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1kook · 4 years

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kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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sirtommyholland · 3 years

Text

Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life.

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted.

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep.

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again.

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.” she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly.

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.”

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!”

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically.

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile.

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on.

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!”

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage.

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name.

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.”

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake.

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met.

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice.

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.”

“... Morning Y/N.”

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him.

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her.

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.”

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!”

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday.

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine.

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen.

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine.

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions.

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.”

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.”

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.”

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.”

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday.

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words.

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug.

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss.

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand.

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration.

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay.

some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #happy birthday harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #pining

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lwt28brave · 3 years

Text

LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

#LT2 #Louis Tomlinson #Faith in The future #369 #Louis #LT #new music #idk what this is #but it's long #pinned

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gb-patch · 3 years

Text

Ask Answers: May 15th Part 1

It’s been longer than usual since our last answer session, so I’m answering a ton of questions today! It’s so big I split it into two parts. Thank you for the patience on getting a response to these.

Thanks for reaching out to us with your questions and kind words ^^!

Sorry if this has been asked before or isn't something you can say but is there anyway for Cove to confess in step 4? I wanted him to confess in step 3 and followed all the steps to make him do it but ended up texting my family instead of Cove at the end.

Yeah, Cove can confess in Step 4!

Hello! I heard that Cove is on the spectrum, albeit undiagnosed. As someone who is ND, this makes me UNBELIEVABLY happy. I literally was brought to tears! Thank you for that!

Out of curiosity, will Cove be diagnosed in Step 4? I have a strong feeling y’all won’t make it a HUGE deal/make it out to be negative, so I’m not worried about that whatsoever! I’m just curious just he’ll off handedly mention it? Or will it just not be touched upon at all (which is ok!)?

Either way is ok, I’m just curious!

I’m happy it made you happy! Admittedly, Cove simply being someone with autism that grew up not being diagnosed was something I included for myself. I didn’t really think anyone would notice or ask about it, aha. But players did start to have questions about his traits, so I started to talk about it outside of the game. It’s great to see it get such a positive response and now I do feel like having it be a non-topic may have been the wrong choice and bringing it up would’ve been good in terms of having positive representation for that. I don’t know if I’ll find a way to mention it in Step 4 now, with how far along the game is, but I am at least thinking about it when originally it wasn’t something I really even considered.

Hey! Just wanted to say thank you for Our Life. It's been a bright spot and a needed escape in what's otherwise been a crummy year. I know you just did a Q&A post but I figured I'd ask anyway. Was just curious about Step 4. Will it be similar to the other Steps in that it consists of several different moments or will it just be one long sequence?

Step 4 is shorter than the prior Steps because it’s just an epilogue rather than a full arc of a story. It’ll consist of scenes that all happen in a set row one after the other. There won’t be a collection of Moments to choose from. But it’ll still be very sweet and fun.

¡hola!, you see, first I want to say that I love Our Life! (°◡°♡) and I have 2 important questions, would Cove cry watching titanic? and what is the saddest part according to him? (sorry for my english)

Titanic would make him cry. He’d probably think the parts showing people who aren’t able to make it to the life boats/are choosing to stay and go down with the ship were the saddest.

Hello, I wanted to ask how much you earn with creating games? Like is it possible to make a living? Thank you >< <3

How much I earn varies a lot month to month based on Steam sales, Patreon backers, and how many projects are in full production at the time. It’s also hard to say how much I make historically, since that also changes dramatically year by year. But I do earn enough to work on these games full time! I really appreciate all the support that allows me to do that.

Hey!! I was wondering for the 18+ Our Life moment, will there be an emphasis on safety/comfort for all involved? I feel like there would be just going off of what the rest of the game is like, but I wanted to ask

Yes! Cove is a nervous boy himself and also super cautious about doing anything the MC doesn’t like, so clear consent from both is absolutely needed for anything to happen. It’s a conversational sexy times Moment with stops/starts so the two can talk about how they’re feeling, rather than a heat of the moment just going for it kind of thing.

Hey!! I was wondering how long the wedding dlc would be? Will it be broken up into moments, or just one big event?

It’s one long series of scenes all in a row rather than a collection of Moments to pick from. It’s the shortest and the least expensive of all the DLCs. It’s not super crucial to get and those who aren’t into big weddings can totally skip it without worry.

HELLO AMAZING DEVS 👋 i am hopelessly in love with the worst guy ever (jeremy king) and because of this i have a really stupid question: does he really hate people who are nice to him? TvT he’s too cute to be mean to istg it’s a miracle JB held the urge to be consistently nice to him bc just look at his FACE he is so cute! thank you for jeremy’s route it’s so lovely (and awful bc he’s scum 11/10) it gave me so much laughs LMAO i hope you guys have a good day!!

Haha, thank you. He doesn’t hate them but he’s certainly not pleased with them. Jeremy is either uncomfortable with or annoyed by people being sweet on him, depending on how they approach it. He’s far more comfortable with jerkiness. It lets him relax and he can be himself without it being a problem, since he’s also a jerk. He feels a level of guilt being such a little punk to kind people, not enough to be a better person but still.

Has Cove dated or been interested in someone other than MC?

Nope! He stays single over the course of the game if he’s not with the MC.

Is Step 4 more mature? Or it's gonna be set in similar atmosphere as Step 3?

Step 4 is a similar atmosphere as Step 3. Though, it’s actually kind of less mature-topic heavy than Step 3 since it’s just a ‘hey, let’s check in on the gang to see what they’re up to’ style epilogue rather than a story arc with serious issues.

will there be new music for now and forever?? or will the old our life music be reused?

It’s gonna be a brand new soundtrack. We’ll be opening up a job position for that soon.

Hi, is it okay if we use the assets in Our Life (like the sprites) for fanworks or fan content content, like edits?

Sure! Just as long as you don’t use the assets made by those artists to make money.

Quick clarification on Step 3 choices: I hope I didn't come off rude (because I LOVE the game, really!!), I was just curious because the intro threw me off at times. For example, you could choose how you felt about Elizabeth in Step 2 (Dinner), but during the Step 3 intro, it says that you got closer to Liz and I didn't get a choice in it.

For the example, it can’t be helped that you’re closer to Liz in Step 3 than you were in Step 2 because she’s inherently closer to the MC regardless of whether you liked her or not in Step 2. Her feelings are out of your control and the game isn’t so dramatic that you can push her affection away and not let her bond with you, haha. But ‘being closer’ can still be relative. For some people maybe that means you’re best buds now and for others it might just mean you’re not fighting all the time any more. If there’s other parts you want to mention, feel free to let us know.

Did the illustrator for Our Life change?

We have many OL artists! The main artists who set the game’s style haven’t changed, but there’s multiple other artists who help finish assets.

So Miranda's type is confident and outgoing, huh? So...does that mean Terri's her type?? 👀

Haha, sorry for the late reply on this. As you might’ve seen in our post yesterday- yeah that is her type.

Hey! First, I just want to say I've really enjoyed how detailed OL got with gender identity and sexuality and how respectful the topics were handled! It's been so wonderful to play since the experiences could be close to my own (I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up at parts). Second, I was wondering, would future games explore the topic of polyamory? I'd love to see more visual novels allow room for that and I saw you've explored the topic before.

Keep up the amazing work! ♡

Thank you! We do want to include polyamory in at least some of our future projects. Floret Bond, which might be what you’re referring to when mentioning how we’ve explored the topic before, is on hold unfortunately. So right now I’m not sure when something might release or what will be the first game of ours to come out with poly relationships (we might do something else before FB is done). We’ll have see how things ends up coming together.

Hey um. I feel like im not allowed to ask this on the private discord cuz people will yell at me but why is there so much focus on OL2 and not finishing OL1 stuff? I like the new people but i kind of want to finish cove's story and get derek and baxter stuff first. didn't people pay for it?

I’m sorry, I don’t understand entirely what’s making that situation a concern. There’s a channel in the discord for critique where no one is allowed to comment back. People can voice things they’re worried about without any way for others to push back on it. And the two teams working on the OL games are different. We try to post pretty often about how we’re hiring brand new people to start on Our Life: Now & Forever. The OL1 team is all still working on OL1 like normal. There’s only more updates on the Patreon for OL2 because the expansions to the first game are mostly script-based at this point while OL2 is just starting to get all its art, which means there’s a lot more to show off as previews.

Also, there was a Kickstarter for the first Our Life, if that’s what you mean by people paying for it. But one of the stretch goals was to start Our Life 2 early, before fully completing Our Life 1, so that the new game could be out sooner. It wouldn’t make sense to stop doing OL2 work because that would be going against what backers were promised. Maybe you didn’t get the full story before and hopefully this clears it up!

Hello! I know it's up to every player but.. What is your recommendation for playing order? Did you ever had any timeline events planned?

I didn’t make the events with a planned timeline. The events got made simply as I had ideas for them and then I just kind of organized them from left to right on the screen in an order to space out more dramatic ones between more lighthearted ones. Any order the player wants to go with is totally valid!

Hi! It's Step 4 a paid dlc or update? And how long it's planned to be? Ps. Love the game!

The Step 4 epilogue is free! The Cove Wedding DLC does cost money, though. Those are planned to be shorter than the usual Steps/DLCs.

Will we have options for what sort of job the MC might have by the time step 4 takes place?

Yeah, you can. It’s not super exact or detailed, but there are options about it.

Is there a pandemic in Our Life world, or is it just in a better timeline with no pestilence?

Our Life is pandemic-free! That didn’t exist when we began working on the project and it’s not something we’d like to feature in this story now that it has unfortunately come along, aha.

Hi, you said that you can play tic-tac-toe or hangman with Cove in Boating if you're sick/scared but I keep getting tic-tac-toe. Am I doing something wrong?

After being sick/scared you have to continue to be upset/unwell. If you calm down and decide to just chill you’ll end up playing tic-tac-toe.

Hi, GB Patch! Since Lee was initially commissioned to only appear in two Steps does this mean she won't appear in the Wedding DLC? I really like her character so it'll be a little weird to not have our cousin at our wedding, aha.

She is gonna be in Step 4/the wedding DLC after all! We’re still working with her creator to make sure it fits with what they wanted.

Is Sunset Bird based on a real place? Asking for a friend, not trying to move there or anything. 👀

It’s based on small beach towns in So-Cal, but not one specific town you could go see in real life, I’m afraid. It’d be nice if it was real, though.

—– —– —– —–

We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

#our life #Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life: Now & Forever #ask #gb patch #gb patch games #xoxo droplets

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annaraebananawriter · 2 years

Text

Bad Beat

This is the first DSMP oneshot I post on here! Mostly because it’s the first one I’ve written that wasn’t over 5k, and wasn’t part of a challenge. Nonetheless, I think this starts me posting more oneshots for this fandom on here alongside my Undertale ones.

This oneshot is based on the 4/4 lore on the 15th, this oneshot explores Wilbur's thoughts when Phil gave him advice and he opened the door to Tommy. It's a reflective oneshot about what he might've been thinking in that moment, and is my personal interpretation of it; it is not meant to be canon in any way.

With that said, hope you enjoy and happy reading!

Fandom: DSMP

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Philza, Tommy, and mentioned Technoblade

Warnings: Self-Destructive Thoughts/Actions and Passive/Active Suicidal Ideation, and i think that’s it. Let me know!

Word Count: 4265

~oOo~

“Wilbur, look at me. Look at me.”

Wilbur closes his eyes and thinks. He thinks that nothing Phil says now can help, he's at the peak and there's no way to go but down into a spiral, a cycle to repeat itself over and over again until the object inside of it has all but disintegrated. He thinks that he's a monster for wanting to find a staircase out of this hole, a way to be safe and fine and okay, sane.

Words of comfort aren't a staircase, no matter how hard Phil tries to paint them like one. All they are are pretty words that mean nothing, pretty words to be taken at face value, even when the situation isn't something they can just gloss over and pretend nothing happened.

Ranboo was killed. He's dead; a canon life taken because of Wilbur's selfish ideals and greedy hands.

“Listen.” Phil says, grabbing his hand and holding it with both of his. “Sometimes, you fall so far, so low, that there isn’t, or there doesn’t seem to be a way to be forgiven.”

Wilbur thinks back, a memory stirring up from the depths of his mind. Back from before this server, before Tommy, before Phil. Back when it was just Techno and him, Techno and him against the world, fighting for the right to live like kids and being forced to learn to survive as adults.

Abandoned buildings, running between towns and cities because people tried to hand them into proper authorities. Dirty clothes, bare feet, because they were younger than ten and therefore no one would hire them, adhering to the law of child labour. Empty stomachs and training in the forest, because no jobs meant no food too, not just no clothes, and they needed to learn how to keep themselves alive in a world of predator and prey, wolf and sheep.

And vague memories of a time before that, of red forests and black fortresses, golden treasure and seas of heat. Giggling and laughing, happiness and safety. Family and friends. Those memories melt into memories of pain and panic, fire and death, taking each other's hand and running, coming across a purple mass and deeming whatever lays beyond as better than this, no matter what they might find.

As twins, Techno and him were entwined together from birth, never straying more than arms reach from each other as they grew up. Hands pressed together, identical in every way except for some scars they'd get later in life, they were the sword for the other's shield, the brains to the other's brawns. The heart to the other's life.

Wilbur's memory he thinks of is from the year before Phil finds and takes them in, heart soften enough after years of wearing it with an iron cast. This memory is set before that, when they were surviving off the scraps of a city, not yet reported to the police, a brief moment of calm and routine.

They had decided to treat themselves. Fun was hard to come by when running and surviving, and they took any chance they got to slip by and do something they considered fun; anything that made them smile, anything that made the tension disappear and the worries in their minds relax into a quiet murmur.

Wilbur had yet to find what he would consider fun, not yet having the opportunity to sit down and listen to music for the first time, fully seeing someone pluck some strings on a guitar and singing some words that painted an invisible picture in the air. Techno, on the other hand, had been able to experience a library for the first time, able to sit down and listen as one of the librarians read a story to a group of children, hearing grand words that he didn't understand and seeing numerous small printed words on hundreds of papers, spelling out a story that entranced him from the first word.

His twin had seen this, had heard the words spoken, and grew determined to teach himself how to read it for himself. Wilbur would often find him listening in on classrooms, picking up the skills he needed fast, quick as a bunny. He saw Techno's conviction and decided to get him some books of his own for their birthday.

Books, conveniently, on Greek Mythology, stories of heroes and gods, tragedy and betrayal.

If he had been able to understand what the stories would be about then like he does now, he probably wouldn't have gotten them. But seeing Techno's grin when he was handed them, flicking through the pages with the care like he was handling delicate porcelain, he also probably wouldn't change a thing if he was able to. The myths invigorated Techno with the warmth he needed, and in turn, provided Wilbur with the peace he needed.

Wilbur's present from Techno wasn't nearly as good, or new. Homemade from flowers thrown in alleyways, it was a messy crown with petals that fell off with every touch. Most of the flowers were dying. But Wilbur looked at it and only saw Techno's love; a beautiful emotion despite the trash and messy death that followed the two wherever they went, despite safety failing to embrace them. The love of someone who didn't care where they were or how they lived, as long as they had the person they cared about the most right next to them, no matter how many times he walked away from a building with a rejection and no matter how many times he made them run.

This birthday and the books started a new tradition for them. As the more skilled one between the two, Techno would open one of his books and prop it up on his lap and read a myth out loud to Wilbur when they went to sleep, which served the purpose of batting away insomnia and helping the smudges of indecipherable words sharpen into something halfway readable.

He thinks back to how the first myth he heard was, ironically, Icarus. Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun. Icarus, the warning given to those who got too confident. Icarus, a selfish myth.

Icarus, whom he had imagined as looking just like Wilbur.

“Sometimes you just, you just can’t expect forgiveness. At all. You just can’t expect that to be your end goal.”

Techno’s voice as he read the myth for the first time was inexperienced, raw from not talking like this in ages, words back-to-back; they had never really needed words to communicate before. He stumbled over the words with more than one or two syllables, and got the pronunciation of some words wrong, and skipped over the words he didn’t know. At that time, he really wasn’t built for reading a bedtime story to someone.

But that had never really mattered to Wilbur, as the picture was there and the story was told.

Icarus, the son of Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth where the Minotaur lived. The son of a man who was imprisoned in a tower above the palace of King Minos of Crete. Youthful and rebellious, his father and him escaped the tower with wings of wax, but Icarus didn’t heed the warning of not flying too close to the sun, too caught up in the exhilaration of flying above an ocean, finally free.

Icarus, under the weight of the sun, who’s wings melted and he fell, into the dark sea. The son of a father who was forced to watch his son fall and die in front of him, the consequence to chasing freedom with a naïve mind. Cocky and excited, a boy whose death tells the message of ignorance, of getting too confident in one’s actions where they think nothing can stop them now, lest they fly too close to the sun themselves and end up falling into the inevitable sea of regret.

The myth had left Wilbur breathless, heart beating with the same feeling of finally being free after so long in a tower. The message had gone right over his head, a warning that might’ve changed things had he heeded it in the first place. He was so confused when he looked over to his twin and saw the expression of disappointment.

Wilbur thinks back to how he had asked what was wrong.

How Techno had looked back and him with disbelief. How he had explained that Icarus’s confidence was his downfall, that if he had only listened to his father, if he had thought about what happens when he pushes himself past his limits, he would’ve lived. He would be free with his father to grow up and fall in love himself. How, by not heeding that warning, he sealed his fate, not thinking about the fallback on Daedalus, who was forced to live by himself and mourn his son who killed himself.

“Flying too close to the sun has consequences, Wil. The fall might be peaceful while its happening, but once you hit the sea, and once you start to drown, that’s when the panic hits. That’s when you understand everything.”

Wilbur thinks back to how younger him had heard this explanation and took it with a grain of salt. How he had thought to himself, Icarus knew what he was doing.

Icarus, the son of Daedalus, who looked at the sun and knew that if he flew too close to the sun, he would burn. Who looked at the sun and wanted to fly too close, to graze his fingers across the clouds for the split second before his wings gave out and he fell. Icarus, the boy who longed to feel the agony of the fall, to see the world pass by him in a blur and submerge himself in an ocean until he was able to look death in the eye and marvel at her beauty.

Wilbur had not thought Icarus as a tale of warning, of arrogance and the consequences, no.

He had thought of it as a tale of beauty, of longing and the act of getting what you want.

“Your end goal should be to allow others to move on, from the mistakes you made. You have to bring closure to the suffering you’ve caused, Wil. That’s the most important thing right now.”

Wilbur sighs, blinking away a tightness in his eyes. “But I’m trying. I’m trying, I really am. I am, but I…I keep going to people and I just keep making it worse. I feel like.” He looks away from Phil, focusing on the bookshelf next to them, silently reading the titles to himself as a distraction.

Phil hums. “You have to give them space.” The hold on his hand tightens a bit, a thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “If you’ve offered them space, and you’ve offered them all you can? And that’s still not enough? Then you need to let them go, Wil. You need to let them move on and heal without you.”

Wilbur's fall wasn't as euphoric as Icarus's was. Not as fast, not as peaceful. It was slow and subtle, spreading roots in his heart until it blossomed and took over his mind, clouding his thoughts in a haze of happiness and delusion. Flowers of depression and anger melting together to form revenge.

After years and years of not knowing what the word home was, and once he got a house and a family, still not fully understanding what safety really was and wanting, always wanting something that fit the description. A place that said, come to me and lay in my arms and rest for a while, safe and sound under my mountains and rivers. A place full of pride and excitement, laughter and singing.

A place to call home, well and truly.

And he got that place, shared it with people he held dear in his heart. They made memories there, running through fields of aconitum, sharing food and songs around a campfire, watching the kids have fun. Following a river and finding a small lake, perfect for a day of swimming; jumping from cliffs and splashing water at each other. Memories of happiness, a feeling settling in his chest from knowing that they were okay, that this would last, it could last.

(The drug van was half of a joke, anyway. An excuse to gain land, a game to entertain. When the van got shut down, he wasn't too concerned about it. He had friends and a place to stay. He could live with that.)

Wilbur thinks back to how he had asked himself, is this what safety feels like?

He had proposed the idea of making a country as a joke, but his friends gave the support for it and the more they did, the more the idea began to become something appetizing to himself. The idea of deciding rules to keep his friends safe, making borders to designate this land as theirs, and theirs alone. It sounded like something that had he had it all those years ago with Techno, they wouldn't have had to run so much.

