever to swallow that ever-plaguing apprehension and physically communicate how much you’d been on his mind since your last encounter.

“I am capable of completing the installation without assistance,” he added politely. “And Crosshair was particularly irascible this morning despite having acceded to his demand that I park the ship in an area of complete shadow, so the need for a supervisory presence is likely heightened.”

“Shadow?” you interrupted questioningly from Tech’s elbow. “What does he have against daylight?”

“Hurts his eyes in the morning,” Hunter answered offhandedly. “You sure, Tech? We lost time with the whole ‘possible-murder’ thing. Think you can tackle it alone?”

“I will not be alone.” He glanced fleetingly in your direction before swallowing.

Hunter hmph’d quietly, mimicking his brother and glancing your way as his lips twitched against the impish smirk he continued to stifle. “Well alright then,” he conceded, returning his brother's mildly guilty look with a rather knowing one of his own. “I'll leave you two to get… reacquainted. Just don’t abandon your comm again; there are no ‘unscheduled breaks’ from war no matter what you say.”

“Thank you for the help,” you said, extending a hand toward the retreating sergeant. “And for making sure I’m not dead.”

Hunter offered you a smile and a respectful nod before his face disappeared behind that painted plastoid again, and he made his way toward the front door. Distant, yet raucous laughter filled the shop as he pulled the door open and stepped over the threshold.

“Oh… and don’t forget, Tech,” he added, the visor of his helmet poking back around the door unexpectedly. “We’re leaving for Felucia at first light tomorrow. Midnight curfew.”

***

As you locked the door behind the departing sergeant, Tech stooped and collected the coiled wires from the floor, tossing them over his shoulder before following in your wake toward the sanctity of your workshop. Despite your established safety, he couldn't prevent his eyes darting toward that large aluminum basin as the kitchenette passed on the left, the tool that had so-instantly horrified him now scrubbed clean and leaning benignly against the side of the caf maker to dry. The moldy mug, however, was nowhere to be found, though the peculiar addition of a small, tightly tied garbage bag sitting on the floor by the fire exit had Tech near-certain he’d never see that red ceramic again.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you offered as you veered right into the fabrication lab, the slight chuckle beneath your words recapturing Tech’s attention. “It seems that’s a habit I’ve unintentionally fallen into. First I gave you a heart attack about your goggles… then this. I’m regularly quite the bore, I promise.”

Tech bit back the retort on his tongue as he stepped through the doorway— you, a bore? Well that seemed even less likely than Crosshair dropping to his knees and begging them to forgive his abhorrent attitude.

“An apology is not required,” Tech spoke instead. “It would appear that I jumped to an inaccurate conclusion upon arriving here to find you missing. It was a most uncharacteristic overreaction, and one from which I now-suffer a great compunction.”

“Compunction?” you repeated, brows furrowing at the implications of his confession as you reached gently upward and began to lift those heavy coils from his shoulder. “Why?”

Tech hesitated for only a breath, watching your nimble fingers blanch under the weight of the wire as you took it from him. “Well… several years of advanced training and exposure therapy have rendered me effectively inured to a multitude of scenarios that others may deem distressing,” he divulged as something near concern wiped the smile from your lips. “Yet, I failed to maintain control of my emotions in the face of your disappearance. I became largely inexorable, making objectively impetuous and questionable decisions.”

“Tech,” you uttered in little more than a consoling whisper, his stomach lurching as your free hand collected his from somewhere near his hip, those slightly chilled fingers weaving their way in between his before the soft, consoling brush of your thumb nearly weakened his knees. “There is nothing to regret. Worrying about someone is nothing to be ashamed of, and arguably even less so if that person is someone you care greatly about. In fact, an initial surge of panic followed by attempts to verify their safety is likely the expected psychological response to such concerns. You walked into what looked like a very foreboding situation and had no data to disprove your suspected theory.”

“I suppose that is correct,” Tech shrugged, dropping his gaze to the toe of his oily boot, “Though it has been several years since I last studied the sympathetic subsection of the autonomic nervous system in response to traumatic stimuli.”

“Sounds like an interesting read,” you mumbled through a sarcastic smile that prompted the return of his gaze. “Tell me– if the same situation presented itself again, would you not react similarly? Would you not do everything within your power to make sure that someone was okay while everything around you was telling you they’re not?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then that’s that,” you answered simply. “There’s no reason to regret your actions, just like I don't suffer any contempt for getting myself stuck on Ryloth. Making the trip there was the best and potentially only solution based on the information available to me at the time. Things went awry… and that’s okay, because we should always do what our gut is telling us to do when it comes to things and people that we care greatly about.”

And there it was: that intemerate benevolence that he wholly adored about you, reemerging to knock him over the head with a validation that he’d never experienced before… and the subsequent moment, as his eyes locked on yours and his grip on your hand tightened, he felt truly seen as himself. Not Tech the highly-skilled soldier… not Tech the ingenious mechanic responsible for keeping the GAR’s most elite squad in the air… not Tech the pilot who loved his datapad above all else and never slept. You saw Tech… accepting and welcoming him as he is; validating his infrequent displays of vulnerability as if humanity was something he could and should experience first hand without fear of persecution or judgement.

“Oh, and don’t think I didn’t catch that,” you added, brow shifting into a devious arch as a playful smirk tugged at your lips.

“Catch what, exactly?”

“The oxymoron you dropped in there: ‘found you missing’. Someone can’t be found and missing, hun. But keep dropping them– I’ll catch ‘em every time.”

Was it that teasing smile, or the enamoring, little puffs of air that escaped your nose as you snickered in the wake of your own coy intelligence? Or could it be the way your gaze kept darting from his eyes to his lips, that had him feeling as if he were suddenly hovering? The ground had, at some point, simply disappeared from below those smeared and blackened boots– vanishing into nothingness with everything else that had previously encircled them underneath those dim, humming lights. There was simply nothing but your hand interlaced with his. Nothing but the soft flutter of your eyelashes as they danced with every subtle shift in your gaze, and the unobtrusive quiet of an empty building that promised no foreseeable interruption. Every unhurried second ticked into the past by the chrono on the wall saw him pulled toward you by a force presented to him only once previously– when he’d boldly adorned the back of your hand with the same gesture that he longed to press to your smiling lips.

But… did you want that? Was your heart also hammering heavily in your chest, threatening to send the room spinning more than it already was? Were you as captivated with his eyes as he was with yours, letting that effulgent twinkle dazzle him like the radiance of hyperspace did? Had the last month also seen you seeking out moments of solitude, keen to forgo the mundanity of the present in favour of vanishing into the memory of him? The memory of an utterly ineffable connection?

Or were you standing there watching his eyes flutter closed, wondering what in Maker’s name you’d done in your past life to warrant having to endure such an awkward encounter? Was your mind frantically trying to find the words to politely reject his bold advance? Were you desperate to yank your hand from the clutches of his clammy gloves, and assert that he simply complete the required electrical repairs and then vanish indefinitely?

That sabotaging little flitter of doubt was enough to have Tech leaning backward, eyes opening to their full extent and quickly darting toward his boots while he reached for his goggles and shifted them needly atop his nose.

“Tech?” you whispered as he pulled his hand from yours, stowing his gauntlet comm in the pouch at his thigh before tugging at his gloves.

“I should initiate the electrical deconstruction,” he muttered as his face burned, pulling his datapad from its holster and bringing it to mere inches from his nose. “Can you please deposit those coils in the corner underneath the panel?”

“Sure.”

The sigh that preceded your curt answer was near deafening, circling around that quiet room what seemed to be half a dozen times before it dissipated into the now suffocating quiet. And while that soft huff of exasperation had near-tortured him, it was the unbridled disconcertment wholly engulfing your reply that stole his attention back from his device, and he watched with a sense of suppressed horror as your face fell rapidly into, what looked to him, an expression of dispirited chagrin.

***

Tech spent the next several hours near-furious at himself. Thoroughly incensed that his body never failed to repeatedly fall into the encompassing urge to physically connect with you whilst his mind remained downright incapable of elucidating the veracity of his perception, and infiltrating every modicum of that surging desire was an equally powerful right-hook of uncertainty.

Chiefly infuriating was your continued, unwavering kindness; he could barely stomach the ever-gracious way you offered to help him at regular intervals. Truthfully, he’d like nothing more than to have you hovering at his elbow for the entirety of the process, handing him whatever tool was required to progress the installation and witnessing him do what he truly did best while he chattered endlessly about the importance of matching the electrical capacity of the wire to its respective fuse. Yet, every time his eyes met yours, he was harrowingly reminded of his close shave with humiliation; reminded of the sheer confusion he’d seen behind your eyes as he pulled away from you, and your persisting geniality had him nearly-suspicious it was nothing more than a front upheld until the work was complete.

For the sake of niceties, and as a measly effort to atone for his self-proclaimed embarrassing behaviour, he accepted the glass of water you’d offered him shortly after he began the labour-intensive work, though despite the layer of dust gathering in his throat with every inhale, it sat untouched on the counter beside the lens generator.

