#interrupting each other half the time and acting like they have no capacity for thought like acting shocked when somebody says something

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fic

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

#chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans blurb #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel #captain america #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber fluff #Chris Evans angst

[ouyangzizhensdad]

I just saw a post saying nhs has an inferiority complex and I'm?? Confused?? I always thought he was fine with being weaker in terms of cultivation, maybe I missed something

Hi anon,

I have to say, I struggle as well to figure out where people are getting this from the text. I think, oftentimes, people don't actually pay attention to what the text provides us in terms of characterisation as a whole, but take elements of what makes the character or which happens to them and simply extrapolate how they themselves would feel in that situation as a means of understanding the character. I can easily imagine how a reader would think: wow, if I had low cultivation in a world that values it (and within a clan that values strength even more so!) and a brother who was not only super strong and admired but who wanted me to fit into that role, and then found myself having to fill his shoes after his sudden death, I'd feel some sort of inferiority complex. I think that's the same reason you see so much people insisting WWX has self-esteem issues.

The thing about NHS is that, as a youth, we never saw him value high cultivation or "academic" achievements (not sure how to otherwise call his time at CR but there is probably a better word for it) or brute strength. He's afraid of consequences from his brother for failing at the CR, as we see here:

Although the brothers were not born from the same mother, their relationship was quite solid. Nie Mingjue had always taught his younger brother with extreme harshness, particularly caring for his studies. This was why, even though Nie Huaisang respected his older brother, he was the most scared of Nie Mingjue mentioning his schoolwork.

and here:

Although he didn’t understand a single bit as he listened in class, Nie Huaisang worked as hard as a slave when the date of the test approached. He copied Virtue two times for Wei Wuxian, and begged before the test, “Please, Wei-xiong, if my grade is lower than yi, my brother would really break my legs! Stuff like telling apart direct lineage, collateral lineage, main clan, clan branches… For us disciples from big clans, we can’t even distinguish our relationships with our own relatives, randomly calling everyone who are more than two tiers away from us aunts and uncles. Does anyone have enough capacity in their brain to remember those of other clans?!”

After thinking for a few moments, an expression of envy and yearning appeared on Nie Huaisang’s face, “To be honest, Wei-xiong’s words were quite interesting. Spiritual energy can only be obtained through cultivation and taking great pains to form a golden core (金丹). It would take I-don’t-know-how-many years to do, especially for someone like me, whose talent seems as if it was gnawed by a dog when I was in my mother’s womb. But, resentful energy are from the fierce ghosts. If they can easily be taken and used, it would be beyond wonderful.”

[...] . If disciple from a prominent clan forms the core at a later age, it would be a disgrace to tell other people of it, yet Nie Huaisang didn’t feel ashamed at all. Wei Wuxian also laughed, “I know, right? No harm comes from using it.”

The only moment that I can find that could tangentially be used to suggest that NHS has an inferiority complex could be this one, where NHS wants to avoid LXC's questioning about how his studies are going (and WWX picking up on his cues like a good friend to redirect the conversation). However, when you consider the whole context of the scene, it’s not because NHS feels self-conscious but because he’s afraid LXC is going to report to his brother that he’s not working hard at his studies:

Lan Xichen turned to him, “Huaisang, a while ago, as I returned from Qinghe, your brother asked of your studies. How is it? This year, will you be able to pass?”

Nie Huaisang replied, “Generally speaking, yes…” He seemed like a wilted cucumber, looking at Wei Wuxian in a helpless way. Wei Wuxian grinned, “Zewu-Jun, what are you two going out for?”

[...] Nie Huaisang also wanted to join in, but he had been reminded of his older brother as he met Lan Xichen. Cringing silently, he didn’t dare to have fun, “I’ll pass and go back so that I can review…” With this act, he hoped that Lan Xichen would put in some good words for him to his brother.

NHS seems very industrious at finding ways not to have to do anything that relates to cultivation or to leading a sect, and that is linked once more to the fact that he does not want to do these things (so not a case where we could say he’s self-sabotaging because he fears failure):

Lan Xichen took Nie Huaisang’s saber into his qiankun sleeve, “Huaisang has been using the excuse that he left his saber at home. Now he will have no excuses for lazing around.”

or here

“Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang fell at once.

He really did fall to his knees from the terror. He only staggered up after he finished kneeling, “D-d-d-da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue, “Where is your saber?”

Nie Huaisang cowered, “In… in my room. No, in the school grounds. No, let me… think…”

Wei Wuxian could feel that Nie Mingjue almost wanted to hack him dead right there, “You bring a dozen fans with you wherever you go, yet you don’t even know where your own saber is?!”

Nie Huaisang hurried, “I’ll go find it right now!”

[...]

In a hurry, Nie Huaisang dropped a few fans on the ground. Jin Guangyao picked them up for him and put them into his arms, “Huaisang’s hobbies are quite elegant. He’s dedicated to art and calligraphy, and has no propensity for mischief. How can you say that they’re useless?”

Nie Huaisang nodded as fast as he could, “Yes, Brother is right!”

Nie Mingjue, “But sect leaders have no need for such things.”

Nie Huaisang, “I’m not going to be a sect leader, though. You can be it, Da-ge. I’m not doing it!”

or here

Nie Mingjue was on the school ground, teaching and supervising Nie Huaisang’s saberwork in person. He did not acknowledge Jin Guangyao, so he stood at the edge of the field, waiting with respect. Since Nie Huaisang was quite uninterested and the sun was bright, he was rather half-hearted, complaining that he was tired after just a few moves. He beamed as he got ready to go to Jin Guangyao and see what presents he brought this time. In the past, Nie Mingjue would only frown at such things, but today he was angered, “Nie Huaisang, do you want this strike to land on your head?! Get back here!”

If only Nie Huaisang were like Wei Wuxian and could feel how great Nie Mingjue’s rage was, he wouldn’t grin in such a bold way. He protested, “Da-ge, the time is up. It’s time to rest!”

Nie Mingjue, “You rested just thirty minutes ago. Keep on going, until you learn it.”

Nie Huaisang was still giddy, “I won’t be able to learn it anyways. I’m done for the day!”

He often said this, but today Nie Mingjue’s reaction was entirely different from his past reaction. He shouted, “A pig would’ve learnt this by now, so why haven’t you?!”

Never expecting Nie Mingjue to burst out so suddenly, Nie Huaisang’s face was blank with shock as he shrunk toward Jin Guangyao. Seeing the two together, Nie Mingjue was even more provoked, “It’s been one year already and you still haven’t learnt this one set of saber techniques. You stand on the field for just thirty minutes and you’re complaining that you’re tired. You don’t have to excel, but you can’t even protect yourself! How did the QingheNie Sect produce such a good-for-nothing! The both of you should be tied up and beaten once every day. Carry out all those things in his room!”

The last sentence was spoken to the disciples standing by the side of the field. Seeing that they had gone, Nie Huaisang felt as though he was on pins and needles. A moment later, the row of disciples really did bring out all the fans, paintings, porcelain from his room. Nie Mingjue had always threatened to burn his room, but he had never actually burned them. This time, though, he was serious. Nie Huaisang panicked. He threw himself over, “Da-ge! You can’t burn them!”

Noticing that the situation wasn’t good, Jin Guangyao also spoke, “Da-ge, don’t act on impulse.”

Yet, Nie Mingjue’s saber had already striked. All of the delicate objects piled at the center of the field erupted in roaring flames. Nie Huaisang wailed and plunged into the fire to save them. Jin Guangyao hurried to pull him back, “Huaisang, be careful!”

With a sweep of Nie Mingjue’s hand, the two blanc de chine antiques shattered into pieces in his palms. The scrolls and paintings had already turned into dust in a split second. Nie Huaisang could only watch blankly as the much loved items that he had gathered throughout the years vanish into ashes. Jin Guangyao grabbed his hands to examine them, “Are they burnt?”

He turned to a few disciples, “Please prepare some medicine first.”

The disciples answered and left. Nie Huaisang stood at the same place, his entire body trembling as he looked over at Nie Mingjue, pupil encircled by veins. Seeing that his expression wasn’t right, Jin Guangyao put his arm around his shoulders and whispered, “Huaisang, how are you feeling? Stop watching. Go back to your room and have some rest.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes brimmed red. He didn’t even make a sound. Jin Guangyao added, “It’s alright even if the things are gone. Next time I can find you more…”

Nie Mingjue interrupted, his words like ice, “I’ll burn them each time he brings them back into this sect.”

Anger and hatred suddenly flashed across Nie Huaisang’s face. He threw his saber onto the ground and yelled, “Then burn them!!!”

Jin Guangyao quickly stopped him, “Huaisang! Your brother is still angry. Don’t…”

Nie Huaisang roared at Nie Mingjue, “Saber, saber, saber! Who the fuck wants to practice the damn thing?! So what if I want to be a good-for-nothing?! Whoever that wants to can be the sect leader! I can’t learn it means I can’t learn it and I don’t like it means I don’t like it! What’s the use of forcing me?!”

I'm not saying he didn't have a hard time during the first moment of him taking over a leadership role in the sect after the sudden death of his brother (ultimately we can wonder whether the yiwensanbuzhi persona originated then, as he could have felt overwhelmed and actually didn't have the answers needed for the position he didn't prepare for--or whether it was always a pure fabrication to serve his goals), but I don't think we can chalk it up to an inferiority complex.

In the past, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang studied together, so there were a few things he could comment about this person. Nie Huaisang wasn’t an unkind person. It wasn’t that he was not clever, but that his heart was set somewhere else and used his smarts on other areas, such as painting on fans, searching for birds, skipping classes, and catching fish. Because his talent in terms of cultivation really was poor, he formed his core around eight or nine years later than the other disciples of the same generation as him. When he lived, Nie Mingjue was often exasperated by the fact that his brother didn’t meet his expectations, so he disciplined him strictly. Despite this, he still didn’t improve much. Now, without his older brother protecting and supervising him, under his lead, the QingheNie Sect declined day by day. After he grew up, especially after he became the sect leader, he was often troubled by all kinds of affairs unfamiliar to him and looked for helpers everywhere, mainly his brother’s two sworn brothers. One day he’d go to Jinling Tower to complain to Jin Guangyao, and the next day he’d go to the Cloud Recesses to whine to Lan Xichen. With the two leaders of the Jin and Lan Sects supporting him, he still barely managed to settle on the sect leader position. Nowadays, whenever people mentioned Nie Huaisang, although they didn’t say anything on the surface, the same phrase was written on their faces—good-for-nothing.

And after NHS pieced together what happened to his brother and set out on a path to revenge, I don't see how someone who is so sharp and deceptive and able to reach his goals while hiding behind a facade the entire time would feel "inferior".

#anon ask #nhs #mdzs #mdzs meta

[mimisempai]

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Charles has resigned himself to a life alone in Paris, but he might be surprised by a visit from an "old friend"... Will they get another chance to reach happiness?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31463351

Words:3719 - Chapters:1/1

This morning, like every other morning, sitting on the terrace of the café downstairs from his small apartment, Charles was waiting for his usual coffee while watching the bustle of the street. Delivery men unloading their vans at the grocery store on the corner, the bookstore owner unpacking his shelves, a tourist couple having their picture taken with the view of Montmartre in the background. The passers-by, people going to work, others walking their dogs. All this lively and colorful world coming and going, talking, laughing, reminded him of the hallway of a certain school, in the mornings just before the students entered their classrooms.

And like every morning, Charles was acutely aware of his loneliness. He had voluntarily closed his mind to all other thoughts than his own.

Thoughts that were enough to torment him.

More often than not, they were memories which he forced himself to face. His mistakes, what he should or should not have done. Searching, dissecting when he had lost sight of his values. At what point he had let down those he had sworn to protect since the day he had discovered Raven in his kitchen so many years ago.

But appeasement never came.

At the beginning, Hank gave him news of the school, of the progress of the students, news of each one and then little by little the messages had spaced, Charles put more and more time to answer, letting the distance grow voluntarily. It was now 3 months that he had no news and it was good like that.

Raven, Jean, Alex... and the names of all the others were spinning in his head, like a macabre dance, a torture he was inflicting on himself to atone.

There was only one name that he refused to pronounce, that he refused to think about. The one name that had always been able to read him without having any telepathic powers.

"You're always sorry, Charles. And there's always a speech. But nobody cares anymore."

"Will that be all sir?"

The waitress, pulling him out of his musings, put his coffee on the table.

"Yes, thank you," Charles replied.

"Mutant and proud."

Raven had always been right,

"Or is that only with pretty mutations or invisible ones, like yours. But if you're a freak, better hide."

Mutant yes, but proud he was no longer. He was the freak who had to hide.

He took a sip of his coffee and ran his hand over his face.

He suddenly felt a presence behind his back, and a shiver went through him at the sound of the voice with such familiar inflections,

"How's retirement treating you Charles?"

Erik sat down and placed a small case containing a chess set at his feet. Why was he there? To taunt him? To provoke him? Charles resisted the temptation to read his mind. He clenched his fist on his knee. Erik was the only one to provoke this storm of emotions in him. The only one who had the capacity to unsettle him.

So as always he chose the attack,"What are you doing here, Erik?"

He finally dared to meet Erik's eyes, and he almost gasped, because, in the blue-gray eyes, there was nothing of the harshness, of the disappointment from their last meeting. Erik's gaze was kind and open as he replied with a slight smile, "I came to see an old friend. Fancy a game?"

Erik showed him the chess set at their feet. Their usual chess game, the moment when their minds clashed. That space outside of time, where despite the fights and conflicts, they always managed to find each other. But this time Charles wasn't sure he had the strength to offer Erik a worthy opponent. So he shook his head and replied, "No, not today. Thank you."

He looked away. He couldn't look at Erik when so many emotions were running through him. He was sure he would never see the only man he had ever loved again, and there he was in front of him, beautiful, making Charles even more aware of his own state.

"A long time ago, you saved my life. Then you offered me a home. I'd like to do the same for you."

Charles studied Erik's expression for a long time. Always the same openness and acceptance. He was once again tempted to read Erik's mind.

"You can, you know." Erik made the hand motion that Charles made when he wanted to access someone's mind.

As always he had seen right through Charles, but again no disappointment or disgust in the voice and the eyes.

Charles after swallowing, answered in a slightly hoarse voice, having trouble containing his emotions.

"I don't do that anymore."

Erik simply nodded with a half smile, put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, and held them out in front of him in clenched fists, just like in the old days.

"Just one game. For old times' sake."

Charles gave in, he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he didn't feel like pretending. So he held out his hand to Erik's right fist, which opened to a white pawn.

Erik said with a slight teasing smile, "I'll go easy on you."

Charles replied with the same smile, just a little more hesitant, "No, you won't."

As they set up the pieces, Erik added, "I might surprise you, you know Charles."

Charles stopped his motion as he went to move a knight, and said with emotion in his voice as he stared into Erik's eyes, "You already have."

Time stood still for a moment, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Then Charles continued his movement and the game resumed.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished their game. It was Erik who had won. But as always, no matter who won, neither of them cared, the important thing was the duel not the result.

"Well?" inquired Erik as he closed the chess set, "Did you have time to think about my offer?"

"Did you mean it?" Charles hoped Erik couldn't hear the eagerness in his voice, because he really wanted to accept Erik's offer. But did he deserve it? Did he have a right to this home Erik was offering him? And what did a home even mean?

His hand began to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to grasp something, but didn't dare. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

He felt a hand rest on his as Erik's voice said softly, "Charles...". He opened his eyes. Erik's hand opened his clenched fist and intertwined his fingers with his. Charles slowly raised his eyes to Erik's face.

The urge to surrender, to let go, hit Charles even harder. He could see so much in Erik's eyes, but he was so afraid of being disappointed and of disappointing... again. He closed his fingers over Erik's and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

Erik continued, "Charles, no demands, no debts, no obligations, this is completely free, I'm just offering you a simple and protected life. It's far from a castle life, but Genosha is a small, isolated island where we have created a self-sufficient community. Most of the inhabitants are like us, "retired" mutants with wounds to heal. You can-"

Charles interrupted him, "It's okay Erik, no need to say any more, I accept. " and after a moment of silence, he added, "Thank you."