Even the war with Dream hadn't seemed serious. No one died at first, and both parties had fun. For all the talk of not wanting them to start a country on his server, Dream held back on them, let the fight draw itself out. It only started feeling real when Eret betrayed them, when people started dying.

Then it leveled out again when the election happened. It felt like a fun competition between friends. Half the parties were there to help even out the votes, and even if Schlatt's party took it seriously, the thought that Wilbur's party would lose never crossed his mind.

(And look where that got him.)

Being run out of his country was a painful reminder of running from city to town, of begging to get money to buy the next meal or a new shirt. It felt like the world was trying to remind him that no matter where he was, who he was with, he would never be safe, he would never be able to sit down and call this place a permanent home. That he could try to climb, be the best of the best, but he will always need to move, abandon everything he knew and start all over again.

The despair he had felt when he realized this gave rise to anger that this was happening to him. Hadn't he paid his dues yet? Surely a child should be able to want to stay in one place with his brothers, tired from being hunted because of the simple fact he was born with the blood of the beasts from the Nether? How dare the world still think he has something to prove, that he hasn't earned the right of harmony. How dare it. How dare the people who continue to pass that judgment, and how dare they keep taking from him without thinking he'll take it back.

This land was his, he had declared it as such, and as such it will remain. If he can't have it, well...then why should anyone else?

And Wilbur thinks back to how he had privately agreed with himself that he was tired. He wanted to rest, his legs were so tired from always moving so much; he wanted the peace Icarus felt when he fell from the sky, wrapped in a blanket of wind. The peace of falling into the ocean and knowing that death would wrap her arms around him and let him rest forever.

(And maybe he pushed away the memory of Techno warning him that when he hits the ocean and the peace he wants doesn't come, he'll panic and do something rash, desperate. Maybe he pushed that away, as Icarus pushed away the warning of his father.)

And the plan from there came to fruition. A plan to make a permanent mark on the land that was his and at the same time earn his rest. Two birds, one stone.

And, well, the rest of it is history.

He thought that when he came back, he would be able to keep his head straight and heed the warnings. He had already experienced the consequences of being too confident in himself, he knew to be more cautious. But it seems that breaking old habits is harder than he thought, and he ran his race against Quackity on adrenaline, high on the feeling of a fight where cheating is expected.

Wilbur thinks back to Ranboo, the one responsible for jolting him back to awareness. Who said he trusted him and willingly set off his trap. Who turned the euphoria on its head and made him feel alive again, carving open his heart and filling the empty space with grief and remorse, a quiet solemn feeling that he might have deserved to die in the first place.

(He had thought back to Death's smile, and felt an ironic fear for the first time; he's met with Her multiple times and only now feels afraid.)

Wilbur thinks, and looks at the grains on the wooden table he's sat at. He thinks and listens to Phil lean back in his chair. He thinks and thinks, none of his thoughts feeling like his own, feeling fake and imaginary, a delusion created out of a desire to be seen, to be looked at like he's a person, not a poison.

Though, honestly, he can't really fault the ones who think that...

“I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but you can’t force them to change their mind.” Phil falls quiet, and the hold on his hand disappears. He lets his hand fall to table with a soft thump as he takes the words in.

It’s right. All of it is.

He doesn’t earn their forgiveness, not if it comes with the price of those he loves opening a wound and filling it with salt, forcing themselves to hurt more just for the sake of being the “greater good”. Healing is a process that takes time, and maybe they’re wounds are too big to ever heal to the point of forgiveness, and instead of feeling upset and hurt about that, he should accept it and let them go.

Letting the people you love go is what you’re supposed to do.

(Maybe deep down in his heart, he’s scared of letting them go out of a childish fear that they’ll never come back, never look back; they won’t mourn him the way he mourns them.)

Wilbur clears his throat, forcing the words out, “No, your right. Your right.” He lowers his voice to a whisper, mostly meant for himself, “Your right. I need to—I…I understand.” He looks back up at Phil and meets his eyes. “Thank you.”

He stands and looks at Phil for a few more seconds. The emotions on his dad’s face are too difficult to make himself recognize as fact, easier to believe are his own imagination of a desire all his own. He looks away, and he walks away.

As his hand touches the doorknob, Phil speaks up behind him again.

“Is there anybody who you can think of right now, that you’ve wronged somehow, in the past?”

Wilbur gazes at the door in silence, and turns the knob.

Tommy’s standing on the other side.

Their eyes meet, a deer and a wolf.

And Wilbur thinks again, about L’manburg and before, L’manburg and after.

There was a shadow that followed him everywhere he went, tiny feet padding against wooden floor as the owner struggled to keep up. A voice that harmonized with him once he learned to talk and learned the words, pitchy and out of tune, yet fitting together with his perfectly. A hand holding onto his so tightly when they were left alone in the house together and watched their dad leave with their brother, experiencing this for the first time in the shadow’s young life. Growing up in the blink of an eye to his own person, loud and annoying, innocent and playful.

Then this server invited them in and the shadow grew into a solider. Standing at his right side, tall and smug, a band aid peeling off his cheek. Clashing swords with the enemy, tripping over himself in inexperience, laughing at the excitement of it all and the panic of losing. Standing in the control room behind him, watching the button being pressed, fear in his voice as he said his older brothers name before the place exploded. Dying for the first time and having to grow up to adapt to it.

Growing quiet in Pogtopia, bitter and cautious. Wanting his friend to be safe, for his family to be safe, for everyone to be safe and sound and his land back beneath his feet, shelter above his head. Watching his friend get killed in front of him, unable to do a thing, and directing his anger at himself to his brother in the pit. Listening to his other brother, the one who caused all his suffering, the one he still loved despite everything, and watching him spiral, watching Dream mould ideas of immolation on his skin.

Wilbur thinks about the fleeting memories he has from Ghostbur, snapshots showing a progression from teenager to someone tired and hurt, unable to let his guard down because the threat of death was always at his back, no matter where he was.

(Memories in limbo, of watching the train dock on the station and seeing his little brother, his baby brother stumbles off, lost and dazed like a lamb. Of seeing the changes and being beside himself in worry, but unable to show it because he was still holding onto the feeble hope that he was right. Despite everything that happened, he was right.)

The person he had been met with since he had been revived was someone with the will of a seasoned warrior, reminding him so much of Techno that it almost hurt. Someone who flinched whenever someone moved too fast in this direction, someone who never took their eyes off their opponent or ally in case of anything to show something more, something to defend against. The haunted look in his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders, like he could curl up beside himself and be invisible, successfully hidden from any danger that seeks him.

This Tommy, despite everything, looked at Wilbur and recognized the empty promises for what they were, realized the low possibility of things really getting better. Who looked at those unfavorable odds and still shook the dice, still followed his brother where ever he went, helped him with whatever he wanted.

Wilbur thinks and he thinks hard.

If there was anybody on this server who deserved an apology the most, it would be Tommy.

He’s supposed to be the older brother, protecting his little brother from danger and warning him about the sun and the consequences should they get too cocky. Instead, he became the sun and pulled Tommy into his orbit to burn, his brother oblivious to the flames as they climbed up his arm and tried to make him fall right alongside Wilbur. He became the danger he was warning against, greedy hands making the fallback go over his head and land in the lap of his little brother, his baby brother.

He left him behind when he died, and that was apparently even worse. Someone took Tommy and broke him into a shell of the teenager he was, replacing solid ground with a bed of nails for him to try and balance on, consequences for letting himself fall. Someone took Tommy and broke him, leaving a stranger to greet him, a stranger to bond with and try not to spill salt in open wounds, left vulnerable in the midst of the shards of the Tommy he knew.

Tommy is the one he should apologize to.

But he can’t. Not yet.

Wilbur can’t bare the thought of apologizing to Tommy and his brother to look at him drop the act, replace the nervousness in his eyes with coldness. To look at him and say he doesn’t forgive, that he wants nothing to do with Wilbur anymore. To finally walk away and decide to heal for good on his own, take the peace he deserves and run with it. He can’t stand the thought of having to stand by and watch him go, knowing its for the best.

Call it selfish, but he needs Tommy to stay for as long as he can. When he apologizes to Niki and Fundy and Eret, he needs Tommy to be there next to him, all the emotional support he needs to get the words out of his mouth. He needs him next to him so he can work up the courage to say what needs to be said, and to look Tommy in the eye while doing it, never looking away.

Wilbur can’t apologize to Tommy.

Not yet.

“Wilbur?” Tommy whispers.

“Tommy, I…” I'm sorry for what I made you go through, I'm sorry for making you watch people die, I'm sorry for leaving you to Dream, I'm sorry for ruining your home, I'm sorry for leeching off your hope, I'm sorry for everything, I'm so, so sorry for being a bad brother, I'm sorry.

Instead of saying all of that, Wilbur swallows a lump in his throat and forces his eyes to wander away, landing on the house behind Tommy.

A house; a distraction; practice.

“I…need to go speak to Technoblade.”

#my writing #my fanfiction #oneshot #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #philza #c!philza #tommyinnit #c!tommy #mentioned technoblade #mentioned c!technoblade #sbi #sleepy bois inc #tw suicide ideation #tw self destructive behavior

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elvendara · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice day 4

July 15th

Gamer/Troll

Yoosung:

Why is your brother such an ass? I thought you were bad but he takes the cake! And eats it too! Tell him to STOP! It’s not FUNNY!

Saeyoung:

I don’t know what to tell you. He doesn’t listen to me, you know that. He even barked at MC when she tried to talk to him. I mean, it’s like he has a vendetta against you. I know what I did, but what did you do to him?

Yoosung:

NOTHING! I’ve been super nice every time I see him, and he’s basically just ignored me or hurled insults at me, and now, he’s getting his jollies by trolling me on LOLOL! Why did you tell him about it?

Saeyoung:

He already knew. Don’t forget he had us all under surveillance for Mint Eye. Look, maybe stop giving him such a big reaction. It’s what he wants. Just, ignore him.

Yoosung:

That’s easy for you to say! He’s ruining my reputation!

Saeyoung:

OK, I’ll try to talk to him again, but I can’t make any promises, you might just have to deal with this yourself. Face to face, you know, man to man.

Yoosung:

Yeah, sure. So he can beat me up? No thank you.

Saeyoung:

Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?

Yoosung:

Whatever! I have to do my dailies, hopefully Saeran isn’t around! Ugh!

Saeyoung sighed and shook his head. Saeran had really turned into a bully online. At least towards Yoosung. He found it funny to mess with the blond himself, but Saeran had taken it too far. With an exhausted sigh he walked towards Saeran’s room and knocked on the door.

“What?” came Saeran’s answer. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. “Oh, it’s you.” Saeran said and returned to face his laptop on the desk.

“Yeah, ahh, can we talk?” he asked walking in and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“About what?” he didn’t even turn around to look at his brother.

“Saeran.” Saeyoung said exasperated.

Saeran’s shoulders sagged, and he finally faced his brother, rotating in his computer chair.

“You have to stop this thing with Yoosung. He’s really angry.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?” Saeran rolled his eyes.

“It’s gone too far, why are you doing it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Obviously not.” Saeyoung countered.

“I like him.”

Saeyoung was stunned. He blinked his eyes in disbelief. “You…like him? That’s how you show you like someone?”

“It’s all I know.” Saeran shrugged.

“Oh my god! All this time, you’ve been trying to show Yoosung that you like him?”

“Yes.”

Saeyoung face palmed and started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Saeran asked irritated.

“You’re an idiot you know that? But then, so am I.” Saeyoung got a hold of himself and tried to be serious. “Look, why don’t you just try asking him out instead of trolling him on the internet?”

It was Saeran’s turn to be stunned. “Just…ask?”

“Well yeah, what’s the worst that can happen? He says no?”

“That’s pretty bad yes. I have to find out if he likes me back first before asking him out like that.”

“Well, you’re going about it all wrong.”

“Is that how you got together with MC? You just asked her out?”

“Uh, no, actually, she kind of didn’t give me a choice.”

“Hmnm, maybe I should do that instead.”

“No no, it worked for MC and me, but I don’t think it will work with Yoosung.”

“OK, well, what other advice do you have?” Saeran sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, ready to listen. It gave Saeyoung pause, he’d never seen his brother like this. He must really be into Yoosung if he was willing to listen to him.

“I think you should be honest. Tell him how you feel. How about we invite him over this weekend, and you can talk to him then.”

“I don’t know, that seems, uh, I don’t know.”

“At least you can use the time to start being nicer to him.”

“Nice?”

“Yes, nice! Would you rather have him angry with you or happy?”

“Happy of course, but if he’s angry, at least he’s talking to me.”

“You’ll never get to the kissing phase if you keep going like that.”

“K…kissing???” Saeran turned bright red, almost the same shade as his hair.

Saeyoung stood and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Just try it.” He said and walked out.

Yoosung liked hanging out with his best friend Saeyoung and his new wife MC. He even liked Saeran, but something had changed and Saeran had turned on him. He didn’t understand. Sure he wasn’t always nice, but he attributed that to the way he had spent the first 23 years of his life. Yoosung couldn’t imagine being nice after suffering for his entire life at the hands of others. But there had been something behind those pained green eyes that pulled on Yoosung’s heart. So he suffered the barbs thrown at him, knowing they were just a defense mechanism.

However, Saeran suddenly went from defensive to attacking at every opportunity he could. He wasn’t even safe when he was away from him physically. He’d tried to tell himself this was yet another reactionary defense mechanism, but the man had crossed the line! He’d started trolling him on LOLOL and made the game unbearable. It wasn’t just that either, he’d gotten some of his own guild members to pick on him too! It was so irritating!

But here he was, trying to be civil towards Saeran when all he wanted was to smash his face in. Even that thought was irritating. This wasn’t him. He didn’t wish to do harm to people. The only reason he’d agreed to even come was because Saeyoung had begged, and he felt guilty for punishing the red head because of his brother. He really did want to see them. He kept a wary eye out for Saeran, who had yet to make an appearance, though Yoosung knew he was there, probably in his room.

“Thanks for bringing desert Yoosung, you didn’t have to, but it looks delicious.” MC stated as she unwrapped the cheesecake. Yoosung smiled, knowing full well they expected him to bring dessert. He’d spent hours making it from scratch.

“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh no, why don’t you go outside and hang out with Saeyoung. I know he’s missed you.”

“OK.” Yoosung headed to the backyard where he could smell the grilling already underway. Saeyoung was a pretty good griller, especially when it came to steaks, although in the kitchen he was as much of a disaster as his brother. The thought of Saeran made him growl.

Saeyoung heard and chuckled. “What’s with the scowl?” he asked as he hugged his friend.

“Sorry, just thinking of something unpleasant.”

“Let me guess, Saeran?” he snickered.

“Sure laugh it up, but I swear, I’m this close to punching him.” He held his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart.

“Don’t worry OK? He promised he would be on his best behavior.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Yoosung answered.

“Believe what?” Saeran asked as he walked out towards them.

Yoosung didn’t answer, pursing his lips and crossing his arms, turning his back to the newly red headed man.

With a sigh Saeran almost went back into the house but an encouraging look from Saeyoung held him to the spot. Well, might as well rip that band aid off.

“Uh, Yoosung, can I talk to you?”

Yoosung’s breath caught in his throat, he’d never heard that tone from Saeran. He was caught off guard and found it hard to hang onto his anger, curiosity winning. He nodded and followed Saeran as he walked onto the grass from the porch and around the swimming pool.

Finally he stopped and turned, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m sorry.” He said, barely audible.

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry.” Saeran stated as he met Yoosung’s amethyst gaze.

There was a moment of silence as Yoosung took that in.

“Oh, well, OK then. But, why? Why were you so mean to me?” he asked, tears welling up in his eyes. Once the anger was gone, all that was left was hurt. What Saeran had done had hurt him.

“I…it’s…stupid…” Saeran’s shoulders sagged, and he couldn’t look at Yoosung’s crushed face anymore.

“Tell me.” Yoosung said kindly, reaching out to the man and squeezing his upper arm. The touch made Saeran shiver and lose his voice. He stared at the younger man, those empathetic eyes, and kind heart so readily able to accept his apology.

“I…really like you and I didn’t know how to tell you so in order to get you to pay attention to me, to interact with me I started being mean because any reaction is a good one if you keep doing it right? At least that’s how I thought. I mean, I don’t know how to make friends let alone let someone know I care about them. Hell, I still can’t even tell Saeyoung how I really feel about him. I didn’t know…”

“Stop!” Yoosung said, placing his hand over Saeran’s mouth. Saeran was crushed, thinking that Yoosung didn’t want to hear about his affection, but there was a smile on the blond’s face and a twinkle in his eyes. “I get it. Really I do. So, just tell me. How do you feel about me?”

“I like you.” Saeran said after Yoosung had released his lips, though he missed the soft touch. “I like being around you. When you’re near I want to reach out and hold your hand. I imagine what it would be like to hold you in my arms and kiss you. You’re so kind and sweet, to everyone. At first, I thought it was an act, you know, like…her…but you’re nothing like her. Your empathy for others is genuine. I just…want to be in your orbit. So, I’d like to ask you out on a date.”

“I’d like that.” Yoosung said.

“Really?” Saeran was surprised but something inside of him bloomed and grew. Something light and joyful. Something he’d never felt before, nor thought he would ever be able to feel. Hope.

#my posts #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #Sugar and Spice #Day 4 #July 15th #Gamer/Troll #Silly Saeran

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fallen-gravity · 3 years

Text

Sixty Candles

On June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the back seat of his car.

or, how Stan Pines spent his birthday throughout the years.

Notes: Here is my very loose interpretation for Week 4 of @stanuary!The prompt for this week was Future with the subcategory Old, and I decided to play around with the concept of birthdays! This was a lot of fun to explore and I hope you have a ton a of fun reading! :D

AO3

At exactly midnight on June 15th, 1972, Stan Pines celebrates his eighteenth birthday in the backseat of his car.

It’s not ideal, and nothing like how he thought he had it planned from the moment he turned sixteen, but he supposes he should be thanking his lucky stars he’s able to celebrate at all. His Ma, bless her caring heart, must’ve snuck some emergency funds into his duffle bag the moment she saw Pa reaching for it before he kicked Stan to the curb.

Stan supposes that she probably intended for that money to be spent on emergency rations and gas money, but what she doesn’t know probably won’t kill her. He also supposes that he probably should’ve gotten himself a cake, but cakes are messy and he has no means of cleaning it up, so a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes will have to suffice.

He pops open the bottle with ease, and takes a large swig.

“Happy birthday, y’ asshole” he says to nobody, slamming the bottle down onto his car dashboard with more force than intended. “Hope you’re livin’ it up at home with your fancy expensive pizza and two layer cake you’ll never be able to finish on your own” He leans back against his chair, propping his arms smugly behind his head. “An’ I hope the guilt is eating you alive” he slams his hand down on one of his armrests, and reaches for the bottle on his dashboard for another swig.

Just six months ago- not even a year, just six months ago, Stan and Ford had been talking about what it’d be like to share their first drink together. They’d talked about getting absolutely wasted at the pub down the block, followed by walking to the boardwalk to ride the coaster until it made them both sick.

It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.

Stan chokes, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s the alcohol or his emotions.

“Fuck,” he coughs, and stumbles out of the car for some fresh air. In between his coughs and splutters, he takes a sharp inhale of the cool nighttime air to steady his breathing. He sighs deeply, and pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his ratty coat pocket.

He lights one up, and leans against his car to lose himself in his thoughts as he wordlessly watches the cigarette smoke dissipate into the starry night sky. Stan gets too distracted by the sight and accidentally burns his first all the way down to his fingertips, and hisses in pain as he stumbles to light a new one.

No matter. He stomps on the burnt remains with his shoe, and grinds his emotions into the ground with them.

~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 1978, Stan Pines celebrates his twenty-fourth birthday in prison.

“Pines!” An officer shouts, whacking at the cell door with his baton. “Wake up. You’ve got a visitor”

Stan sits up in the cheap cot, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “Wassat?”

The officer’s keys jingle as he clicks Stan’s cell door open. “You’ve got a visitor. He insisted it was important, so we’re giving you ten minutes to talk.”

Stan’s been to jail enough times that he knows that when someone says something’s important, it really just means that they bribed their way through security so they can talk to Stan before the designated visitor hours.

But who could possibly be willing to risk getting arrested just to talk to him before eleven in the morning? Every name that comes to mind is either on the run, already in jail, or…much worse. Anybody foolish enough to try is either out of their mind, or…someone who genuinely wants to see him.