He took his frustration out on the task at hand, snipping wire casings with an unnecessary gusto and scowling anew with each new electrical breaker that he clicked into place, but it seemed no degree of mechanical tinkering could distract him from the resentment coursing through him. Even the addition of a small radio, churning out happy-go-lucky, intraplanetary hits every couple of minutes was no match for his morose mood.

“Tech?” he heard you probe from the doorway several hours later, as he stooped over the sink in the kitchen and began to scrub the grime from his hands.

“Mmm?” he answered, ignoring the prickle erupting on the back of his neck at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He felt you approach, listening to the muted scrapes of your shoes on the floor as you neared, casually leaning against the counter in his peripheral vision.

“My brain might still be on Ryloth time but… were– were you about to kiss me?”

His stomach plummeted to his toes, eyes quickly unfocussing on that aged and rusted drain, hands briefly hesitating in their attempts to rid his skin of the encrusted soot and grime that had accumulated over hours of working in the walls.

“Yes,” he admitted after a poignant swallow, and found himself watching the drain noisily consume the stained suds falling from his fingers, hoping the gurgling sound would be loud enough to drown your surely impending stammered apologies for the uncomfortable misunderstanding and your request that he leave and take his misguided feelings with him.

“Well why didn’t you?”

His head jerked somewhat awkwardly; he’d nearly snapped his gaze toward you, only to stop himself part way through as the sound of your stifled chuckle surprised him. Tech stilled upon realizing that laugh had not sounded chastising at all. Nor jeering or humiliating, nor repulsed or repugnant. It sounded almost… frustrated. Indignantly accusatory, as if you were mildly annoyed that he hadn’t kissed you.

He reached blindly for the towel folded on the counter adjacent the sink, lips pursing as he thoughtlessly ran that cloth between his fingers until his skin began to revolt against the continued abrasure.

“Tech?” you whispered, the delicate probe successful in only fleetingly drawing his gaze.

“My affection for you, while subjectively highly enjoyable, is paired with an exponential degree of uncertainty that I have never previously experienced,” Tech divulged to the fabric in his hands. “And there are recurrent moments when, despite all other variables suggesting otherwise, I suffer an inherent doubt that you would ever reciprocate my feelings. You are well educated and even better mannered… meticulous with the quality of your work… exceedingly intelligent… your compassion for others and your willingness to assist them, even where the circumstance would deem reciprocity impossible, is truly unrivaled by any person I have ever met and… and…” He paused to regain control of his words as they spilled uncontrollably from mind to mouth.

“Tech, hun,” you cooed through the ghost of another exasperated laugh. “You are all of those things too. You have no vested interest in this shop yet here you are, laying on your back in the dust, doing several days worth of electrical work so this place can function at peak productivity and make my life easier. You graciously donated several hours of your time last month to help me plough through the mountain of work that had been looming over me for days. You broke in here ready to hunt down and assault whomever it was that had allegedly harmed me without even a thought for yourself. Despite having malignantly convinced yourself that you lack emotional intelligence, you have a truly exceptional mind. You are uncommonly and refreshingly polite, and you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, which is saying something because I’ve seen a lot of eyes. I– I’m kinda crazy about you, too.”

A truly exceptional mind? Refreshingly polite? Did you believe all of this to be true? He searched every inch of your face for any signs of insincerity, any fragments of dishonesty, any twitch of the lip that might disenchant the gratification coursing through his veins from your admonishment.

“Well,” he continued, attempting to keep his tone neutral as the realization that he’d likely blown his chance with you threatened to kick his heart clean out of his chest. “With any luck, another moment shall present itself where I may demonstrate how much you undoubtedly mean to me.”

He jammed his finger needlessly against the bridge of his goggles, dejected gaze dropping back to boots now dirtier than ever while a quiet, albeit forlorn sigh left his lips and he resumed inattentively fiddling with the little towel.

“Well,” you mimicked. “Since, the ‘ideaology of luck’ is, apparently, illogical… allow me.”

He must have stumbled over his toes in the subsequent second, though the most he’d ever be able to offer was a deduction based on the force you’d used to tug him toward you. In the reality of that moment, your perfect response to the divulgence of his feelings and the unexpected affirmation that you, too, felt similarly, had instantly rendered him euphorically ignorant to anything other than the feeling of finally having your lips against his.

That damp little towel somehow ended up displaced and draped atop the caf machine, but exactly how and when it had left his hands was a mystery that did not need solving. There was simply nothing else worthy of consideration or acknowledgement in that moment; nothing more important than the small drafts of warm air cascading across his cheek every time you shifted your lips atop his; nothing more prudent than the small yet mighty grip you maintained on the collar of his chest plate keeping him no more than a breath away from you. Somehow, you ended up perched on the counter next to that hammer, its existence now so inconsequential that it wasn’t even spared the courtesy of a glance as it fell over and landed with a thunk behind the caf machine. Tech didn’t even notice you blindly lift his goggles from his nose and rest them on his forehead, though the tender brush of your thumbs along the chronic indents on his cheeks sent shiver after shiver down his spine.

It wasn’t until your lips separated from his, and he was enveloped almost entirely with that same feeling of permitting a limb to depart his body that he returned to some semblance of awareness.

“Are you still uncertain?” you asked him with a smile that sat somewhere on the border of devious and playful.

“Darling,” Tech answered near-breathlessly, “The only notion unclear to me at this point, is how I will survive until I can see you again.”

“Speaking of…” you sighed, gesturing to the small chrono embedded into the caf machine. “You should probably head out. It’s nearly midnight.”

Tech glanced at the old clock as it mocked him. 23:44 pm. Just enough time to collect his tools from their scattered displacement around the fabrication lab and depart the store. He’d be climbing the Marauder’s ramp within minutes… silently deposit his pack in the cockpit… settle down at the workstation to tinker with his current modification project and reminisce about his afternoon in your company. But… why? Surely if his squad members were already tucked into their bunks, or quietly preparing their weapons for deployment tomorrow, there would be no harm in staying here a little longer with you? “There are no unscheduled breaks from war, no matter what you say…” The sergeant had been referencing his previous alibi; the off-the-cuff excuse Tech had offered his brother after the previous, irresponsible mistake of letting his comm depart his person had ensured him unavailable and unreliable.

His jaw tensed under the audacity of what he was about to do.

“Please excuse me,” he requested of you politely, stealing a chaste peck of a kiss from your lips before stepping backward and extracting his gauntlet comm from the cargo pouch where he’d previously stored it for safekeeping.

“Hunter,” he spoke after activating that little blue light. “What time are we set to depart for Felucia?”

“0600…” his sergeant answered suspiciously. “But curf—”

“I will see you then.”

“Te—!”

Tech silenced his comm with the blind poke of a button and tossed it carelessly to the countertop where it came to rest next to the hammer, his hands instantly reaching to cradle your waist while he chased your kiss so eagerly that you nearly toppled backwards.

***

An hour. It took an hour to stop kissing long enough to resume talking, and then several hours after that to accept that neither of you were going to achieve any other productive tasks that night. Still wholly invigorated by your union, Tech declined your midnight offer for a caf, though with how the taste lingered on your tongue between sip and kiss, he may as well have drank a cup on his own.

At quarter-past two, you dragged him by the hand back toward the lens edger and lifted his goggles from his nose. You first giggled about how much he absentmindedly squinted in the void of his regular, average eyesight, before instantly launching into an educational titter about precisely why humans even developed that anatomical squint response, and how effective it can be at temporarily improving visual acuity. And while he longed to query every fact against one of which he’d researched on his own time, he’d found a new use for his lips that he much preferred.

Shortly after four, as you locked your hands around his waist and groaned into his chest about having to spend the next several days on your hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in preparation for the reopening of your store, Tech accidentally knocked over a bottle of effervescent blue liquid; the same concoction you’d used to disinfect his glasses previously, and a quick glance at the ingredients list while he collected the dripping container had him instantly yammering about how the peroxide additive would be the perfect solution for removing the embedded blood stains.

A short time later, an unseen gang of bad mouthed adolescents were heard hollering on the other side of the fire exit door, their voices amplified by the stillness of the night and the empowered notion that they were loitering where they were not permitted, and despite their inebriation posing no apparent threat while you remained behind a locked door, Tech still refused to let you leave the backroom until he could confirm their exodus.

At half-past five, an oversized yawn barely concealed by your hand reminded Tech that, despite wishing Father Time would simply abandon his post and gift him a moment with you free from that nagging and imminent deployment, his squad was waiting for him; his sergeant likely highly perturbed and waiting for the pilot’s next transparent excuse.

“How do the eyes feel now?” you asked over your shoulder as you walked ahead of him toward the front door, his pride-and-joy helmet bobbing near comically on your head as it concealed the smile that he could hear lay atop your lips.

“Much improved,” he answered, breathing in what he could before your companionship would be lost to him for another little while.

“Thought so!” you chuckled proudly, the modulator in his helmet distorting the music of your amusement. “Changing the refractive indices of a lens can sometimes initiate a bit of a hiccup in visual processing, especially when paired with changes in curvature and correct application of coatings, but the foreign sensation typically dissipates within a rotation or so.”