Erik simply smiled, put his other hand over their entwined hands and said, "I'm just showing the same generosity that you have shown to me over and over again. No need for gratitude between us. We are just two friends and..."

Erik paused as if he were about to say something else.

"And?" asked Charles, curious about what Erik had stopped himself from saying.

For the first time since the beginning of this meeting, Erik looked a little unsettled before answering, "Nothing... well at least not now."

Charles didn't insist, he knew there was a lot to clear up between them. But now that he had decided to follow Erik to his island, he knew they had time.

"So how do we do this?"

Erik replied as he stood up, "I'll go with you to your flat, you take what you need for a few days, and we'll leave for Genosha. You can get the rest delivered later."

"So soon?"

"Why wait? Do you have obligations here, people to say goodbye to?"

"No!" replied Charles curtly, angry at having been found out once again.

He began to roll his wheelchair quickly toward the entrance of his building. Erik joined him in two strides before putting his hand on his shoulder. Charles felt bad for being so touch starved that this simple touch immediately soothed him.

"Charles, I know what it's like, I've been there. Don't get upset. It wasn't a criticism or a mockery." He squeezed Charles' shoulder before letting his hand fall back.

"I know..." sighed Charles. "Come on."

As they walked through the door of Charles' tiny apartment, sensing that Erik was about to say something, Charles admonished him, "Don't say anything."

Erik waved his hand, as if he were zipping up his mouth without hiding his smile, but finally couldn't help himself.

"My Charles, do you live in that shoebox? I'm disappointed in you! Pretty spartan."

Seeing Charles' dark glare, he pretended to surrender. "Ok, ok, I'm not saying anything more."

Charles muttered, "Liar."

Then they gathered Charles' things and a few hours later they were on their way to Genosha.

__________

Two weeks later, Charles was unpacking the last of the boxes that had just arrived, mostly books. Erik had built him some makeshift shelves. His "residence" like all of Genosha’s, was made of salvaged materials, but Charles didn't mind. Although he had always lived in a certain opulence, he knew how to make do with little.

"Need a hand?"

Erik had just stepped through the curtain that served as a door.

"I'm not saying no."

They hadn't had time to really talk and clear the air between them, but Erik was very thoughtful. Charles was a little insecure, not knowing where he stood. So he decided to just take things as they came. If he was honest with himself, he knew how he felt about Erik. But he wouldn't act, he didn't want to risk breaking the friendship they were rebuilding.

Erik had begun unpacking a box of books.

"Do you have a particular order?"

"No put them on the shelves as they come for now."

So Erik began to put the books away, commenting on some of the titles.

"Oh Charles, Charlotte Brontë really? Jane Eyre as well?"

"Hey Erik, just because you're helping me doesn't mean you have to like what I read."

"Ho Ho! You even marked a page."

Charles remembered, what page and what words he had written in the margin.

"Erik, please put that book away, it doesn't matter."

But he could see from Erik's face that he wasn't about to let go, so he resigned himself and closed his eyes waiting for a reaction, of what kind, he didn't know.

"Charles?"

Charles squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes?"

"Is that about me?"

Charles had a small self-deprecating laugh before he replied, "I don't know any other Erik, so yes."

"What do you mean with 'you left Erik and now I'm bleeding'?"

Charles let out a big sigh and put his head in his hands. "This is really embarrassing...it's in relation to the underlined passage that's a little higher up if I remember correctly."

He knew the phrase by heart, because it had resonated in a special way since he'd met Erik, but he hadn't expected the raw emotion that ran through him when he heard Erik read the words aloud.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Charles heard Erik put the book down, and a sound of footsteps, he still didn't want to open his eyes, he was too afraid of what he would read in Erik's eyes. He was aware of Erik's presence very close to him, then a hand clasped his.

"Charles, please look at me." Erik's voice was almost pleading, Charles didn't resist and opened his eyes, to see that Erik had knelt down to be at his level. Then he looked up at Erik's eyes, afraid of what he would find there, and gasped, Erik looked almost amazed, yes that's right, amazed.

"Charles is that how you still feel?" Erik asked him in an pressing tone, his eyes scanning his, leaving Charles no escape.

Charles swallowed, and despite his tight throat, he tried to answer, "Yes."

"But when... I mean since when?"

"When? Do you remember the day you managed to unlock your power. The day you let me access that memory? Well since that day, I've felt this very strong connection between us."

Erik tightened his grip on his hand and asked, "And those words in the margin?"

Charles' voice was a whisper, "After the missiles and the beach, when you left."

"Oh Charles, I...I'm so sorry." The regret was genuine in Erik's eyes.

"Don't be anymore, it's been a long time since I forgave you and since then I think I've made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. Some of which have more consequences than losing my legs. Raven was right, I had forgotten who I was. Why I started all this in the first place. I lost sight of what was important, I lost... I lost so much. And I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, and... I'm not as evolved as I thought I was. You say you're sorry Erik, but you don't know how sorry I am. Forgive me I... I must..."

Charles had to go, he had to get out, the grief he had been feeling since he left school, no even before, since Raven's death, it was all threatening to come out, he didn't want to fall apart like that in front of Erik.

But Erik was keeping him from walking away. Still kneeling and holding his hand.

"Erik, please move over... let go of me, I have to get out, I-" the tears were starting to blur his vision, with his free hand he was trying to push his wheelchair forward.

"Charles, stop! You don't have to leave. You don't have to be alone anymore. You are not alone!"

Erik loosened Charles other hand's grip on the wheel, and suddenly took him in his arms, and he felt his lips move against his head and the words came to his ears "Charles, you can let go, even though I've failed you many times in the past, this time I won't. Let it go. Don't be afraid, I'll catch you."

Because Charles no longer had the strength to stay strong, because he was craving for someone to lean on, he let go. He let the grief engulf him, because he knew Erik was there and would keep him from drowning.

Erik continued to hold him and whispered over and over, "That's it, let it all out. I'm here mein Liebster. Let it out."

Once the crying dried up, exhaustion fell on Charles and he fell asleep in Erik's arms. He was sleeping so deeply that Erik had been able to lift him out of his wheelchair without him waking up and now he was lying with his back against Erik's front, his head under his chin and Erik's arms wrapped around Charles.

Erik had been torn when he saw his beloved overwhelmed by grief and wondered how long it had been since Charles had been able to express his pain. He had always been attracted to the shining side of Charles, he often compared them to two sides of the same coin. But when he'd found him in Paris, he'd seen that all that light was like dulled.

"Erik..." the still broken voice Charle continued, "Thank you..."

"Sshh Charles, I told you no thanks are needed between us."

"Yeah..." Erik felt Charles relax against him again.

"Sleep, meine Liebster."

Much later, Erik was awakened by a gentle brushing sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, found himself facing Charles, who was withdrawing his hand as if he had been caught with his hands in the jam jar.  Erik grabbed his hand and placed it back on his own cheek.

"Don't stop Charles..."

He saw Charles' expression ease as he gently stroked his face with feather-like touches, tracing Erik's facial lines with his fingertips.

Their faces were so close that Erik immediately caught sight of Charles gulping as a veil of sadness passed over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost you so many times already," Charles murmured.

"But I'm still here and so are you. Now we're together."

Erik couldn't resist, he crossed the remaining distance between them and put his lips to Charles'. It was as if everything fell into place in their worlds at that moment.

They remained for a long time, joined in a soft and almost innocent embrace.

Charles moved back and stared at Erik, looking for something in his eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he smiled. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

His lips parted and he pressed them to Erik's again. Erik licked the corner of his mouth and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him. Charles quickly opened up to him, welcoming him wordlessly with his lips and hands in his hair. His tongue mimicked the actions of hers, and soon they were drinking from each other's lips, caught up in a thirst that would not seem to be quenched.

Erik slid his hands to Charles' waist, and pulled him as close as he could get. Charles' head fell back with a moan as Erik’s fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his back. Erik took advantage of his distraction and lowered his head even further to press himself against his neck. He felt the slide of his tongue against his skin, then his teeth biting the same spot. Charles had a slight startle. His hands slid over Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in. Erik immediately raised his head, worried about his reaction. "Not good?"

"No. Good. Really good," Charles reassured him in a gentle sigh. Erik smiled fondly and returned his attentions to Charles' neck. But Charles groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling Erik toward him so he could take his lips again.

Much later, as they both caught their breath. Lips to lips, forehead to forehead, Charles asked Erik, "I don't know if I was dreaming or not, but before you called me 'mein liebster', 'my dearest' if I am not mistaken."

For the first time since he had known him, Charles saw Erik's cheeks turn slightly pink. However, Erik's voice was perfectly assured as he replied, "You were not dreaming mein Liebster." He punctuated his words with a tender kiss.

"Unless you prefer, mein Schatz, my treasure." Another kiss.

"Or mein Geliebter, my beloved." Another kiss.

It was now Charles's turn to have slightly red cheeks. But he, too, looked Erik squarely in the eye and asked, "Is that really what I am?"

"Yes, my love and much more." Erik emphasized this with another kiss.

"Since when?"

"I'll show you. By looking into my thoughts in the brightest corner of my sensory memory like you did that time, you will find an additional memory beyond the one you found to help me unlock my powers."

Charles began to protest, "No Erik, I don't want to-"

Erik put a finger over his mouth, "Shhh, I'm asking you to."

He took Charles' hand and placed his fingers against his temple, in the familiar gesture he had when he wanted to access someone's thoughts.

Erik, visibly moved, addressed Charles, "What did you just do to me?"

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you"

"I didn't know I still had that."

Charles put his hand on his shoulder and said with strength and emotion in his voice, "There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good to you, I felt it. And when you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

When Charles exited Erik's head, they were both deeply moved by the strength of the emotions of the shared memory.

Erik pressed his forehead against Charles'.

"What you told me that day, that there was good to me, that you felt it. It's a memory as happy as my mother's. It was also that day that I felt the connection between us. That I knew that-"

Erik paused for a moment.

"That you knew what?"

"That I was hopelessly and madly in love with you. I love you Charles. We've fought together, we've clashed, we've been through terrible trials sometimes together, sometimes against each other, but this, what I feel for you has always been my ultimate truth. I love you Charles."

Charles once again gasped, this time at the open adoration he read on Erik's face.

He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of it he said, his voice broken, "Despite all the detours I've taken, all the bad decisions you or I have made, every time, when it counted, you were there by my side, that unchanging presence. I can't tell where you start and where I end. I love you Erik, more than my life."

There. That moment. This moment of perfect communion after all they had been through. The fate, the choices, the events that had separated them, brought them together in a spiral that never seemed to end, it was all over. It was time for them to live. It wasn't the end, it was the beginning. This was their story.

___________

Although I am very familiar with X-men - Movie verse, I have never written for this fandom before. After rewatching Dark Phoenix, I'm only holding onto this ending scene. I wanted to write about Erik and Xavier from there. I hope I did them justice.

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed your reading.

#x men movies #erik lehnsherr #magneto #charles xavier #professor x #cherik #getting together #post Dark Phoenix

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 14

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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SMUT WARNING

[Hermione]

"Is this the moment?"

Hermione vaguely registers Harry's voice, but she's too lost in kissing Ron to care. Instead, she wraps her arms more securely around his neck and smiles through the kiss when his fingers dig into her back.

"Oi! There's a hen party going on here!" Harry's voice is louder now, and he slurs his words, suggesting that his current state of mind is a bit more courageous than usual. No wonder he's so willing to interrupt their kiss.

On their own time, Ron and Hermione eventually surface. They hesitate to break eye contact, which would officially end the moment, but they're forced to look around as soon as they hear a round of applause. They glance around to see that the entirety of the wedding party is staring at them, cheering and beaming.

"Cough it up, Ginny," says Dean, jokingly shoving her shoulder.

"No! You bet they would kiss for the first time tonight," she argues. "That might not be their first kiss."

"Ask them!" says Neville..

"What if they lie?" asks Seamus. "They've been lying to us about this so far. Who's to say they won't keep it up?"

Hermione and Ron share a shocked expression and then burst into laughter.

"Did you all bet on us?" asks Ron incredulously.

"Why yes, we did," says Neville. "You two have been acting quite shifty for the last few days. How long has this been going on?"

Ron and Hermione meet each other's gaze for a silent conversation. Do they tell the truth? She tries to ask with her eyes.

Ron shrugs. "Last night," says Hermione, a blush forming on her cheeks. It's not a complete lie; it feels like the proper start of their relationship. A look at Ron nodding confirms he agrees.

"Did she say last night? Hand it over, everyone!" beams Lavender, shouldering her way into the crowd.

Ginny groans, and Lavender smiles as everyone else rummages into their pockets for cash.

"Hold on," says Ginny, holding her money just out of Lavender's reach. "You said Hermione spent the night in your room last night!"

Lavender shrugs coyly.

"Did you cover for her?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"So you knew?"

"I had a feeling."

"That's not fair!" says Ginny. "You had an advantage!"

"All's fair in love and war." Lavender snatches the money from Ginny's hand and saunters off, Demelza and Luna following behind her.

Ginny huffs. "I can't believe she didn't tell me." She looks at Hermione and narrows her eyes. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"You're not upset about this?" asks Hermione, gesturing between herself and Ron.

"No, I'm thrilled!" she says, launching toward Hermione and throwing her arms around her neck. "Maybe you'll be my sister-in-law one day."

Ron laughs, and Hermione's cheeks turn pink.

I already am.

"Gin, you're freaking them out. They've been together for a day."

"Right, sorry."

"Alright, the show's over, kids," says Ron. "How about we go home and hope that you're all too drunk to remember this tomorrow?"

There's a chorus of groans, but not much protesting, as everyone is already leaning on one another for support and probably dreaming of being in bed. Luna, Demelza, and Lavender are already by the exit.

"I'll go walk with them," says Hermione.

"Sounds good," says Ron. "I'll keep an eye on the boys. And Gin."

"See you at the hotel," she says before trotting off to catch up with the rest of the girls.

The walk back feels much longer than it is, especially with three drunk and distractible girls. To Hermione's relief, the topic of her and Ron passes quickly, and Hermione wonders if they really are too far gone to remember this later.

As soon as they arrive back at the hotel, they split off and stumble back toward their rooms. Ron and the boys aren't too far behind her, and Hermione watches in amusement as he corrals them toward the stairs to the suites. Still sober, Ron and Hermione breathe a sigh of relief once everyone is safely up the stairs.

"Finally," says Ron. He loops his fingers through hers and waggles his eyebrows. "Now that the kids are in bed…" he says, trailing off mid-sentence.

"What do you have in mind?" she asks.

"Fancy a swim?"

Hermione looks toward the pool. Even though the hotel lobby doesn't offer a complete view, she can tell that it's relatively empty and looks a lot calmer and more relaxing than it does during the day. "Sure. Let's stop by our rooms to grab our suits?"

"Or," he croons, tugging her arm to pull her into an embrace. He continues in a whisper, "It's three AM, and we're in Vegas. Knickers will be fine, don't you think?"

Hermione bites her lip. "What if we get in trouble?"

"Live a little?"

Hermione considers skinny-dipping in a public pool living a lot, but as it turns out, adopting a 'what happens in Vegas' mindset has served her quite well this week. "Okay. But if we get caught, I'll be quite angry with you."

Ron's eyes flash with something unexpected — he almost appears excited at the thought of her being angry. "Win, win," he says.

She recalls their first day married and how they argued in his suite and then again at Erised Elopements — she saw the same flash in his eyes back then, and it clicks for her. Ron loves to argue. Hermione can't help but laugh. If he's into a hot temper, he picked the right girl.

He might like London-Hermione, after all.

The back of the pool deck is spotted with miniature hot tubs, capacity of two, as if the resort was built for honeymooners. It's perfect — there'd be nothing worse than a third oblivious guest plunking down next to them. They approach an empty one obscured by a few fake palm trees and set their belongings on the edge.

Ron pulls off his shirt and shorts and offers her a sheepish smile and a shrug, and his neck turns red, almost as if he's nervous. It makes Hermione want to shout at him and remind him how beautiful he is.