But…who could possibly want to see him? After everything he’s done, after everyone he’s stolen from, who could possibly be left that trusts him enough to bribe a police officer for his company? The police officer happens to walk Stan by the surveillance room, and he notices his page-a-day calendar is torn to June 15th.

Stan’s heart nearly stops in his chest.

It-It couldn’t be, could it?

Six years of silence, and Ford wants to break it like this? Is this some kind of joke? What kind of idiot does Ford take him for, thinking that now is an appropriate time to make amends? After all the times Stan tried writing, or calling, or even trying to get a hold of him through Ma, now is the time that Ford finally agreed to reconvening?

Pah. He had his chance the past five times Stan tried to pass on a happy birthday. He doesn’t care if it’ll land him ten more years in prison, the moment he sees his twin brother’s stupid face he’s spitting in it.

As Stan rounds the corner to the visitation room, though, all of his anger disappears into thin air, and if it weren’t for the officer pushing him along, he’d turn heel and sprint the other way.

“My friend!” Rico cheers with a forced smile on his face. He’s holding a large box in his hand. “It’s so good to see you again!” He takes a seat at the small table, rhythmically tapping on the box.

Stan swallows hard, but takes a seat across from him. “It’s, uh…” he squirms uncomfortably, unsure if he’s allowed to address him by name. “…good to see you too, buddy. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Rico laughs heartily. “What, a man cannot visit his best friend on his birthday?” He flips open the box he brought with him, and Stan flinches when he spins it around towards him. To his surprise, it…looks like a perfectly normal birthday cake.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?” Rico flashes a grin towards the police guard behind Stan. “I would like to sing my dear childhood friend happy birthday, but I’ve always been very shy about the sound of my voice. I promise I will be quick”.

Childhood friend?

The officer squints at the birthday cake in the box for a moment. “Fine.” He says. “You get two minutes. And I’m staying right outside the door to prevent anything funny from happening”

“Of course! You have my word,” Rico grins, placing his hand over his heart. The officer says nothing, and for the briefest of moments Stan’s convinced he sees right through Rico’s bullshit and he’ll let Stan slip quietly back into his cell. But after those brief moments pass, the officer shrugs as he closes the door behind him.

Rico’s fake-plastered grin slips from his face the moment the officer is out of sight.

“Alright, listen here, you walking stain upon the Earth,” Rico slips easily into Spanish. “You think you’re safe behind these bars? You think my boys still won’t burn this place to the ground to collect what you rightfully owe us? You’re gravely mistaken. We have eyes everywhere, in every corner of the globe. And don't you dare even think about running off somewhere else under a new name, Stanley Pines, because we’ll find you, one way or another”

Rico stands from his chair and pushes the cake box towards Stan. “As soon as those guards declare you a free man, we’ll be waiting for you on the outside.” He grips Stan’s shoulder as he heads towards the door. “It really is such a shame. I loved you like a brother. But you know what they say, don’t you?” He places his hand on the door, and glances back towards him. “The good ones always die young”

Before Stan has time to respond, Rico slips his fake smile back on and opens the door. “Happy birthday, my friend,” he says, slipping back into English and speaking loud enough for the officer waiting outside to hear. “I hope you enjoy your cake”

Stan swallows, defensively bringing his hands to his throat, before he carefully inspects the cake in front of him. It looks normal, as far as he’s concerned, just a standard chocolate cake with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STAN!” inked across its surface in bright red frosting.

He contemplates. On one hand, he hasn’t had any real food outside of the slop they’ve been feeding him here for the past three months, and he’s never been one to turn away free cake.

On the other, knowing Rico…

Stan shutters. He stands to his feet, takes the cake box, and throws the whole thing into the trash can in the corner of the room.

He’d rather starve to death than risk being poisoned.

~~~~~~

Stan stopped keeping track of his age the day he started going by his brother’s name.

Sure, it wasn’t even close to being the first time he had to live under a new name. You do it enough times and you’re able to come up with an entire life story at the drop of a hat. Stetson Pinefield was from Ohio, born in the fifties in late December. Andrew "Eight Ball" Alcatraz, born in Alabama in mid-May, got his nickname from his troubled childhood that resulted from his dad getting locked up when he was only eight. It was something of a specialty, giving life to people that never truly existed.

But suddenly, all at once, Stan was forced to overtake the life of someone he loved, and it’s like he forgot how to so much as breathe. This wasn’t some sob story he could bullshit to people he’d never see again, or a name he pulled out of his ass to keep him in place just a bit longer. This is his twin brother, someone he spent every moment of his childhood with, yet someone he feels as though he doesn’t know a thing about.

Sure, none of the people in this town can tell the difference between himself and Ford, and for that he’s grateful. But a man can only pose as his possibly-dead brother for so long before somebody starts getting suspicious. Ford’s lived in this town for over ten years, he’s bound to have been on good terms with somebody.

Oh well. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. For now, all Stan needs to focus on is scamming enough people out of their wallets so he can pay off the bills and keep working on the portal that swallowed his brother whole, and those seem to be going…well, just about as smoothly as teaching yourself three years-worth of advanced multiverse physics when you never even graduated from high school can go, but at least he’s making process.

Turns out, there’s still one more flaw in Stan’s plan that even he should’ve been able to factor in.

As much of a recluse Ford advertised himself to be to the locals of Gravity Falls, it turns out that he always receives a call from home on his birthday.

The first year Stan spends in Gravity Falls, he debates letting the phone go to voice mail. He has no idea how in or out of character it would be for Ford to answer his phone, nor does he have any idea who could be calling at all.

Eventually, though, he figures it’d probably look even more suspicious if he doesn’t pick up, and Stan isn’t willing to risk anything, even if it means bullshitting his way through a phone call for the rest of the night.

He takes a deep breath, and with a shaky hand he picks up the phone.

“Stanford?” his mother says, and to say he’s overjoyed to hear her voice for the first time in years is a massive understatement.

“Ma?” Stan replies, struggling not to slip into his own voice. “Why are you calling?”

She cackles. “Well hello to you too, birthday boy. I’m starting to think all of that research is getting to your head. Can’t a mother call her son on his birthday?”

Stan blinks. Is it…really June already? “Is that today?”

She laughs again. “See? It is getting to you! Do your poor aging mother a favor and go outside and get some sunshine. It’ll be good for you!” She quips. “Or at the very least, please, take a break and go to bed early tonight, for me”

Stan smiles. “Okay, Ma. I will.”

“Good,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Now, tell me all about what it’s like up there on the West Coast. Is it unbearably hot over there? I can’t seem to find your little town on my map. Must be why it’s so spooky, since you’re the only living soul for miles.” She laughs again. “I’m kidding, dear. I’m sure it’s fantastic. Tell me everything.”

And all at once, it’s like Stan’s a kid again. Stan and his Ma talk on the phone for hours. He figures that Ford must not call very often, so he spews out anything that comes to mind in hopes that she doesn’t see right through him. She buys it, miraculously, and when they hang up at the end of the night Stan promises that he’ll try and call home more often.

It becomes an easy pattern for Stan to slip into as the years go by. Just as long as he calls frequently enough not to raise suspicion, he can always look forward to receiving a call on June 15th every year. Some tiny part of him feels selfish for posing as his brother and lying to his mother for so long, but it’s the most connected he’s felt to any sort of family in years.

Deep down, though, he knows he can’t get too comfortable, and there’s still too many loose ends he needs to tie up before he can let his guard down.

On June 5th, 1987, just before his thirty-third birthday, Stan Pines dies in a fiery car crash.

On June 7th, he just barely misses a call from home as he’s coming up from tinkering with the portal.

“Stanford”, his mother’s voice says, lacking any of the snarky bite it usually contains. “I know that you’re a very busy man with your research, and driving all the way back to New Jersey on such a short notice is…unfair of me to ask of you, but…” She pauses to take a shaky breath, like she’s struggling not to cry. “But something terrible happened to Stanley, and…” she pauses again. “We’re holding a service for him on the fifteenth. I know that things haven’t been great between you two the past few years, and I can’t imagine a funeral would be an ideal way to spend your birthday, but…It was the only date they had available, and it would really mean the world to all of us if you could attend. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Call me as soon as you get this, okay? I love you.”

There’s a click, and she’s gone, and Stan contemplates his options.

Would Ford attend his funeral, if things were exactly the way it seemed? Would Ford even consider him worthy of the time? He’d said it himself: I want you to get as far away from me as possible. Would Ford be relieved that he was finally rid of him, like a weight off his shoulders?

Stan doesn’t even realize that he started crying until a tear drop lands on the counter beside the phone. Just how long has Ford been waiting to get rid of him, anyway?

No. Stan shakes those thoughts away. He can’t lose himself in those kinds of thoughts again. Every time he lets those thoughts get to him, bad things happen.

Besides…a funeral for, er, himself, may not be the most ideal way to spend his birthday, but finally being able to spend it at home for the first time in near decades, despite the circumstances, still beats slaving over an indecipherable journal in a dimly lit basement for twelve hours straight.

He takes a deep breath, and dials home.

“Hey, Ma”

~~~~~~~~

Ever since he turned eighteen, Stan found himself unable to celebrate his birthday without a sour taste in his mouth. As a kid, he looked forward to it more than anything. It was the one day a year that Pa would splurge and let him and Ford do whatever they wanted, and having a birthday in mid-June meant that there was only about a week of school left before they were free for the summer.

Most of all, it was about togetherness. Stan and Ford never had that many friends when they were growing up, so their shared birthdays were always about spending time together, because nobody else deserved to come to their party and celebrate with them anyways.

Once he was forced to spend his birthdays on the streets, Stan was starting to think that maybe he didn’t deserve it either. Even when he did have people to celebrate with, whether that be his cellmates in prison or nameless gamblers in Vegas casinos, everything felt empty, and there isn’t enough cake or alcohol in this world that could’ve filled that void.

Those early summers in Gravity Falls were the worst years of his life. The calls from home were nice, sure, but his stomach flipped with nausea every time his mother called him Stanford. To no fault of her own, she made him feel as though her love was conditional, and that he wasn’t meeting any of the requirements.

He knows, of course, that it’s not true in the least, but Stan just wishes that wake-up call hadn’t come from attending his own funeral. Stan had gone in expecting to have a terrible time, but he really had thought that seeing his mother’s face for the first time in a decade would’ve cushioned that fall.