“May I remind you, you need not have gifted me new lenses.”

“I just supplied the material,” you argued, helmet wiggling again as you casually shrugged away the innocent condemnation in his tone. “You did all the work the last time you were here. They’ve been sitting here waiting for you to come back so I could put them in your goggles. Plus, yours were in… questionable… condition, and if your last set were any indication of Kaminoan knowledge of refraction, you’re much better off with these. How do you feel about the slight tint after wearing it for a few hours?”

Tech forced his gaze toward the window where the sky was undoubtedly beginning to lighten under the embrace of the sun's first morning rays. He, truthfully, hadn’t given that slight yellow tint any thought in some hours; what was initially found quite unusual had quickly morphed into something… “Quite calming,” he answered.

“There’s built-in blue light protection, too, for all the quality time you spend with that datapad. Give it a month or so, and your circadian rhythm will thank me.”

You stopped when you reached the front door and turned around to face him. Despite the exhaustion having swollen the tender skin beneath your eyes, there was no denying they were still alight and twinkling as they watched him approach. But Tech stopped shortly after you did, knowing that the nearer he reached the door, the nearer he’d be to leaving, and he wasn’t yet done processing the night's events. The budding sunrise on the other side of the glass was bringing with it an understanding he never knew he’d been deficient. So this… this is what he spent his days fighting for. Feelings like this. Companionships like ours. People like you who spent their time trying to better the lives of others without even a hint of motive. Someone who cared if he returned or not.

Tech sighed, very aware that finding the correct words to elucidate his feelings for you was simply a task for another time. For now, as the sun continued to betray him by rising ever higher with every lingering breath, he wanted every last second with you to be one completely void of thought.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” you probed suddenly, breaking into his torpor. He refocussed his gaze and found another of those playful smiles crinkling your eyes, palm raised to shoulder height and facing him.

He let only the ghost of scoff depart his nose as his lips lengthened under their own smile, and he resumed his approach, not stopping until the toes of his boots were nearly touching yours. As he reached upward and gently pulled his helmet from your head, a faint ache erupted in his chest, amplified by the quiet snicker that left you and the regretful reality of that sound being one he would not hear for the foreseeable future.

“Five,” he whispered after tucking his helmet under his arm, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours and holding tightly to your hand.

“Correct,” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “If your next mission is counting fingers, you’ve got that in the bag.”

“Considering Felucia is widely known as the Planet of Fungal Forestry, I would deem that largely improbable. However–” he added, identifying the first flickers of fear behind your eyes, “–it is highly probable that I shall return by month’s-end.”

“If Cranky Crosshair doesn’t use you for target practice first?”

“Cranky Crosshair compares naught to Hunter when he’s truly angry. Hence why I must not be any later than I already am. Goodbye for now, darling.”

He stole one last, lingering kiss from your lips before reaching for the handle on that vibrant yellow door.

***

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ilovehimyourhonour · 7 months

Text

004. I think we’re perfect for each other

📂 xu minghao x fem! reader written series , university au , childhood friends to lovers , mutual pining . minghao ‘ignoring’ reader , NOT PROOFREAD . inspo — I’ve been thinking of you + I saw this and thought of you .

a/n sincerely apologizing for the very unplanned hiatus from this series . DISCLAIMER; is this doesn’t make sense….yes it does.

taglist open !

previous ! next !

three days of complete silence.

okay, well—minghao hasn’t been completely silent. every morning he mutters a ‘see ya’ as he rushes from his room and straight out the door, and at nights he comes home late, the only noise coming from him being the banging of cabinet doors and clanging of dishes as he eats the leftovers you had prepared and left for him.

and about five hours into minghao’s vow of silence the others started to become worried, I mean how could they not? especially after minghao showed up at seungcheol and seokmin’s dorms—on a friday night.

everyone and their mom knows about your and minghao’s friday nights. the two of you walk to the nearest convenience store, stock up on snacks and beverages, and instant ramen, then head home and watch movie after movie until the both of you fall asleep. it was tradition.

“what are you doing here?” seungcheol frowns, worry etched into his features.

“I don't know,” minghao shrugs, slipping past his elder. seokmin flings himself into an upright position at seeing minghao, eyes wide as he takes in the boy's appearance—something seungcheol (in his state of shock) forgot to do.

minghao looked terrible. his hair was messy, his sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his tank top strap had begun to fall over his shoulder—and dont think seokmin didn’t notice the stains.

“hey hao,” seokmin grins softly, watching their guest flop himself down into their beanbag chair, his eyes snap to the TV but his attention is most definitely elsewhere.

throughout the night minghao merely responded to any questions directed at him with nods, shrugs, or just pure silence. he eventually fell asleep on seungcheol and seokmin’s floor but by the time they woke up the next morning, he was gone. so they called you.

“what?” you croak as you shuffle yourself into a sitting position.

“is minghao home?”

you sigh, throwing the duvet off your legs, and stumble to your door. yanking it open you are greeted with the scents of herbal tea and some sort of pastry, you take a few steps into the open apartment and spot your roommate leaning on the counter—teacup in hand. “yeah he’s here, why?” he keeps his gaze towards the floor, as much as he wants to look at you—his heart aches to see your puffy morning face and your messy hair—but he holds his ground. “okay,” you mutter before pressing the end call button. “you okay, hao?”

he simply nods, turning to the sink behind him and rinsing out his cup. it hadn’t been empty, but he needed to keep himself busy. as much as his heart longed for you to be wrapped in his arms, it also held hints of betrayal and hurt.

“are you sure?” another nod. you hum softly and retreat back to your room, the door slamming a little harder than usual as you hide yourself away.

and that had just been day one. day two and three were borderline horrific.

eventually, you did as you always did, fled to joshua—and he welcomed you with open arms. as did seungkwan, who just so happened to be in joshua’s dorm upon your arrival.

which lead to now. the beginning of day four, you, joshua, and seungkwan planted in the middle of shua’s dorm room, on the floor. backs aching and butts going numb.

“why cant we sit on the bed?”

“shh,” joshua sighs.

“maybe minghao is jealous,” seungkwan suggest.

“of who?”

“everyone in a five mile radius of you,” joshua rolls his eyes.

“no im being serious,” seungkwan states. “first you get a date, and then you go to jihoon for advice.”

“he’s right! you know how minghao gets when it comes to helping you.”

“and it would explain how he completely ignored jihoon at breakfast this morning.”

“hao doesnt get jealous, hes a very calm person.”

“he’s been ignoring you for almost four straight days now, does that seem like something a calm person does?”

“seungkwan you’re grasping at straws, I mean, how would minghao ever know I went to jihoon for advice?” the boys before you give you a knowing look, making you groan. “jeonghan.”

“he knows everything, it’s frightening.”

joshua and seungkwan were no help, but honestly what were you really expecting. you should have went to wonwoo.

eventually you fled joshua’s dorm and slunk yourself home, your mind filled with your and minghao’s better days—days when the two of you actually had conversations.

as you relived your sixteenth birthday soft droplets of water began to fall from the dark clouds overhead, ones you obviously failed to notice.

the droplets gradually grow in size. the large wet drops pound against your skin and seep into your clothes—the books within your backpack were definitely soaked by now.

this is all minghao’s fault.

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

the door beeps as it comes unlocked, and minghao jumps from the couch—greeting you as the door clicks into place.

“where have you been?” his tone is firm, but his eyes are glazed over with relief. you huff and kick your shoes off.

“I was out,” you push past minghao, your soaked socks slapping against the floors with each step.

“hey,” minghao frowns. he reaches out for your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. “I was worried, the least you could do was tell me where you were.”

“I dont see why it matters, im fine.” you attempt to tug your hand from his but his hold is too firm. “minghao.”

“stop avoiding me,” you scoff. “i’ve been thinking of you for the last three hours, and im not letting you go until I get an answer.” he pulls you into him, your face coming flush against his covered chest.

“you’ve been thinking of me?”

“ive been thinking of you,” he confirms. “for the last four days you’ve been the only thing on my mind.” you feel your own body stiffen in his hold, so you’re sure he can feel it too—and if he does he does a great job at ignoring it.

“really?” he merely nods, tightening his hold on you. you sigh and press your face deeper into his chest. “I thought you hated me,” you giggle softly. “I was so scared all our years of friendship were gone.”

“what?” he rears back, pulling you from his chest. “why would I ever hate you?”

“because I went to jihoon for advice instead of you.”

hao gives you a tight squeeze. “don’t be silly, baby.” he presses a soft kiss atop your head. “as much as I love when you come to me, I know you have to get different points of views sometimes.”

you nod, and then the two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

“I got you something,” you mutter. minghao shifts, eyebrows raising—silently questioning what it was. you withdraw yourself from his hold. “I bought it the other day,” you call over your shoulder as you march towards your room, minghao hesitantly following behind you.

“I don’t have anything for you,” minghao admits as he watches from your doorway. you pull a small bag from your closet.

“its nothing big. I saw this and thought of you, thats it.” you shrug, handing him the bag.

he takes it and pulls out a smaller drawstring sack, dropping the larger bag to his feet. his fingers dig into the small opening and pull it wider.

minghao smiles brightly as he pulls the gift from the bag, immediately uncrossing the arms of the sunglasses and placing them on his face.