He doesn't waste any time stepping into the hot water, and as soon as he does, Hermione laments the lack of view.

"Your turn," he says with a smile. He leans against the back of the hot tub with his arms on the edge.

His gaze feels like a spotlight on her, but she doesn't mind it. With one last glance around to make sure no one else is watching, she basks in Ron's salacious stare as she strips off her dress to expose her matching bra and knicker set. Ron beams as she steps into the water.

"You're so goddamn beautiful." His voice, paired with the look of awe on his face, make his words somewhat convincing. Then his voice lowers, and in a surprisingly commanding tone, he continues, "Get over here."

Heat pools in her lower belly, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water. When she's close enough, his arms envelop her and pull her close. Her legs find a home on either side of his thighs, and their lips connect like magnets.

Hermione can feel Ron's immediate attraction to her press against her, so she presses back. He groans through their kiss, and his fingers travel up the back of her thighs and cup her bum.

He runs his tongue along her lips, asking for an invitation, and she lets him in without resistance. Their kiss deepens, and they take their time exploring it. One of Ron's hands slides from her bum to her stomach — she typically doesn't like it when men touch her there, but it feels nice when Ron does it, like an act of appreciation rather than judgment. His hand travels upward and lands at her breast, and he runs his thumb over the lace.

He breaks the kiss, but only to trail kisses down her cheek and neck until landing at the soft flesh below her ear. His teeth make contact with her skin, but only for a second before he pulls away to ask, "is it okay if I leave a mark?"

"Yes." The sound of her voice surprises her, but not as much as how good it feels when he starts to suck at her neck. Without a thought, her hand tangles into his hair, and she presses on his head, encouraging him to bite harder.

It all feels so good, so perfect, and she almost doesn't mind that they're in public. She wants to rip off his pants and have him in the hot tub. Almost.

As Ron gets lost in kissing and sucking on her neck, she tousles his hair, and her mind starts to wander. They'll be back in London in a few days, and Hermione usually wears her hair up at work. She hadn't thought about that when she told Ron to bite harder.

The single thought about hiding a hickey at the office breaks a dam, and more start rushing in. Before Las Vegas, she'd never snogged anyone in public, let alone half-naked in a hot tub. A month ago, she'd have never told a man she was falling in love with him after a few days or slept with him so soon. What happened?

For a moment, it feels as though she's that third, unwelcome guest in the hot tub just watching the pair snog each other senseless. The girl on Ron's lap letting him have his way with her is nothing but an experiment, an example of what would happen if Hermione wore her heart on her sleeve.

Her stomach clenches for the same reason it does when she sees Seamus throwing back one too many drinks, or Lavender basking in male attention, or Luna dancing wildly under neon lights at the club. Before Las Vegas, she would have named it superiority — she's too good for all of that. But she knows better now. It's just envy.

Unfortunately, she built her life in London under the assumption that she was too good for wild nights. Too responsible to just say yes to things. Too uptight to let her hair down, especially to hide a hickey.

How is all of this going to fit into her life in London? She stops playing with Ron's hair.

As soon as she stops, Ron pulls away from her neck. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"

Hermione looks into his bright blue eyes, wide with concern. She doesn't want to ruin the moment for him, but it's already ruined for her. "What happens when we go back to London?"

Ron's hand drops from its place on her chest and meets the other at her lower back. His embrace loosens so she can lean back and see his whole face. "What do you want to happen?"

She hesitates. The thought of going back to her life in London without Ron doesn't exactly appeal to her, so she tells him the truth. "I want to be with you."

"Same." He brushes a hair behind her ear and smiles at her.

"So, where do we start?"

"Married." He makes it sound so simple.

"How married?"

Ron laughs. "Are there different levels of marriage? And is this a conversation you want to have right now?"

"Considering we'll be back in London in two days… yes."

Ron nods. "Okay. Then let's talk about it."

Her arms drape loosely around his neck. "Are we really going to make a go of this?"

"I want to," he says, his voice sincere. "I don't think it's that complicated."

But it is complicated. Do they live together? Share money? Does Ron want children? They've never even talked about their future; they just got married. "There are a lot of logistics to consider."

"I say we play it by ear."

Hermione sighs, and Ron holds her more tightly.

"Look. We'll go back to London and dive into our lives. From there, we'll figure out how to blend our lives together. There's not much we can do from this hot tub."

"We have six months to figure it out."

"At least six months, but I'd like to think we don't have a deadline at all. It's not like some judge will stop in at the six-month mark and declare us divorced because we don't have every loose end tied up. Heck, my parents have been married for forty years, and they still have shit to figure out. They just love each other, so they tend to put the shit on the backburner."

Hermione hadn't thought of it that way — for some reason, six months felt like a strong, hard deadline. Maybe she was just afraid that Ron would be itching to leave, and she'd only have six months to prove she was worth staying married to. She smiles — she'd never have expected the words 'put the shit on the backburner' to give her butterflies, and yet, it does.

"What is your hesitation?" he asks.

"The truth?" She doesn't want to overwhelm him with her insecurities — that's London-Hermione, and she's still not sure he'll like her.

"Of course I want the truth. Can't start our marriage off with lies."

Hermione takes a deep breath before answering. "I'm worried you won't like me."

Ron narrows her eyes at her. "Why wouldn't I like you?"

"You didn't when we first met."

"But I like you now."

"But this isn't really me," she says. "This is Vegas Hermione. Not London Hermione."

"Do you think they're that different?" he says, his head cocking to the side. He lifts one eyebrow as if trying to call her bluff.

"Yes. I do."

"Cool. I can't wait to get to know London Hermione." His tone is so calm, so casual.

"I'm serious, Ron," she says, pulling away so his hands loosen around her waist. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

He responds by gently tugging her back so he can place a well-aimed kiss on her nose. "How about you give me a chance, then let me decide if I'm disappointed? Don't you think I have the same fear?"

"You're afraid I won't like you?" she says, leaning her forehead against his.

He nods as he repeats her words back to her, "You didn't when we first met."

Hermione smiles at the memory of their first disastrous encounter in London. "That's true. You ordered a straw like a psychopath."

Ron laughs. "But you like me now."

"Also true. Now you don't order straws—"

Ron cuts her off by pressing a kiss to her lips. "Oh, it's more than that, and you know it. I think your exact words were that you're 'falling in love' with me."

She lightly kisses him again. "We both said that."

"We did," he says, running his thumb along her cheek. "I meant it, too."

Their lips meet again. It's less hungry than before but more caring and slow-paced, like two lovers that don't have a deadline. His arms tighten against her back, shifting her hips against his body.

"Do you normally say it so soon?" she asks when they surface.

"What, thirty-six hours?" laughs Ron. "Never. You?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "That was most definitely Vegas Hermione."

"Same. Maybe I'll keep that part of Vegas Ron."

He tries to kiss her again, but she hesitates, lost in thought. Such a simple statement sends her mind reeling. She's still worried that Ron won't like her London-self as much, but that's under the assumption that she's going to revert to that person upon landing at Heathrow. She'd imagined London-Ron as the same happy-go-lucky person that she's gotten to know. He's probably different, too.

"You're usually quite guarded, aren't you?" he asks as he watches her expression change.

"Yeah, I'd say I am," she nods. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah. Figured it was the best way to avoid getting hurt."

Hermione chuckles. She uses the same logic as Ron. "How's that working out for you?"

"It's a good way to stay single. A bad way to fall in love."

What they're doing might be short-sighted and naive, but Ron makes a good point. If love is at the bottom of the deep-end, she'll never find it by dipping her toes in the water. Maybe getting married in Vegas was the equivalent of getting pushed into the pool.

"Maybe Vegas will have changed us." Her fingers find Ron's hair again, and she can't help but play with it.

"Or at the very least, woken us up a bit."

His lips find hers again, and this time his hand starts to wander from her lower back down toward her knickers. He slips his hands underneath the lace to grip her bare skin and groans as his hips grind against hers.

She chuckles at his reaction and dips her fingers inside of his waistband, where they brush against his erection. "What, do you want me or something?"

"Cheeky," he laughs. "And absolutely. But as much as I want to have you right here, I'd like a little privacy."

"Back to my room?" she whispers in his ear.

"Yes, please."

x

After pulling their clothing over wet underwear, Hermione leads the way back up to her suite, hand in hand with Ron as he follows closely behind. Her dress is uncomfortably heavy as it soaks up the water from her bra and knickers, but she doesn't mind — she knows she won't be wearing it for much longer.

Ron seems to have the same thought because the moment the door closes behind them, he spins her around to face him, pulls her close, and runs his hand down her back. She shivers at the contact.

"Let's say we get you back out of this dress," he whispers in her ear. She doesn't protest as his fingers dip under the hemline to tug it up and over her head, once again leaving her standing before him in nothing but her lingerie.

Ron then pulls off his shirt while she unbuttons his shorts until he matches her, almost naked. His hands grip the bottom of her thighs, and with the help of a small hop, he pops her up to waist height. She wraps her legs around him to lock herself in place and captures his lips with hers.

Instead of hauling her to the bed, he makes his way to the bathroom, shoulders the door open, and sets her onto the bathroom vanity. Without removing his lips, Ron reaches around her back to unclasp her bra, letting it drop to the tile below.

His pants join her bra on the floor, followed by her knickers. Hermione arches her back as Ron's mouth travels down her body, kissing every square inch of skin it can find until it lands at her breasts. Hermione can hardly believe they're under the same fluorescent lighting where she picked apart her appearance a few mornings ago because right now, she's never felt sexier.

Ron echoes her thoughts by trailing kisses from her breasts, across her stomach, and to her thighs, which open for him without protest. He dives his tongue between her legs and groans as if she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Her eyes flutter shut as he steadies her lower back with one hand and slips a finger inside her.

"Oh my god, Ron," she mumbles, tangling her fingers in his hair to hold his head in place. "Keep doing that."

Pressure starts to build at her center, and she leans her back into the mirror to give him a better angle. One leg drapes lazily over his shoulder, and his free hand moves from her lower back to her thigh to hold it in place. She continues to press his head into her as his tongue circles her clit.

"Ron, I'm gonna come—"

As soon as she says it, the movements of his tongue slow down, his fingers pause inside her, and the pressure comes to a frustrating plateau. She groans and wraps her other leg around his head to lock him in place. She can feel the vibration of his chuckle against her.

"I'm so close!" she whines, and he removes his mouth from her to gaze up.

"Oh, I know."

What a tease. "Fuck you," she adds, aiming for a playful tone.

"Gladly." As Hermione rolls her eyes, Ron beams, "Marriage with you is going to be so goddamn fun."

He rises to his feet to turn on the shower and steps inside, motioning for Hermione to join him. Pouting, she hops off the vanity and meets him under the warm running water. "You owe me an orgasm."

"Oh, calm down," he says as he guides her back to the wall. "I'm going to finish you off right now."

She bites her lip and spreads her legs as Ron lowers to a knee and runs his nose along her center. He then takes his time kissing and nipping at her inner thigh until Hermione clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Jesus, woman," he laughs. "So needy."

But it works — he attaches his mouth and lets his fingers travel inside her to work their magic, and it doesn't take long to get back to where he had her before. The hot water dripping down her body only intensifies the sensation of his lips on her, and this time it's her breath that gives away how close she is to release. Ron keeps his contact this time, his tongue moving slow, rhythmic circles around her center until she reaches a peak. He holds her up as she collapses against his face, grips, and tugs at his wet hair, and his name involuntarily escapes her lips as a high-pitched, breathy moan.

Ron holds his tongue on her until she comes down, cycling through a few waves of pleasure before her legs can hold her up again. Then, he kisses his way back up her body until his lips find hers.

"Worth it," she says when he breaks away. He starts kissing her cheek and neck, and she whispers in his ear, "now what?"

"I want to fuck you."

"I bet you do," she says as she slithers out of his embrace and reaches for her shampoo bottle. "You'll get your chance."

Ron smirks at her as she starts lathering up her hair. "Tease."

"It takes one to know one." Hermione smiles at him as she plops some shampoo onto his head before rinsing her own.

She takes her time cleaning herself, and Ron follows suit, but they both know exactly what they're doing with every 'accidental' brush of his cock against her hip or breasts against his back. It doesn't take long before his hands are on her again, rubbing soap over her body under the guise of helping her get clean. He runs soapy fingers over her chest, her neck, and down her legs, then flips her around so her breasts press against the hard, cold tile. She shivers as his hands run up and down her back, and then his body melts against hers, his erection nestled between her legs.

"Please?" he croons into her ear.

Teasing him is deliciously fun, but there's only so much she can take before she absolutely needs him. "Yes."

She widens her stance and feels his knees bend behind her as he positions his erection at her entrance. To allow him access, she arches her back, tilting her hips up toward him, and he slides in, groaning with pleasure as he fills her from behind.

He moves slowly at first, exploring the limits of this position before picking up his pace. His hand plants to the wall beside her head, and she watches his knuckles turn white as he grips the tile, moaning along with him as each buck of his hips presses her against the wall.

The pressure rises again, and she can sense they're both close to release. To her surprise, he slows down and settles his face next to hers.

"Hermione," he breathes into her ear, "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen, you know that, right?"

She hopes to god the question is rhetorical because she doesn't answer, instead turning around to face him. His lips crash into hers as one leg at a time swings around his hips until he's holding her against the wall. Their position is perfect for his cock to slip right back in, and he resumes his thrusts, each one harder and deeper than the last, until they both lose themselves in pleasure.

Her legs drop to the shower tile. Panting, he leans against her, embracing her. "Let's do that again sometime."

Hermione laughs and places a kiss on his cheek. "Whatever you say, hubby."

Still covered in soap, they step under the water stream, kissing until every bubble washes off. Ron reluctantly turns off the shower and steps out to grab them each a towel.

"How did I get so damn lucky?" Ron mutters as he towels off. His voice is low and quiet, as if he's wondering to himself.

"I could ask myself the same question," she says before placing another kiss on his lips. The kiss lingers as they breathe each other in.

Hermione can't wait for more showers like this.

Once dry, Ron settles underneath the covers. Not bothering to put any clothes on herself, Hermione dives in beside him.

They settle underneath the blankets together as if it's something they've done one hundred times before. Only when Ron wraps his long arm around her waist like a protective seat belt does Hermione realize that it's the first time they've knowingly shared a bed. His embrace feels safe and secure, just like the harness on the Deathstick, and she'd almost be willing to drop through the sky again if his arms were around her. Almost.

Even though he's quite a bit taller than her, his knees fit perfectly behind hers. Just like they did in the shower. Hermione closes her eyes and listens to his breath as he buries his head in her bushy hair, now frizzing as it dries. Her own breathing settles into a rhythm, and she's about to drift into sleep when Ron speaks.

"My lease is almost up." His voice is low, almost a whisper, but even so, there's a tremble to it.

Hermione feels a smile forming on her lips. "Are you renewing?"

"I was planning on it," he says. "Before."

Before. Her smile grows bigger. "Before you accidentally got married?"

"Yeah."

It should be a big decision for any couple, but it doesn't feel that way. Not at all.

"Move in with me?"

"Really?"

"Head-first, right?" She can almost feel his eyes widening. "I have a huge shower. You'll love it."

Ron lets out a long breath and chuckles into her hair. "I hope you don't mind that my favorite color is orange," he says as he tightens his embrace.

"Oh god. I hate orange."

Ron uses his nose to move aside some of Hermione's hair and presses a kiss to her neck. "Well, marriage is about compromise, love."

Hermione imagines her flat adorned with orange curtains and art, Ron's clothing scattered around her room, and his dirty dishes in the sink. "We're gonna drive each other barmy once this honeymoon phase is over, aren't we?"

Even though he can't see her, Ron must sense her smiling too and know better than to take her complaint seriously. "Can't fucking wait."

Hermione snuggles up closer against Ron, her head in the crook of his neck. It's a good thing he doesn't take her too seriously because the reality is, she can't fucking wait either.

#ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #hpromione #muggle AU #be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #slow burn #romione smut

[writing-red]

The Red Bottle | 2

Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE! (verbal & physical) murder, substance abuse/underage drinking, and cussing. I am serious. These themes are heavy-handed, don’t read something that’s going to hurt you, okay?