Turns out that it only made him feel worse, and he’d declared sometime later over a bottle of whiskey that his birthday must be cursed, and that he never wanted to celebrate it again.

~~~~~~~~

On June 15th, 2013, Stan wakes to the sound of a seagull screeching its head off outside his window. He groans, and sits up in bed to look out his window, but all that meets his eye is the vast sea. He looks then to his bedside clock, which reads 8:30am.

Grumbling to himself, Stan kicks off his covers and stands to his feet, because he knows if he tries to go back to sleep now he’ll be out cold until mid-afternoon. He ruffles through his clothing drawer and picks one of Mabel’s hand knit sweaters at random, because the Arctic doesn’t care what time of year it is when it comes to the weather.

Ford is already sitting out on a deck chair with a fishing rod when Stan steps out of his bedroom.

“Morning” Stan says as he approaches so as not to sneak up on his brother and spook him.

“Oh, good morning, Stanley” Ford smiles as Stan takes the seat beside him. “Did I wake you?”

“Unless you’re a screaming bird, then no” Stan rubs at his eyes. “How long you been up?”

Ford shrugs. “About an hour, hour and a half, I think? What time is it?”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You sure you slept at all, Poindexter?” He holds three fingers mere inches from Ford’s face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Ford smacks his hand away. “Very funny, Stanley. I’ll have you know that I got a solid four and a half hours of sleep last night”

Stan cackles. “Woah, looks like we got a new record, folks” He stretches his arms in the air. “You make any coffee yet? I’m still not awake enough to deal with the cold”

“Oh,” Ford replies, like the question caught him off guard. He stands to his feet. “I must’ve completely forgotten” he says.

That reply does catch Stan off-guard. Ford? Forgetting to make coffee? His practical lifeline? There must be something up.

Stan rises from his chair, frowning. “You sure you’re doing okay, Sixer?”

“Of course,” Ford replies, not turning back to look at him. “I’m just…tired, is all”

Okay, Ford knows that Stan can sniff out a lie from hundreds of miles away, so whatever it is that Ford is hiding from him must be really bad, because---

That train of thought leaves his head just as quickly as it had entered it the moment he steps foot into the kitchen. There’s a banner hanging up above the window that reads HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and there are a handful of multicolored balloons scattered across the floor.

And right at the center of their table sits two cupcakes and two steaming cups of coffee.

“It was Mabel’s idea,” Ford finally turns to meet Stan’s eyes, smiling. “She called me last night to try and walk me through her cupcake recipe, but…” he rubs at the back of his head as he takes a seat at the table. “It turns out that baking isn’t quite my forte” He gestures to the seat across from him at the table. “So instead, when we were still docked last night, I snuck off board to hunt down a bakery”

Ford fiddles with the paper wrapper on his cupcake. “I know it’s not much, but…” he raises his cupcake in the air like he was making a toast. “Happy birthday”

Not much?

This is winning the lottery compared to all the other birthdays Stan’s suffered through.

He takes the seat across from Ford, and raises his own cupcake to clink it against Ford’s.

“Happy birthday to you too, Poindexter”

#my writing #gravity falls #stanuary #stan pines

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

Text

Ethari knows! - a happy theory for once

Thanks to @lily-lilou, I took a look at a TDP official tweet from a few months back. And now that TTM and its AMA’s are out, something clicked!

Back in July, we got a cool couple of tweets that gave us the assassin squad’s names, and then this sad pic following them for apparently no reason.

Rayla looking sadly at a blue-crystal lotus. :(

After TTM was released, we all learned about Callum’s Miserable Sad Birthday from the reddit AMA. The day Rayla left the Moonhenge alone was the morning of July 15th.

But TTM didn’t drop until October (or September, if you’re cool enough to live in the UK), so the July tweet didn’t seem connected. We didn’t know the dates involved in TTM at the time. But now we do!

July 21 is six days after Callum’s birthday, six days after Rayla left the Moonhenge in the early hours of the morning. That’s probably enough time for Rayla to dash home to the Silvergrove as fast as she can, unencumbered by a soft human prince and a baby dragon. She’s shifting into assassin mode, and she’s on another crazy important mission of her own making: she’s hunting Viren.

She was crushed when she saw how broken-hearted Ethari was because of her soft heart during Runaan’s mission. She literally ran away because she couldn’t take standing there and knowing she’d hurt him so much by getting his husband killed.

She feels like she owes Runaan for ruining his mission--it’s complicated, but from her perspective as a dutiful mentee, I can see why she would feel this way, absolutely. But she also feels like she owes Ethari for breaking his heart. I love the idea that her first stop on her Vengeance Hunt is back home, to tell him what happened at the Moon Nexus, that Runaan wasn’t on the other side, and neither were her parents.

Especially since Ethari might also have a story to tell her: how her lotus dipped during the last full moon, for far too many minutes, before bobbing back up again!

They could talk it over, make a plan for her mission. Ethari’s job is to outfit and supply assassins, and Rayla’s an assassin. She could get upgraded gear, her new S4 outfit, maybe another braid in her hair, and other Ethari things to carry with her, along with his love and support.

Will she be unghosted? Will this information help? I hope so! And if she is, does that mean she’s been promoted to assassin leader until such time as Runaan can be found and freed? Oof, I don’t know. She’s still only 15, on the cusp of 16.

Okay, but she has to stay in the Silvergrove until her birthday, right? Please. Ethari would want to give her a good birthday.

(Unless, uhh, maybe 16 is when you’re old enough to become the Moonshadow assassin leader and there’s a whole ceremony and he has to perform it and Rayla must swear a blood promise to the Dragon Queen and get her shoulder markings... then that’s another birthday ruined in the calendar year of this show, along with Zym’s not-birthday, Runaan’s, Claudia’s, and Callum’s.)

Anyway, that’s just angsty speculation at this point. The main point I’m excited about is that the date of the TDP tweet is significant only in retrospect, once we know about Callum’s birthday.

Six days after TTM ended, Rayla is sitting and looking sadly at a blue-crystal lotus. Runaan and Rayla each had a blue crystal in their lotus.

Rayla’s:

Runaan’s:

But she wouldn’t be looking sadly at her own, right? She would, however, be looking sadly at Runaan’s.

We all want Ethari to jump into the pool. Maybe he would for Rayla’s lotus. Maybe he’d miss Runaan’s. Maybe when he told the story of Rayla’s dipping lotus to her, and she told him about being unable to find Runaan in the afterworld, the idea would hit them at the same time that something similar had occurred with Runaan’s lotus, too.

But this is Rayla’s mission. Maybe she’d be the one to jump into the pool, to dive under--again--for Runaan, just like in this key art by @hypherrr. Maybe then, Ethari can literally reach in after her, along with others, since we didn’t see any of that in TTM.

So she finds the lotus and brings it up. And they look at it, together. They’re both there, I think, because there’s a flower emoji up there with the tweeted pic of Rayla. It’s called Wilted Flower on Twitter. And Ethari is associated with many significant symbols, two of which are: flowers--roses, specifically--and the little sculpture of the wilting leaf of a weeping tree, which he created after Runaan’s lotus vanished from sight. A wilted flower is an accurate emoji for Ethari’s failing love. (But wilted is not the same as dead! It just needs the right care again and it can recover, okay, no one panic.) So I think that Ethari is there with Rayla, but to show him in a July tweet would be way too spoilery. So we get a cute emoji hint instead.

And then they both just stare at this flickering jewel like... what the everloving hell does this mean? Because they know it can’t be good. This isn’t good.

But it’s not over, either. There’s hope. Somewhere. Rayla just needs to go find it.

Haha, this whole wild theory stems from the date of the tweet. TDP posted that pic months before TTM dropped, and at the time none of us knew the timing of TTM’s story, so it meant nothing. But in retrospect, the timing matches up really well with TTM, which concluded on July 15th, Callum’s birthday.

Which could mean that on July 21st, Rayla was back home in the Silvergrove with Ethari, and they might both have known that Runaan was alive somewhere, ten days before her 16th birthday.

Maybe there’s a specific reason the assassins’ names were dropped on July 21st, but until we learn such a thing, I’m gonna enjoy sticking with this headcanon that the choice of date was really about Rayla, Ethari, Runaan’s lotus, and the Silvergrove, and the squad was helpfully providing a Moonshadow distraction.

#tdp #tdp theory #tdp headcanons #runaan #rayla #ethari #tdp shenaniganry #this is most excellent

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter despite very minimal Willy/Aberdeen interaction. This chapter and the ones coming will definitely make up for it.

December 15th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was trying to get into the biggest gated house she’d ever seen in her life.

She’d taken an Uber up to the Bridle Path, the exclusive street in Toronto filled with massive mansions the size of her high school with their own private gates and tennis courts and and pools and indoor pools and indoor basketball courts and bowling alleys and wine cellars and all the other frivolous things rich people could build in their houses. She bet each one even had a heated driveway so that nobody in the house had to wake up at the crack of dawn to shovel. The Uber driver had already driven away, not even bothering to wait to see if she got in safely, so she hoped to be let in soon.

“Name, please?” a loud voice asked through the intercom-or-whatever-it-was system these rich people had for their house. She bet they probably had cameras too and saw her impatiently waiting outside.

“Aberdeen Bloom.”

“Abba-what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Aberdeen Bloom,” she enunciated more clearly. “Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.” She was starting to get annoyed that she had to attach that caveat for anybody in the hockey world or the rich people world to take her seriously.

The gate buzzed open, and Aberdeen walked quickly towards the front entrance, about the ring the doorbell before it opened magically for her. A butler. A butler opened the door for her and greeted her, offering to take her coat and letting her know she could keep her shoes on. There were waiters and waitresses carrying around plates of expensive looking hors d’oeuvres and others carrying around flutes of champagne. There was a giant, giant Christmas tree in the – the foyer? The reception hall? What did rich people call these things? – decorated with expensive looking ornaments, ribbons, and what Aberdeen thought had to be Swarovski crystals. It had to be at least 15 or 20 feet high. It was a far cry from her family’s Christmas tree, which was decorated with all the homemade ornaments she, Siena, and Camden had made throughout their years in school. She almost felt like she was in the Eaton Centre. There were even boxes upon boxes of presents underneath it, all wrapped with the same wrapping paper and with giant nametags. Jolly Christmas carols were being played through some sort of speaker.

She couldn’t believe rich people lived like this. She couldn’t believe she was in a house on the Bridle Path with these rich people. What had her life become?

“Aberdeen!” she heard her name being called. She looked to her side to see Brendan approaching her, leaving his wife speaking to whoever they were speaking to for a quick second. “So nice to see you! You look lovely as always.”

“Oh, thanks Brendan.”

“Come with me,” he said, guiding her towards the people he was speaking to. “Aberdeen, I want you to meet Dani Reiss, whose house we’re in. Dani’s the CEO of Canada Goose. Dani, this is my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aberdeen,” he said as they shook hands. Aberdeen was hyperaware of his handshake and the fact that she was shaking hands with yet another billionaire. She truly, truly couldn’t understand what her life had become. She wished Siena or Kasha were here to do all the talking. They were much better at it than she was, she thought. “How are you enjoying working for the Toronto Maple Leafs?”

Aberdeen chuckled nervously. She wondered if he really cared, but then remembered that they were having their Christmas party at his house, and he’d gone through all this trouble to keep them entertained, so he probably did. “Oh, it’s amazing! A bit hectic at times, but overall it’s been a great experience so far. Everyone’s just been so great and welcoming – you wouldn’t even know that I didn’t watch hockey before I got the job.”

That led to a chuckle amongst Brendan, Catherine, and Dani. “I bet a million people would kill for your job,” Dani commented through his laugh.

There it was again. That thing everybody said to her when they learned what her job was. She’d heard it for months now, since her first day on the job, and it was becoming abundantly clear with each passing day that it was something many people coveted. “I know, sir. I’m very lucky to have it and to work with such an incredible team.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Brendan smile. Dani was already smiling at her. “Well Aberdeen, mi casa es su casa! Feel free to take a wander, grab some drinks, and enjoy the food!”

She thanked them as they left her there, walking towards another group with Leanne Hederson. Aberdeen walked further into the foyer where the giant Christmas tree was, admiring it for a moment before looking around to see if she could see anybody she recognized. She knew that, at this point, she could walk up to any member of the team or the administration and join in on their conversation, but the setting was slightly different than what she was used to (at the offices, of course) and it made her a bit nervous.

“Brendan girl?”

Aberdeen visibly cringed. She looked to her side to see her absolute favourite person in the whole entire world, Ethan Baker, walking over to her with a drink in his hands. “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes at him. He did this at every event they attended, as if she wasn’t allowed to be there. “You constantly forget we work for the same team,” she said.

“Yeah, except one of our jobs is more important than the other,” he quipped. She felt like punching him right then and there until she remembered this was a Christmas party at a billionaire’s mansion and it was socially frowned upon to start fights at parties. “I didn’t know assistants were allowed to these things.”

“Peter’s here.”

“Doesn’t that mean you two should be helping the waiters?”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped. “What is your problem?” she demanded.

“Aw, come on, I’m just ribbing you.”

“You know, just because I got the job over you—”

“—Cause you look really hot in those pants, Brendan girl.”

She stopped. She was shocked at what he’d just said. It had to be because he was already drunk. She couldn’t think of another plausible expectation. She couldn’t believe how hot and cold he was at these sorts of events, remembering what he was like at the Major Donor Gala. “Besides,” she said through gritted teeth, “being a waiter isn’t something to be frowned upon. A lot of my friends waited their way through university.”

“And you didn’t be a waitress or hostess? With the way you look, you would have gotten really good tips.”

She felt like spiders were crawling underneath her skin. She thought back to that day where she let him get in her head – when he’d called her a piggy for warming up a burrito. “Are you trying to flirt with me? Because you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m trying to—”

“Aberdeen!”

She looked to her side to see an excited looking Bee McTavish making a beeline towards her. Bee somewhat-stared, somewhat-glared at Ethan as she hooked her arm with Aberdeen’s. “You don’t mind if I steal her, do you? A bunch of her friends are just over there,” she nodded her head towards a group that included Jason and Jennifer Spezza, Morgan, and John and Aryne Tavares.

“I’m her friend,” Ethan quipped, smiling.

“I’m sure,” Bee nodded her head, grimacing every so slightly. “Have a good night,” she dismissed him before tugging on Aberdeen’s arm and leading her in the opposite direction. “God, that guy is such a skeeze,” she whispered to Aberdeen.

“Yeah.”

“Does he work here?”

“Tech and video playback,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Well, you’re with us now,” Bee smiled as she brought Aberdeen into the fold of the group.

Aberdeen greeted and hugged everyone before noticing Will at the tail end. She gave him a quick hug and a – God he smelled impeccable – and a cordial ‘Nice to see you!’ before he settled into his usual William behaviour. “What do you think?” he asked.

She knew he was waiting for one of her famous retorts. She took another look at his look: blonde hair, navy blue up top and an actual pair of burnt orange pants. She wondered if his fashionable status edged on the side of completely insane. Everything was tailored to perfection, and nothing was wrinkled or anything like that, but she couldn’t get over the orange pants. “You look like Sailor Venus.”

Everybody burst out into laughter. Even William smiled from ear to ear. “Alright alright, very funny Aberdeen.”

“You know I’m right.”

The group talked about their Christmas plans. This was Aryne and John’s first Christmas with baby Jace, so it was going to be extremely special for them. Morgan’s parents and brother were flying in from Vancouver to spend time with him and Bee. It was also Jason and Jennifer’s first Christmas in Toronto with their four girls – even though Jason was from here – so that was another special event that they’d be hosting at their house. William would probably be Skyping with his family in Sweden, having his own version of a family Christmas. It was unfortunate that whatever plans the boys had with their families would have to be cut short slightly because they had a game in New Jersey on the 27th, and it was even more unfortunate that because of a game in Minnesota, they’d all be away from their families on New Year’s – Aberdeen included. It was the first time she would be out of Toronto for New Year’s, and not spending the night with her family or out with her friends.

Jason and Jennifer ended up giving Aberdeen a tour of the parts of the house they’d already explored, with William following behind them somewhat lazily. She saw Ethan at one point and could feel him staring at her. There were a couple of different food stations, and she picked up some sushi and other appetizers on the way around. The house was expansive, and again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this. She could only imagine what the bedrooms looked like, or the basement, where she was sure there were ridiculous things like a bowling alley, or a 10,000 bottle wine cellar, or a home theatre.

Dani Reiss ended up calling Jason and Jennifer over, so Aberdeen found herself alone with William. William seemed to enjoy the situation, as he always did – the smirk on his face revealing all – but when Aberdeen looked past him, she saw Ethan staring at her again, pretending to talk to his colleague who worked in tech and video playback. She bit her lip nervously. She knew she couldn’t let him get to her, but he already had once before and it almost cost her the job she had – the one he so desperately wanted. She couldn’t let him keep doing this to her. She needed to be strong. She needed to be—

“Aberdeen.”

William’s stern voice broke her out of her trance. “What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said about how nice you look?”

“N—N—Yeah…yeah yeah, thanks,” she said absent-mindedly.

That wasn’t a normal reaction from her at all whenever he complimented her looks. Usually it was an eye-roll and a ‘stop it!’. William discreetly looked over his shoulder to where she was looking. He saw Ethan look away once he caught him. He whipped his head back towards her. “Is he messing with you?” William asked, his voice low.

“What? No no,” Aberdeen shook her head quickly. “Don’t worry about it—”

“Aberdeen, if he’s messing with you, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Will, no,” she stressed. “Just leave it alone.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“No.”

“What was he saying to you earlier?”

“Nothing,” she said. There was no way she was going to tell him. “Just…just stupid stuff. Work stuff. It was honestly nothing.”

“You’d tell me, right?” William said. He’d asked that question before. She couldn’t discern his tone of voice but by the way he was looking at her she knew he was dead serious and knew there was at least a hint of worry. “You’d tell me if he said something, right? If he made you feel uncomfortable? Because I’ve already tried to talk to Babs about it, and I know he’s gone now but I have no problem speaking to someone on your behalf if you’re too scared to.”

She felt like telling him. She really did. But she couldn’t – not now, at the Christmas party, and not ever, because it was something she needed to deal with on her own. Somehow, at least. She didn’t know how she was going to deal with it, only that she had to. So instead, Aberdeen shook her head. “It’s fine, Will. Don’t worry. And yes. I’d tell you.”

So it was a little white lie. Who hadn’t told a little white lie in their life?

William visibly relaxed at her words. He finished his drink and placed it on the tray of a passing server. “You ready to go outside?”

“Outside?” Aberdeen looked at Will strangely. “It’s the middle of December. We’re staying inside, thank you very much.”

“Nooooo no no no no,” he chuckled and shook his head. He went to grab her hand but then remembered where he was, pulling it back towards his body. “Come on. Come with me. You’re in for the surprise of your life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey Aberdeen! Willy! You coming or what?” Jennifer Spezza called out as she waved them down from the sliding doors leading to the backyard. “Come on! It’s time to skate!”

Aberdeen threw William a confused look. “Skate?”

They made their way towards the door, and when Aberdeen stepped through the threshold, she couldn’t believe what she saw: an entire skating rink – boards and everything – where she presumed Dani’s tennis court was, where some people were already skating. There were lights, people were laughing, and there was even a whole skate rental helping out. There were even fucking portable heaters. Again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this. She couldn’t believe that Dani would offer up his house, hire all the waiting staff, hire the catering staff, buy all those gifts, flood an entire portion of his backyard, and put up a skating rink so he could give the Maple Leafs a Christmas party. Those closer she walked to the rink with William, Jason, and Jennifer, the more she couldn’t believe it.

“What size are you, miss?”

“Uh, I’m a seven in regular shoes…” she said, not knowing if that made a difference. The person turned around to look for skates, and Aberdeen turned towards William. “I’m…I’m not good at skating at all.”

“You don’t have to be,” he smiled. “You’ve got a team full of hockey players to help you along, minskatt.”

“No no. I’m not just, like, saying that to be cute or whatever,” she said. She needed to make that abundantly clear because she was sure she was going to make a complete ass of herself. “I’m not good at skating. I don’t even know how to tie them up properly.”

“Again, you have a whole hockey team at your disposal,” William said with a giggle in his voice. When the skates were handed over, Jason took them before Aberdeen could. “You gonna lace her up?” William asked him.

“I’ve got it,” Jason nodded his head. “Aberdeen, go sit on the bench. And give me your right foot.”

Aberdeen felt powerless as she did as she was told. Jason shoved the skate onto her foot and kept it between his legs to tighten them and lace them up. Jennifer put on her own skates right beside her, and William was on her other side doing the same. “I feel like one of your children,” Aberdeen joked to them.

Jason smiled. “You’re practically the same age as Sophia.”

“Am not!” Aberdeen protested. “Sophia was born in 2010!”

“Yeah, and you’re born in 98. I’m born in 83. There’s fifteen years between you and I, but only twelve between you and Sophia,” Jason said.

“It’s practically the same thing!”

“No. You’re a baby,” Jason chuckled. “The both of you,” he nodded his head towards William, “are babies.”

Once her skates and helmet were fully on, and tight enough so her ankles weren’t moving so they wouldn’t snap in half, Aberdeen wobbled her way over towards the ice rink. She looked out onto the ice and saw Bee skating, screaming as she slipped and fell right into Frederik Andersen’s arms. The both of them laughed heartily as he held on to her like a knight in shining armour would catch his princess. Morgan called out to them in a joking manner, feigning disgust and annoyance.

“Aberdeen?” she heard William’s soft voice. Jason and Jennifer were already on the ice. She hadn’t even seen them get on. She had taken a while to psych herself up, apparently. “You okay?”

“I’m just being an idiot,” she shook her head, embarrassed.

“You’re not being an idiot, minskatt.”

“Says the guy who was in skates before he was in shoes with soles,” she tried to joke. “I work for a hockey team and I don’t even know how to skate well.”

Aberdeen watched as William extended his head. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll teach you.”

“Will—”

“Think of it this way,” he began. “If you fall and crack your head open, you’ll probably suffer memory loss and forget who I am.”

Aberdeen snorted and laughed out loud. She needed to hand it to William – he knew how to calm her down and diffuse any stress. “You’re the worst, Will,” she chuckled out.

“I know I am. Now come on.”

Aberdeen took his hand and stepped onto the ice gingerly. William pulled her away from the edge of the rink slowly. “Okay, bend your knees,” he began. “You can’t skate with tight legs.”

For an almost embarrassingly long time, William taught Aberdeen the basic ins and outs of skating. He was patient with her as he skated back and forth with her, pushing and pulling her along. He’d grab her if she tripped, wrapped his arms around her if she almost slipped and fell, and tried to make her laugh as much as possible. Jason would join in sometimes, holding her other hand as he and William pulled her along. Jennifer and Bee acted like her own personal cheerleaders. Eventually, she got the hang of it, able to skate around without having her hands out to balance her and with the ability to turn along the edges. Morgan skated by and joked she was going to replace William on the line with John. The smile on her face and giggle in her voice could light up the night sky.