“how do I look?” he grins. you giggle and tilt your head to the side.

“very handsome.”

“as always,” he shrugs. you roll your eyes as minghao steps farther into your room, his hands finding your waist again—using this grip to shove you back and towards your bed.

the two of you fall into the mattress with a thud. minghao hovers over you, his hands planted at either side of your head—sunglasses threatening to fall from his face. you reach out and take them from his face, folding them again and sitting them to the side.

“I’m sorry,” you peer up at him.

“its fine hao,” you reach up and cup his cheek with your palm. “really. I know sometimes you want your alone time, and i’m sorry if I’ve overstepped.”

“what? no, no, no. you did nothing wrong, it was me! I got all up in my head about nothing and put myself in a bad mood.”

“do you want to talk about it?” you’re greeted with silence. “thats okay,” you glide your hand from his cheek to his hair—ruffling it softly. “you know I wont force you,” you hum.

“you’re too good for me,” he sighs. you frown at his words, bringing your other hand up in order to plant them both at the back of his neck. you tug him down softly, leading him to nuzzle in the crook of your neck.

“I think we’re perfect for each other.”

@ ilovehimyourhonour

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onevolon · 5 months

Text

nostalgia

Kane(Annihilation) x afab!reader

summary: Kane begins to remember something. (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion + soulmates)

word count: 1154

warnings: Lena didn't go to the shimmer. Eternal Sunshine's procedure exists in this universe. The quot at the beginning is from Madmen 1x13. And no proofreading has been done. Might change it a little later.

you can also read it on ao3

part2 - masterlist

“Nostalgia. It's delicate... but potent.

…in Greek, nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound. It's a twinge in your heart…far more powerful than memory alone.

…It takes us to a place where we ache to go again.

Around and around…and back home again... to a place where we know we are loved.”

Lena must have fallen asleep while watching the TV again.

The words he hears… doesn’t sit right with him. They almost create an itch in his brain. He cannot pinpoint for the life of him. It’s been like this for a couple of days now. Glimpse of something keeps popping up but before he can reach… it’s gone. He can’t admit to himself it bothers him. Because nothing bothered him after the…

He turns of the TV and goes back to the bed.

***

He knows he is dreaming. It doesn’t happen very often but when it does…

You should not have seen this. I apologize.

Something feels familiar.

There's no such thing as this.

Doesn’t feel right but still familiar…

…And she wanted to move on. We provide that possibility.

Feels like a memory.

She was not happy.

He wakes up with a startle and heart is beating out of his chest. He doesn’t try to go back to sleep.

***

For the first time in weeks, he goes outside. Takes the train to a random place. He doesn’t know why. Yes, being in the house all the time is suffocating but he is not an impulsive person.

Today just feels different.

It’s freezing on the beach.

Why is he here?

He found an empty notebook couple of days ago. Hidden in a drawer. Some pages are ripped out. Did he use to journal? Feels right to write this all down. To make it make sense a bit more. Something concreate.

He is not the only one on the beach, though. There is a woman. Maybe she likes the cold.

He should go back to home. To Lena.

She is nice. Nice is good, right?

She loved me once.

***

“Hi.”

She’s talking to him. “I'm sorry?”

“I just said hi.”

“Hi.”

She’s looking intensely. When he does that, people tend to find it creepy. Or that’s what Lena said.

“Do I know you? “

Something sparks in his chest.

“I mean we are headed to the same place in this train so… Do you know the little café in down town?”

Does he? “Sure.” He says for some reason.

“Yeah! Oh, I’ve seen you there for sure.”

They both still didn’t break the eye contact.

He introduces himself. It’s only polite, Lena says.

The woman says her name too.

It’s a pretty name.

“Thank you. Not many people think so.”

Oh, he said that out loud.

“It has a nice ring to it.”

“I’m not nice though. I'm a vindictive little bitch, truth be told.”

What? “I wouldn't think that about you.”

“Why wouldn't you think that about me?”

“I don't know. I just...” He can’t think a reasonable answer. “You seem nice…”

“Oh, God. Don't you know any other adjectives?”

He does. But right now, he can’t find any. Weird… This is all so weird…

“I don't need nice. I don't need myself to be it, and I don't need anybody else to be it at me. Okay?”

Okay, he thinks and shuts his mouth. Seems like he only irritates her more.

“Kane? It’s Kane, right?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry I yelled at you. I’m a little out of it today.”

He nods.

“To be honest. I really like that you're nice right now. I'm glad you are.”

He can’t decide if he like the warm feeling in his chest or not.

“I have so much stuff that, I probably should…” Why did he say that?

“Oh! I'm sorry. Okay.”

“I'm writing, and...”

“Sure. No. That's okay.”

They both quite down.

“Take care, then.”

She goes away from him.

***

He sees her walking while driving. He doesn’t think before yelling out the window.

“Hey! I could give you a ride, if you need. It's cold.”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

She gets in to the car.

Rubbing her hands together “You're not a stalker or anything, right?” she says laughingly.

No, he is not. “I'm not a stalker. You're the one that talked to me. Remember?”

“That is the oldest trick in the stalker book.”

“Really? There's a stalker book?”

She nods, smirking.

“I gotta read that one.” Did he just joke?

She stifles her giggle.

“Look, I'm sorry if I came off too harsh. I'm not, really…”

“It's okay. I didn't think you were.” He though he was the problem, really.

They came to a stop in front of her apartment.

“Did you wanna have a drink? I have lots of drinks, and I could, um...”

He didn’t have alcohol since before the…

“Never mind. Sorry. That was stupid.”

He took to long to answer. Great, he thinks. She’s still babbling.

“Oh, I'm embarrassed now, I-”

“No, no.” He interferes.

She looks disappointed.

“Good night, Kane.”

***

“Here you go.” She gives me a glass.

“Thank you.”

“Drink up, young man. It'll make the whole seduction part less repugnant.”

He stops. Is she trying to seduce him? That’s…

“I'm just kidding! Come on.” She pushes him to the couch.

They sit in silence for a moment.

“You're kinda closed-mouthed, aren't you?”

“I’m sorry. My life isn't that interesting.” Only if she knew… “Don't know what to say.”

“Does that make you sad or anxious?” Does it? He can’t decide. “I mean, I'm always anxious, thinking I'm not living my life to the fullest, taking advantage of every possibility, making sure I'm not wasting one second of the little time I have.”

He never thought about these things. They do make him anxious to think about.

“Yeah, I think about that.”

“Yeah?”

“You're really nice.”

“Ohh!”

Oh, no.

“I have to stop saying that.”

“I'm gonna marry you.”

What?

“I know it.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t mention that he’s already married.

“Oh, you should come up to that frozen river with me sometime. We’ll have a picnic.”

“That sounds scary.”

“Exactly! A night picnic. They are different.”

“Sounds good.” He sees the clock on the wall. Lena should be at home in an hour. “But I should go. Now.”

“You should stay.”

“No, I really... I'm... I...” He can’t find the words. “I have to get up so early.”

“I would like you to call me.” She takes his hand and starts to write her number. “Would you do that? I would like it.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

***

He opens the door. Lena is making dinner.

He immediately goes to the phone.

“What took you so long?”

“I just walked in.”

“Mm-hmm. You miss me?”

“Yeah. Oddly enough, I do.” He admits.

“Oh! You said I do. I guess that means were married.”

He smiles a little. That’s a first. “I guess so.”

#kane annihilation #annihilation kane #annihilation #oscar isaac characters #onevolon fic #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac

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she-lives-in-her-dreams · 1 year

Text

Swipe City Chapter 5:Dating with a Twist

Disclaimer: I do not know any celebrities in this story. I’ve been super sick for a week; thus, this is not proofread. I’m not from nor have been to London; so, I apologize if I use American terms when writing a Brit character.

Please let me know if you guys have any interest in this story continuing. I’m not receiving a lot of feedback and feel like this story is a bit of a flop.

@mountpulisic @mllynne @luminous-99 @alwaysclassyeagle

Christian is nervous–no, he is beyond nervous. A level of nervousness that he doesn’t know how to describe in English nor in German. It’s Wednesday and in exactly 30 minutes, he is going to be sitting in a small, local pub with Y/N for a lunch date. He is mentally trying to prepare himself for any reaction she may have to his identity.

In a flat across West London, Y/N is nervously fixing her makeup and trying not to vomit. It’s out of character for her to go on a date with man she has never videochatted with much less never even seen pictures of. The thought runs through her mind to cancel the date and ask for a videochat before rescheduling it. The notion disappears as quickly as it appeared–the move to London had been one she promised herself would be about adventures and a fresh start. A clean slate she knows has to include some risks that are out of her comfort zone. Besides, if Chris–hopefully that is his real name– is a serial killer, she did activate her location on her phone, has a secret code arranged with her friends back home, and an agreed upon check-in time.