Word Count: 4.1k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Ever since the letters arrived, your life felt different, and going on as if everything hadn’t changed in a stroke of your mothers’ quill was difficult.

Of course, you and Draco had nearly every class together, and he was acting so differently when you were around. He wasn’t your best friend, but he also wasn’t insulting you or purposely making you trip in the halls. Of course, the two of you didn’t know how to act around one another, resulting in plenty of awkward interactions. It was only September, Winter Holiday wasn’t for months, and summer was much further, but the idea of it was looming.

“Alright, class, please find your new seats,” Slughorn announced as the sixth years piled into his class.

Professor Slughorn had a knack for playing matchmaker for his student before he retired, and he certainly didn’t plan on giving up his habit now that he was back. So, of course, when he noticed Draco’s feelings for Y/n, he got to it.

“Bloody hell,” you muttered underneath your breath when you realized who your partner would be for the foreseeable future. “Morning, Malfoy,” you said when you sat down. Neither of you wanted anyone knowing, so you had agreed to keep up appearances for the time being.

“Good morning, Y/l/n,” he said, not bothering to look at you.

It still stung a bit, you admit. Around your third year, you’d had a bit of a crush on the platinum-haired boy, and you hoped that maybe he would start treating you like a human being. But, it was clear you were overestimating the Slytherin Prince’s capacity for kindness. Despite that, something sparked in the pit of your stomach every time you spoke, but you just chalked it up to nerves and fear.

On the other hand, Draco had fancied you since your second year, a feeling that had only grown since then. But, he couldn’t let you know that, not now, not with everything going on. He could put you in harm’s way. If something happened to you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Draco would just have to push those feelings down till he carried out the Dark Lords plan, and until this was all over. Love was a weakness, and he wouldn’t allow feelings for you to interfere with his duty to the Dark Lord.

But, Professor Slughorn interrupted your thoughts.

“Today, we shall be brewing amortenia, the love potion we reviewed last class. As we know, many potions require skill as well as patience, and amortenia is no exception. It will take roughly nine class periods, so settle in and try to be kind to your partners. The recipe is on the board and on page 27 of your books. Begin.”

Amortenia, of course, this class really couldn’t get any worse. It was as if the universe wanted to remind you that you were destined to a loveless marriage your selfish parents forced you into. Eventually, the hour-long period ended, you and Malfoy getting along decently enough to start your potion off on the right foot. 

The second Slughorn dismissed the class, you found your friends, and all of you hurried out to the Quidditch Pitch for try-outs where you and Hermione happily resigned yourselves to watching since neither of you are much of quidditch players. You watched Hermione nervously observing Ron and McLaggen, and you eyed her as she quietly sent a confundus charm McLaggen’s way. Being the good friend, you are you didn’t plan on letting her live that down anytime soon. As hard as everything was at the moment, being around the people you love never failed to help you feel a bit more normal.

You spent all your time with them, studying, eating, walking to classes. It wasn’t abnormal, but suddenly you were thoroughly intentional about who you were around and what you were doing. Even if it was something as simple as walking to the bathroom between classes, you were always sure to have a friend by your side.

-

Despite only having been at school for a week, tension was high around the castle. Everybody needed the chance to let loose a bit.

It’s a well-known fact at Hogwarts that Gryffindor throws the best parties. Everyone years five and up are invited regardless of house. If there’s one thing that can bond bold Gyrffindors and prideful Slytherin, its taking shots of firewhiskey side by side. No one ever snitches because if they were there, it means they were partaking. It was one of the few parties on-campus members of every house attend.

With the first week of classes over and the weekend here, it was the perfect time for a party. Over many years students crafted spots around campus faculty didn’t know about hidden student lounges behind paintings with a password and rooms stocked for parties with couches and bottles of alcohol that would just appear. They would move every year so that if students returned as professors, they would not be found.

“You’re coming to the party tomorrow, no excuse will get you out of it, and I will not take no for an answer,” you said to Hermione on your way the last class of your day.

“But what if we get caught?” She said.

“They’ll give us detention, they won’t kick out all of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Anyways they won’t catch us; that’s the point of the rotating location.”

“I have a paper to do.”

“You are the smartest person I know. You’ll finish it in the morning. You know what? I’ll do it with you, and if I don’t both finish, you don’t have to go,” you had a lengthy history of procrastinating on essays. They always took you far longer than they needed to.

“Deal,” Hermione said, underestimating how badly you wanted her at that party. “So how’s that potions project with Malfoy going?”

“Shit, don’t remind me,” you groaned. “Let’s just not talk about Malfoy this weekend.”

-

“Mate, you’ve got to get laid tomorrow night, ever since we’ve gotten back to school, it’s like you’re a different man,” Blaise said.

“I’m not tense. I’m just no longer interested in school-boy antics,” Draco bit back. None of the boys around him could understand half of what he was going through.

“Boys, take a shot every time Malfoy makes a bullshit excuse for his shitty attitude,” Nott said and chuckled, earning a glare from Draco.

“It’s Hogwarts, not a tavern. I don’t have to be in a damn good mood all of the time,” Malfoy responded bitterly.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be a git all of the time. We just want you to destress a little mate, it’s not a bad thing,” Blaise said, leaning back in the plush armchair.

“Just go to the bloody party Draco, it’s not going to kill you,” Theo added.

“Fine,” Draco said under his breath. “Now, let’s get back to studying?”

-

“The effects of muggle philosophy have had an impact on the development of spells that is unmatched by other influences. The opportunity for these philosophers to have collaborated with witches and wizards would have simply increased the advantages which we already benefit from today.”

“In all of our years of school, you have never written an essay that quickly,” Hermione, astonished, said as you read her your concluding sentences.

“I had some motivation, now let’s go get ready! C’mon, it’s your very first Hogwarts party!”

“You are the absolute worst Y/n,” she groaned, as she started putting her essay and writing tools back in her bag.

“And you love me, so you’re going to have to work that one out,” you responded with a terribly overexaggerated wink. “Now come on! Maybe we’ll get Ron to stop being so daft and possibly ask you out,” You dragged your blushing friend out of the common room and up to your dormitory to get ready for the highly anticipated event.

-

There was something about how free you felt at these parties that had you coming back for more every time. Maybe it was the alcohol, perhaps the too-loud music and having to yell to speak, the mingling of sweat, old furniture, and cigarettes, or all of the above. Whatever it was, you loved it. 

You wore your favorite ensemble with a signature deep red clinging to your lips. Although, your pride and joy of the night was Hermione Granger in a tight red dress, somewhat tamed and defined curls, and just a tad bit of makeup. Your best friend is beautiful, you just loved the opportunity to dress her up.

You and Hermione stepped into the cozy room wrapped in ornate red wallpaper about forty minutes after the party’s official start, which had her nervous until you convinced her that was the way things were done, and she had to let you take the lead here. This was your area of expertise, not hers. You walked in and instantly found two fresh drinks, handing her one and offering a toast.

“To your very first Hogwarts party,” you said with a wide smile.

“You make me nervous, Y/n,” she responded, peering into the cup with fear in her eyes.

“That goes away with a few drinks, I promise,” With that, both of you threw back the concoctions. You took it without a second thought. Meanwhile, Hermione started coughing, not yet used to the punishments of hard alcohol.

While you and Hermione made your way through the party, with fresh drinks in hand, to find Harry and Ron, Draco and his crew entered. Draco was wearing an oversized black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his alabaster arms tucked into slick black pants that fit him perfectly. He sauntered in with Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle behind him. As always, he commanded the attention in the room; everyone knew the Slytherin Prince had arrived.

“Hey, your husband just walked in,” Ron whispered to you, a little too loudly for your liking.

“Ron. Shut your bloody mouth right now,” you said through your teeth. He was drunk enough to not care, you weren’t. “I’ll tear you to pieces.”

“Ooh, maybe you should have been a Slytherin, you’re soo scary,” he said and chuckled at his horrible joke.

“Ron, you’re acting like a git, shut up,” Hermione said, jumping to your defense.

“Harry, who’re you staring at?” You asked, in an attempt to change the subject off of you and Malfoy.

“I’m watching the door to see if Ginny shows,” he said quietly to you. His infatuation with Ginny was still a sore subject with Ron.

“I’ll let you know if I see her,” you responded. 

“Thanks,” Harry said and smiled, noticing the lull in the conversation he pipped up. “Why don’t I go get us some more drinks? Y/n and Hermione need to get on my and Ron’s level.” 

“Sounds good, Potter,” you quipped as he walked towards the bar.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy watched you with a close eye. The instinct to protect you hadn’t yet faded, and it was currently manifesting through stalking you at parties. Blaise noticed his friend’s gaze on you, but he let his friend be. Maybe this would be his opportunity to find out what’s been occupying Malfoy’s brain.

It wasn’t long until Harry returned to your spot with four bottles and no cups in sight.

“That’s it, Harry, it's official, you’re insane,” Hermione said, quickly putting two and two together.

“Oh, just take the bottle, Hermione! You don’t have to drink the whole thing,” he said and handed her a bright red bottle of fire whiskey.

He handed you the same then passed an open beer to Ron, considering he was already pretty drunk. You graciously accepted the bottle and took a swig, the whiskey burning, but it didn't bother you as you were rather used to it at this point.

“Are you going to drink all of that?” Dracos' highly judgemental voice came from behind your spot on the couch.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned around to see him looming over you. “Did you come here just to judge me? This is a party, you know, drinking is kind of the point. And, why are my drinking habits any of your business?” You questioned, a slur slowly starting to take over your voice.

“You know exactly why it is my business,” he said as if each word was causing him terrible pain.

You handed off the bottle to Harry, stood, and spun around to face Draco. Instead of making you clumsy,  whiskey grants you grace. You were not a sloppy drunk. You placed a hand on Draco’s chest and leaned in close enough for the interaction to be intimate. You were drunk enough now, and the man in front of you was far too sober.

“I am not your wife; in fact, I am not yet your fiancée. We are to be married, we aren’t engaged. And that does not give you the right to control me, Malfoy,” you said, sneering as you uttered his surname. “Now let me live my life before I am subject to you for the rest of it,” you were seething, not once breaking eye contact with him as you took out the anger you had towards your parents on him.

He responded by grabbing your chin rather roughly, “Watch the way you speak to me.”

You slapped his hand away, “Don’t bloody touch me like that.” 

“I’ll touch you in whatever way I want,” he said, just as angry as you. The two of you held your staring contest before he stormed away from you towards wherever alcohol was.

To put it lightly, you were livid. How dare he treat you like some object he could throw around. Tears welled up in your eyes, and all you could think was that you wanted to hurt him back the way he had hurt you.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Harry asked. 

“Give me back the whiskey, please,” you responded.

Harry complied, passing the flaming red bottle your way. If there was one thing, childhood trauma taught you, it was how to drink.

You drowned yourself in the bottle, finishing it off to your friend's shock. “I am perfectly fine,” you said, putting the bottle down and wiping the water away from your eyes. “Ron, Hermione, if you don’t mind, Harry and I are going to go on a walk.”

The suggestion in your voice wasn’t evident to anyone but Harry, who knew exactly what you were getting at. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to snog at parties when each of you was drunk enough. It never got in the way of your friendship, and it wasn’t romantic in the least. It was just something the two of you do on nights where either one wants the chance to forget.

It wasn’t long until you found a spare corner, and the rest of the fire whiskey did its job. Ginny out of his mind, Harry made quick work of pushing you up against the wall and placing his lips on yours. One didn’t need passion to be a good kisser. You reached up your hand and gripped his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. The closer he was, the further away Draco would be, right? And Harry obliged, kissing you harder and wrapping his arms around your waist. But, this time it wasn’t working, you couldn’t get the thought of Draco’s hands on you out of your head. Even his scent was lingering, he was infuriating. You continued to try and push the notion of Draco's lips on yours by letting Harry move from your lips to your neck.

Not far away, Draco watched the Chosen One snog his betrothed, jealousy tightening its grip on his heart. It hurt more than he could care to admit. You had some power over him he didn’t know existed before this moment, and he knew that it was dangerous, that caring about you was dangerous. But at this moment, all he wanted was for you to get away from Harry Potter.

“Mate, what is going on?” Blaise asked, breaking Draco from his trance, and handing him a drink.

Draco took the drink and let out a breath. “My parents have decided that Y/l/n and I will be married this summer. We both found out Monday.”

“Didn’t I just see her in a corner snogging Potter?” He asked, his voice rigid.

Draco took a sip from the mystery cup and nodded. 

“That’s right disrespectful, and it’s clearly bothering you, go bloody do something about it,” Blaise reasoned.

“I don’t know. I think I may have brought it on,” Blaise could feel Dracos tension, and he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“It was her decision to pull him into a corner, now get her out of it,” he advised, and Draco nodded, you shouldn’t be going around kissing other guys, particularly not Harry Potter.

“Thanks, Blaise,” he said and set his drink down on a nearby surface before heading over to your little corner.

Harry’s lips were back on yours, there was likely a mark on your neck, but that wasn’t anywhere near your thoughts. No, even with Harry’s tongue in your mouth, your mind was still on Draco fucking Malfoy.

“I hope I’m not bothering the two of you, but I’m going to need a word with Y/n,” Draco said, causing you to pull off of Harry and turn towards Draco. Despite his evident anger, he had a sense of decorum about him.

“Draco, darling, I’m busy, can’t you tell?” You teased in response.

“I’m sure you and Potter can spare a moment for me,” he said tightly.

But you ignored his anger and turned to Harry, who was disheveled, confused, and disappointed by the loss of contact. “Love, would you mind if I stepped away with Mr. Malfoy here for a moment?” You asked sarcastically, not expecting an answer.

“I mean-”

“Just come with me,” Draco said, interrupting Harry, not caring one bit what he had to say. Again tightly grabbing your wrist, as he pulled you out of the party and out into the hall.

“We just have to stop meeting like this handsome,” you said, placing a hand on his chest, softer than you had earlier.

“You’re drunk,” he said, distaste for your inebriated behavior clear as he pushed you off of him.

“Awe, you’re handsome when you’re mean,” you said, a playful pout on your lips.

“Shut it, Y/n, listen to me. I need you to take this seriously, are you listening?” He asked hotly.

“How could I ignore words coming out of pretty lips like yours, love?” You asked, an enticing drawl to your voice, pushing him off the edge.

He wanted so badly to push you up against the wall and reclaim your lips. He knew the words out of your mouth were just drunken prattle, and you didn’t mean a lick of it, but he couldn’t help, but he couldn’t keep the butterflies from flooding his stomach every time you flirted with him or called him love. But, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been, why else would you have just been up against a wall with Harry? Merlin, Draco hated how badly he loved you.

“Y/n, listen!” He had started shouting, causing you to draw back into yourself and sink into the wall. “You said it yourself, whether we like it or not, we’re getting married this summer. This winter, you’ll be at my house with my family planning our wedding. If you decide you don’t want to comply, they’ll kill you. So you’re going to listen to me and do as I say. Your bloody life depends on it.”

You just nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. In the state you were in, you couldn’t help but see your own father in Draco at that moment. Survival instincts told you to comply.

“We are going to start dating, we’ll be nice to each other in class, eat together, go on dates, study, and keep up appearances as our parents requested. That being said, you’re not to go around snogging other boys, especially not Harry Potter, and I won’t be snogging girls in corners at parties.” You could sense the bitterness in his voice. “The second you broke the seal on that letter, you confirmed your fate. No matter how much you ignore it, there’s no escaping it, so stop trying, and bloody accept it.”

“Draco I-”

“Why do you assume that marrying me is a death sentence?” He wasn’t done. He was deeply hurt by your words and actions over the course of the last week. You made his heart twist, but to you right now, he was just angry. “I’m not as awful as you and your friends constantly make me out to be.”