For William, it was the best part of the night by far.

***

Brendan was so happy that everybody was having fun; so happy to see the smiles on people’s faces as they skated around the rink, running into each other like bumper cars and taking group pictures. He loved seeing the comradery of his team outside the rink – the comradery of his entire organization outside of the offices. The Christmas party was a huge success, and he couldn’t be happier.

As he leaned his forearms down against the boards outside the rink, he watched everybody having a good time. A few of the players skated by to have a quick chat. Auston came first, then Jason and Freddie Gauthier together.

“What a great party!” William smiled as he skated up to him, looking out at everyone having fun on the ice.

Brendan nodded his head. “We’re lucky Dani invited us and did all this for us. Much better than some stuffy dinner, I think.”

“Definitely,” William agreed, nodding his head.

Brendan nodded his head too, following William’s line of sight. Aberdeen was posing with Bee McTavish, Aryne Tavares, and Courtney Muzzin. Brendan smiled. “Be careful, William.”

William’s brows furrowed at his words as he turned to look at him. “Sir?”

“She can’t do anything with you until she leaves,” Brendan said, standing upright. “And you can’t do anything with her.”

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years

Text

AU Raffle: Cryptid AU!

[COMPLETE]

The result of the random selection was the Cryptid AU! Multiple people suggested this, so I'm looking forward to hearing all the ideas and extensions you guys will come up with. This will be a masterpost collecting them all, and it will be pinned for the duration of the AU.

Original suggestion: "For the Raffle. Cryptid AU. None of the Hermits are truly human and they all are really powerful cryptids that are hiding their true nature. The catch! Every Hermit thinks the other Hermits are totally normal and they are the only cryptid one. Hilarity ensures with everyone trying to explain the extrange things that keep happening "

Some ideas I came up with:

- every Hermit is a cryptid or monster of some kind, except for Grian, who is fully human and completely clueless about everything that's going on (suggested by a previous ask)

- Team ZIT is an investigation group trying to prove the existence of cryptids, but each one of them is subtly trying to sabotage the investigation to hide their own cryptid-ness. None of the three know the other two are also cryptids. Hilarity ensues.

- Xisuma probably knows what's going on with everyone, but he's not saying anything

- Mumbo is doing an absolutely horrible job of hiding that he's a cryptid, but somehow people still don't notice. Iskall is probably the closest to figuring it out.

- VintageBeef has already figured out that Keralis isn't human, but Keralis is bribing him to keep quiet

I hope that's enough to get the ball rolling! Send in your ideas using asks, and I'll put them down here!

If you need ideas about which cryptid would fit best with which Hermit, this list may be helpful.

Anonymous Additions:

- I feel like xisuma should be some kind of shapeshifter

- cleo was brought back to life by a family that loved her very much- or at least, that was what they tried to do. in reality, they brought a completely new soul back in the body of a deceased relative. cleo felt uncomfortable around people who thought she was a different person than she was, so she ran away and eventually befriended the hermits bc she just felt ~drawn to them~. she disguises her bloodless skin and lack of body heat with thick clothes and lots of makeup

- Cleo, of course, is a zombie, but she also has ties to Cthulu that she doesn't really try to hide, but that people overlook all the time. I'm just saying, an avatar of an eldritch being having to be a zombie kinda makes sense...

- Cthulu needed a body, and this kind family was nice enough to supply one! It was kinda their fault really, praying to ancient gods and making deals without reading the fine print. Cleo might feel guilty, but it wasn't on her, not really

- cryptid au: joe isn't a human, but a changeling: a shapeshifting, nonhuman entity that evolved to invade human families like a cuckoo. he has the ability to bend light to make illusions, but he normally just uses his powers to make himself appear human. however he does like to make all lime green things he sees invisible, for the lulz

- What about mumbo being a vampire, it just introduces the idea of so many odd behaviors that the others are just oblivious to

- What if ren is a werewolf(I know it isn't original) and he just thinks of the other hermits as his pack and is therefor very protective of them

- Obligatory Ren is a Werewolf for the Cryptid AU. He is acts like a gigant puppy when he is in wolf form. Nobody questions why sometimes they found a gigant wolf trying to play fetch with them. But nobody is complaining. Everyone talks about it and Ren is just upset because the gigant pupper has never come to see him. Surprise!! Not even Ren knows he is a werewolf

- idk if your still doing cryptid stuff because i don't really know how this works but,, what if everyone thinks that Grian Is Something when he's not. They keep trying to figure it out by asking him weird questions or trying to get him to do weird stuff, but he still stays completely oblivious. And then since Xisuma knows what everyone is, he thinks it's hilarious trying to watch everyone try to find something that isn't there.

- Cryptid au: Doc has made it obvious that he is a cryptid like, he explains it so obviously even an idiot would tell that he's one, But no one has figured out yet. So after the 15th time of explaining things he decides to present how he's a cryptid, by making a goatess.

- For the au, I have 2 ideas for grian, either he is very outspoken about not believing in the super natural, or he very much does believe in the supernatural, either way he unknowingly befriends multiple cryptids and is very confused

- Cryptic AU: Tango has fire for hair, and no ones really questioned as to why?

- What if false was a siren, just because it seems like an interesting idea (my addition: Wels would also make a great siren)

- Stress seems like the type to be an elf, graceful and cheerful, and of course admiring nature's beauty

- What if Impulse was mothman, I like this idea because of the whole team zit being paranormal investigators and they just go looking for mothman on one trip, and Impulse is just standing there probably feeling a bit awkward

- If Impulse is Mothman and he can fly and Tango is like a fire demon that controls fire, is only fair that Zed is an aquatic Cryptid. Maybe related to a lake monster or he is a Sea Serpent

- Yeti Iskall getting used to the hot environment of the Jungle??? Maybe?

- i have no clue how this works but etho is related to ningen in a way (Antarctic sea creatures from Japanese folklore)

- Joe's poems seem to stick in your head, echoing around for hours after you hear them, ringing between your ears. Their subjects vary, but they often seem eerily prophetic, warnings encased in rhythm and rhyme. Sometimes you swear you can hear the soft scritch of a pen on paper, before you realize you are the only one around.

- Wait how the hell would jevin hide that fact he's a slime? Better yet how do the other hermits not put to and to together? Through I think jevin probably wouldn't even bother trying to hide it, I mean he's a huge blob of slime how would you not be able to tell

(my response, summarized) Jevin inhabits a body of slime because that's the easiest way to hide his true form. "Jevin" is a non-physical entity that can possess other lifeforms by destroying their will. He chose a slime this time because it was easy and inconspicuous.)

- Cryptid au: Team ZIT have a headquarters and they all pitched in to commission Etho to make their door bell chime, the ghost busters theme, and afterward interrogated Etho to the ground.

- Doc is not a creeper with cyborneticts. Doc is the AI that came with the cyborneticts and over-wrote the conciousness of the creeper. Figured that making Doc something else would be too dificult so maybe subverting what he is with what we got alredy is enough (like you did with Jevin)

- I am putting this here for vampire mumbo in the au because the thought will not leave my head. It's dark, and mumbo's eyes seem to reflect light very well, his canine teeth seem just a bit too long and sharp, they seem to be stained red,was he always this tall? Something about him seems off, he seems very elegant in this darkness.

- cryptid au: when joe was young, he was ignored so much that he turned invisible. you can still see his shadow but you could look directly at him and not see him there with the best tools. he disguises himself by staying quiet, using text to communicate with the other hermits or by covering himself with clothes and masks so nobody would be able to see his body even if he wasnt invisible.

- For the au I think that Iskall could be a dryad because of his base this season

- Imagine if you will: Tango leaves town for a bit so the team ZIT can't do their "investigations". Impulse gets bored and decided to pretend to kidnap Zedaph in mothman-form. When Tango returns, Zedaph tells him how he almost was kidnapped by Mothman (and is over-exaggerating on every detail)

- What if in the au there is a situation where team zit is in some sort of danger, and so each of them just independently decide that they have to reveal the fact of their cryptid selves, and they just collectivly think,"huh. Okay." And after they are safe, they just talk about it as a group

- Beef is big foot.

- Biffa looks like a robot or cyborg, which one? He won't say. Maybe its because its neither, maybe he's just a walking body with a mind, maybe he's just a suit of armor roaming the world, maybe a spirit or ghost from the past, maybe a mob whose inhabited and pilots the body, maybe he's just Biffa. Only he knows, but he won't say

- Cryptid AU: I’m just imagining zedaph or tango throwing a bell at grian in an attempt to “capture” him under the suspicion that he’s part fae or something at a server meeting

- About Cryptid!Wels, sometimes, when the night is dark and the world is silent, you'll hear it; a soft voice in the darkness. You can't help but listen to it as you get lost in the song, swaying to the melody as your foot moves to the beat. The song gets louder and your feet are more frantic as they seem to take you somewhere. Suddenly, the voice stops singing and so you stop moving, and when you open your eyes you find yourself on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. The siren lurks near

- Doc isnt a Creeper with cybrog parts but a robot made to look like a creeper, that arm and eye? yea just exposed parts from years of just not caring enough. He's waiting to see when someone will call him out on it. So far, only TFC and X but they like to watch how long this will go. Doc isnt even hiding anymore, he loves to mess with Grian by making remarks that imply he's a robot but Grian just can't figure it out

- tbh I love the idea of Joe as a regular human who just acts super cryptic and strange, and has a bit of skill at poetry. others try and figure out what he is, and he's just vibing in a corner, the last one anyone would expect to be the sole normal person on the server

- Cryptid AU. Joe and Cleo as the ‘One Bagel. No!! Two bagels!’ Vine. Joe being the one that asked and Cleo ignoring Cthulhu

- Joe starts sharing different ideas of what he could be, and only Cleo knows (mostly... she's the closest at least). Joe's mystery is a Hermitcraft classic, greeting every hermit except X, who still only has what Joe's told him to go on. He delights in the chaos he causes

- Scar is a poltergeist, he hides it well. One time Grian caught him using his powers, after scar fessed up, in private, they both bring some amount of chaos to the server, but not to much so the ZIT crypt hunters, name in progress, don't know about the chaos, thus not puting the duo in danger.

- Mumbo might be a vampire, but it isn’t for blood (at least, not anymore). Only Grian has come close to figuring it out, and it’s due to seeing how refreshed and satisfied his friend looks after being around 2+ groups of people. If only he would just straight up and ask. - 🦊

- Rather last minute but do you have any ideas of how Evil Xisuma could fit into this? Would he be a shapeshifter as well. A copy of X's true form? A demon haunting Xisuma? Just X's pesky brother? There's a handful of ideas I can't personally decide what would fit best. Maybe none of them at all, who know?

Cryptid Au. Xisuma shapeshifts for fun. Thats how we get Turtle!Xisuma, Beesuma and Stridersuma. All hermits just assume X changes his suit because they have never seen his face so there is no way for them to know he shifts. Also clasic headcanon that TFC is Herobrine and he is just laying low in Hermitcraft after years of going around worlds. Everyone knows the legend about Herobrine but have not connected the dots yet because TFC is just everyone’s grandpa. No way he could be Herobrine.

- @/ivi-prism

- While most might assume that Grian would be a harpy, its actully Scar. He's incredibly flexable in Human form, hes able to manuver his foot behind his head, and moret than once has Cub walked in on Scar with a living fish in his mouth. He never questioned it because "Hey, Vex magics weird."

- Imagine- sytyr Zedaph and Fae Impulse walking in on Willowwisp Tango who,because willowwisps are typically tiny, shrunk in response to panic and is now stuck in a caldron. I think that be hilarious. Just the idea of impulse going-"YOUR A CRYPTID?" while Zed just "WAIT I KNEW I DIDNT BURN THOSE PAPERS!" Which leads into a discussion of ZIT internal sabotage, and suddenly ZIT invesigation changes direction from "Are cryptids real" to "Is anyone else a Cryptid cause this cannot be a Coincidence"

- @/crypticalwitch

- Cryptic AU: Tango can also control his hair, to an extent. He can slick it back, but it still looks like burning embers. It's a bit mesmerizing

- Cryptid AU: Cub was a normal guy, maybe with some weirder interests, before the Vex. "Playing" with their magic too much is what made him a cryptid. So maybe he understands that the other hermits aren't exactly "human". But it isn't his business, and it means they don't question what the Vex get him into, so he just doesn't say anything about it

- Cryptic AU: Team ZIT's strongest evidence for Grian is the fact he's a master with an elytra, especially since he first said he "might use it a little bit" for long journeys. He's flown into a dark hole in a dark wall that's barely big enough to fit him multiple times, with ease, among other risky stunts that would get other hermits killed. The fact there's not much else to go on, besides his pranking zeal only matched by Zed himself, drives them up the wall

- Cryptic AU: when you stay out too long at night, you might start to feel watched. You'll turn around and nobody is there, but still you feel eyes on your back, and the breeze always seems hot and brushes your neck like too-close breathing and a hand. Finally, you catch it: a familiar figure that stands too stiffly, always just too far away to name. Then it vanishes with an airy shriek, and phantoms descend from the stars. Bdubs did always say the worst things happen in the night.

- Cryptic AU: Impulse's smiles are just a little too big. If you look at one too long, you feel as though it's stretching wider and wider, the cheery shine in his eyes twisting into a hungry gleam, but then you blink and he's back to normal ol Impulse and you question if you really saw anything. That time you saw his smile glinting in the darkness just beyond your bed must've been a nightmare. Your imagination.

- Cryptic AU: Don't look into his eyes. Look in, and you will see the universes. Billions of stars, trillions of futures, all impossibly swirling together, hauntingly beautiful. You'll fall down, down, down through the glittering spirals, until with a breathtaking snap you're on your knees, on solid ground. You're lucky he doesn't want to keep you, like others might. The lives and worlds you glimpsed will echo through your mind, weave through your dreams. Do not fear. Do not look into his eyes.

- The mountain is his territory. If you enter it unbidden, he will ensure you leave, lucky to keep your life. His contraptions are nonsense, seeming to serve no purpose other than to confuse. They distract from how the air crackles on your skin, how it tastes of storms and thunder. They distract how, from the corner of your eye, Zedaph's limbs are too long, fingers with too many knuckles and legs with too many knees. All angles and bones, like his designs. Do not look too closely at his garden.

- Everyone learned not to ask about him. Mostly because in trying to form the question, you'll find the words slipping from your mind. So Tango's hair burns, his eyes are red cherries. In the darkness he glows, the embers of a forgotten fire. His skin is always hot, almost feverish, yet he isnt sick. If he gets too close to lava, the illusion fades, reveals the magma that forms his skin. Illusion? No, that was just a burn. He relishes the smoke and rubble of explosions. Control. Always controlled.

- xB doesn't mind being away from the other hermits. It's quiet there; far enough away that most aren't bothered to prank him. He doesn't like surprises. Surprises get people hurt. Gets his friends hurt. His guardians appreciate the still predictability. The calm. Yes, he prefers to sit back, quiet, and watch. If he looks too long, bad things happen. So he observes it all, never focusing too much on one detail, never letting them go unseen. It prevents surprises.

- Because that last one wasn't all that clear, xB is a guardian-based cryptid! While nothing seems inhuman about him at a glance, he has a close affinity to water, and when threatened the spines he hides with his clothes will stick out. (Guardians only spawn in water, but they actually don't suffocate in air! Though their desperate flopping is a sad sight to behold) Plus, laser-eyes

- Xisuma wasn't always able to change his form as easily or drastically as he can now. But by now, he's forgotten his own face. Now, he'll feel his skin, his body begin to itch with the need to change. He's glad the hermits don't seem to care when he does. Keralis's mimicry was a surprise, but a welcome one. He feels less alone. Loneliness is how he would lose himself. He's scared of that possibility.

- When he sleeps, he walks through the minds of those whose eyes met his, as if it were his own dream. He'll hear their thoughts as if they were his own. He doesn't like this. It feels like an invasion. He feels like a parasite, and maybe he is. Whoever he dreamed through last, they seem exhausted and jumpy after, while he feels energized, near invincible. It's through this ability he knows their deepest secrets, but they aren't his to tell. Sometimes, he wishes he could understand. (Xisuma pt 2)

- Cryptid AU: another reason that Grian cant possibly be a human is his clothes. Just. How does he have something for every occasion. He even has a janitor one? Why did he have that? This "man" doesn't own a single closet yet has at least 20 different costumes-- not to mention you blink and he's changed! Wh- he had a REAPER costume for himself AND SCAR???

- @/basaltdragon

- Cryptid AU: Grian used to be against cryptids because of Sam (YHS) and his bunny attributes, but has since accepted the fact Sam was just a bad apple, and cryptids as a whole are neutral/good.

- Your heart, it beats, like redstone ticking away within you. He knows redstone through and through... so why not you too? Every pulse sent though the machine of your body is one more reason for him to reverse engineer you. But he restrains, takes a step back, as these machines could never be put back together.

- He's been here since the beginning; not of Hermitcraft, but everything. Watching as the game evolved over the years... He smiles at the thought. His hair now matching his eyes - like harsh reflective snow - he recalls these memories fondly. As his eyes fade to their piercing blue, he sighs, for this is home.

- When any of the other Hermits (at least the ones with blood) get injured, Mumbo has to step away. The need for their blood, their lifeforce, is too overwhelming.

- @/12u3ie

- Cryptid AU: with the team ZIT headquarters I thought of something similar to the TEA headquarters from season 3. Probably more confusing, colourful and chock full of even more excessive redstone doors. Why not add another elevator? Where's the coffee machine? Maybe the next room over? Was that corridor there before? I don't know. What's the use of that room? What's behind that door? What's behind you?

- Cryptid AU: with the whole burning hair thing on Tango, another explanation for why no one questions it. That's just Hermitcraft, people just assume he either royally messed up a redstone machine, or succeeded completely, you never know with Tango. Or maybe they think they're sleep deprived. They haven't slept in a while, Bdubs has been reminding them to do so. What were they doing? Maybe they should go home instead. Whatever they were doing can probably be done later. What were they doing?

- @/the-royal-bat-snake

- If joe is a changing then he is some kind of fae folk or as the irish and the Scots call them "the good neighbours" he could like anything, from a human, a small man, like knee height or a small green impish or goblin esque creature. Also changlings were the very old fae folk, not just the babies (humma women were stolen to be nurse maids cus fae folk cant make milk, also stolen to be mistresses) I know a lot of irish faerie lore so if you want to know anymore

- @/whatschooldoesntteachyou

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mod shade #au raffle #cryptid au #hermitcraft server

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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The next Cinderella AU part is here...and I am so thrilled about this part, because not only do we get a new character (who I’m quite sure you can identify from the sketch above -- only my second time drawing him ever, and I’m actually pretty happy with it!), but we’ll also get a nice serving of drama! Goodie!!

Robin Hood as a legendary figure first originated through the oral tradition, so its history is a little hard to plot out, but his first reference in writing is a ballad from the 15th century. Although our modern image of Robin Hood is that of a chaotic good heroic figure, his original incarnation was decidedly less saintly -- he was a bandit, and although he did refrain from stealing from women, he was rather violent, reckless, and hot-tempered, as well as flagrantly against both clerics and all nobility. Robin Hood’s backstory of being a disgraced nobleman who turned outlaw after losing his title and land and who remains loyal to the “good king” Richard while opposing the unlawful regent Prince John was added later, presumably to make him a bit more “approachable” to an Elizabethan audience who was more accustomed to hearing tales about nobility (just look at a lot of Shakespeare’s plays from that period -- many of them center around royalty or the upper class). Plays about or referencing Robin Hood then increased in popularity on the British Isles throughout the 16th and early 17th century, until the rise of Puritanism in the 1640′s put a halt to theatrical productions. (Bloody kill-joys.) For more information on the history of Robin Hood’s development, I strongly recommend this analysis done by Overly Sarcastic Productions (...actually, just watch everything on their channel, it’s all great XD).

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn had a lot of trouble returning to her daily routine at the palace the following morning. Getting so close to the border with Orion and hearing about how much scarier it was likely to get on the battlefield made her all the more worried for Jacob’s well-being. Even if the spell Charles Cromwell had paid for nine years ago made it so that Jacob would stay alive as long as he willed it, Carewyn dreaded the thought of what harm, physical and emotional, that Jacob might face. If she only had some idea which battalion he was a part of and where on the front he’d be, then she could always just try to send a letter his way...maybe even ask Orion to drop it off to the camp for her, since his father was an officer. But Carewyn had combed every military roster she could get her hands on, but hadn’t been able to find a single record of Jacob anywhere.

‘He must be under another name,’ Carewyn told herself.

It wouldn’t be too unreasonable that Charles wouldn’t want Jacob to advance in the ranks on the back of their family name. And really, Carewyn knew full well how displeased her grandfather would be if he found out she was trying to reach out to her brother without his approval -- he could’ve even forced Jacob to take on another name, just to try to make it that bit harder for Carewyn to contact him without his approval...

Carewyn’s friends noticed a rather abrupt shift in her mood. She was singing as always, but her choices were a bit less upbeat and her voice sounded oddly distracted and nostalgic. At one point, Andre mentioned offhandedly that he’d been designing themed outfits for his friends to wear to his mother’s New Year Eve’s Masque Ball, but Carewyn had trouble putting much attention on it.

“I’ve already finished some ‘owl wings’ on a cape for KC and a fur-trimmed wolf mask and gown for Erika...I was thinking perhaps a stag for Bill, a dragon for Charlie, and a lioness for Ginny? I considered a horse at first, but I think a pale gold would make her just glow, don’t you think? Yours I’m most excited for, though...I’m hoping to actually make your newest pair of shoes with fabric on the inside for comfort and diamond on the outside for sturdiness, if I can manage it!”

“Mm...that sounds great,” said Carewyn absently.

Her gaze was drawn out the nearest window, as far out as she could.

“...Andre,” she said slowly, “I realize this is very last minute, but...may I have this afternoon off, to go see my family?”

Andre blinked. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, no,” Carewyn lied with as pretty and reassuring of a smile as she could. “It’s just...well, it’s nearly Tristan’s birthday. My uncle keeps him very close to home, compared to my other cousins...I merely thought I might stop by and bake him a little something, as a surprise.”

Andre frowned slightly. “You...get along better with your uncle and his son than with Iris, then?”

“No, but Tristan is only a boy. It’s hard to hold any bad behavior against him. And well, maybe if he and the others don’t know I made it, he’ll enjoy it better.”

Carewyn could see Andre still looked confused and a little dismayed, so she quickly added, “I’ll be back by tomorrow morning, in time for my rounds. I won’t allow it to interrupt my duties.”

Andre offered a hesitant smile. “Well, all right...if it really means that much to you.”