The 30 minutes past quickly for both Christian and Y/N, and before either knows it the pub is in their views. Y/N arrives first–always one for arriving early to avoid having to approach her dates. She chooses a corner high-top table and quickly texts Chris where she is seated. The pub is not busy at all which makes her sigh in relief and give thanks that Chris asked for a lunch date rather than a dinner when the evening crowd would surely have overwhelmed her senses with all the noise.

Christian arrives at the pub exactly 5 minutes before the arranged time. He checks his phone and finds a missed text from Y/N with information about their seating arrangement. Christian clutches the bouquet of tulips tightly as he pulls the pub’s entrance door. His coffee colored eyes search the corner high-top tables for the lavender sweater y/n said she would be wearing.

The instant they land on the woman in the corner’s lavender sweater, his eyes still. Her head is tilted down looking at her phone. Before Christian can even process what is happening, his feet have moved him across the pub to standing in front of y/n. He clears his throat to get her attention and when her eyes lift to meet his own, Christian feels his breath catch. He has always believed that no matter the color of someone’s eyes, you could tell a lot about the person just by looking into their eyes ; and in this moment, all Christian can tell about y/n from her eyes is that he never wants to stop looking into them.

Y/N hears the clearing of the throat and looks up. In front of her is an absolutely breath-taking man. His boyishly handsome face with the shy smile and dimple cause her heart to race. For a second, there are no words spoken. Christian clears his throat again and forces himself to speak.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Chris.” The shy smile never leaving his face.

Y/N stands to greet him but hesitates awkwardly. Does she give him a handshake? A hug? What is the tradition for dates now? God, she hates dating.

Christian makes the decision for her as she speaks her name by moving closer and opening his arms for a gentle hug. After several phone conversations and hours of texts, he feels that he knows y/n and a hug is the only acceptable greeting for someone he already feels safe with.

Though the hug is short, it is warm and soothing to both. As the two separate, both recognize the noticeable loss of warmth and comfort.

“It’s really great to meet you in person. I hope you don’t mind, but I remembered you saying you loved these; so, I picked these up for you.” Christian says shyly as he hands y/n the flowers. Her smile widens– she mentioned these flowers during their second conversation when he was trying to figure out which flowers to send his mother for her birthday.

“Wow, Chris! That is so thoughtful of you.” Y/N tries not to gasp–a man significantly younger than her put more effort into their first date than any other man had during a committed relationship.

As the date progresses, Christian realizes the pub is becoming busier. He tries not to panic and attempts to calm himself by remembering he doesn’t get recognized as much as Mason or Reece especially when he is out without them. It’s not that he wants to lie to Y/N, he just knows he wants to tell her in his own nonpublic way.

Christian feels a sense of relief when it is not until y/n is in the restroom that he is approached by an older man asking for an autograph and picture for his young grandson. The interaction is swift and when the man sees y/n approaching the table again, he thanks Christian, winks at him, and promptly walks away. Christian thanks his God for this small miracle.

“It’s getting to be a bit late. Unfortunately, I need to go back to work.” Y/N says with a sigh. It was the one part of a lunch date that had made her hesitate– she had to come to the date in her professional clothing and was limited to a few hours before she would need to return.

Christian smiles a bit sadly. “I hate that it has to end so quickly, but I understand not everyone is off today like me.”

After beckoning the waiter over and handing him his card to pay for their date, Christian swallows the lump forming in his throat. “I had a really great time and would like to see you again, if you are open to it.”

Y/N feels the heat in her face. “I would love to see you again.”

After receiving his card and helping y/n to put her jacket on, Christian escorts Y/N out into the chilly weather to catch her waiting taxi. Already anticipating her next move, Christian rushes around Y/N to open the taxi’s door and help her into it.

Feeling somewhat empowered by the man’s consistent gentlemanly ways, Y/N leans over and presses a soft kiss to Christian’s cheek as she enters the taxi.

“Let me know when you are available.” She whispers after thanking him again for the date.

As the taxi pulls away, Christian touching his kissed cheek, a man steps into his peripheral vision. The man begins to speak causing Christian to turn his head in the gentleman’s direction.

“Son, you have the same look on your face that I had when I met future wife, when my son-in-law looks at my daughter, and when my son looks at his wife. I hope it works out for you because I would love to say I witnessed the first date of Christian Pulisic and his wife.”

Quickly recognizing the man as the guy from the bar who asked for the autograph and photo, Christian responds nervously.

“She is great, but was it really that awkward and obvious it was a first date?”

The grandfatherly man laughs. “You are standing in the cold holding your cheek from a little peck. I think that makes it obvious. Good luck on Sunday, Pulisic. I’ll be cheering for you in more than one way!” The man continues to laugh as he walks away leaving Christian with a glowing red face.

Christian touches his kissed cheek again and thinks how much like a romcom this is turning out to be.

#football imagine #football x reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fanfic #mason mount x oc #reece james #reece james x reader #soccer fanfiction

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aerynwrites · 2 years

Text

Hiraeth || Part 3

Machine Herald!Viktor x Fem!Reader

A/N: Here is part three!! I hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort | angst | Viktor running away from his problems lol | fluff

*Proofread by me, apologies for any errors*

Previous | Next

“My name is Viktor.”

The boy's voice is gentle, something you noticed yesterday. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does it is very soft spoken and gentle, as if he’s afraid of being heard.

You suppose maybe he is.

Smiling at him, you dig your fingers into the sand beneath you and offer your own name.

He repeats it back to you, and you silently enjoy the way it sounds with his accent. The syllables rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

Soon however, his brows furrow in thought, lip tugged between his teeth as he seemingly tosses his words around in his mind before he speaks.

“Why did you come back?”

You’re silent for a moment, the question confusing you. Eventually, you shrug.

“Why wouldn’t I? Friends play together don’t they?” You ask, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

His brows raise now, disappearing behind the few stray strands of chestnut hair that fall onto his forehead.

“Friends?”

You smile at him then, finally understanding his hesitation.

“Yeah!” You reach over and playfully shove his shoulder, smiling wider at the laugh it elicits from him. “You’re stuck with me now, Viktor.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The dream fades away as you creep towards wakefulness, and you want desperately to reach out and cradle the memory close to your heart.

You want to fall back asleep and see more of the two children that grew up together, became friends together and eventually something more.

You want nothing more than to go back to the time before he left.

Maybe now you have a chance.

Viktor.

That’s his name. The man turned machine who saved you…it all makes sense now. And you want to chastise yourself for not realizing it sooner.

But who can blame you?

His hair is longer, the strands at the front giving way to streaks of grey - a telltale sign of all the time that’s passed since you watched him disappear across that bridge.

He doesn’t need the assistance of a cane any longer, his augmentations relieving him of it.

Hell, he keeps most of his face hidden behind a mask that also cloaks the accent you love so much. Even the beauty marks you’ve always wanted to touch are concealed by the metal mask.

And his eyes, one of the only things revealed to you, are different.

Inky pools of black replace white scleras - but they still hold the same golden irises you could lose yourself in all those years ago.

You should’ve known.

The tug of familiarity, of nostalgia you feel whenever he’s near. The way you want to be with him despite his slightly cold exterior.

When he gave you his name it all fell into place and fell apart at the same time.

What happened to him?

»»————-　♡　————-««

That one question, along with dozens of others, race through your mind from the moment he left and for the days that followed.

But he never gives you a chance to ask them.

After wrenching open the emotional floodgates he had left the room, sending in an automaton to take care of anything you needed after that.

They bring your meals, monitor you as you walk around the room. What they won’t do however is answer any of your questions.

Thankfully, you at least get the same automaton each time.

He’s shaped kind of like a bowling pin on wheels. With a big round bottom and a round head suspended on top of a rotating rod. Two glowing eyes and a little slit for a mouth make up his face.

And as much as you hate to admit it…he’s kind of adorable.

Its name is a bunch of numbers and letters mashed together, so you just take to calling it IO - and he thankfully responds to it nicely enough.

Finally, after three days of walking around your room and talking to a robot - you’ve had enough.

Sitting up in bed you turn to IO.

“Can you set up a bath?” You ask the robot, your voice making him perk up and turn towards you.

“Bathing procedures can be completed by automatons.” He says simply.

You sigh, forgetting how literal the robot is. “Then will you please set up a bath for me?”

You can hear his inner mechanics whirr to life as he immediately moves towards the door. “Bathing procedures initiated. Please follow me.”

Then, before you can even get out of bed, he is out the door and rolling down the hall.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. While you are still frustrated at being babysat by a robot, you have to admit he brings some form of entertainment.

Once out of bed, you slowly make your way down the hall towards where you know the bathroom is. You can walk unassisted with significantly less pain now, but it still feels off - like your body is still learning to adjust to the new prosthetic.

You’re also not very graceful.

The metal foot thunks unevenly along the wooden floors of the hallway, a stark contrast to the way your flesh one is mostly silent against the same surface.

Hopefully these things come with time.

When you arrive at the bathroom, the faucet is already running, filling the tub with steaming water while IO gathers the supplies. A towel, soap, and a new gown - just like last time.

Once he’s deemed his task complete, IO turns the water off when it reaches a reasonable level and rolls towards the door where you stand.

“Please return to your room when you have finished.” He instructs you before rolling past you and out of the room.