“All you’ve ever done is hurt me, Draco,” you said, any air of drunken playfulness gone now, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes. The alcohol was making it impossible to gather your thoughts. “Since we got here, calling me bloodtraitor, every time you got a chance to, you would remind me of how my parents thought of me and what they do to me. All that shit you pulled for all those years, making me feel inferior. You always confirmed that I deserved the abuse, the terrors I faced at home. And now all of a sudden, we’re supposed to get married, and you care in your weird twisted way?” You could not hide the hurt as it streamed down your face and the confusion that laced your voice. “You can’t do that to me!”  

Draco broke inside, watching you hurt because of him. But he didn’t know how to tell you that he cared and that he wanted so badly to love you, but he didn’t understand how. “That doesn’t change our family’s choice. Learn how to live with it because, as of tomorrow morning, you are my girlfriend, I put that hickey there, not Potter, and I don’t care how nasty your hangover is, you’ll wake up, get dressed and look presentable, and you’ll go on a date with me to Hogsmede tomorrow. Do you understand?” There was no room in his voice for disagreement. He sounded livid.

The tear that slipped down your cheek as you nodded broke his heart. It hadn’t even been a week, and all he’d done was hurt you. You were right. He was a monster.

“I understand,” you said, and he knew you wouldn’t forget this tomorrow morning, so with that, he stormed off.

The second he turned the corner, you slid down to the floor, you were sobbing, and you couldn’t breathe. He was right. It wouldn’t be the wedding that would change your life, it had been the letter. You were his, and that wasn’t going to change. No matter what, you were stuck. The panic attack just got worse as you sat there, unable to move. But, apparently, you were there long enough for someone to realize you were gone because, at some point, Ron came out to find you in your predicament. He didn’t say anything, he just picked you up and carried you to the Gryffindor common room. He set you down on a couch near the fireplace and sat on the floor next to you as your sobbing shifted to silent tears, and bit by bit, your breathing started to return to normal.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked sweetly, no matter how much Ron joked and teased, he cared.

But you just shook your head no, and when he walked away, you assumed he was going to bed, but he returned with a large shirt, shorts, and a glass of water.

“Y/n, I don’t think you can make it up to your room, please put these on and drink this.”

You nodded and did as he told the common room was empty, so all it took was him turning around to give you the privacy to change.

“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” he asked gently. It was obvious you didn’t want to talk, and it was clear that Malfoy had caused this, but he didn’t want to leave you alone.

You just nodded, so he grabbed a couple of pillows from around the room and two blankets. After placing one on you, he lay down on the ground next to you and fell asleep.

Part 3 - The Milky Tea

Tag list - @whatawildone @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker @pillowjj @pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco fanfiction #Draco Malfoy

[baobaojng]

when icarus falls (jung jaehyun) - half time interval

when icarus falls - act one, half time interval, act two (final)

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - college athlete!au , crush!au

themes: angst, fluff

reminders: YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BEFORE YOU PROCEED TO PART TWO!! (this is probably the most crucial part of the entire story?)

summary: some tragic story of you sharing one class with your long time college crush jaehyun who never notices you until he accidentally reads your work and he gets curious— oh, and he uses lame excuses to get to talk to you.

wordcount: 3,428

>

No strange alien feeling lingered during this post-game dinner. At this point, you’ve already been fully accustomed with the boys to understand and blend yourself in to the chaos that occurred whenever the large group would be put together.

“Y/N if we were a rock band, you would totally definitely qualify as a groupie.” Mark had told you when Jaehyun prioritized your seat in the van that they used to transport the student athletes around. He was kind of salty about not getting to sit next to Jaehyun, enduring Donghyuck’s company instead as the youngest constantly bugged him— it was still an endearing sight to behold.

“Not rock band orgy kind of groupie though,” Johnny said as he teasingly narrowed his eyes at Doyoung, who then finished whatever it was they were alluding to, “Jaehyun’s groupie.”

Everybody else just laughed, Jaehyun included, while you tried your best to fabricate a smile. It played out this way during the entire dinner, just the boys shoving each other around and poking around trying to make speculations at your relationship with Jung Jaehyun. But they didn’t have to know they were at the losing end of their assumptions; you and Jaehyun were simply friends.

“I have a paper due tomorrow.” You reminded Jaehyun who was in the middle of getting caught away with the time and the calzone he ordered, laughing at some lame joke Yuta offered to the table - Sicheng clutching onto Yukhei for dear life; it was such a terrible joke.

“Say,” he lays his hand on your knees, even through the thick material of your jeans you were pulsating at the gesture, it would take a million years for you to ever even feel used to this, “have you ever tried passing something in late? Or maybe rushing it a little bit into the due time?”

“Sounds tempting, but I need the extra credit.”

He pouted, “I really don’t think you do.”

“I need incentive to sacrifice my grades, Jaehyun.” You rolled your eyes at him playfully.

“Live for once, Y/N. Just this once.” The words he left struck deep, and you knew it was because he was right. For all the weeks that you’ve been going out as friends, he always respected your time and always made sure that you didn’t have anything coming up and that you were sure that you were willing to sacrifice things for him. He was just considerate, and it was one other thing that added up to the list of why you’re even more attached to him.

Like the proper saving grace he was, Doyoung interrupted like he usually did. “Just say yes already, Y/N. I’m about to barf into my plate, you two are so lovey dovey, but the sight of you teasing him makes me sick.”

-

“Where are we going?” You asked this question to him a whole lot at this point, having been brought anywhere and everywhere already.

Jaehyun would retort by keeping his eyes on the road and his teasing at the maximum. “What part of ‘surprise adventure’ do you not understand?”

“The part where you’ve been driving for an hour now,” you have the capacity to sigh with worry, “and it’s like 10:30pm Jaehyun.” Looking at the tiny clock installed by his stereo system, you wonder why he isn’t complaining about being tired after one of their most important games of the season. Instead he’s driving you to god-knows-where, still displaying the overflowing kindness he always managed to give out. Jaehyun should be tired, and you should’ve been dropped off of your apartment.

He chuckles, wrists exposing a little bit more vein to his aggression at the steering wheel. “Why are you being so panicky about this?”

“Well why wouldn’t I be, Jaehyun?” You send daggers to his way, but he can’t look at you directly when he’s looking at the road ahead. “You should at least be resting, we could have gone out if you wanted to but not when it’s so much of a hassle for you to drag me wherever.”

In all the perfect timing of the world, he pulls up to an unfamiliar driveway to what seemed to be a big café that was very much open in the late of the night, different warm toned lights scattered around in lanterns and lamps. Jaehyun doesn’t respond until he parks the car and turns off the engine, and you notice that outside there was an impressive amount of other cars parked here too; there was probably a lot of people.

“What did I tell you?” He looks at you now, “I said I wanted you to live for once, didn’t I?” But you still pout at him, and he grazes his thumb over your cheek but in a way that is so gentle and so quick when he pulls it away. “Please.”

You know you cannot argue, you don’t have it in you. “At the expense of your sanity?”

“You’ve made me insane, it isn’t like this is any different.” He says as if it means nothing, but he doesn’t know that his words saw a little bit more than they should into you. There was a lot of meaningless things to Jaehyun but he had told you anyway, sometimes when he says you are so important to him - you just freeze a little bit and resume; you don’t know why it’s so east for him to be so kind and be so flirtatious without even trying.

Jung Jaehyun was like this, and it only made sense because now you were friends with him, he was a little bit reckless as it was. He was kind, and that was very much true, but he never had an ‘off’ switch to his kindness. Every time he would tell you he was in a bad mood or that he felt so out of himself, it would only last for a split second until he’d succumb back into pretending that he was okay - and that on the inside it wasn’t eating him all up. You found now, in all your shame, that Jaehyun was most likely doing this same thing to you. He was probably worn out, but he would put you first. Like how he did that with the boys, them first and him last. Like how he thought about his family, them first and him last.

“Are you doing this for me then?” You ask him in all seriousness, and you’ve caught him.

He is wide-eyed, “that’s secondary. I thought this was more about me knowing I could be somewhere and do something I wanted, and I know you would be there and say yes, even if you protest for an hour on the way.”

“So primarily for you?”

“Yes.”

You don’t believe he can be selfish.

“Are you sure?” You’re skeptical.

“Can we please just go inside before we miss the thing?” He says and you scramble out of his car like a slow lunatic, you find your feet in the gravel of the driveway. The building is rustic, much like an old house converted to a coffee establishment. To your dismay, there are no signs that indicate what this whole ordeal is, but Jaehyun walks so close enough to you were he scrapes his jacketed arms against yours with each swing. So maybe you could’ve been distracted by the contact; you still weren’t used to it. Muffled amplified voices greet you as you walk up to the big wooden entrance, and it looks like there’s a mini-event than a gathering— a far cry from the unusually crowded night café you were expecting in your mind.

It was a slam poetry event, obviously. From the look of the place. A small crowd gathered around in foldable metal chairs and a mic stand being patronized at the front.

“Oh no no no. I know what you’re trying to do.” You gripped at his arm, Jaehyun only smiling back in response.

“You don’t have to go up if you don’t want to,” he pretends it’s okay but he puts both his hands in the pockets of his pants and he pretends to look up at the ceiling, “but it’d be such a shame if we drove all this way.”

“Don’t be passive aggressive about it.” You try to fight back but he’s still keeping his stance, “stop it Jaehyun I swear!”

He whispers encouragingly, “neither of us know anyone here.” Your eyes trail around the different people sitting down in groups or in pairs: lovers, big friend groups, girls in hipster clothing, and guys who are eighty percent baggy clothing.

“Strangers or not, anything is scary in front of a crowd.” You complain, but deep inside you did want to try something like this, you’ve always been scared of making a fool out of yourself.

“Think of it this way,” Jaehyun stands closer to you, and he points at all the different people, “they’re all just books hidden in bookshelves or decorations on the chairs. Just look at me, I’m your crowd, and I’ve never been disappointed in you. Now go.”

And you do.

-

It seems that life with Jaehyun in it isn’t scary.

Even when you’ve ended up doing things you never truly wanted to, things you were too afraid to, and things you’ve always been curious to check out. Jaehyun was attentive this way; he’s been taking mental notes of all of the things you’ve talked about for the weeks that the two of you have basically been inseparable.

That was how he dragged you to a beach party with half of the college campus population along with his friends tonight.

You were drunk enough already, having drank to spite Yukhei of being weaker than you were in terms of tolerance. (Why you even bothered to promise yourself you wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past you didn’t know either, you were still trying to prove him wrong.) Jaehyun walked away with Johnny because Johnny saw some girls he was interested in, and this time around as you were guarded by Chittaphon who was giving you water and Doyoung who was patting your back because of the endless hiccups that left your mouth - you succumbed to another thing you promised yourself you would never admit to.

Jaehyun was off somewhere else where you could see him, his perfect silhouette. He was perfect after all to everyone else, but you saw him with flaws and unmistakable kindness - you were willing to accept him for all he was. Again, he wasn’t your’s even though sometimes in the moments you were together and you’d get lost in the hours of nothingness, it felt like he was. You spent the previous hours moping around in the quiet, just enjoying the company of your other friends. It felt bitter when you expected to spend time with him tonight.

“I think I’m in love with Jaehyun.” You admit to no one in particular, biting your lip at the sensation of finally being able to pronounce the syllables you’ve hid between school papers.

There was no grand reaction however, only Doyoung raising his brow at you, “You think?” He asks, as if he had already known and he was just waiting for you to admit it completely altogether.

“Haven’t you been in love with him forever?” Chittaphon interferes, and you’re suddenly afraid at his guess. But to Doyoung, this is new information.

“Forever?” Doyoung asks in surprise.

“It isn’t hard to see, Doyoung, her natural instinct was to hermit herself away from Jaehyun before they became friends. She’s always been shy because she’s conscious of what he would think of her. But now she’s completely whole with him, I mean she’s going to all these dumb parties because he asks her.” Chittaphon shrugs, unimpressed by his correct analysis of your situation. Maybe you underestimated just how observant he actually really is.

“Yeah.” You could only respond, your head feeling light and everything else just turning into blaring white noise.

Jung Jaehyun appears in front of the three of you who are basically rutted into the sand, the grains feeling like tiny scratches on your behind. “Are you okay to walk?” He points at you, and he’s had a lot less to drink than you have but is definitely less sober than Chittaphon or Doyoung. Both are sending you disapproving looks, but know that whatever the case is you are going to walk with Jaehyun anyway.

So Jaehyun pulls you up when you offer him your arm. The two of you walk away from the small crowd, the music fading in the background and only the moonlight rippling on the water made things visible. You could only hear the crash of the waves on the beach and your heart dropping every time your feet crunched up in the sand. Jaehyun walks with you, but there is a gap between the two of you that makes him feel so far away. It had felt like this the entire night, he was only hovering around and it was the first time in a while that you felt distanced from him. Although, who could you really blame when you followed him around like a lost pup? You questioned the intention instead.

Why were you here? Why did he ask you to come out? He wasn’t going to hang around with you anyway.

“I think I’m going to take Brianna seriously.” He declares to you, and if the ground you were stepping on wasn’t quicksand— then it sure felt like you were being swallowed alive.

You try to swallow on your spit, but your throat is dry, it is too dry now. “Good for you.” And you stay silent, not knowing what to say. A few weeks ago Jaehyun had talked to you about what he thought of relationships, and you clearly remember him telling you that he wasn’t interested in pursuing anyone or anything - what made him suddenly change his mind? Sure, Brianna was beautiful. You knew you were jealous, and you were willing to admit defeat now. Even when you’ve been with him, he would never consider you.

Your feet take you nowhere, and Jaehyun continues to walk beside you.

“What’s wrong?” You were afraid he would ask, but he did, he knew you enough. “Why are you being quiet?”

“Nothing.” When you say the word, you think you are unclear.

Jaehyun presses gently at your shoulder, because he has always been gentle. “What is it?” He asks now, more sincere, but you can smell the alcohol in his words as he seems to come so much closer.

“Jaehyun, I—“ Words are bubbling and catching up on your throat, like a fish hook is stuck in between your collarbones and it’s slowly reeling itself out of your mouth. You are drunk, you are all but sober, and you cannot believe that it takes only so much alcohol to cause you to break apart.

“What is it?” He can see the tears form in the waterline of your eyes.

Once again, Jaehyun defies your comfort - and that is because you are wrong; it isn’t the alcohol, it is Jaehyun that breaks you apart.

“I love you.”

When you pictured yourself ever saying these words to someone you did love, you imagined it to be under the brightest sun - where flowers seem to bloom in dried out shadowed branches. You imagined love without shame, and admitting to love without forcing yourself to. Though you know that even without the mask of intoxication, you are scared of rejection— but you are even more scared of letting yourself hurt because you’re allowing yourself to watch the person you love try and fall in love with someone else.

The worst part is when Jaehyun kisses you; it is not poetic or sweet. In fact, he tastes even stronger than any alcohol you’ve tasted. Even in this moment, Jaehyun treats you like a piece of porcelain, he is gentle. He kisses you as if he is looking for answers: searching for hues in a blank canvas, finding a figure in an underdeveloped photograph. Then, you think this is wrong— wrong wrong wrong. Jaehyun is drunk, he must think you are drunk too, and it hasn’t even been that long since he had told you he was going to take somebody else’s feelings seriously. There was an open possibility for you to reciprocate, and even just this once take advantage of this; you know you will never be able to kiss him again. But you know that you are not what he wants. You are more to this than wanting to kiss him back in the moment, and he isn’t thinking straight.

This will only hurt you more if you seize the moment. That is when you pull away, and you are sure that he tastes the tears that stream from your eyes.

You love him now enough to know that he doesn’t love you.

So you run.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jaehyun calls for you, and this time you do not look back.