Carewyn’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Andre -- I really appreciate it.”

Fortunately for Carewyn, Andre wasn’t the best at picking up on other people’s pretenses. Unfortunately for Carewyn, two of his most regular confidantes were his cousin KC and fencing instructor Erika, and they did pick up on Carewyn’s odd behavior.

“She said she wanted to surprise her cousin with something for his birthday?” asked KC, frowning deeply.

“Well, yeah,” said Andre. “I admit, it seemed a little weird to do something so nice without even wanting credit, but Carewyn is an awfully selfless sort. From the way she made it sound, she just wanted to do something nice for him.”

“And you believed her?” said Erika rather coldly.

She whacked Andre’s practice sword out of his hand with her own, making the Crown Prince hiss in pain.

“I’ve told you before, Prince Henri -- you all may think Carewyn Cromwell’s nothing like her family, but that’s absolute bunk. She might be more pleasant than them, but she’s not stupid and she’s not honest. Or did you not notice that that weird guy she hangs out with keeps calling her ‘his lady,’ as if she weren’t the penniless orphan of a deadbeat merchant?”

Erika picked up Andre’s sword and tossed it back to him with ease.

“Then of course that guy himself is shady as all get out.”

Andre frowned. “You mean Orion? Come on, Erika, he isn’t that bad -- I thought he seemed quite amiable, myself. Don’t you agree, KC?”

“He is,” said KC fairly. “But Erika isn’t completely off-base. There is a lot about Orion that we don’t know -- that even Carewyn herself doesn’t know. She admitted as much to me, after I first met him. That being said,” she raised her own sword and got into position to attack Andre, “I don’t think Orion’s a threat. You would think anyone with the ability to sneak over the palace walls not once but twice would’ve tried to make some move to attack you by now, but he’s only ever come looking for Carewyn. And although I don’t completely understand the reason behind why she’s acting like a lady around him,” she shot Erika a faintly reproachful look as she and Andre traded blows, “I’m pretty sure it has more to do with her own insecurities than because she’s a terrible person -- ow! Damn it!”

Andre had successfully disarmed KC.

“Insecurities?” he said, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What is there for her to be insecure about? I mean, yes, she has no dowry, and taking Orion’s wardrobe into account, I’d suppose he has to come from a family with modest wealth -- but Orion seemed to enjoy the Weasleys’ company quite well, and their family is poor. I think they’d make a lovely match, really,” he added with a rather smug grin. “They even matched at the Festival, without realizing it.”

KC massaged her wrist, frowning a bit sourly. “Yes...but Carewyn is solely under Lord Cromwell’s charge. He’s the one who sent her here. He’s the only guardian she really has. And I think it’s quite clear how much influence he has over his family -- even his daughters who married into other esteemed families still live at his estate with their husbands and children, rather than moving out onto their own estates. And in Carewyn’s case, she doesn’t even have a parent to help shield her from Lord Cromwell’s will. She doesn’t have a penny to her name. So that means, in effect, she’s chained to him, and in those circumstances...well...”

She hesitated.

"Well what?” Andre prompted her.

KC looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t want to say anything before without knowing for sure...but I think someone’s been looking at our military ledgers, documenting troop placements. Everything’s neatly put away the way they should be, but there are more fingerprints on them than before. And usually I’m the only one who has much use to look those up, whenever I’m ready to suggest a new war strategy...”

Erika’s eyes narrowed very sharply and she got right up into KC’s space. “And you’re only just saying this now?! That information could be critical to Royaume’s enemies! What if that guy Orion sneaked in not just to see Cromwell, but to get his hands on those? Or what if it was Cromwell herself, working in collusion with him?”

“Impossible,” Andre said forcefully. “Carewyn would never be a spy for the enemy -- it’s not in her character.”

“And I don’t think Orion would know where those documents would be, even if he did sneak in,” said KC.

Erika, however, looked unconvinced as she made for the door. “You can coddle those two all you want, but I plan to tell the King and Queen -- they’ll want to interrogate Cromwell and this ‘Orion Freeman’...”

“Erika, belay that!” Andre said in a suddenly much sharper and more authoritative voice. “That’s an order.”

Once Erika had stopped walking and turned back around, the Crown Prince exhaled heavily and crossed his arms in a business-like manner.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said firmly. “If Carewyn is heading to the Cromwell estate, she’ll have to take the road through town, correct? I’ll simply take a horse and follow the road after her.”

Erika and KC looked startled.

“Uh, Andre,” said KC, “you haven’t forgotten that you’re not allowed to leave the palace, have you?”

Andre smirked. “No. I’m just sneaking out.”

Before Erika and KC could articulate an argument, he added in a much sassier voice, “Look, I’m doing it whether you come with me or not. I’d appreciate the company if you want to come along -- all I expect is that you’ll dress appropriately. I hear linens and cottons are fashionable for those who don’t wish to attract attention.”

And so Andre, KC, and Erika made preparations to follow Carewyn...completely unaware that a half-hour earlier, Bill and Charlie Weasley had -- after having a similar, but much more concerned conversation with Badeea Ali about Carewyn clearly lying to Andre’s face -- decided to take their horses and tail their friend themselves. And sure enough, the two eldest Weasleys soon enough found themselves following Carewyn on the road heading northeast, avoiding the Cromwell estate all together.

At the very same time, in Florence, Orion had finalized his plan. Today was the day he was going to request a formal audience with Prince Henri, as Prince Cosimo VII. As Carewyn had said, he’d need to act fast if he was going to stop his father from finding a way to complete his own ruthless strategy -- the battlefield itself would be a difficult place for Orion to make his case, with so many distractions, but he knew a more balanced, peaceful setting wouldn’t be. And so he wrote a long letter to the King, explaining everything that he had learned from Royaume and its people as well as Florence’s own, so as to make a case for peace. He then had the court magician Severus Snape deliver it to the Florentine camp in his stead, while he dressed in his finest and prepared to leave for Royaume.

When he made as if to take his own horse, however, Orion found Skye and McNully waiting for him, a black coach already prepared.

“If you’re planning on going to meet Prince Henri, you really should arrive in style,” said McNully with a wry smile. “A good first impression to the King and Queen would help your case by a good 45%.”

“And you have to know there’s no way in Hell we’re going to let you go out and expose your true identity to the enemy without back-up,” Skye added, her arms crossed over her chest. “

Orion’s black eyes softened. “...Thank you.”

As he climbed into the carriage, both McNully and Skye’s faces nonetheless betrayed some hesitation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” McNully asked. “There’s a 74% chance they’ll respond badly to it -- I reckon there’s a 39.5% chance they’ll try to arrest you on the spot and hold you as a prisoner of war...”

“I carry no weapons with me, and I come with the explicit purpose of diplomacy,” said Orion levelly. “Therefore I’m not an enemy combatant. As long as I follow their direction while under their roof, then any harm they might do me would be violating the conventions of war...and the Royaumanians, for all of their flaws, do have honor.”

“One could make a case for you having been involved in espionage, though,” McNully pointed out, but Orion ignored him and settled down in the carriage, crossing his legs offhandedly.

“What about Lady Cromwell?” said Skye, her voice a bit lower and more concerned. “She’ll find out you’re a Florentine. And not just any Florentine, the Prince of Florence.”

Something sad flickered through Orion’s confident, unflappable expression.

“She was going to learn the truth sooner or later,” he murmured. “If our time together has come to an end...then at least I may have the memories to hold onto...and the knowledge that by ending this War peacefully, I may have spared her of more heartache.”

He closed his eyes and began to meditate, clearly having said his piece on the matter. Skye and McNully, however, couldn’t help but exchange a look that was both anxious and very sad.

As long as they’d known Orion, he’d always been a little reckless, but he was also passive and avoided direct confrontation. This plan to directly appeal to Royaume’s royal family, however, required a lot of guts -- far more than either of them had thought Orion possessed. And they knew such courage could only have been encouraged by one person...the very same person who Orion loved so much that he would choose to follow her example and protect what she loved, even if it meant destroying their relationship forever.

Orion meditated during most of the journey to the Royaumanian palace. It was merely fortunate that, as they approached, McNully broke him out of his trance by tapping him on the shoulder and pointing out the window. If he hadn’t, then Orion would not have seen a rather familiar trio of riders on horseback, riding through town past them -- a short, stocky lady with dark red hair and freckles; a very tall blonde with a square jaw and sharp eyes; and a very handsome dark-skinned man dressed in a purple tunic, emerald green pants, and gold-buckled black boots.

“Stop the carriage!” said Orion, his soft, level voice nonetheless very firm despite not rising in volume.

He barely waited for the carriage to completely stop before slamming the door open and jumping out.

“Andre! KC!”

Andre, KC, and Erika all stopped their horses in an abrupt halt and turned around as Orion dashed up to them.

“Orion?” said Andre, startled.

KC looked from the rather finely dressed Orion to the expensive-looking black coach behind him and back. Erika’s eyes narrowed critically upon Orion as he came to a stop in front of them, his hands clasping in front of him.

“I...had not expected to see you out and about,” said Orion, trying to put on his most pleasant, calm expression.

Andre glanced over his shoulder up the road, frowning deeply. “Yes, well...some business has come up.”

“Orion, have you seen Carewyn?” KC asked him, her face very serious.

Orion blinked.

“Not since last night,” he said. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Never you mind,” barked Erika, as she turned back to the road. “Come on, we don’t want to lose the trail -- ”

“Erika,” reproached Andre, before he turned back to Orion, his face visibly concerned. “...Carewyn asked for the afternoon off to go see her family, but it was very last minute, which isn’t like her. And according to what we’ve heard in town, there’s been no traffic down the road toward the Cromwell estate in the last four hours...”

“So Carewyn had to have been lying about where she was going,” finished KC, her face much more stoic but her voice no less tense. “We need to find her and figure out why.”

Orion’s eyebrows had furrowed over his widening black eyes. His heartbeat was slamming in his ears as the memory of Carewyn in the woods returned to him -- looking northward, toward the army camps, as if longing to run toward them --

“I know where she’s gone,” he said at once.

He rushed back to the coach, grabbing onto the window frame and standing on the boot of the carriage.

“To the northern border,” he urged Skye, who sat in the driver’s seat. “Quickly!”

“The border?” repeated Skye as a sharp whisper. “But Orion, your meeting with the Prince -- ”

“Can come later,” Orion told her very firmly under his breath. “Both he and I must get to the war front.”

He shot a significant look over his shoulder in Andre’s direction. McNully, putting two-and-two together, nodded and inched himself up to the window of the carriage.

“If you tie one or more of your horses to the carriage, we should decrease our travel time by a good 21% per horse,” he told Erika, KC, and Andre. “If Carewyn left an hour ago, then with one horse, we should be able to overtake her within an half-hour -- two, within twenty minutes, and three, within ten. Though with Orion on the boot, there’s a 12% chance he’ll fall off if we ride at full speed, so we might have to go at 95% instead -- ”

KC fixed the blond-haired man with an incredulous look as she leapt off her horse.

“Are you really calculating all that on the fly,” she asked, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or amused, “or are you just pulling those numbers out of fat air?”

McNully couldn’t help but grin. “Excellent! Now I can officially say that I’ve been asked that question over a hundred times before.”

Still looking faintly bewildered, KC moved to help Andre, who’d quickly started attaching his, Erika’s, and her horse’s to the front of the carriage with the two black ones already pulling it, ignoring Erika’s incredibly sour and distrustful expression. There was no time to lose.

From the boot of the carriage, Orion directed Skye down the same road he’d taken with Carewyn the previous night, Andre, Erika, and KC riding with McNully inside the coach. Once they’d reached the forest, Orion caught sight of a familiar-looking golden eagle with a bandaged wing -- at the sight of the Florentine prince, the eagle gave a loud shriek and flew down into the trees, and Orion urged Skye to pursue him into the woods. The road took them deep into the trees, until at last the eagle landed on a branch over the heads of two familiar-looking ginger-haired men, who were bound with thick rope to a tree.

Bill and Charlie were stunned at the sight of such an elegant coach, but were absolutely beside themselves with relief at the sight of Andre, KC, and Erika. Erika immediately yanked a knife out of her ankle boot and set about sawing off their bindings -- once she’d cut Charlie free, he immediately rushed forward and grabbed Andre’s shoulders.

“We’ve got to hurry!” he said anxiously. “They’ve got Carey!”

“‘They?’” said Andre, very startled. “They who?”

“This band of Florentine bandits,” said Bill, his voice very low and urgent. He kept maneuvering his bindings as Erika cut them to try to sever them faster. “They cornered us so they could try to rob us -- they were willing to let Carey go since she was a lady, but she bartered with the leader, saying that they could take her so long as they left us alone. Claimed that they could probably get more money from holding her hostage than us, given her family...”

Both Skye and McNully glanced at Orion. The Prince’s face had lost most of its color -- he’d turned his face away and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly as he tried to stabilize his emotions.

“The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you,” Baroness McGonagall’s words returned to his mind, “but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

“They took all three of our horses and tied us to the tree so that we wouldn’t follow them,” growled Charlie. “They left us a knife so that we’d be able to cut ourselves free, but it’s so dull I reckon it would’ve taken us hours to do it ourselves...”

Bill succeeded in snapping the weakened ropes in half and leapt back to his feet, massaging his wrists.

“They must have taken her to a camp of theirs,” said KC, her dark blue eyes narrowing. “Even bandits need some base of operation.”

McNully nodded, resting his arms on the edge of the coach’s window. “The lady is right. Given where we are, I’d say the odds are fairer that it’s southeast of here.”

“Closer to the Florentine side of the border, you mean,” presumed KC, and McNully nodded again.

“They were heading south through the woods,” said Bill. “But we won’t want to bring the coach. They stopped us because they wanted money -- if they have any reason to think any of you have it, they’ll no doubt want to imprison you too...”

“On the contrary,” said Orion in a very low voice, “this carriage may be just the thing we need, to ensure that they don’t imprison us.”

Everyone looked at Orion, their faces all a mixture of incredulity and revulsion, but he seemed disinterested in explaining himself.

“We must be quick, McNully,” said Orion, and although his voice and face were as level and unreadable as ever, they both betrayed a slight edge. “Time is not on our side.”

With Bill now sitting with the driver’s seat next to Skye and Charlie hanging off the boot with Orion, the black coach set off again. Overhead Orion caught sight of the wounded eagle again, which shrieked at them warningly -- the Prince thought it must mean they were close, but did not respond fast enough to the trap set out in front of them.

The coach rode right through a certain cluster of vines, and within seconds, they had magically sprung to life, lashing themselves around the limbs of the five horses pulling the coach. The steeds reared back, panicked -- Skye immediately yanked out a sword from her belt and began hacking away at them, and Erika and Andre both leapt from the carriage with their own swords to help, but it was no use. The vines only lashed onto them, binding all three of them fast and making it impossible for them to move. And when things seemed like they couldn’t be any worse, without warning, a group of green-dressed men and women had swung down from more vines attached to the nearby trees, surrounding them in a tight noose-like circle and pointing their arrow-decked bows at them.

They were trapped.

“Well, well,” said a voice from the trees above, “we don’t often see coaches that ritzy out here.”

The voice’s owner leapt down to the ground. Unlike his companions, his hooded tunic was yellow instead of green. When he lifted his head enough that they could see his face, it was the host of a mischievous smirk.

“Especially ones crafted in Florence,” the dark-haired and eyed bandit said breezily.

Andre, KC, Erika, and the Weasleys all stiffened.

“Florence?” breathed Bill.

They all as a unit whirled on Orion. His face was remarkably calm and solemn as he stepped off the coach and in front of the others and faced the bandits’ leader, his hands clasped in front of him.

“We do not come seeking trouble,” he said. “We merely come to retrieve a lady who surrendered herself to you. Frame like a robin’s. Hair the color of a red sunset. Eyes the color of the sky.”

The bandit’s leader raised his eyebrows curiously. “The maid called Cromwell?”

“That is her.”

“And what reason would you desire her in your custody?” challenged one of the green-dressed bandits with a cocked eyebrow, a dashing man with tanned skin and dark brown hair.

“Wants to ransom her off himself, no doubt,” sneered another woman with messy brown hair and cold magenta eyes. “He probably works for Lord Malfoy -- we all know he’s the sort to make money off illicit enterprises and keep it all to himself, rather than give it to anyone who actually needs it...”

Two of the other bandits -- a pair of women with long red and short pink hair, respectively -- exchanged a sour look.

“We have nothing to do with Lord Malfoy,” spat Skye, vainly tugging against the vines binding her. “We wouldn’t collaborate with that rat if you paid us -- !”

“Skye,” said Orion in a quelling voice.

The last bandit, a very strong-looking man with dark red hair and emerald green eyes, frowned deeply at the leader, who considered Orion carefully.

“I know your face,” he murmured.

Orion inclined his head, his black eyes boring into the other man’s face. “I’m sure you do.”

The leader’s thin-lidded eyes narrowed critically -- then they widened, realizing.

“Bring out Lady Cromwell at once,” he said abruptly.

The others all whirled on him.

“What?!” cried all three women and the dashing man.

“Jae, are you mad?!” said the woman with the magenta eyes.

“Do it,” said the leader called Jae firmly, without flinching.

The strong bandit -- the only one who hadn’t questioned the leader’s direction -- grabbed a vine, which immediately retracted back up above them.

Jae glanced at the magenta-eyed woman. “Merula, have the vines set them loose.”

Merula looked rather scandalized. “What? Oh come on, you know how much of a pain it is, to have to recast a spell after it’s broken -- ”

“Better that we do it now than wait around for the spell to expire on its own,” Jae said dryly.

Still looking very reluctant, Merula nonetheless did as she was told, holding up her hand, which glowed with light green.

“The terms are now invalid,” she muttered sourly at the plants.

The plants sparkled with a similar green flare before falling limply off of the horses, Andre, Erika, and Skye. KC and Bill moved to detangle the now harmless plants from their companions and around the horses’ legs, and Charlie moved to soothe the frightened steeds.

Within a minute, the strong bandit was back, holding onto the vine easily with one hand and holding Carewyn under his opposite arm. She had her ginger hair tied back in a loose bun and was dressed in the green peasant dress she’d worn to the Festival and her slightly oversized brown shoes -- no doubt because it was the most comfortable dress for travel she had. Orion was also beyond relieved to see that she was perfectly unharmed -- not a single cut or bruise.

“CAREWYN!” cried KC, Andre, Bill and Charlie in relief.

All three of the men immediately dashed right over to her and threw their arms around her in a group hug.

“It’s all right,” Carewyn reassured them with a small smile. “I’m all right.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” Bill interrogated her.

“You must have been terrified -- ” said Andre.

“Where are the horses?” asked Charlie.

“Tied up in a makeshift stable over there,” said the pink-haired bandit with a wry grin and a vague hand gesture.

“A bit tricky to lug them up into treehouses,” added the red-haired one cheekily. “And no, for the record, we did not hurt Carewyn Cromwell. She may be a stick in the mud, but she’s a decent sort.”

“And brave too!” said the muscled man, beaming. “She wasn’t scared at all, not even when Merula stuck a knife in her face!”

“I was only getting fed up with her smart remarks,” huffed the magenta-eyed bandit called Merula. “You’d think she was the Queen of Sheba, with how she acts...”

“She is a proper lady, to be sure,” said the dashing bandit, shooting Carewyn a rather Casanova-like smile.

Carewyn tried to stifle a snort of laughter behind her hand as Jae approached her.

“Seems you’ll have an escort after all, Carewyn,” he said, lowering his bow with a slightly more serious look. “I don’t think I can convince you to reconsider, but under the circumstances...well, just make sure you’re careful. I’d hate to hear of Royaume losing one of its only honorable citizens due to their own stupidity.”

Carewyn inclined her head to him, her blue eyes very solemn. “I’m far from Royaume’s most honorable citizen, Jae, nor from any other country, I daresay. But thank you.”

Jae nodded. He then looked up at Orion.

“By your leave then, your Highness,” he said with an abbreviated bow.

He then nodded to the other bandits, and one by one, they all disappeared back up into the trees.

None of the people on the ground, however, gave them much mind. All of them had turned back around to face Orion -- Carewyn felt like her heart had stopped still as she stared, taking in his neat ponytail and finely tailored black doublet and hose and boots.

“...‘Your Highness?’ ” repeated Charlie, shocked.

Andre’s eyes widened. “Then...then you’re...?”

Orion swallowed, but somehow managed to keep his composure as he nodded. His eyes were locked on Carewyn’s face, never shifting and as turbulent as a black ocean.

“King Cosimo’s new heir,” KC breathed, her face flooding with fresh understanding around her amazement. “Cosimo VII.”

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

Lau - Pink Lotus Princess

(( Just a little disclaimer - I chose to find a nice name for the Reader as well, mostly because I wanted that name to be symbolic and have the meaning that I wanted it to, to be in a clear anti-thesis to her sister.

Yahui (Elegant, Graceful) Lianyi (Intelligent, Unique)

I did quite a lot of research on things from the Quig dynasty and how things were around that time...And also some influences from the phone game Royal Chaos that I used to play a year ago, more or less because the plot was pretty interesting, so I hope didn’t do any errors or stuff like that x ))

---

The whole kingdom had a reason to party as the Empress gave birth to a little Princess, and although it wasn't an heir, as everyone hoped for, they were still content with it, being his first child.

The Emperor stood by the Empress' side on her bed, stroking her hair as she smiled exhausted down at the little angelic creature she gave birth to, leaning her head on her husband's side, and at least for that night, there would be no Harem troubles.

That happiness was short lived, as the main Consort also gave birth to a little girl, a little over 2 months later, which made for everyone comparing the 2 little Princesses in everything they did.

And thus comes the story of the little Princess Lianyi, a girl of merely 10 years of age, seemingly so innocent to the world, and yet, knowing so many of the harsh realities that she witnessed or heard of from her mother, the Empress, who thought the nest birthday gift for her little Lotus was to take her in town to see the world.

Her father gifted her a beautiful pink dress with long sleeves, which she used as pockets for little coin bags and a hair pin, just in case. The maid brushed her long, beautiful hair that looked like black silk in a beautiful half-braid, the upper part being a complicated, royal braid, while the lower part she let loose, dancing to the rhythm of the gentle Spring wind.

The Empress let the girl do as she pleased, keeping an eye on her from afar, and she realised she admired the beautiful craftsmanship of various hair accessories, when she suddenly heard a huge commotion at a food stand, and a furious man furiously yelling at a boy about her age who looked terrified.

The little princess frowned and went to the booth, realising the boy must have stolen to feed himself, as he looked like an orphan, and she took out one of the little coin bags and threw them at the booth owner.