Closing the door behind him, you turn back to the tub and eye the string that still dangles above the surface of the water.

You have no clue if it will work, but you’re hoping that Viktor deems emergencies with his patients as above an automaton's capabilities to deal with.

If he won’t come to you willingly, then you’ll just have to force him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The water is still warm when you pull the little string, and it’s almost comical how quick the response is.

The door to the bathroom swings open with more force than necessary, hitting the wall with a deafening bang.

The sudden intrusion actually makes you jump, the water in the tub sloshing over the side slightly from the action. You look over to see Viktor standing in the doorway of the room, golden eyes glued to your form, sitting in the tub.

“That was fast.” You say simply, skimming your hands along the top of the water. “I was expecting it to take a little longer than-“

An aggravated huff cuts you off as footsteps approach where you sit.

“Just tell me what’s wrong.” He says, modulated voice meeting your ears for the first time in days.

You look up at him, trying not to look as upset as you feel. You won’t let him have the high ground on this one.

“Nothing is wrong. Well, not physically anyways.”

A sound - something akin to a growl seeps from the mask and sends a shiver down your spine. You silently hope he thinks it’s from the rapidly cooling water.

“So, you called me in here to test my response time? Is that what this is? Because I have other things I need to-“

“No, you don’t, Viktor.” You call his bluff, his name falling from your lips for the first time in years.

A name that stops the man above you in his tracks, rooting him to the tile below his feet.

His eyes narrow.

“What do you want?” He finally asks, voice still harsh.

You huff, leaning back to rest against the edge of the tub, arms resting on the sides. Your eyes never leave him.

“I want you to stop avoiding me, for starters. IO is fine company, but his limited responses really start to get annoying after a few hours.” Your voice is cold despite your joke.

Viktor takes a breath but you continue before he can give another excuse.

“And I know you don’t have any other patients to tend to, because all the rooms were still empty when I came down here,” you say, shoulders sagging as you finally look away from him, eyes falling to the water instead.

“Just…talk to me Vik.” The familiar nickname slips from your lips like an afterthought.

“You just…drop this bomb on me and then don’t talk to me for days. You were my…” You pause, unsure of what you were when he left you last. “You were important to me. Then you left and I had no clue what happened to you. Then, you just suddenly show up and save me and reveal that you’ve been the Machine Herald this whole time and you just expect me to not have questions?”

You look up at him again, finally falling silent, waiting expectantly for a response.

He doesn’t give it to you right away, instead he watches you. Amber irises skating over your form silently before they shut tightly, the corners crinkling with effort.

He sighs.

“I’m not who I used to be.”

You scoff. “Yeah, no shit.”

He leans over you suddenly, metal hands bracing on the edge of the tub so his face is mere inches from yours.

You blink at him owlishly.

“I am being serious.” He hisses. “I’ve changed. Physically, emotionally, fundamentally…I’m not the boy who left you on that bridge. I’m not…good.”

He watches as your eyes soften, and it takes everything in you to resist reaching up to rest a hand against his cheek.

“I don’t believe that.” You say gently. “Sure you look different but…a bad person would have let me die. You didn’t.”

Silence fills the room, and Viktor wants nothing more than to run away, to go back to his workshop and ignore your existence and the mistake he made in telling you who he is.

But as you look up at him, soft eyes taking him back to his childhood…he feels the walls he’s built slowly crack.

He sighs - Again - Before standing to his full height.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation.” He agrees, turning back towards the door. “Get dressed.”

And then he leaves you, this time more hopeful that you’ll see him again.

»»————-　♡　————-««

He actually surprises you by already being in your room when you return, glowing eyes observant as you approach where he stands next to the window on the far side of the room.

“You’re improving.” It’s matter-of-fact. Simple.

Yet another thing that reminds you of the younger him.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “It’s getting easier everyday. Still hurts, but I don’t feel like a newborn giraffe anymore.”

A chuckle, a very quiet one that could be mistaken for a huffed breath, meets your ears. Your smile widens.

“Yes, well…unsteadiness is expected when adjusting to a new limb. I’m good at what I do, not perfect.”

You hum, ushering in a long stint of silence as you both look at the world outside the window.

You immediately recognize the area as Emberflit Alley.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise really. For you’ve heard the location whispered across bar tops and merchant stands for a few years now. The place to go to get help when all other options run out.

He did change the Undercity. Just like he said he would - even if it’s not in the way you expected.

“How long have you been back?” You finally ask, breaking the silence and praying you don’t regret it.

“Longer than I care to count. Long enough to become this…” He gestures to himself, metal plates shifting as he does.

You swallow.

“Why didn’t you ever write back to me when you were Topside? Why didn’t you come find me when you came back?” The words come out slightly broken, the emotion you’ve been trying to avoid finally seeping through.

You’d tried to forget about him. Tried to forget about how one of the only people you truly cared about left and never even bothered to stay in touch. And to hear that he’s been back for years and never even tried to find you…

It hurts. More than you are willing to admit.

Viktor turns away from you, eyes falling to the window sill as he speaks.

“I don’t have the answers you want to hear.” He says simply.

“I became buried under my work when I arrived Topside, always striving for more. And then when I helped develop HexTech…it became even more all consuming.”

Brows raise in shock at this revelation, but you don’t say anything.

You’d never realized Viktor was a partner in Hextech - the scientific understanding of the Arcane. It was such a Topside-centric thing that you never thought to look past the Golden Boy of Piltover whose face was plastered all over the city. Never thought the man standing next to you was an integral part of it.

“I didn’t know you were part of that,” you admit, voice small.

“How could you? I stayed in the shadows for a reason, keeping my head down and focused on trying to perfect Hextech to help the people down here.” He shrugs. “The desire for greatness consumed me. And in the end it prevented me from completing the one goal I had.”

A deep sigh hisses from beneath his mask as he continues.

“It all fell apart in the end. The person I thought I could trust betrayed me and then…I came home.”

Home.

The word brings a pang of emotion with it. There was a time when you considered the man beside you your home, the one person you could go to with anything.

Your happy place.

He obviously didn’t see you the same.

The frustration, the inability to understand, simmers beneath the surface of your skin and it takes everything in you to keep the venom from your voice.

“That still doesn’t explain why you never tried to find me.” You say, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “I would have…I would have welcomed you back with open arms. You have to know that.”

Finally, he turns from the window, brows pinched in a form of his own frustration. You imagine the corners of his lips are down turned, pinched into a tight line - but you can’t tell because of the mask that’s hidden him from you since you first saw him.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then help me understand!” You cut him off. “Explain to me why you abandoned one of the people who cared about you most! The person who lo-“ you bite your tongue, not ready to lay that all out yet.

Taking a deep breath you inch closer to him, bodies half a foot away from one another as you look up at him.

“I want nothing more than to understand. Because when you left and never came back…” You shake your head. “It killed me. As hard as I tried to forget you, I couldn’t.”

The familiar burn of tears finally makes you stop speaking, focusing instead on keeping the show of emotion at bay.

You expect him to lash out. To call you foolish for relying on him so much or letting him consume you. Expect him to walk away like he has anytime he doesn’t like the way a conversation is going.

But he surprises you yet again.

Gentle, cool fingers reach up, sliding smoothly down your arm before hooking around the palm of your hand.

“I did come to you,” he says, voice soft behind the mask. “You were the first person I sought out when I came back. But…” He trails off, as if he’s weighing his next words.

“I did find you, after asking around. I saw you leaving your apartment, heading to the market I assume. And I almost called out to you.” He shakes his head.

“But I was dying. I was dying and living on borrowed time, and I did not want to come back into your life just to disappear again.”

You squeeze his hand in your own, urging him silently to continue, your eyes never leaving his face.

“So I left. Came here to try and save myself so I could go back to you. And it worked, obviously. But after I fixed my lungs and leg and everything else I deemed wrong or broken…” He pulls his eyes from where they had been fixed on the floor to look into your own.

“I was no longer the person who left you all those years ago. So I did what I do best, buried myself in my work - focused on helping those I could to avoid the one I left behind. A mistake. One I wish I could take back.”

Slowly, once you’re sure he’s done speaking, you reach up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. The metal of his mask is cool beneath your palm, and your fingers toy with the edge just below his ear.

“Does this come off?” You ask softly, eyes searching his own.

Hesitating for just a moment he nods, releasing your hand to reach up and release the clasps holding it in place. He slowly pulls the devices away from him, setting it on the table behind him before turning back to face you fully.

He’s still as you take him in unobstructed for the first time in years.

Metal reaches from his neck up his jaw and into his cheeks before giving way to smooth white flesh.

His face is mostly unaltered, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. You reach up, slowly running a finger over the beauty mark above his lip, before trailing up to the one just below his eye.

His eyes slip closed as you continue your exploration before finally coming to rest against his cheek again.

“We can't change the past.” You say, watching as his eyes peel open slowly once more. “But maybe we can work to be better in the future.”

Golden eyes widen as he searches your face, searching for any sign of deception.

He finds none.