-

(This is the reject paper you lost that day Doyoung was asking to read it)

For some personal paper that I am meant to write for this class, I think I am meant to follow some sort of format. The kind where I paste a quote by Ghandi or by Confucius, and I try to extract any and all attempts at coming up with a witty insightful understanding of the quote. Or maybe try and create references to a film I had recently watched, trying to picture myself as one of the characters and interpreting their turmoil as my own. Maybe I am meant to describe art, and imagine that each passing stroke of the brush is a galloping feeling that caresses my soul. I think there should be some typical sense in creating resolve to this conflict. When in fact, there is not really much to the mantra, I just tend to over personalize and attach myself to things. I fear that this is what ultimately sets me back from being able to do much, the endless amounts of formats and the feeling of having my own feelings be required of me. In a way, the idea of being programmed to live life in a cyclical way while forcing yourself to feel things because you yourself are aware of the lack thereof has really held me back from being able to do much. So then, I will try to simplify this complicated puzzle of emotion. I want to try and live more, and it sounds like this is something I’m supposed to write when talking about the rest of my life but I honestly fear that after college I will have to grow up quickly and I will have to skip out on those parts. For what it’s worth, to be able to make more of these last few moments in college without being too caught up with the own standards I set and just living free would be that miraculous thing I want to achieve. These are the years I should have set aside to go out and drink until my stomach acids would give out and make memories with strangers till sunrise would encapsulate us, maybe try and sign up for campus organizations just because I thought I’d make friends through common interests, maybe fail out of some classes and experience what it would be like to not give a damn about marks, or maybe love without all the inhibitions of rejection and the lack of reciprocity. It’s just that I’ve deliberately cast myself into the shallow depths of coffee hours, becoming the zombie my younger self had always feared. I’ve made a mess of myself: becoming a pretentiously formatted order of routine, powering through synthetic emotions and rooting out words in all the possible places I can weed them out. It is no poetic prose, but perhaps a smaller, less theatric, mess of a Greek Tragedy I’ve boxed myself in. There’s this fear of tomorrow, and in not knowing. That it is already a life and death situation if I do not get where I am supposed to because I fail in this stage of my life. Soon, I’ve feared, things will lose focus and I will live a life only full of regrets. I know for a fact this is the only real opportunity where I can let go of the world, even just for a little bit. I want to live this time around. I want to feel alive, or remember what that used to feel like. -

end of half time interval

next: act two (final)

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagine #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct 127 #nct #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 9

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,043

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: swearing, food/meal mention, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: the massive amounts of gay panic. this chapter was fun to write

...

Roman returned to find his room far less lively. The tall nerd and the short puffball have seemingly disappeared! Of course Roman knew they'd likely just gone home, but what fun is life without a little exciting drama?

The only one left was Virgil, who was curled in on himself on Roman's bed, a pillow in his lap and phone in his hands yet again. Roman sighed dramatically, sprawling out beside his darkly dressed counterpart.

"Is this what they meant when they said 'get a room?'" He commented after a long boring silence, waggling his eyebrows when Virgil looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh shut up," Virgil looked away, slamming his pillow into Roman's face in a fit of deja-vu.

"Oh come on! Look up the word joke in the dictionary, Jack Smellington!" Roman said exasperatedly. Virgil shook out his luminescent hair, which was now out of his hood and proudly on display. Roman couldn't convince himself to look away.

"As much as I appreciate being compared to one of my favorite Disney characters, that was a bit- what?" Virgil looked at him confusedly, and that's what finally got Roman to look away.

"Nothing." He said shortly. He considered apologizing, but he figured that would make him look worse. Virgil just laughed lightly, not awkwardly. Mostly to himself about Roman's dorkiness. Roman felt his face heat up, and hated himself for it.

"Well, I should probably get home..." Virgil flopped back onto Roman's bed, stretching his arms out above his head. his shirt lifted slightly to follow, and Roman caught a glimpse of his navel, as well as some impressively sharp hip bones, and the very gentle start of a V-line. He forced himself to look away that time. Getting caught looking at someone's hair is one thing, but... but that, was something else entirely. Roman was already in dangerous waters, and he knew it.

"Ehem, well, I know you denied me last time," Roman began, flopping down beside Virgil and looking up at his pride flag, "but the offer of a ride is still up for grabs. Unless you'd rather be stuck on the bus at night for half an hour." Roman crossed his arms over his chest, and Virgil sat up to lean over him. He nearly opted to retort and deny the offer more snarkily than last time's failed attempt, but...

Roman's eyes. He'd never been close enough and calm enough simultaneously to really look at them; they were a deep melted milk chocolate brown, and held nearly imperceptible flecks of shining red. Virgil's eyebrows knit together, and he leaned closer to look into Roman's eyes more properly.

He didn't realize what he'd done until he'd started to reach down, almost putting his hand on Roman's cheek, and Roman made a small squealing noise to go with his completely tomatoed face. Virgil gasped slightly louder than he'd meant to and immediately recoiled.

"Shit, sorry, I just..." he considered shutting his ridiculous mouth and trying to move on, but he figured he couldn't leave that one without some kind of excuse. "I just haven't really looked at your eyes before. Not like, really, I mean. They're... nice. I like the little red bits." His voice grew much quieter as he spoke. He was facing away from Roman, and thank god, because if Roman could see his face he'd see peach-colored cheeks and a childish smile. And how very uncharacteristic of Virgil that would be.

"Thanks," Roman finally managed to huff. He stood slowly, trying to gather himself, and walked over to his desk, grabbing his car keys. He jangled them in his fingers, raising his eyebrows and silently asking Virgil if he'd take him up on the ride offer. Virgil, who had barely managed to discipline his face before Roman turned to him, just smiled very slightly and nodded.

Virgil grabbed his backpack, and Roman led the way from his room and out the front door to his ridiculous shiny-red mustang, which happened to have white racer stripes. Virgil thought this was pretty funny, but kept a sarcastic tease to himself for once in his life.

Virgil texted Roman his address from the passenger seat. While the bus ride to Virgil's house from Roman's was about 20-30 minutes, the car ride was less than 10. Roman considered putting on some music, but decided against it, considering what happened the last time they were alone with just music and each other. What the heckity heck is happening here?  When I imagine... love... this is what comes to mind. He cringed at himself, surprised and disgusted that he was admitting that. This doesn't feel the same as it does with Logan though... so then, maybe I truly love Logan, and Virgil just inexplicably makes my heart flutter? Of course, the only other possibility is so much worse-

Roman's thoughts were interrupted by Virgil shouting "RED LIGHT!!!" very suddenly, and Roman slammed the breaks.

"Jesus Princey, are you trying to kill me!? Is that why you were so hell-bent on driving me home??" Virgil's voice was mostly panic, but laced with some half-hearted sarcasm. He clearly had more panic and less sarcasm in it than he'd meant to. He was holding onto his seat and the door beside him for dear life, looking at Roman with wide eyes, his chest heaving comically. Roman was too dazed to laugh.

"Shit, I'm sorry," He looked up at the street light, which was in fact red. "I got lost in thought for a minute. I won't let it happen again while I'm responsible for you. My deepest apologies." Roman would have normally faux bowed and reached out for Virgil's hand to kiss his knuckles, but unfortunately Virgil was making him feel... well, bitterly jittery and not very glittery. Or maybe, too glittery. He didn't know anymore; all he knew is he had to leave his thoughts for when he got Virgil and then himself home safe.

"Lost in thought?" Virgil let that little comment slip sooner than he could corral himself, and almost brought his hand to cover his mouth, but far too late. Roman just looked at him anxiously, sighing.

"Yeah. I guess so." Roman wasn't normally this dismissive, and Virgil knew far better at this point than to press.

Before they were even on Virgil's street, he broke their awkward silence with an extremely unexpected "thanks for driving me home, Ro. You didn't have to, and I really appreciate it."

Roman was shaken to the core, partially by Virgil's sincerity and partially by the nickname. "Oh, uh, well, no need to thank me now. I nearly killed you once, and you aren't safe and sound at your destination just yet." He smiled softly over at the taller emo. Virgil just returned the smile.

A few moments later came a quiet "really though." Virgil's capacity for sincerity wasn't very extensive, and if anyone knew that it was Roman. He felt a blush creeping up his neck, and couldn't think of a good response.

Finally Roman turned onto Virgil's street, adhering to the 10 mph speed limit. He cruised to a stop in front of... what was apparently Virgil's house.

It wasn't what Roman was expecting at all. Not that his... notion, that Virgil's house looked something like Gru's house from Despicable Me, was something he thought was realistic. He just hadn't known how else to imagine it. Instead of anything close to dark and sinister, the outer walls were made of some gentle tan planks all stacked horizontally. There was a light turquoise front door with a rounded top, and to its left a large window covered most of the street-facing wall. In the window, Roman could see a round inviting table with a mother, a father and a young boy sharing dinner, all smiling and seemingly caught up in their nightly banter. They were all laughing and seemed so... happy. The house itself seemed to emanate a calm happiness.

"Is this...?" Roman gestured vaguely toward the house with the address Virgil had given him.

"Yep. There's my parents, and my brother. I guess I just missed the start of dinner." Virgil reached down between his ankles to grab his bag.

"Talk about clashing aesthetics." Roman smiled mischievously at Virgil, hoping to lighten the mood without sounding like a complete jerk, at least.

Virgil caught onto this, looking over and offering him a breathy laugh. "I know. It's almost a crime for me to live here."

Roman giggled, and they found themselves stuck looking into each other's eyes once again.

"W-well, I'd better-" Virgil turned and made to open his door, but something possessed Roman to lean over to Virgil and grab his shirt, accidentally pulling him far too close to his face. They both yelped simultaneously at the close proximity, and Virgil leapt back as far as his seat would allow him, grabbing it similarly to how he'd done when Roman had nearly driven through the red light earlier.

Virgil almost said something, but some noise outside stopped him. He turned to seek its source, giving Roman a view past him as well.

"Virgil, honey, is that you?" his mom called from the doorstep. She held Atticus on her hip, and Virgil's dad towered behind them in the doorway. all of them were waving. Virgil waved back deftly, and opened the car door. He turned to Roman once again, who looked as though someone had just stomped on his heart and twisted their foot viciously.

Virgil couldn't bring himself to smile at him, but offered instead something he hoped sounded kind. "See you in class tomorrow. And... thanks again for the ride."

With that, Virgil got out and shut the door behind him, and Roman watched as he reunited with his picture perfect family, unable to move for some god forsaken reason.

"Is that one of your friends from that biology project, Virgil? He's so cute!" Roman could hear Virgil's mom squeal at her approaching son.

"Mom, leave it be, will you? he's-" Virgil's voice was cut off as their front door was shut. Roman eventually managed to take a single deep breath.

He twisted in his seat to face forward again, gripping the steering wheel with whitening knuckles and staring blankly at the mustang logo in the wheel's center. What. Was. That.

...

Roman's ride home was fast. At least, it felt much faster than the ride to Virgil's house. He didn't come close to running any more red lights, and before he knew it he was twisting the keys out of the ignition and then stepping through his front door.

He couldn't shake the daze that was clouding all of his senses. He wasn't intercepted by either of his parents on his route from the front door to his bedroom, so there was nothing to distract him from his... distractedness. He flopped onto his bed, laying on his back the same way he'd done less than half an hour ago when Virgil had almost...

That's when the haziness suddenly sped up, and the fog in Roman's brain rapidly became a hurricane. He was so confused by his own feelings that he had to squeeze his eyes shut to will away a sob. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. He pushed the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids, trying to distract himself with the aching pain and sparkling stars they brought to his eyes.

Meanwhile, Virgil had eaten dinner, thankfully and willingly accepting the pleasant distraction of his family's company. His mom was an excellent cook, and Atticus was extra animated about the stories of his adventures at school that day. He and his best friend had apparently played by the creek during recess, and found a tadpole to poke and prod. Virgil found his brother very endearing when he told his stories.

However, as all things are, his distraction was only temporary. Soon he found himself having finished the washing up after dinner and slowly trudging his way up the stairs to his room. The moment he shut his door behind him, all of the feelings that had been kept down since he'd gotten out of Roman's car crashed into him like a 20 foot wave. He leaned back against the shut door, sinking down to sit on the floor and hold his knees.

Roman and Virgil, clueless of each other, had the exact same thought at the exact same time.

Fuck. Why do I feel this way?

#ts patton #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #virgil sanders #prinxiety #virgil x roman #patton x logan #logicality #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #slow burn #high school au

[give-jack-a-lightsaber]

Cool... Bruises? (Chicago Fire)

A/N: I’m back baby (?) I had this idea a few weeks ago but last night a saw it in my notes and started writing it! Just like that... I wish that could happen to me with college stuff but nope. Anyway, I tried a new way of writing that involved not using “Y/N” and making it gender neutral! It was a hard but gratifying experience, I hope you like it!

Word count: 1546 

Firehouse 51. You have been here for a month and a half and saying that it was the greatest house you ever worked in was the smallest compliment you could think of. This was your third, and hopefully last, firehouse in your ten years of being a firefighter.

 Why a firefighter? It didn't run in the family, you weren't saved by one of them, you didn't get excited by the adrenaline of the dangers that came with... No, none of that. You just lived your whole childhood in front of a firehouse and seeing them run to the trucks whenever the alarm sounded, with rain, snow or in the middle of a heatwave, to help a complete stranger who needed it was all it took for you to know that when you grew up you wanted to love your job as much as them and if in the same time you could be helping someone, better. So when you graduated from high school, you went straight to the fire academy and you loved it.

 Now 10 years later you still loved the job with all your heart and the schedule helped with your second job that it was as gratifying as the first one: a tattoo artist.

 You loved drawing your whole life, which is why your friends and family were kinda surprised that you didn't follow an art or design type of career. But nowadays it was as important for you as being a firefighter. It was your way of interacting with complete strangers without the fire or a halligan in the middle, and also an escape for your mind from bad calls or stupid discussions with your colleagues.

________

It was a completely normal Friday... except for it really wasn't. The whole past week, in and out of work, you started to notice that your coworkers (that luckily you can also call your friends) were acting strange towards you. At first not everyone was like this, if you don't remember wrong the first you noticed acting like this was Cruz, but now the whole shift was starting to whisper around you, stared at you worriedly and asking you things like "how are you been lately?" or "everything okay at home?".

 'Maybe they're joking with me because I'm a newbie', you thought, although is kinda strange because you been with them for almost two months... Still, you decided to ignore it but if it did get worse you will intervene.

 After the everyday reunion with the chief all went straight to have breakfast but you needed a quick detour to get your vitamins from your locker. Entering the common room you went straight to get a glass of water, popped your vitamins in your mouth and grabbed a plate for your breakfast.

 "What'd you take?" Herrmann asked beside you.

 "Vicodin. You can all call me Dr. House now" you joked and faked a limp in your way to the table. You knew it was a lame joke but you also knew that Brett and Capp would have laughed at that, so when you looked up from the plate and saw everyone staring at you with long and saddened faces you couldn't take it anymore.

 "Okay, what is going on with all you?", you asked standing up from the table and moving to the door so you would have a view of everyone, "did I do something to bother you guys?".

 Immediately a chorus of "no", "not your fault", "hey don't blame yourself" invaded the room and surprisedly were cut off by chief Boden.

 "You did nothing wrong kid, but it has come to my attention that some of your coworkers are worried about your well-being, and I know you still feel like the new face here and maybe you can't open up to us yet, but we are here for you when you are ready" he said looking at you with kind eyes.

 "Uh" you stared at everyone for a few seconds, searching for words to describe  how you felt right now. "I don't want to be disrespectful to you chief or anyone but... What the hell are you talking about?".

 "Come on, Cruz saw them when you were changing in the locker room" chastised Severide while frowning at you.

 "Saw what?" you questioned, getting confused more and more.

 "The bruises!" Joe yelped, "I saw a big ass bruise in your left leg. You can stop lying now".

 "Bruises? Wha-" that's when you realized what was this about. Oh boy... "It's not a bruise-".

 "Nah don't come at me with this crap" Herrmann halt you, "you didn't fall nor got hit by anything in the lasts two weeks and Cruz said those looked like a big deal so start talking".

 "Hey you don't go threatening people who need help" snapped Brett at the grey haired man.

 "Sylvie is right, is a sensitive matter that needs sensitive-" stated Casey before being cut off by the comments of everyone present in the room.

 "Guys, really is not what you think of" you protested but by now the discussion of treating the "problem" with a delicate or hard hand was swallowing your voice completely.

 Then a crazy idea came to you and you thought 'what the hell, this is already out of my control'. You felt through your uniform pants and silently cheered and thanked your past you for putting your biker shorts underneath.

 Big inhale and...