"Here, I'm sure this is enough for what he stole and some more, correct?" she spoke in a light voice, yet her eyes were unwavering. "Who tha' hell d'ya think ye are, kid?! Get outta mi sight!" the booth owner shouted at her, making her raise her chin and stare at him offended and condescending. "You dare disrespect Princess Lianyi? How unsightly! But I am merciful today, since it’s my birthday. I will give you a second chance to redeem yourself before I call over my guards." her words shocked the man as she spoke so maturely, almost as of the Emperor himself was in front of him. "Y-Yer the P-Princess...?" the man jaw-dropped, his eyes wide like saucers, before falling to his knees, bowing to the ground in front of the girl. "F-Forgive me rudeness, Yer Highness! That rat stole food and with no money, I can't take care of me own family! P-Please take anything ye'd like!" he sobbed, making the girl crouch down and pat his head awkwardly. "That's enough, I forgive you. Take the money for your family and let me take the food from here. This boy here is just a child without family. Next time you are so ride towards an orphan, imagine what would happen to your child if you were to die right now." she explained in a gentler voice, before taking the food bag and dragged the boy away to a beautiful koi fish pond that was shded by a Peach tree.

The girl lifted the hem of her dress, sitting on the ground and drawing shapes with her finger on the sheen of the crystal clear water.

"Well? Aren't you going to eat? I thought you'd be famished." she mused in a playful way. "Why...Did you help me? You're a Princess...Nobody from the royal family ever helped the homeless..." he spoke in a hushed voice, almost as if afraid. "Oh, I see you're brave. Nobody would dare drag the royal family in front of the Princess herself. Tell me your name." she smiled deviously, shifting her gaze completely to the boy. "Lau, Your Highness. My name is Lau." saying his name, a soft smile started to creep on his face. "Aww, look at you, you're smiling, how cute. Here, take this. Spend it wisely, I'm not sure when we'll be seeing each other again. Now that I practically bribed you, tell me why are you so at ease with talking to me." the Princess smirked, making the boy muse and grin wider. "You see, Princess, I can read people very well, and I can tell that you have something...Unique about you. Just like a Lotus flower. So tell me, my pink Lotus, what do you do at the palace? Sing like a little songbird for the Emperor? Or do a graceful dance for your suitors?" Lau rested his chin on his palm, looking completely at ease, fox-like features gracing his visage. "Goodness, no, that's my sister...My job at the Palace is to be the China's disappointment." she chuckled drily, looking away. "If I were a bird, I could fly away and be free...I could do anything that I wanted and nobody would judge me or treat me as an object for political means. I could discover the world and...I could be happy." she sighed, closing her beautiful jade-coloured eyes in resentment. "You are just like a butterfly, my Princess. A caged bird, trying to break free. What are you going to do?" he mused in a lower voice. "What is there to do, Lau? I'm a woman! There is nothing to do! My father is already angry enough on me for being such a weird daughter and now I have to learn how to behave, so to speak, so at least he wouldn't kill me or send me away to some nasty old man." she bit her lip without realising, before she felt a gentle hand on her face. "And what are you interests, little flower?" he asked, caressing her face. "I'm...Sneaking to the healers to study medicine. It's my passion. If I could, I would become a healer...But I can't. My fated was sealed to me the day I was brought into this world." she sighed once again, looking down. "If I could marry you, I would, and we could live our life away from all these terrible people. Isn't it sad how fate works sometimes? But I'm asking you, my dear Pink Lotus...What if we were to fight destiny?" he smirked mischievously, making her widen her eyes in disbelief. "Fight fate...? Is that even possible...?" she whispered, barely able to find her voice. "We can do anything we want to, my dearest. All we have to do is be smart about our little plans. So, what do you say? Do you want to escape your fate together with me and get away from this place? Or will you continue to be the Emperor's little doll that will get thrown away in a few years? I believe you're almost old enough to marry, am I right ~?" he slurred his words, almost as if entrancing her in his spell. "How old are you that you know so much?" she raised her eyebrow in confusion. "Barely 15, but my little sister is just a bit younger than you, and I would be devastated if she were to have such a terrible life ahead of her." he spoke with slight amusement. “How nice...You have a sister that you love...And she loves you back. I and my sister have been pitted against each other since birth. I expect death every day by either her hand or the Consort’s.” she scoffed, looking away in disgust. “Who would have thought that such beautiful ladies would be so much deadlier than war generals.” he chuckled in amusement, making the girl nudge him. “Don’t joke like that...Instead, tell me your plan.” she leaned in closer, motioning for him to tell her everything. “Hmmm...? Plan? What plan? I have no idea what are you talking about.” he shrugged simply, a wide, innocent and clueless grin on his face, making the girl look at him in complete shock. “Excuse....Me....WHAT?! You did all that build up, giving me hope that I could somehow get away from all this madness, only for you to destroy everything...Just like that?! How cruel can you be?!” she glared at him, getting to her feet, rushing to leave, before he caught her wrist, turning her to face him. “Wǒ qīn'ài de fěnhóng sè liánhuā (My dear pink lotus) ...Don’t turn your back on me like that, you’re breaking my heart. You showed me kindness, and I have to repay my debt in a way. Even if you decide to throw away your status, you’re always going to be my dear little Princess. Life works in mysterious ways, don’t forget that.” Lau caressed her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, leaving her awestruck, little beads of water glistering in her eyes. “You better not betray me, Lau, or I swear I will have you publicly executed and I will swing the sword myself.” she threatened, despite her voice being so light and shaky. “I shall remember that.” he mused, finding her words rather cute.

---

Years passed faster than anyone expected, and while Lianyi wasn’t able to go visit her friend too often, at least once per year, during her birthday, she managed to see him, thanks to her mother’s kindness, seeing her only daughter being so infatuated with the boy that treated her so gently.

Her mother only got into the Harem and accepted to marry the Emperor because her brother was a powerful War general and she was the eldest daughter of the family, so it had to be done.

She never loved the Emperor, and she wished for her daughter to find and marry a man she loves... The Empress knew from the second she gave birth to her little angel, she knew that she was special and had a great future ahead of her...But she had to be far away from this terrible place...Far away where she wasn’t a Princess and she could marry the man she fell in love with and practice healing, just as she always dreamt of.

However, the Princess’ 15th birthday gift was her mother’s death, which she realised was due to poison from the Consort, and her father arranged her marriage with the enemy War General to make a peace pact, which made her heart break and whole life shatter in front of her.

Lianyi ran to the meeting spot where Lau was waiting, this time, without his little sister, Ran Mao, with whom the girl played with or braided her hair or gave her gifts like hair pins or other nice clothes.

She threw her arms around the only person apart from her mother who showed any bit of love to her and let tears stream down her soft, porcelain like cheeks, making the man worry and put her to his chest, stroking her hair.

“What ever could have happened to make you cry, wǒ de húdié (my butterfly) ?” he asked in a gentle voice, wiping away the tears. “They killed her, Lau! Those harpies killed her! With monkswood, nonetheless! How much more cruel can they get? Don’t they realise that it’s an act of treason and they could be killed? And if that wasn’t enough, my father is sending me away to marry some 60 year old general that’s our enemy nonetheless...Next week...I don’t know what to do! I’m losing my mind!” she sobbed in his warm embrace as he tried to calm her down, but she was lost beyond reason. “My poor little Princess, so young, yet burdened with such sorrow. I wonder how you will get out of this mess.” he cooed at her, making her grit her teeth in anger. “If you’re not going to help, at least don’t be a jerk about it! I going through a crisis right now, and despite you being the only person I can rely on, you’re mocking me! I am still the Princess and with the little influence I have, I can still have you killed!” she sneered at him, pushing him away, but it only made him chuckle. “Please forgive me, my darling, it’s just...You’re just so adorable when you respond to my teasing. It just makes me want to squish your cheeks and gush over how cute you are. Here, as a way to apologise, I’ll let you braid my hair. How is that?” he unbraided his hair, letting his ebony hair that almost reached his waist fly in the soft wind. “Sure...” she muttered, sitting on the ground behind the man, gently playing with his hair, slowly letting peace wash over her. “If I run away...How will we ever see each other again? I don’t want to lose you, Lau.” she sighed, finishing the braid and hugging the man, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I would never leave my little Pink Lotus alone. This only means that we have to act sooner than expected. We shall be just like this Peach tree, blooming earlier than our time, but just as beautiful. Lianyi, my darling, will you listen to what I have to say?” he got up, helping the girl stand as well, putting his hands on her pale face, looking deep into her jade-like eyes, feeling his heart warmer as he noticed how divine she looked with her face rosy, in the divine light of Mother Moon. “Of course I will listen to you.” she spoke breathlessly, gazing shyly into his dark eyes. “Then follow your instincts and know that even if you don’t see me next to you, I am still guiding you from the shadows, and soon, we will see each other again when you least expect it. I made a promise with you and I intend to keep it. If you stay around me for now, you will be in grave danger, and I will not allow that to happen.” he spoke firmly, letting her know he wasn’t being playful, as usual. “What have you gotten yourself into...?” she frowned in worry. “Nothing that you should worry over, wǒ qīn'ài de xiǎo gōngzhǔ ( my dear little princess ).” he soothed her gently, letting his sleeve fall down a bit down, revealing a dragon tattoo. “Oh, Lau...Please be safe. I don’t know what I’d do if I knew something happened to you.” she pleaded with her eyes, glimmering like jewels in the light, making the brunet man smile gently at her, tracing her soft, luscious lips resembling the petals of a pink lotus, with his thumb. “I promise you that we will both be okay, if you promise me you’ll still love me so beautifully when we see each other again. No matter what happens, never lose this innocence of yours, my dear.” speaking so softly, he put a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Why is a man so invested with a woman? Surely you realise I won’t be a Princess anymore when we next see each other. So...Why...Do you behave so differently from everyone else...?” she raised her eyebrow in naive confusion. “I imagine for you, this feeling would be foreign, but I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to spend my life with you. Now, should we seal this promise of ours?” he smiled softly at her, raising her face to gaze at him. “How...?” she asked in that sweet voice that sent shivers down his spine.

There was no need for an answer, for Lau slowly leaned in, capturing her lips softly, pulling her closer to him, before pulling apart and gazing into her eyes, seeing stars and love.

He had never seen such a pure and lovely person in his life, especially one to show him such warm and genuine emotions, and over these 5 years they spent together, his love and need to protect her only grew more and more.

He didn’t know how long he will have to be away from her, nor did he know if he was going to survive being a top official of Qing Bang, and more, quickly reaching up the ladder and being close to becoming the manager of the Shanghai trading company, and very soon, having to move to Great Britain and extend his influence there.

Lau’s life has always been unpredictable and dangerous, so until he somehow manages to settle in a more relaxed environment where he’s sure no assassin may attack or use her as bait or bribe, there was no way he could have her around any longer.

He was an ambitious man, he wanted to be so much more than a street rat, he wanted money, he wanted luxury and riches, he wanted the world, he wanted to indulge in sins...

He wanted everything.

And he WILL get everything.

---

While Lau was busy making a name for himself, the girl was forced to dance for her soon to be husband, who was nothing less than a lecherous scum of a human being.

She was fed up, she’s had enough of this life.

She was going to end it all.

She was finally going to take the reigns of her fate in her hands.

Nobody was going to control her anymore.

She followed the advice that her mother gave her on her deathbed, took her trusted servant with her, and ran away on a horse, disguising herself as a man and acting as a travelling healer.

She already had enough money at her, courtesy of her mother’s shrewdness, so for the rest 5 or so years, she lived peacefully with her servant in a decent home, working as a physician at a smaller palace.

But due to a series of unfortunate events, she was found out and she was Physician Yi no more, but a woman once again, who was not allowed to work as a healer. What was even worse, was that the Lord of the palace forced her to join his harem, otherwise she would get executed for treason, all while they killed her servant in an attempt to warn her.

But she wasn’t going to let men take control of her life again.

That night, she created a poison and dipped her hair pin needle in it, killing the guards that stood by the gate, leaving with her horse far, far away.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was to arrive to a ship that was sailing to England, so she decided to change her fate completely, with no regrets, and see if maybe other continents, other countries, would treat her better.

The whole thing was a mess and the living conditions on the ship were horrible, but she wasn’t Princess Lianyi anymore, nor was she Physician Yi, so she couldn’t afford to complain, and nor she could afford to give any money away recklessly.

She arrived at what she would find out is called East End - London, where poor Oriental people would try to find work...But she wasn’t going to do any physical work. She wasn’t strong enough, she knew her strengths, and that wasn’t one, so she started searching around for physicians and doctors where she could work, of course, disguised as a man, but nobody would hire her without a proper license.

She was going to give up and look for an inn to rest at, when she stumbled upon a Mortician parlor, and thought it wouldn’t be too bad to work there - Better than nowhere, at least, so she knocked on the door, entering nervously.

She was met by a creepy laugh and a man with long silvery hair coming out of a coffin, grinning carefree at her, asking her what she was looking for, and as soon as the man heard she was looking for work, addressing to herself as a man, instead of a woman, he started laughing, which slightly freaked her out.

“Darling, I understand you had to worry about being a woman, out there, but here, you don’t have to hide anymore. I will hire you regardless. I have a spare room here, not that I was expecting to hire anyone, but it sure comes in handy.” he spoke in a low, playful voice, taking away the hat from her head and letting her beautiful, long, ebony hair cascade down her back. “Is it...Really no problem...At all...? No catch? Nothing? Just your heart’s kindness?” she asked in a broken English. “Hmm...I suppose I’ll have to teach you proper English, but that’s no problem at all. You see...I have a few special people that I know and I don’t charge them money, but something much more important in these grim days. It’s laughs. And dear, your attempt at imitating a man, no matter how cute that was, failed. I wonder if it failed because I already know a Chinese man...Who knows?” he giggled, lifting her face up to inspect her. “If you don’t want money, what do you want? And who’s this Chinese man that you’re speaking of?” she asked, hoping, at least for a second, that this is the fate Lau was talking about. “Tell me your story, and you won’t have anything to worry about. You, little mouse, piqued my interest. And the man I’m speaking of usually walks around a little guard dog...I’m sure he’ll come around sooner or later, and you’ll see him yourself.” he explained, intertwining his fingers together. “...I am Princess Lianyi, the Emperor’s and the Empress’ only child. I ran away from home 5 years ago when I got fed up with being used like a doll, married off and mistreated, only for political reasons, and I decided to pursue my dreams. However...I’m not sure if I can settle with only being a healer. I want to kill the Emperor for treating me that way, despite being his first child, and I want to kill his Consort and their daughter for poisoning my mother. If they are dead, then I can be Empress and nobody would dare pressure me again.” she spoke timidly, knowing very well that her ambitions were far beyond reason. “What a marvelous story! To think I’d find myself in the grace of a Princess with such dark ambitions! Hehehe, that’s rather amusing! Don’t worry, little mouse, I will help you with anything I can. You can wear any outfit you wish, it may bring some colour to this gloom place. After all, the beauty of life is like a blooming flower, isn’t it?” the Undertaker hummed, stroking a strand of her hair. “Pink Lotus...That’s what someone special used to call me...Never mind that. Thank you, Undertaker, for your kindness. I truly appreciate it.” she spoke in a soft voice, bowing slightly, not knowing the customs of this new place.

No matter that, however, for the Undertaker was there to teach her everything she needed, be it the language, the customs or medicine, which in this place was so different, yet incredibly efficient.

She quickly learnt of his connection with the underworld and how, before, he meant that people come to him to buy information and this was mostly a facade hobby of sorts.

The Undertaker, for some reason, never called her by her name, but by random nicknames, only using “Pink Lotus” when there was something more important, knowing how many emotions that would bring to her. He would, however, use “Physician Yi” when referring to her in public, not wanting to potentially give away her identity, but also, playfully mocking her 5 years of living as a man, which would greatly annoy the girl and would either glare at the silver haired man, or throw a dog biscuit at him.

Weeks and months passed rather fast and working for the mortician became a rather pleasant routine, until a certain dog bark disturbed their peace.

She was in the back, preparing a tray of tea, before fixing her pink outfit and gold hair accessories, and putting the tray in front of the Undertaker’s table, not sparing any glance for the new comers.

“Wonderful as usual, my dear. This is the guard dog I was telling you about. Isn’t he cute?” the silver haired man giggled, but she only glared at him, remaining silent. “I wouldn’t have expected you to hire Chinese servants who can’t speak English.” the midget smirked, irritating the girl, who cursed him in Chinese, barely audible. “Tiān nǎ (goodness gracious), how amusing!” the Chinese man chuckled dramatically. “What did she say?!” the dark haired child raised his voice impatiently. “Oh, I wonder...!” he smiled deviously, which made her raise her eyebrow at him in confusion. “Do you need me for anything else, Undertaker? Or can I go back to my work? I don’t fancy wasting time with meaningless things, like you.” she spoke in a harsh voice, looking down at him, like a true Empress would. “Well, I was thinking you could present our guests our newest case! As Physician Yi, I’m sure you’d find some joy in showing your expertise, wouldn’t you?” he teased, making the girl harden her glare. “How pathetic. Besides, why should I help them? Jack the Ripper case solved or not, there’s nothing in it for me, is it? I’m not here to do charity work.” she crossed her arms, scoffing. “Ohhh, I see! Then, darling, what is your price? Or do you want jewelry? Fine clothes? Just name it, and in exchange for your services, it’s all yours!” the Chinese man walked in front of her, grinning just like a fox. “Kill the Emperor for me, and I’ll tell you everything.” she matched his grin, her face glowing with a poisonous and fake innocence, leaving the man open his eyes in shock. “...Eh?” he managed to blurt out, certainly caught off guard. “HA! Never mind that, your dumb face was enough to pay me.” she laughed patronising, making the man stare at her in shock, not knowing what to say. “Gods, you’re just like him...” the kid muttered in annoyance. “If you don’t mind...All of the victims were female prostitutes and all of them had a missing, representative organ. If you haven't guessed by now, it's the uterus. It's been carefully taken away. One might conclude that, despite being few people on the streets at night, the culprit has at least the minimum anatomical knowledge, to perform such a clean and specific organ removal...In pitch black.” the girl explains simply and professionally, as if she wasn’t trash-talking them just a second earlier. "Very well, my dear Pink Lotus, you did your homework well~!” the Undertaker chuckled, making the girl hit his chair, making him fall off, in a fit of rage. “How many times must I tell you NEVER to call me that? You’re incurable.” she gritted her teeth in anger, before leaving the parlor.

What she wasn’t aware of was that, for a few seconds, the talk of the day was still about her.

“Why would you get such an irritating servant?” Ciel rolled his eyes in annoyance. “She’s not my servant, Earl. You could say she’s my little apprentice, but it was her who came so timidly at me, asking to be hired, since no one would hire a healer without a license. Poor thing, and she’s such a brilliant young girl.” the mortician commented with a vague smile on his face. “I would say, Young Lord, that you’re not as amiable as you think you are.” Lau teased the young boy, who gasped, offended. “What did you say?!” he glared at his associate with such hatred. “People who had bad things happen to them don’t act as they feel. You should know that by now, shouldn’t you?” he explained, extending his arms to his sides. “Does that mean that you know who she is or what she’s been through or what?” the dark haired child raised his eyebrow questioningly. “I have no clue.” Lau deadpanned, leaving everyone facepalming. “Undertaker, would it be too much to ask you to let me hire your little assistant for a week or 2? I promise I’ll bring her back home safe and there’s no underground business involved.” he averted his gaze to the Undertaker, his heart beating faster after seeing the girl. “If she accepts, who am I to come between the work of fate?” the man hinted, making Lau grin even wider.

It was all he needed to be sure that the girl that made a fool of him was actually the little Princess he loved so much. Oh, how she matured! Alas, she had to experience so many terrible things to make her so cold and harsh, unlike before!

But it’s no problem, he was going to heal her - After all, his little Pink Lotus mustn’t hold so much hatred towards the world! She should just be happy in indulge in anything that would make her smile! Let him bear the darkness of the world and worry about tomorrow.

---

After a bit of pushing from the Undertaker, seeing how uncertain she was, but she followed the man to his home, which she found out was above an underground opium den, which only made her even more reluctant to her next steps, but him putting his arm around her only made her feel a strange feeling of reassurance.

Is this Lau? Is this really HER Lau?

But what happened to him? His clothes changed...He even cut his hair...She wondered why would he have such short hair? And more, where his little sister would be?

She was afraid to ask anything, and was rather timid in replying to any of his trivial questions, until they got this his room, after he gave her a tour of the whole place, except the den, saying a lovely lady like her shouldn’t be exposed, at least right away, to drugs and dirty business.

“So, uhm...Why did you really call me here? I’m sure it wasn’t so you would give me a tour of your house or tell me what you do for a living.” she asked, shifting in place, not looking at him. “Why, my dear Pink Lotus, should I feel hurt that you don’t recognise me? Although, I have to say, so many years passed...And you became even more beautiful than before...I didn’t think that would be possible...Princess Lianyi.” he spoke in a low, fox-like voice, as he leaned down to her height, as she was so much smaller and delicate compared to him. “I...I did suspect it was you, but...Your hair...And Ran Mao...And...And your clothes...” she stammered over her words, looking down, her face warming up from emotion. “Only details, my dear. Besides, Ran Mao is here, at home, and she’s eager to see you as well. But until then, my darling, shouldn’t you tell me how much you missed me?” Lau grinned, extending his arms towards her, expecting a hug. “Did...You...Miss me...? Just like you said you would...?” she whispered, looking up at him with teary eyes, barely able to stop herself from jumping on him and never letting go. “You were on my mind every day so far.” he spoke gently, seeing her bottom lip quivering as she threw herself at him, holding him as tightly as her delicate arms could. “Don’t leave me again, Lau. It’s so terrible being alone, in such a huge world...” she managed to say, as she felt herself being picked up and gently laid on the bed. “I’m going nowhere, my dear. I made a promise with you, and my feelings haven’t changed. If anything, they’re more powerful than before.” he put a hand on her cheek, looking down at her, before putting his forehead to hers, while his other hand had his fingers intertwined with hers. “I love you so much, Lau...So much...I missed you...All this time you were away...” she closed her eyes briefly, as she felt his lips on hers, the electrifying feeling surging through her veins, just as it did the first time they kissed, many years ago. “Lianyi...Will you marry me? My life has been tied to the underworld for more years than I can remember, and no matter how much I want to keep you away from that, I can’t stay away from you. I’m no angel like you, and you deserve to be happy, but I can’t keep you away from all dangers and darkness.” he confessed, his voice serious, trying to bring her back to reality. “You...You’ve never called me by my name before...I...I would want nothing more than to stay by your side, no matter what. I don’t care what you’ve got yourself into, I just want to be with you. Yes, Lau, I’ll marry you, I’d love nothing more than to be able to stay in your arms and love you.” she put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her in another kiss.