“Why would you want that? I’ve done nothing to deserve it.” His voice, unmodulated and accented just like you remember, makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“You saved me.” You remind him. “And you’re here now. So…that’s enough for me.”

And as Viktor stares down at you, completely in awe at the forgiveness that is being laid at his feet, he vows to earn it.

No matter what it takes.

#arcane viktor x reader #machine herald x reader #machine herald viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane

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desktopcalendar · 4 months

Text

Okay tbf it’s not technically christmas anymore but it was when i wrote the first bit so let’s just pretend :) also i am writing more businessman!joel but it’s taking my brain 5eva to think of it so please enjoy this <33

just because it’s christmas… BnBowner!joel and recentlysingle!reader who has already paid for a non-refundable trip for christmas. (apologies because i change from 3rd to 2nd person)

tw for cheating, a half second of nsfw(there will be more if i continue it) moments of angst, uncooperative suitcase, no use of y/n, not proofread

reader who just got broken up with who forgets they have a non-refundable trip booked in a cutesy cabin in a hallmark town, the “perfect place for couples” until they get an email confirming their arrival time and then all of a sudden the very real and very non-refundableness of the trip was brought to the forefront of their mind.

You aren’t quite sure if this is a good idea. But the last thing you were sure on ended up to be cheating on you for over a year, so maybe being unsure was a good thing.

The owner wasn’t lying when he said it was secluded, it was literally in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for a romantic getaway -hopefully also perfect for wallowing in your ruined relationship thanks to your piece of shit cheating ex-boyfriend.

You haul your suitcase up the snowy path towards the cabin, thankful that the cab was even able to make it this far, and for a moment you feel exactly like Amanda in the holiday and who knows? maybe you’ll meet an upsettingly handsome man. Maybe.

Probably not.

Joel watches from you from the porch for a little longer than he probably should before striding over to you, arm outstretched, ready to take your bags.

“Hey! i’m glad you found your way here, it’s not the easiest place to find.”

You look up from your uncooperative suitcase to lock eyes with perhaps the most attractive man you’ve ever seen (including Jude Law with glasses on) walking towards you and you’re so taken aback that you are definitely not prepared for your suitcase to start cooperating which in turn sends you flying into the snow.

Apart from it doesn’t, so you’re a little confused when you don’t hit the cold ground but are caught by a pair of warm, strong arms.

“Easy there, I’m happy you’re here too but you could’ve bought me a drink first.” Joel jokes as he sets you back on your feet.

“omg i’m so sorry it’s this stupid suitcase that refuses to move when i want it to i mean it i’m really sorry this is so embarrassing and i..” You trail off when you realise that Joel is in fact laughing. “what?”

“Nothing darlin’ you’re just the first person to apologise to me for the actions of an inanimate object, s’funny is all.” Joel holds out his hand for you to shake “incase you hadn’t figured it out, I’m Joel.”

You bashfully take it, pretending that hearing him call you ‘darlin’ hadn’t affected you in any way shape or form “Nice to meet Joel, you have a beautiful cabin, it really is magical.”

Joel’s hand is large, and warm, and a small part of you wants to feel more of his warmth. Maybe more than a small part.

He easily takes your bags the rest of the way, making light conversation with you, even though you’re still taking in him, responding with short answers and ‘hmms’.

He’s a rugged man, you think to yourself, he’s big all over, large frame, large hands. Your eyes dart towards his crotch for a moment wondering if he’s also large there. Something inside you tells you he is.

“Well here we are doll, let me know if you need anything” Joel puts your bags down just inside the door, the cabin really is the perfect place for a romantic getaway, you feel a pang with the knowledge that you specifically picked this place to spend time with your boyfriend. All you wanted to do now was forget about him, but apparently Joel could sense the singleness off you.

“Oh! where’s this boyfriend of yours, you did book for two, right?”

You freeze as he says ‘boyfriend’ debating whether it would be better to make up some elaborate lie or tell the miserable truth.

“We uh, we actually broke up a few days ago… turns out he’s not the kind of person i wanna go to a cabin with.” you eventually mumble out, followed by an unhappy laugh - mainly because you feel like you’ll cry otherwise.

“Aw shit darl, I’m sorry, and i know i’ve only known you all of five minutes but it’s definitely his loss.” A warm hand gently clasps onto your shoulder as Joel looks towards you with kind eyes.

You allow yourself to take the moment of sympathy from this kind stranger, before composing yourself.

“Thanks, Joel. I guess the only thing i need is directions to the nearest place that sells alcohol.”

“Of course doll,”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel tlou #tlou

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cheeriecherry · 2 years

Text

The Lonely [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Warnings: one mention of hunting for food, one (1) weed joke, reading being slightly less dramatic Fandom: Arcane Proofread: god not even a little bit

Summary: You try to get Viktor to eat, and then show him something you think he’ll enjoy.

CHAPTER TWO

It takes nearly an hour to show your guest -whose name you’ve learned is Viktor- around the castle. He apologizes once for being slower than you’re used to, but you tell him that you don’t mind. Vampiric as you might be, you don’t mind taking your time every now and again to stop and sniff the proverbial roses; it’s probably one of the few joys you’re able to find in your elongated, repetitive life.

You take him around the general interior of your home, pointing out where certain human necessities are, and through several bedrooms. He crinkles his nose at the first few, and for the first time in a while, you feel shame about the state you’ve let the building fall into.

“The architecture here is beautiful,” he says, “so why have you let it fall to ruin?”

You prickle at the backhanded compliment, and fix him with an annoyed frown. “Do you often criticize the homes you break into?”

Surprise crosses his face, and morphs into a somewhat apologetic expression; though he makes no move to actually say he’s sorry.

You sigh for possibly the fifth time that hour, and lead him out of the room to find another.

“If you must know,” you explain, “I don’t have a habit of entertaining guests. I hardly have any use for bedrooms, aside from extensive storage, and being as old as I am, I have accumulated a lot of…stuff. I don’t really have anything else to do with it.”

You stop in front of another door, and give it an experimental nudge. It doesn’t seem to be blocked by anything, as a few had been previously, but it definitely shows some resistance.

“Another collection behind this one, perhaps?” he suggests. You make to deliver him a snarky reply, but settle on a halfhearted glare when you see the mischief in his eyes.

“Rust in the frame, actually,” you tell him, ushering him away from the door. He watches you curiously as you reach up to the hinges and pull them from the wall with ease, which in turn allows you to simply slide the door sideways out of the lock and lean it nearby.

His gaze flicks between you and the door, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll fix it, Viktor.”

“No, no, I don’t doubt that, it’s just…”

“Just what?” you hiss.

His lips curl into a bemused little smile, and he shakes his head, walking into the room.

“Just what, Viktor?”

He fully ignores you, interested now in exploring his potential residence. You suppress yet another agitated sigh, and lean against the wall while he scrutinizes the mess.

He pokes at every piece of furniture you’ve moved into the space, perhaps judging, or appraising, or whatever-the-hell. You don’t know. He doesn’t say anything while he looks around, and you don’t feel the inclination to ask and risk receiving another scathing remark.

Considering he’s the one who sought you out, he’s made himself awfully intractable. You’ve not even known him for a day, and already you can tell that he’s going to be horrifically stubborn to live with. It almost makes you regret offering him room and board.

Or maybe you’ve just become accustomed to only having to worry about your own needs. You don’t know.

“Y/N?”

You jump backwards when you feel him lay a hand on your shoulder, your thoughts receding to be replaced by momentary panic. He quickly steps back from you to give you some space, equally as wide-eyed and surprised as you are at your reaction.

You swallow thickly, and take a moment to briefly gather your composure.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn’t paying attention. Did you say something?”

He doesn’t make a sound for a couple seconds, instead watching you with mild confusion while he tries to make sense of your behavior.

“You are…unlike any vampire I’ve met,” he utters softly, and lets his hand fall back to his side. “However, I was saying that I think this one will do well enough, assuming the door will be repaired?”

You nod, silently thanking whatever deities might be out there that he chooses not to press on the subject of your awkwardness.

“I’ll replace it after I clear the area out,” you agree, and herd him out of the crowded room. “For now, there is another matter to attend to, and it sounds like it might be dire.”

He stops in the middle of the hallway to give you a questioning glance, and you continue to nudge him along.

“Your stomach, Viktor,” your tone is exasperated. “I can hear your stomach growling from all the way over here. Come with me, and I’ll fix you a meal, okay? I think I’ve got at least a few things stashed away.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later, you’re ashamedly eating your words as you try to scrape together some kind of palatable meal for your guest.

Time truly is sometimes lost to you, you realize, when you pry open a can of vegetables and discover they’re fuzzy. You assure Viktor that it’s probably just a can that you forgot about and that the others will be fine, and seconds later you eat your words again.

Of all twelve cans in your possession, the first one you’d opened had been the youngest of them.

“What about this one?” Viktor suggests, looking over your shoulder and pointing at a can of beans. “Black beans are…filling enough.”

You wince. “Viktor, even if that were true…those, uh, aren’t beans.”

“What-” “It’s corn,” you cut him off. He decides to go sit down after that.