 "HEY!!" you shouted with all your lung capacity, that thankfully managed to get everyone quiet.

 "It's not a bruise and-" you started but stopped to send a threatening look towards Mouch who was about to interrupt, "AND I can prove it". Finished that sentence you started to unbuckle your belt even if you could feel their eyes, many many eyes, on you.

 "What are you..." Stella trailed off with a confused chuckle.

 "I am not bruised" you stated just before pulling your pants downand waiting quietly for the reactions. Every single one was amazing to see, the pants down technique was totally worth it.

 "Goddammit Joe you don't know the difference between a bruise and a tattoo?!" roared Herrmann looking at the firefighter in question.

 "H-how am I supposed to know?!! Literally the whole leg is tattooed and I just saw a glimpse of it in the locker room!" Joe excused himself while pointing at your leg.

 "You can put your pants back on" sighed the Chief and left the room.

___________

 "Those are some nice tattoos" commented Matt, now all sit down eating breakfast.

 "Thank you, I designed all myself but just tattooed the parts in my leg. The thigh section was done by a colleague" you beamed at him. "I'm really proud of it".

 "Wait, are you a tattoo artist? That is so cool" marveled Brett. "For how long? Do you work of it?".

 "Well I started when I got out of the academy, so around 10 years. And yes, a friend and I have a little tattoo shop in Little Village" you informed them.

 "How come we never knew about this? You been here for a month and a half!" Stella sputtered while shaking her head.

 "When I came here you guys where dealing with a wannabe commissioner. I guess being under a microscope didn't leave us much time to socialize and when the situation passed we had lived together some things that made us become closer, even if we didn't know each other fully" you expressed. "Like for real, I never thought that a firehouse family could be this strong and attentive of your own, but today's misunderstanding was the cherry on the top. You truly are amazing ".

_________

 A few calls through the day went past and before they noticed the shift had ended and they were going straight to Molly's to share with their fellow first responders the now top 1 story from firehouse 51: you minus pants.

 You were thrilled. Yeah.

 "Yes, keep laughing. At least I'm going to be a famous legend in the 51" you rolled your eyes at the people in the table, them being Brett, Kidd, Severide and 21st precinct boys Jay Halstead, Kevin Atwater and Adam Ruzek.

 "For pulling your pants down?" asked Atwater chuckling with his partners, receiving a middle finger from your part.

 "Hey, can we get discounts in your tattoo house now or do I have to arrest you for exhibitionism?" Jay asked you.

 "What, you want a tattoo of Captain America's ass, soldier boy?" you smirked at him, "and if you don't stop laughing I'll charge you with a 10% plus".

 "Copy that", they laughed and keep joking around for about an hour before you stood up.

 "Okay ladies and gents, is time for me to go, I have an early client tomorrow" you stated while stretching your arms. "Talk to you later, bye".

  A chorus of soft "bye" and "good night" were heard, but when you were going towards the front door a booming voice broke through.

 "Hey, I didn't get to see that famous tattoo, could you do that pant trick here?" Adam yelled, trying poorly to hide a smile.

 You froze for a second, slowly turned to him with a smirk in your face and in your cockiest voice ever you answered him.

 "You wish".

#Chicago Fire #nbc chicago fire #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral #firehouse 51 #One Chicago #one chicago imagines #wallace boden #chief boden #christopher herrmann #joe cruz #mouch mcholland #sylvie brett #stella kidd #matt casey #capp #kelly severide #molly's #truck 81 #jay halstead #Adam Ruzek #kevin atwater

[taramikealson]

New Orleans Is Such A Sight (Pt. #1)

Rain poured down in large sheets, running down the gutters in small waves. The hood to a black rain-coat was tugged tighter to conceal the blonde curls from the harsh winds. Her feet take forceful steps towards a small side street where a lone, cracked open, metal gate stood. Delicate fingers push the gate open a few more inches to allow her access to the inside. At the halt of water that the structure provided her, she pulled the hood off of her head, looking around the space as she did. 

The building was beautiful. The high arches, open court-yard, tan walls - bricks revealed where the drywall was missing. It was obvious that the house was old and worn in, but it was kept well enough that it became part of its character. 

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t even be on this continent but leave it to Damon to angering a pack of werewolves a few hours before a full moon. 

Caroline hadn’t stayed in Mystic Falls. A year after her mother died, she left. She needed time to cope and space to figure out what she wanted out of life. At first, she was a little scared, staying state-side. Ultimately, after visiting a few states, she braved up and traveled to Italy, and then France. Then Switzerland, Austria, Spain, Germany, Greece, Ireland, and finally, London.  Caroline spent quite a bit of time there, liking the culture and feel of normal British life. Although, after a while, she became bored with the gloominess of the British city and wanted to move onto more sun-filled places. One of those areas happened to be The Bahamas. The tropical paradise gave her a chance to relax and take in the abundance of sunlight. Caroline enjoyed it quite a bit, laying out on a towel, sunglasses resting on the arch of her nose as she watched the waves fold onto themselves. 

She’d barely noticed it, but before she knew it, she’d spent a few months there. Caroline had only meant to stay there for a few weeks for a little breather from the large cities that she had been visiting but had come to enjoy the beach town there. At a local cafe, she had made a friend of the barista and had been subtly flirting with one of the daily’s that came in often, conveniently the same time she always went to grab her morning coffee on Saturdays. One day, she listened in on one of his orders; black coffee and the name he uttered to the barista was David. He was attractive in the average model-ish way. Dark brown hair, square jaw, calm eyes. David was nice and… normal. But, she knew she couldn’t get involved with him. But on the other hand, she couldn’t refuse to go on a date with him. There wasn’t a harm in that, right? 

She was a half-hour into the date when she’d gotten a call from Stefan. Normally, she would have ignored it but it was the second time in the span of ten minutes and she knew Stefan doesn’t call more than once unless it’s important. So, she took the call, apologizing to David before walking out of the restaurant. Apparently, a gaggle of werewolves found themselves in Mystic Falls, something about Damon threatening the alpha right before a full moon. When Stefan had explained it, she was confused about why they were calling her, she was thousands of miles away. Then it clicked. Damon got bit and he needed a cure. And her friends knew that she had a personal connection to the cure. Caroline was so close to telling Damon that if he wanted the cure to a werewolf bite, he should have to go to Klaus’ door to beg for it himself, but she knew Klaus wouldn’t budge. In fact, it was probably even a low chance for her to convince him to hand it over to Damon, of all people. 

So, what was she doing here? In New Orleans? Saving one of her friends. 

A pair of rushed footsteps took her out of her musings. Raising her head, she caught sight of a boy. Light brown hair that was in a fringe up style haircut, slim build, maybe in his late teens. He was jogging down a pair of stairs in the courtyard, looking down at his phone as he did so. Sensing her presence, he looked up to see her, pausing for a second before realizing he was still in the rain. He took a few steps to be under the roof, his head tilting as his blue eyes inspected her. 

A similar smirk graced his lips. “If you’re here for Rebekah, you just missed her. Took a flight out to Florence an hour ago.” Something about this boy was familiar. The facial structure, his eyes.

When Klaus had left for New Orleans all those years back, it had been for some sort of rising against him that turned out to be a pregnant girl. Caroline had gotten all the backstory from Tyler in a more biased version but basically, Klaus had slept with Hayley, getting her pregnant. Then, he’d apparently accepted it, having a kid. Klaus had a child. A kid.

He had a kid. This boy was Klaus’ son. The hair, the face, the eyes, the smirk. 

Caroline faltered for a moment before catching herself and casting him a small smile. “Do you flirt with all of Rebekah’s friends?”

He laughs softly. “Only the really pretty ones.” 

“Trenton.” A voice calls, an all too familiar voice. 

Looking across the courtyard, she spots the owner of that voice. He looked the same as always, black jeans, long sleeve Henley, boots, blonde hair subtly pushed up. The Original’s eyes were first trained on his son but picked up on the other presence in the room, looking at her. They widened and dilated a hair before returning to normal, smirk growing on his face. 

The boy sighs, shoulders drooping in a defeated manner. His jaw tightening before turning around to face his father.

“Sneaking out, again?” Klaus walks through the courtyard, ignoring the rain as it dampened his hair, before pausing once under shelter and out of the rain. 

Trenton clears his throat, glancing towards Caroline then to his father. “I was, uh, I heard someone come in. Thought I’d greet our guest.” Caroline had to give it to him, the boy was quick on his feet and used similar tactics as his father did; charm and deviation. 

It was extremely odd and very interesting to watch Klaus act a little fatherly, but not too surprising. He seemed to instinctively have the trait, unlike a lot of human men. He had the capacity to be mature, elegantly answer hard questions, entertain someone with stories of the past, and he knew what the image of a bad father was, surely making sure he was the exact opposite. Caroline could only imagine that his artistic abilities had come into play in the early years of Trenton’s life. But, just seeing both of them, seeing alike they were, was intriguing. If someone hadn’t known that the two weren’t supernatural, they’d most likely assume Klaus to be Trenton’s elder brother. Although, when Caroline saw them, she could clearly see a father with his son. May it be the wisdom and centuries of age in Klaus’ eyes or his mature style in clothing, he looked old enough possibly be Trenton’s father. 

Klaus arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “I’d believe that if it weren’t for you prattling on to Rebekah about going to some high school, alcohol-filled gathering. One, in which, I profusely refuse you acceptance to be a part of.”

“You have to be kidding.” Trenton scoffs, saying in that basic teenage-y way. “I’m not some human that’s gonna get wasted easily. I’m a hybrid.”

The Original’s eyes turn serious, indicating that his decision was final. “You prate on about being a hybrid, but have yet to learn to control your bloodlust in densely crowded areas without me or my siblings by your side. I will not risk the local’s lives nor my standing on the city council for you to have one alcohol-fazed night.” Trenton rolls his eyes and Klaus takes a step forward, now intimidating the boy. “We have an assortment of liquor here. If you wish to drink, it will be within these walls. Am I understood?”

“Why can’t-,”

“Trenton, am I understood?” Klaus interrupts, voice low. 

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Trenton bites his tongue and gives his father a curt nod. The boys eyes were filled with aggravation and disappointment, she was sure Klaus saw it and understood that Trenton was hoping to have a little fun tonight. Klaus’ eyes softened as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You’re lucky that I don’t plan to tell Elijah about your little scheme. You know how much he values your education. He’d be quite displeased to hear you were planning to stay out late on a school night.” A small smile graced Klaus’ lips as Trenton looked up to him. “Perhaps, even make you re-read that dreadful play, Hamlet.”

Klaus' words seem to make the boy puff out a laugh and inch a smile on his lips. “Thanks, for not telling Uncle ‘lijah.”

“Now, go on. I have a few words to exchange with our guest.”

Trenton nods and then glances to Caroline with an awkward smile. “Night.” He says before turning around and jogging through the rain-filled courtyard and up the stairs. Both Caroline and Klaus watch as he disappears into one of the second-story hallways.

After a moment, Klaus turns back to Caroline with a wide smirk. 

“This is quite a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you for nearly another decade and a half.”

She sighs, feeling the weight of his words and the intenseness that his eyes bore. “I’m not here for that.” Her voice a little too soft, the subject weighing on her a little bit more than she thought it would. Klaus recognizes her now uncomfortable stance and raises his arm in the direction to a set of french doors, a fancy ‘M’ insignia on both. 

“Then, perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere more private, rather than the courtyard?” He suggests and Caroline nods, thankful that he can still read on some of her subtle hints. 

Klaus leads her through the double doors and invites her to make herself comfortable in the living area. As Klaus went to pour them both drinks, she looked around the magnificent room that she was in. Two expensive looking, brown leather, sofas sat across from each other, a fireplace on the back wall, fancy chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a mini-bar where Klaus was pouring their drinks. 

Before she knew it, Klaus had placed the drinks down on the coffee table by her legs and was now behind her, reaching for her wet jacket. “May I?”

She nods and shrugs the jacket off. He takes it, walking over to one of the stools near the mini-bar, and hanging it on the back of it. 

“I’m sorry for catching you at a bad time and so late at night.” She apologizes and he shakes his head. 

“No need for apologies, love. I’d gladly make time for you.” He says, sitting down on the sofa, taking his drink in hand. Caroline also sits, not yet picking up her drink. 

His eyes seem to analyze her and take in every detail that he could read off of her, trying to put together pieces in his head. His familiar mechanism and habits gave her a sense of reassurance that he hadn’t changed that much. She could clearly see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of situations as to why she was here, sitting on his couch in his New Orleans home on a very late Thursday night, a rainy one at that. Klaus must have caught her biting her lip because his intense gaze turned into concern. “You seem vexed, what’s happened?”

She swallows and looks away from him. “Damon ran into some werewolves.”

Klaus leans back as he huffs out a laugh. “And I imagine he is now sporting quite a nasty werewolf bite.” The Original’s amusement is not lost on Caroline, she knows how much he dislikes the eldest Salvatore brother, but that is why she was here. Now, he knows her reason for coming to New Orleans. 

When his expression showed a hint of disappointment, she felt utterly horrible. It was her that told him that she didn’t want him in her life, it was her that said that he needed to leave and to never come back. Now, she’s intentionally inserting herself back into his life just to leave again. Caroline couldn’t imagine what he would be feeling. Anger, disappointment? “Thus, you need my blood.” He utters, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink. 

“Yes.” She answers almost guiltily, her heart heavy. 

There’s a moment of silence where neither of them speaks. Klaus seems to ponder his situation as he runs the side of his index finger along his bottom lip in thought. For a moment, Caroline thought that he was going to turn her down, tell her that he wasn’t going to help her and that she had to leave, but that changed when he sighed. Placing his glass of amber liquor down on the coffee table, he stood from his seat and fished his sleek black iPhone from his back pocket. 

Klaus tapped a few times before pulling the cellphone to his ear and turning so his back was to her. 

“Joshua, do come by the Compound, I have a proposition for you.” He states quickly and then ends the call after he received a reply to his request. 

Pushing the iPhone into his back pocket, he turned back around without a glance to her and headed for the mini-bar. From Caroline’s perspective, he seemed a little tense but not angry, although she could be wrong. “Klaus…,” she begins as she gets up from her spot on the sofa and takes a few strides towards where he walks behind the counter, taking out a small vial and cork from underneath. Within an instant, he had already bit into his wrist, his blood now dripping down into the vial. His eyes wander up to hers when he comes out from behind the mini-bar. 

Caroline blinks, confused., sure that he was set on not giving his blood to her. In fact, she’s even more surprised that he hadn’t even tried to negotiate with her to have something to gain for his blood. “You’re not asking for anything in return? Won’t even try to negotiate with me?” She asks, clearly perplexed by  his actions. 

Klaus sighs. “I’ve come to realize that by negotiating between lives and the opportunity to have time spent with you, it hadn’t shown my understanding of the weight of the negotiations that I was making. And I have also come to realize that,” he takes a pause and Caroline swallows as he pushes the cork into the filled vial. His eyes stayed trained onto her as he pushed the vial into his front pocket of his jeans before stepping closer to her, “I don’t wish to negotiate our time together. Years ago, when I had coerced you to spend your time with me, it had given you a small glimpse of the better parts of myself but, yet, I’d be a fool not to notice the burden you had felt to be there in those moments.”

Klaus takes a cautious step forward, analyzing if she would shy away from him or not. When she stayed still, he gently placed his hands on the sides of her shoulders, the heat from his palms radiating like beacons through her clothing and into her skin. 

“Caroline, I don’t wish for you to feel burdened or obligated, by my actions, to spend time with me. It is your choice from now on, and it always will be.”

Her heart lurched in her ribcage and a flutter began in her stomach. His smooth voice, the eloquently and thoughtfully spoken words hitting her hard. Caroline’s thoughts swirled for a moment. Those two sentences that he had just spoken were not just talking about her feelings burdened to spend time with him, no. There was an undertone that she had caught. He didn’t want her to feel obligated to go to him, to be with him. In all honesty, it’s quite the sentiment. It shows her how much he has changed or, rather, bettered himself. This also tells her that he had been thinking a lot about their past and the wrong turns that he had taken to have an opportunity to win her over. 