But just as they kissed again, the bedroom door opened, revealing Ran Mao looking at them with the same serene look as usual, making the princess push Lau to the side and throw herself at the girl that grew into such a fine, beautiful lady...But what the hell was she wearing...?!

“It’s nice to see you again, Lianyi.” she said, patting her back. “Ran Mao, goodness, I missed you so much...But what are you wearing?! Lau, why would you let her wear something so revealing?!” the princess freaked out, her face bright red in embarrassment. “This is the new fashion, my dear! Combining traditional with modern, we created the Cheongsam! All the girls below in the opium den are wearing it! It’s rather alluring, don’t you think?” Lau chuckled in amusement, putting his hands on her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. “But...But...But...” she stuttered, not knowing what to say. “We have one for you. It’s green with golden thread patterns, to highlight your eyes.” Ran Mao explained, going to fetch the dress, and seeing how short it was, the girl could feel her knees weakening. “I can’t wear that! That’s too revealing! Wh-What...W-Wait, Ran Mao, where are you pulling me?!” the girl pulled her in another room, alone, where she started quickly undressing her and helping her into the new dress, just a bit shorter than knee-length. “You’re beautiful. Now go, Lau is eager to see you.” Ran Mao dragged the flustered girl and pushed her back to the bedroom, as she could only hide her face in her hands. “My, my, what a gorgeous little Pink Lotus. Come here, my darling. I will show you how much I missed you.” Lau watched her shyly approach him, like a little lamb, before catching her wrists and putting her on his lap with the same teasing grin on his face. “This...This is so...Embarrassing...” she clutched her fingers on his messed up blouse as she hid her face in the crook of his shoulder. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing in my life, Lianyi, and your shyness only makes you more endearing...It only makes me want you more. You managed to keep the same sweet and pure innocence, just as I thought you would...Wǒ ài nǐ (I love you) , my dear Pink Lotus Princess.” he spoke, slowly tracing her legs, making his way up to her sides, her arms, before touching her face and bringing her in for a more passionate kiss that sent fire through her system. "I love you so much, Lau. I don’t care what you’ve got yourself into, but I will always stay by your side. Forever. I want to help you and support you with anything I can, just as you did for me.” she confessed, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. “How would you feel helping me with the girls? That’s the least risky thing I can let you handle. But nonetheless, it would let us spend more time together, if that is what you truly wish.” he smiled vaguely, planting more and more kisses all over her face. “That would make me very happy.” she smiled, letting herself get lost in the warmth and love she felt, feeling their hearts beating so fast and in sync, as if they were one.

Who would have thought that fate would play such an important role in their life...They fought it, they escaped fate, only to let destiny reunite them both, just as the red string of fate would always bring them back together, nothing able to stop them.

Finally, they were in control of their own life.

They were together.

#kuroshitsuji imagine #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #black butler x reader #black butler imagine #black butler #lau #lau x reader #lau imagine #kuroshitsuji lau x reader #kuroshitsuji lau imagine #kuroshitsuji lau #black butler lau x reader #black butler lau imagine #black butler lau #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #undertaker

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anistarrose · 4 years

Text

Counting the Days (Gravity Falls)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/24739027

Summary: Ford stops acknowledging his birthday during his time in the portal.

Characters: Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Warnings: some morbid thoughts about aging and death, general angst but there’s a happy ending

Been a while since I returned to my “angsty GF one-shot with a happy ending” roots, huh? And there’s no better day than June 15th to change that :)

@thestanbros, I guess this counts for Week 2: Birthday!

***

Ford carefully counts the years he spends traveling between dimensions — he has to, he’s decided, in order to stay sane. He can’t lose sight of what he’s fighting for, or how long he’s been fighting for it. It’s his anchor to reality in an infinite, incomprehensible multiverse — he could be (and has been) lost in space, but he will never be lost in time. He could be marooned in the abyss at the bottom of an alien sea, but he’d still never lose sight of his goal or of everything he’s accomplished so far.

It’s been five, ten, fifteen years since the betrayal, since the postcard, since falling — and each year further reinforces his resolve. He’s survived this long, he has to make it worth something.

But somewhere along the line, Ford stops acknowledging his birthday.

It’s not because of a grudge against Stan. He’s angry, he thinks he’ll always be angry, but he was angry with Stan throughout his early adulthood on Earth, and he still celebrated his birthday back then. He tried to separate the date of June 15th from his thoughts of Stan, failed more often than not, and blamed the sickening lonely feeling in his gut on eating too much cake, but he acknowledged it nonetheless — until now.

“Now” is somewhere around the time his hair stops being brown with a few streaks of gray, and starts looking more gray with a faint hint of brown, when he stops celebrating the passage of the years. It’s somewhere in his late forties when he looks in the mirror on the morning of his birthday, and a thought hits him like a neutrino blast to the chest — his age and his experience are working for him right now, but they’ll be working against him soon.

His mission to defeat Bill is running against an invisible countdown timer, manifesting not in numbers, but in the aching of his joints and the slowing of his reflexes. At best, he figures, he has about twenty-five years before the last few silent ticks of that timer close in on him — and that’s only the most generous of estimates.

He thinks of the people he’s met across the multiverse, the people he’s promised to save by assassinating their triangular, demonic dictator. He wonders what they’ll think if unbeknownst to them, he dies of old age (or reflexes that fail him, or a wit that’s not quite as sharp as it used to be, or an infection he would’ve easily fought off as a younger man — it’s all the same, in the end). He wonders what they’ll think after putting their faith in him for years, only for freedom to never come. If they’ll think he’s just given up. If they’ll feel betrayed. If they even realized the implications of Ford being a human, short-lived among the smartest species of the multiverse, or if they even knew how short human lifespans were in the first place.

He stops acknowledging his birthday, once he starts wondering those things.

***

Worlds away, but on the very same June 15th, a man weathers out a thunderstorm in the basement of his house, navigating the laboratory by candlelight and praying the power surge and subsequent blackout haven’t damaged the portal.

He thinks (hopes) that he’s in the clear, because he thankfully doesn’t see any blown circuits, but he can’t be sure. He’s never been sure how the workings of the portal are supposed to look when operational — that’s what all his biggest problems boil down to, in the end.

Stan rests the candle on his desk — in the blackout, he hadn’t been able to find his usually-reliable gas lantern — and pulls out the journal. He winces as he sees his reflection in the golden hand — more shadow than face, thanks to the flickering candlelight, but Stan has spent enough time looking in mirrors to fill in the gaps.

He hopes Ford is aging better than he is, wherever Ford is. At this rate, they’ll both be decrepit by the time they see each other again…

If we ever do.

Stan’s spent enough nights alone in the basement with his fears to know that this train of thoughts isn’t going anywhere good, but it’s already accelerated past his ability to halt.

Stan hasn’t seen a doctor in decades. There is a realistic chance that Ford, despite facing unimaginable peril in an alien dimension, will still outlive him. And if Stan can’t reactivate the portal before his health fails him… then what will Ford think?

Will he assume Stan had tried his best and failed, even the most basic principles of the portal’s operation flying completely over his head? Or will he just figure Stan had abandoned him, giving up at the first sign of difficulty, and in the process betraying his brother once again?

Stan looks at his watch, barely readable in the dim light, and realizes not just that it’s past midnight, but that it’s already been the 15th for several hours.

He trudges into the portal room, holding the candle at arms length and the journal close to his chest, then sits down on the cold earth floor, the muffled roar of thunder sounding off overhead.

“Happy birthday, Sixer,” he whispers, and blows out the candle. “I’m trying my best, I promise.”

He sits there in the darkness for a long time, until the storm outside calms and the lights finally flicker back on.

***

Stan and Ford are heading into the living room, carrying reels of film and other family memorabilia, when Mabel ambushes them with a confetti cannon in one hand and a can of silly string in the other.

“Happy birthday, you two!”

“Whoa, what?” Stan brushes silly string off the photo album he’s holding. “Our birthday’s in June. Who told you it was today?”

“If anything, you should be saving this confetti for your own birthday festivities,” Ford adds.

“We know it was in June,” Dipper speaks up from the other side of the room, from which he’s carrying in a precariously balanced tray of cupcakes, “but Mabel and I were talking yesterday, and we realized you guys missed out on spending a whole bunch of birthdays together.”

“So we’re fixing that!” Mabel explains. “Today is the first of your many Bonus Birthdays, which you get to share because you’re actually in the same house and the same dimension and everything!”

“Any day from now on could turn out to be a Bonus Birthday,” Dipper adds with a grave nod. “Bonus Birthdays have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect them.”

Ford slowly shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “And who gets to declare whether a given day is a Bonus Birthday or not?”

“That’s our job, of course!” Mabel answers. “We might not be able to bake you cupcakes once we’re back in California, but I’m sure we’ll still be chatting online, so we’ll keep you updated on when you need to drop everything and celebrate together!”

“Kids, I —” Stan’s voice fails him. “I can’t believe — you didn’t have to —”

Ford wipes his eyes. “It’s okay, Stan. They already know you’re a sentimental old man.”

“You’re one to talk, Sixer.” Stan sets down his photo album to hug Mabel, and Ford does the same to hug Dipper.

“This means… this means so much more than I even think I could explain,” Ford murmurs. “Thank you for doing this, kids.”

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #stan twins birthday #rosalia writes fic

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

Hush Now

I accidentally deleted the request, but anon asked for “Kili saving human Reader who’s usually very brave from something which terrified her a lot.” I changed it up a bit and its story heavy. But here we go!

Kili x Reader

Trigger warning: Mentioned character death

Throughout your life you’ve always had to be strong.

When your father died, you stayed strong so your mother didn’t have to.

When your mother fell to sickness, you stayed strong so your sister didn’t have to.

When your sister sold you out for a reward of 200 gold pieces, you stayed strong so she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that she completely destroyed you.

After you and your sister were left as impoverished orphans, you took to a life of crime to make sure she would always have something to eat. Not just crime, though, for you also sold your services as a mercenary amongst… other things.

You had learned how to kill at the prime age of 15, and very quickly after that did your skills polish into something that even a grown man would fear if he knew what you were capable of.

You’d done everything for her. You’d sold yourself, your dignity, your innocence of the blade, everything. And after you had no more to give, she tossed you aside for barely enough to last her 6 months.

The look she gave you that day, that apathetic stare as you were dragged away, shattered your heart into a million pieces, and it wasn’t until later when you’d killed the guards and fled from the city that you actually sat down and cried.

Despite the tragic nature of your past, though, there is no dramatic revenge plot or motivation to hunt her down. There is no desire to make her pay or see her suffer, for you released all of these feelings of contempt years ago.

A part of you wonders from time to time if she knew you would escape. If she, perhaps, sold you out for such a small amount so you would be freed from watching over her and catering to her. That, maybe, if you were to search for her, then she would smile and tell you how much she missed you, how sorry she was for not telling you of her plans.

You know those are just the fantasies of a foolish girl holding onto the image of a sweet 9 year old, clutching your leg and asking when your next meal will be and telling you how she never wants you to leave her. It’s just your mind clutching onto the past, wanting to smooth over the trauma and pain that you go through thinking of her every day…

Though, in another regard you might also thank her.

If it weren’t for her treachery, you would’ve never met him.

After you abandoned your home town and became a full time rouge and sword for hire, you were sought out by a greying old man who claimed to be a wizard named Gandalf.

He offered you a 15th share in a mountain full of riches and the opportunity to help reunite a king with his castle.

It all seemed far fetched and kinda ridiculous, but he paid you a handsome amount up front so you agreed. And then it turned out that he wasn’t lying, for not even a week later do you meet this king in a wonderful town called the Shire.

This Thorin was reluctant to allow you on the quest, but upon the instance and praise of Gandalf, he agreed.

His youngest nephew, Kili, caught your eye right away.

He is, not only, rather tall for a dwarf, but he’s quite cute by human’s standards too. Not to mention the fact that he approached you first with a big goofy smile on his face and curiosity in his eyes.

The two of you got along rather easily, and for the first time since you became a devout mercenary and rouge, you found that you could trust someone.

Trusting someone other than yourself is not easy, though, and there are many moments in which you doubt that trust when the more paranoid part of your mind whispers how he’ll betray you; but your fondness for this dwarf wins out for you in the end.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry or heard you complain before.” Kili comments suddenly, successfully snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You look down at him from your horse and raise an eyebrow, “Are you saying you wish to see me cry?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant at all!” He stutters when you seem to take his words the wrong way, “I only meant to say that you… come across as very impassive and restrained. Like when you got stabbed in the arm, you didn’t so much as utter one ‘ow’."

He has a point, you realize, but it’s only become so natural for you to keep it all inside that you barely noticed, "I’ll have you know I did cry, it was just very quiet."

It looks like he doesn’t believe you.

"Really, it’s true. It hurt horribly, but I waited until Oin was done so my tears wouldn’t bother him.” Saying it out loud makes you feel silly and a little weird, and you wonder why you even told him in the first place.

“Are you telling me you didn’t cry because it would unnerve our healer?” He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Well when you say it like that…” You grumble, unconsciously reaching up to rub where the healing wound is.

“I don’t mean to judge you, Y/N, I’m only curious.” He adds quickly, having his pony move a bit faster for a moment so he can get a peek at your face. “You seem to be rather fearless, I don’t think even my uncle could intimidate you."

His words draw a laugh from your lips, and you look down at him with amusement sparkling in your eyes, "Everyone is afraid of something, Kili."

"Then what are you afraid of?”

An innocent question, but one you don’t much want to answer.

You force your smile to stay on your face and reply rather slyly, “Nothing other than Dwalin’s smell."

"I heard that!” Said dwarf grumbles angrily not too far behind you.

Kili stares at you for a few moments, clearly not believing you but not pressing on it any more.

Honestly, you have no idea how he does that. He can read you like a book; somehow always knowing when you’re holding something back while also being able to tell what you’re feeling at any moment.

But for some reason, you don’t really dislike having someone know you so well.

“We’re going to be at the Misty Mountains soon enough, do you think we’ll get a chance to stop at a town?” You ask suddenly, looking down at him again.

“Yes, actually. My uncle had this part mapped out with Gandalf.”

Well, that’s a relief.

—

The group did end up stopping at a town, and let me just say, finally getting a chance to sleep on a soft, warm bed after being condemned to the ground for so long is a glorious experience.

You slept pretty well that night, and at around 5 in the morning you get up as per usual.

You’ve always been an early riser, or maybe paranoid sleeper is a better way to describe it. Your body has adapted to less sleep, and it got to the point where you just can’t stay asleep much later than 6 on any given day.

Anyway, you get up early and decide to browse around the town for anything you may want or need, and for the better part of the next hour while you wait for your friends to awake, you idly wander and enjoy the tranquility of the morning.

Everything is wonderful and calm… until it isn’t.

At first, you thought you had imagined it.

The sudden flash of a figure in your peripherals, but when you turned there was nothing. And then when you turned a corner, there was a flash of familiar (h/c) hair that whipped past. Your hairs began to stand on end, and you knew right away that you were being watched.

You thought that perhaps someone saw you and was planning to rob or assault you, but you knew you could take whoever it is if that were the case.

And then you saw her.

For real this time, head on with no blur or fuzzy images.

There she stood in front of you, her expression blank and body frozen in place, her face the exact same as you remember it from all those years ago.

You breathe her name in disbelief, taking a few steps back. It can’t be real, maybe you’re still dreaming?

“You’re a hard woman to find.” She states softly in that sweet voice you could never forget.

“Y-You were looking for me?” You stutter with, dare you say, hope, hand falling from your weapon while you look on in shock.

“I was.” Is her only reply.

It’s as if your brain has stopped working and you can no longer form a coherent thought or phrase, but you do eventually stammer out, “It’s been so long…"

She doesn’t reply, and you suddenly feel unnerved.

"Why were you looking for me?"

She still says nothing, her gaze burning into you like the sun on a hot summer morning and her face unmoving.

And then she steps forward, but you don’t move and let her get close.

"I’m going to get a lot more than 200 coins for you, this time.” She whispers, reaching up to press her palm to your face.

You know what she means, but for some reason your feet won’t let you move. It’s as if your feet are glued to the ground and knees locked tight. You continue to stare into her eyes, seeing nothing there like the day she let those guards drag you away.

Her movements are fast, and before you can even open your mouth her dagger is sticking into your neck.

You sit up with a loud gasp, hand flying to your throat as you frantically look around the room.

It all floods back to you, and you realize that it was only a dream. That you made it out of the town with your throat intact and never having seen your sister.

That you all faced those god awful goblins and ended up here at some point.

For the first time in your 10 years of isolation, you want to cry.

To scream and break things, to pull out your hair and hurt someone.

To find her and hurt her for what she did to you all those years ago.

This line of thinking shocks you to your very core, and you reach up without a second thought and rub your face roughly, willing the thoughts to disappear.

You haven’t had a dream like this in years, and you have no idea what’s prompted it now.

When your eyes begin to burn and a lump settles in your throat, you jump to your feet and hurriedly go to another room so you can sort it out away from prying ears and eyes, only your sudden jerking awake alerted someone else to your state of distress.

Once you’re isolated in another room, you begin to pace back and fourth quickly with you hands tangled in your hair.

No matter how much you will the tears to evaporate and for your breathing to calm, though, they remain. Very soon do those unshed tears begin to stream down your face in long wet streams, and your breathing becomes more ragged as hyperventilation starts.

And then you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N…?"

Your shoulders stiffen and you resist the urge to turn towards that ever familiar voice, your hands shaking at your sides as you clench them into fists.

"You shouldn’t be here, Kili.” You say softly, your voice thick with emotion and not as strong as you’d like for it to be.

There is no response, but you hear him approach carefully. He’s very good at keeping himself quiet, you’ve noticed, but your ears are trained to hear every little thing, so naturally you can hear him quite clearly.

“Are… you crying?” He asks slowly, now standing right next to you.

“No.” You deny a bit stronger this time, turning your face away sharply so that he won’t get a peek at your tear stained face.

Once again there is silence (a much longer stretch of it this time), and for a moment you think he may have even left without you noticing; but when you look back, he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face,

Right away you reach up and rub at the tear streaks staining your face, and a deep set frown settles on your face, “I’m fine."

Pain flashes across his face at your assurance of being alright, and if it weren’t for the fact that he could see you, he probably would’ve believed it too.

"You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” He asks just as quietly, placing a hand on your arm lightly.

“…No.” You mumble after some time, sighing heavily as you move away to settle into a pile of hay with your back to the wall and your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like a shield or self hug.

Kili follows you without hesitation and sits next to you, his leg pressing against yours while you both descend into silence once more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers in that same soft, sweet voice of his, reaching up to rub your arm reassuringly. “You don’t have to."

For some reason, you actually kind of want to.

"I told you about my upbringing, didn’t I?” You answer his question with a question and feel no remorse for it. “And of my sister?"

He nods his head and drops his hand back into his lap, looking up at you with the smallest of smiles on his face.

"I haven’t really thought about any of that in a while, you see. Not to say that I don’t think of it every day, but I more so mean the feelings I had then, how it felt and all the anger I once had.” You pause and shake your head, “I’m not making any sense."

"No, I understand. And even if I didn’t, it’s your story to tell, so you tell it how you wish."

You nod your head at that and continue, "I had a dream…,” you begin with a softer voice this time, your fingers digging into your arms while you huge yourself, “Of my sister. Of her finding me, having fallen onto the same wretched path as I, and killing me. Sticking me in the throat with a knife like a pig being bled out for a feast, telling me that she’ll be awarded much more for me this time around as if I were some sort of merchandise that she was selling.” You spit out the similes like they taste bad in your mouth, and you unconsciously hold yourself tighter as you remember the night terror.

Long silences are very quickly becoming a trend, for once more the only thing filling the air at the moment is the quiet that wraps around the both of you.

“That’s why you’re crying?" The dwarf inquires compassionately, looking over at you with a frown of his own and sadness shinning in his eyes.

"I’m not crying anymore.” You grumble, only to realize that tears have, in fact, begun to shed tears once more. “O-Oh…"

Before you can reach up and dispel the salty droplets of your sorrows from your eyes, two hands come up to cup the sides of your face while two matching thumbs smooth across your wet cheeks to do it for you.

This time he wears a small, sympathetic smile, and once he wipes all your tears away he keeps his hands as they are. "I cannot pretend to know what you go through or how that night terror made you feel, but… I do understand. What you’ve had to endure throughout your life has shaped who you are now, and while I would not trade who you are for anything, I do wish that I could do something to ease your pain."

His fingers continue to smooth along your cheek gently, and you find that you can’t help it when your eyes slide shut and you lean into the warmth of his hands.

With delicate movements, you reach up and place one of your hands over his, sighing through your nose before opening your eyes again to look at him.

"Thank you for saying that, Kili.” You breathe with a small smile upturning the corners of your lips.

When you smile his own brightens and he says more joyfully this time, “Of course. And know that I meant every word of it."

Slowly you slot your hand against his own until you’re holding it, and then it rests between the two of you while you engage in some sort of odd, intimate stare down.

And then you lean forward and press a light kiss against his cheek, brightening when you see his face turn slightly red.

"I meant that, too.” You reply cheekily, forgetting your sorrows for a moment while you just enjoy the company of this wonderful dwarf.

“And I mean this.” He shoots back before pecking your lips gently.

This time it’s your turn to become flustered, but you still smile and allow yourself to laugh.

“Thank you."

#kili durin #fanfic #fluff #reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #kili #kili fluff #kili x reader #reader insert #comfort #the company of thorin oakenshield #request #anon

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