You lean against the counter to think. You could run quickly to the forest on the other side of town; snatch up a rabbit or two, forage for a few roots. And it wouldn’t take much to drop into one of the smaller local shops to grab some bouillon cubes.

But it had been more than half a day since Viktor had shown up, and you had no idea when the last time he ate before then was. He hadn’t some with any backpack or tote -hell, he hadn’t even had much of a coat on his back. For all you knew, it could have been days.

And sure, the man probably wouldn’t starve in the couple hours it might take you to catch and prepare a meal, but...god, no. He was ill, this much you knew, and making him wait any longer could have worse consequences than not.

“How do you feel about jelly tarts?” you ask him suddenly.

“Jelly tarts?”

You turn away from him to begin rooting around in your cupboards. “Jelly tarts,” you confirm, and exclaim happily when you find the slightly-squished box you’d stashed away.

“About two weeks ago, a couple of drunk college students wandered in here,” you explain to him, folding the flaps of the package open. “I made a snack out of one -don’t worry, he’s fine- and then stole their stuff before I made them march back to town.”

“And one of them had…jelly tarts?” Viktor looks entirely unconvinced, eyeing the pastries you’ve shoved before him with suspicion.

You take a seat across from him, and grab the fattest tart you can see. “They actually had a lot more than tarts,” you take a bite, “cheez-its, popcorn, reese’s cups, a bag of lemons for some reason, a little box of joints.”

Seeing you eat the pastry seemed to put him at ease enough to take one of his own and give it an experimental bite.

“The tarts are all that’s left at this point. I was most excited about them, so I was saving them.”

“For two weeks?” he seems unoffended by the flavours of the treat, and continues eating it.

“I was waiting for a special occasion!”

“And this is that occasion?”

“Making sure you don’t starve is more important, Viktor.”

He doesn’t reply, nor does he pay much mind to your pouting aside from a small smile. The two of you continue eating for a little while, sharing light conversation in between bites.

At one point you ask him if he likes reading, and he says that he does. You expect it to end there, but instead he continues to tell you about the reading he did in his studies, and what kinds of work he had done in years prior.

“You’re like, a scientist, then?” you ask. You’ve all but forgotten about the snacks in front of you, your attention having shifted fully over to Viktor.

“Yes,” he says, “I was.”

“What kinds of things did you make?”

He seems somewhat taken aback by your enthusiasm, as if he’d rarely ever met anyone who seemed so earnestly interested in the work he’d done.

“I, ah…machines, I suppose?”

“Viktor, c’mon. You’re giving me crumbs. Crumbs, Viktor. What kinds of machines did you make?”

He huffs a soft laugh, and shifts in his seat to be more comfortable. And then he tells you of the things he’d built.

It had started in his youth, his interest in creation. The first vampire he’d ever met had been the one who’d fostered his interest, and shown him how things worked. The one who’d given him books, and supplies, and congratulated him when he successfully created projects that functioned. You don’t miss the way his tone saddens slightly when talking about this friend of his, but you decide not to mention it.

He tells you of his years in university, both as a student and as an assistant, and eventually as one of the inventors on staff at the establishment.

“We were trying to replicate the human body, in a way,” he explains, “but as a machine. Stronger, more durable, and able to be operated remotely.”

“To cut out the dangerous aspects of jobs?” you ask, and when he nods, your enthusiasm doubles. “Viktor- heavens, that’s incredible. Do you know how many people could be helped by something like that? To have the risk of necessary duties reduced, but still require specific skill sets…”

You smile brightly at each other for several moments, a fluttery, unfamiliar warmth blooming in your chest. Perhaps not entirely unfamiliar, in truth; you’d had these same feelings many centuries ago, when your thirst for adventure and knowledge and life had been at its height.

Your face falls slightly, and you can plainly see that Viktor notices.

“So…what happened?” you wonder, “Why haven’t I seen your name plastered around the world for such a brilliant invention?”

Anger flashes harsh in his amber eyes, but it’s gone the moment you notice it. He takes a few seconds to compose himself and shift into a more comfortable position, before explaining, “I had a partner.”

“We argued about many things, but on most fronts we were agreeable. Until one day, we were not.”

You remain quiet, allowing him time to take a breath and continue.

“He was always the figurehead of our endeavors, and I had no problem with this. I was content to remain in his shadow, as long as our work, my work, was able to help people.”

“I…take it something changed, then?” you question, watching him closely as emotions of every colour pass across his features.

“You could say that,” his tone is sharp and bitter. “He wanted to start making weaponry. For defense, he’d said. He was naive; he had no clue what would happen when such technology got into the wrong hands. We were already dealing with backlash from experiments prior, but this?”

You cast your gaze down to the table. “It would have ruined you.”

“And ruined countless other lives.”

A part of you wants to reach out and touch him, take his hand or wrap an arm over his shoulders; comfort him, and try to ease his distress. You almost do, too, your anxiety only stopping you at the last moment to instead reach for the final jelly tart.

He almost looks disappointed, when your hand diverts suddenly and grabs the last of the treats. Whether because he wanted the snack, or wanted the touch, you do not know.

“Viktor,” you ask around a mouthful of pasty, “would it make you happy, if you could invent things again?”

The question takes him slightly off guard, and he’s pensive for a couple seconds while he gathers his words. “I…suppose so?” though he doesn’t sound entirely sure. “It’s been years now, though. With my whole,” he gestures at himself, “everything going on, I’ve not had the time to put into any of my ideas.”

You polish off the tart in record speed, and stand up fast enough that your chair topples backwards. Viktor is shocked for a fraction of a second, before you’re offering your hand to him along with a bright, mischievous smile.

“Come with me,” you demand, and his eyes flick to your hand, then back to your face.

“Why?”

You wiggle your fingers, “Just trust me. I think you’ll like it.”

Despite what may possibly be his better judgment, he takes your hand and allows you to pull him along to wherever you’re going.

~~~

By the time you stop in front of a set of doors, Viktor is mildly out of breath. You’d taken your time bringing him up there, and made sure to stop whenever he needed, but the amount of stairs to climb to this section of the castle would make anyone want to turn around and leave. Which was precisely why you kept this specific collection tucked so far away.

You pull on the chain around your neck, producing an old brass key from inside your blouse, and lean down towards the door. “This is the only room I actually keep locked,” you tell him, sliding the key into its hole and twisting, “I have a lot of stuff, you’ve surely noticed, but this is the only room that has anything of value to me. And I suspect to you, as well.”

You push the heavy, ornate door, which rolls open with a low rumble, and usher Viktor into the room.

You hide a smile when you get to see his reaction to the room you’ve shown him; the way his heartbeat quickens and his breath catches in his throat. The golden light of the chandeliers casts a soft glow across his face, highlights his cheeks and adds an extra layer of warmth to his eyes.

“This is…” he trails off, instead walking further into the library to continue exploring.

“It’s my most prized possession,” you explain, following a couple feet behind him while he weaves between shelves. “Everything I’ve come across and studied for the past…oh, eight hundred years? I think. Mathematics, science, alchemy.” You fondly pat a row of books. “There’s also some stuff from before my time, like, way before my time. I think it was old even to my dad- vampire dad, that is- I, uh.”

You hush for a moment when you realize Viktor’s looking at you like you just gave him the stars -gentle and kind and intense and…

You do your best to hide the way you’re becoming flustered, clearing your throat and motioning him further into the room.

“Some stuff is probably out of date, but you’re welcome to make as much use of this place as you want. Books, desks, alchemy lab, everything. It might need a bit of a dusting,” guilt wiggles in your chest, “but it should all still work.”

You swipe your finger along the top of one of the miniature table alembics belonging to your father’s old alchemy set. “Yeah,” you sigh, “it definitely needs to be cleaned. I’ll start with your room, and then-”

“Maybe you could start with this place?”

You pause.

Viktor fidgets slightly. “I just mean, this place is less of a mess than the room? It’s dusty, but that is about it. It would be quicker if we started here, and then when you get to the bedroom, I shall not be underfoot.”

You raise a brow at him, and this time you’re unable to hide the smile and mirthful laugh that bubbles up. “Just say you’re excited to play with the fancy science kit, Viktor, it’s fine.”

He says nothing, tactfully pretending to have not heard you, and you roll your eyes. As serious as his demeanor has been, you’re beginning to learn that he has a bit of a playful streak. You let him know that you’re going to run downstairs to get some cleaning supplies, and he offers you a half-interested hum as he pulls a book from a nearby shelf.

You watch him for half a second by the doorway, as he settles himself down in one of the old chairs and gingerly opens the book, his fingertips oh-so-gently stroking the ancient ink scrawled across the paper. Sadness pangs in your chest.

How many years had it been since you’d come up here? After all your centuries of reading, and writing, and organizing, and collecting such treasured information; how long had it been since you’d looked at it? How long had it been since you’d had the desire to look at it?

You look away from Viktor, and disappear from the doorway, and in the dark of the hallway you promise yourself that you will never let him feel so completely devoid of life.

A/N: I don’t know how to do do taglists. Do you just like

@writingmysanity

???

#viktor x reader #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x vampire!reader #viktor #arcane reader insert #The Lonely

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