And then, she remembers that he’s still waiting for her response. His eyes had begun to shift, analyzing her’s carefully and taking in the information that they bore. 

She gives him a reassuring smile. “I don’t feel obligated or burdened to spend time with you. Not anymore.”

His head tilts in that impossibly cute way that it does and smirks.

A pair of footsteps interrupt them, echoing through the hallway. Klaus lifts his head and looks over her shoulder towards the two french doors that had just opened. Caroline pulls away from Klaus’ warm hands and turns to see who had entered. 

“Joshua.” He greets a dark haired vampire that physically looks like he’s in his mid-twenties. 

“Well, I’m here. A little if-y about this whole ‘proposition’ thing though.”

Klaus smiles as if he knew something the other two vampires didn’t. “Yes, about that.” He begins, producing the vial of his blood from his jeans pocket. “Take this, carefully would you, to a small town in Virginia.” 

Josh furrows his eyebrows in suspicion, looking at the vial of blood like it was poisonous. “Why would I do that for you? Can’t you have one of your lackeys do it for you?” 

“Well, young Joshua,” Klaus begins as he takes a few steps closer towards the young vampire, “under these circumstances, it is precedent that this gets delivered in an expeditious manner, thus is the reason I present you with a proposal.” 

Caroline watches as Klaus takes another step closer to Josh, almost invading his personal space as he speaks. “Do this for me, and I will not only make an effort to look past your misdoings towards my family, but as well, that of your friend, Davina Claire.”

Klaus’ proposition clearly had struck a chord with Joshua, making him swallow in nervousness. Caroline could see how the boy’s mind was churning in thought, considering certain possibilities. After a few, long, seconds, Josh plucks the vial from Klaus’ fingers. The Original doesn’t make an effort to contain his satisfied smirk as Joshua looks at him with a hint of caution. “Fine.” Josh utters. 

“Brilliant. I’ll contact you with the necessary information.” 

Joshua sighs and takes his leave.

Once the vampire is gone, Klaus turns to Caroline, swiping his tongue over his lips with a smirk screaming how satisfied he was in getting his way. His eyes did that little thing that they always did when he’d look at her; his eyes starting at her feet and then moving up her whole frame, taking in very detail as if it’s the last time he’d be able to do so. When his eyes connected with her’s, his blue orbs seemed to sparkle. A small shiver went down her spine at the intensity of his gaze. 

“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve just taken it back myself.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Well, I’ve already set up for a plane to take off from Louis Armstrong International in a half hour. Your friends should have the cure in no later than four hours.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, knowing there was something he was not telling her. Klaus looks away from her almost bashfully and then returns his gaze towards her. “I, as well, was hoping you’d like to take one of our rooms.”

She’s a little confused at first, not understanding what he had meant by ‘taking a room’. “I’m sure you’ve had quite a journey here. A flight from the Commonwealth of The Bahamas and then a longer drive to New Orleans. I can only assume you’re exhausted and it’d be terribly unmannerly of me to not offer you hospitality.” He explains, tilting his head. “Perhaps, it’d give you time to recuperate and maybe… take in a few sights in the morning.”

His tone is hopeful, filled with possibility. She’d be lying to say that his behavior and words haven’t been a little tempting. Everything from the last few minutes has only shown her that Klaus is the same man that he’s always been. She wasn’t really expecting different, but deep down she had an idea that maybe he’d grown up a bit. This, right here, proves that he has. The man before would have threatened Josh instead of negotiating and he would have not had given up his blood so easily without a fuss. Would it really be such a bad thing to stay the night, in a different room than him? It’s not as if she’d be sleeping with him. Plus, it’d be for only one night.

“I’m not sure.” She trails off, still debating the decision in her head. 

“I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.” He states with a grin, knowing gleam in his eyes. 

Caroline laughs, the air in the room now becoming a little lighter. “I’m sure you would.”

He raises his eyebrows for a moment, silently asking her for an answer. She bites her bottom lip timidly. “One night wouldn’t hurt.” She states and a wide smirk grows on his lips, showing his thorough satisfaction. 

“Well, then. Shall I show you to a room?”

She nods, not finding the right words to say in that moment. He immediately begins to walk towards the french doors that they had entered in and opens them wide for her to pass through. It didn’t take long for them to bound up the stairs to the second story and then travel down a long corridor where a series of doors were on each side. Klaus, then, opened a mahogany door, revealing a gorgeously decorated room with a queen bed, antique dresser, small desk with a chair, and a door that lead to an adjacent bathroom. He’d been thorough in explaining the certain accommodations of her room and how his room is only a few doors down. After, he had left her to look around to gather her some clothing. When he’d come back, he’d placed a pile of clothes on the end of the bed. 

“I’ve procured most of these from Hayley. I’d doubt she’d mind much and I assumed you’d be closer to size with her rather than Rebekah. And my sister has a nasty habit of killing whoever touches her belongings.” Klaus states as he turns towards her.

She smiles at him. Her thoughts going past the topic of clothing. “How’d you know I was in The Bahamas?”

“I’ve kept tabs.” He mutters a little playfully, knowing that Caroline wouldn’t approve. She gives him an equally playful look and then rolls her eyes. 

“Of course, you have.”

Klaus chuckles as she goes to sit down on the end of the bed. He does as well, making sure to keep a foot’s distance away from her to make sure she stays comfortable and not overwhelmed by his presence. “Tell me, now that you’ve begun to stray from that desperately small town, how is it? Exploring the unknown?” 

Caroline hesitates for a moment, thinking about her experiences in the past decade and a half of exploring. They’d mostly been pleasant but nothing extraordinary. Yes, she’d been extremely impressed by the culture, architecture and environment, but it wasn’t as exciting as she had ever hoped or imagined. Although, she imagines that’s because she didn’t have anyone to explore it with. In the beginning she had thought Stefan may have joined her, but he’d been too swept up with a few problems in Mystic Falls and trying to make his brother into a ‘better man’. Like that would ever happen unless it was by Damon’s own incentive. Elena and Bonnie were too wrapped up in college and in their own love lives as it was, so that was a clear ‘no’. So, that just left herself. After her mother died, she’d needed a break and took the opportunity to branch off a little. In the long run, it has paid off. She’d met a few people here and there, as well as giving her a new perspective of the world. 

“It was kind of a quick decision. At first, I wanted to stay in the States and just London but the rest of Western Europe was too tempting to pass up.” She states and Klaus seems pleasantly pleased. “But, I kinda wanted to go somewhere hot, so I ended up in The Bahamas.”

“I imagine you enjoyed it there?”

She nods.

“And you?” 

Klaus tilts his head in interest to her question. “What of me?” He asks, genuinely satisfied that she was interested in how his life had been going. 

“Well, I was a little surprised that you were still in New Orleans. I expected you to move on. I didn’t suspect you as a person that stays in one place for long.” 

He smirks. She is, generally, correct. “I’d quite a bit of business to take care of here that took a little longer than I had anticipated and raising a child was one of the things I was most definitely not expecting.”

“I’m sure changing diapers didn’t fit so well into your plans for world domination, huh?” She asks teasingly, giving him a radiant smile.

Klaus chuckles, amused and glad that her penchant for over-exaggeration hasn’t changed. He’d always enjoyed the innocence within her and the light she projected off of herself and onto others. 

“You’d be correct.”

He smirked and they’d fallen into a silence. Caroline suddenly felt heated under his gaze, the intensity of it not lessening but a gracefulness communicating through those beautiful, blue orbs. 

In all reality, he hadn't changed that much. Of course, she can see that he’d become less prone to using violence as a first resort, but the way he regarded her was the same. He still looked at her with that look in his eyes that just screamed that he knew exactly what she was thinking. In the beginning, it was a little scary, she’ll admit, that he knew more about her than he let on. Although, after all this time, she’s come to realize that it’s not necessarily the worst thing. 

He understood her. But, it wasn’t just a one-way street. She knew him quite well, too. A decade ago, she would have said that she knew exactly the man he was, a monster. She’d pegged him for a man that had no heart. How wrong she was. After some time, she’s noticed that all the horrible things that he had done were because he cared. He’d always been pinned as the enemy, although sometimes he genuinely did something bad to get the advantage, but that wasn’t strictly true. Klaus was an extremely complicated man. He has many sides of him and has an extremely dark past that comes with them. His father brutally abused him, his mother locked half of himself off for spite, his siblings cast him off for trying to protect them. In fact, she’d condemned him and slung harsh words at him just because she didn’t truly understand his real intentions behind his actions. 

Now, she realizes him for the man that he was. He was an abused son, an abandoned brother, a misunderstood friend, a passionate artist, a good father. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to settle and call your friends. I’d rather not have them thinking I’d taken you against your will and have to deal with them knocking down my door. I’ve just gotten it re-painted.” 

His tone is light-hearted and filled with playfulness. Caroline smiles again as he stands from the bed, walking towards the door.

“Goodnight.” 

He pauses at the door and looks over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Goodnight, love.”

#klaus x caroline #klaus #klaroline drabbles #klaroline #drabble #the originals #the vampire diaries #love

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

This is The Time

Summary: The dead silence lasted for about another twenty minutes. Roland was an absolute master at refusing to give in first. He’d sit and wait for hours which was arguably a terrible trait. But sometimes---‘No just bad.’ He thought. To pass that time, he found himself staring at a tiny family of frogs resting by the water. Wet and a shiny green color, they glimmered. Their black eyes stared back up at him...

Word Count: 3,002

Ships: Roland Deschain/Cuthbert Allgood 

He is falling...

Roland’s heavy black boot caught the tip of an up facing rock nestled nicely in the field of wood. There was a cool breeze which came with one’s body launching forward, it was a juvenile way of falling Roland wasn’t used to anymore. Arms flailing about without grace while his hands flicked forward to brace himself and ruin his skin. Though, the right hand managed to slot itself comfortably into the blood-sticky palm belonging to good ol’ Cuthbert Allgood. 

“Stand tall, Roland.” He chuckled, pulling him back to safety. 

Young Deschain hiked himself back up but found it almost intoxicating that he could remain palm-to-palm with the Allgood boy. “Keep me balanced then.” He gripped his friend a little tighter before habitually holding on a bit too loosely. 

He could feel the grotesquely open skin-scratch on Cuthbert’s left hand, the reason for the squelching puddle of blood between them. Those soft sucking sounds accompanied them throughout most of their walk to the deepest part of the wooded area just a short drive from their town. 

Cuthbert squished the blood-puddle even more to squeeze Roland’s hand back to a tight position. Both boys had the rough skin of their fathers, hard work rewarded them with such a gift, but they were soft for each other. 

“I brought the hammock.” 

Roland looked to Cuthbert with gentle amusement. “We could’ve just roughed it.” He winked but he was almost sure it did not work on him. There was no way he pulled it off. Which rang true when Cuthbert began to heave in laughter. That boy was a sight for sore eyes and he never shied away from laughing his ass off.

The woods around them grew taller and more luscious with every twenty steps or so. The earth-y smell overcame them long ago but now the distant...wet scent of water traveled closer. Cuthbert was taking the lead on this little trip because Roland barely had half-the-mind he usually owned. 

For Mr. Deschain had plenty to say about the courtship of his son and the laughing boy. None of this speech was warm or fuzzy. Rather as tough as the skin which wrapped around his palms. Roland wanted-ached-to rip the speech apart to it’s bare bones. He’d begun to do just that. But Cuthbert, smart as a whip, dragged him out of the house...to the woods before events he’d regret later could transpire.

Together since they were young pups and together now, Roland and Cuthbert journeyed to a small cliff above the water. It was a place they came to often enough to miss when absent. Their legs always aching to walk and make some sort of journey whenever life just got too disappointing.

The Allgood boy set aside the red hammock for later and plopped down onto the dirt, waiting to be joined by his best friend in already dirty jeans. Splotches of older memories littered the fading blue fabric. It was a good luck. Common for most of the boys in town. 

“You got your reasons to go against him, Roland.” Cuthbert drew his first card in the game of tough conversation. He kept his face locked onto the ripples in the water which Roland found interesting. “They’re true and worth standing by. Don’t let your dad make them seem shitty.” He finally turned with that lovely little smirk on his face. 

“You being the most important reason.” He tipped his chin. “If I was born without the ability to love you, my life would be bleak.” Roland smiled softly. He noticed the way Cuthbert looked away when his cheeks burned crimson. “But I could love him not and still have a full life, I think.” He mumbled, kicking at his boots. 

Cuthbert looked off as if he knew Roland wasn’t being entirely realistic. He didn’t seem all that confident in his next move which was to wipe his blood covered hand down the leg of his jeans and gently grip Roland’s thigh. “If you love me so much...” He shuffled closer and enjoyed the way Roland hung on his words like he never did with anyone else. “Feel me up, Buttercup.” He winked because he could pull that off. 

Roland smirked, laying his hot-hand atop Cuthbert’s. He leaned in just close enough for their lips to drag against each other. “I crave nothing more.” Those words basically shot down Cuthbert’s throat with how close they were. 

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t mistake this lump for me being ready for round two, Roland. I think I just have a stick in my pants.” Cuthbert wined, shaking out his leg momentarily as Roland tied up the right end of the hammock to a tree. The air was still quiet and no company had yet to cross their path. 

Roland let out a hum of reserved laughter. He found the space in his mind for moments spent being shocked at their own intimate relationship was not bare yet. He may never hit the capacity considering who he was. 

Cuthbert slipped a long stick out from underneath his pant-leg and sighed with relief before hopping onto the swinging hammock, nearly killing himself in the process. 

“Watch yourself, asshole.” Roland rolled his eyes but went into the seat without much more grace than his friend. They were just idiotic boys after all. He took to laying with his feet pointing down at the water, Cuthbert between his legs and resting his back to his chest. With some lingering hesitation, Roland wrapped his arms around him. There would always be a part of him that was unsure of how to act in their relationship. He figured Cuthbert, smart and so true to himself, wouldn’t understand. But ask not, know not. 

Cuthbert nuzzled even closer and played with Roland’s hands. He almost resembled a giant cat. “You like sneaking out here with me?” He attempted to look back at his partner but found it to be a difficult task. 

“Of course.” Roland nodded and habitually squeezed him a little.  

To that, his partner just hummed and kicked off his boots (revealing a cowboy sock on one foot, the other was bare). It wasn’t entirely what Roland had expected from him but Cuthbert was a mystery sometimes. “Why do you ask?” 

Cuthbert shrugged, body rubbing up against him. He gazed up at the clouds without a doubt, something was weighing on his mind. If Alain were here, he’d have it figured out already. But their best friend didn’t often want to accompany them on things which seemed so close to ‘dates’. No matter how many times Cuthbert invited him to observe...Roland’s thoughts digressed. 

“Sorry your dad found out about us that way.” He winced at the memory from their afternoon. Roland wanted to heave up his lunch just at the idea of thinking more about that situation. “It was not a turn-on to have him walk in your room...” Cuthbert winked, Roland felt sick to his stomach but wished dearly for the boy never to change. He was entirely too amusing. 

“Thanks for reminding me.” He chuckled but reached over to rub circles on Cuthbert’s hands with his thumb. The disgust on his father’s face was too much to think about. Roland had never wanted to see his father looking so...disappointed with me. It struck something deep. 

He laughed. “His eyes nearly popped out of his head.” He flicked his hands outwards. “You’re just lucky you weren’t the one standing there with your pants basically at your ankles-”

“You really don’t know when to shut-up, do you?” Roland gagged and slapped his friend gently. Cuthbert merely smirked, playing with the miniature Rook Skull he wore on a chain. His real one was sitting atop his messy childhood dresser still filled with Garfield sweatshirts ten times too small for him now. 

“Oh I do.” Cuthbert playfully pushed Roland’s face away. “But it’s just not fun that way, Roland. You know that.” He pinched him then and turned back to look down at the water. “Open your mouth and try it sometime.” He leaned all the way back, resting his head on Roland’s chest. 

Another breeze rolled over their trembling shoulders, Cuthbert’s exposed toes wiggled either from the pleasure or chill. Maybe both. Roland watched him shove about half his right-foot onto the top side of the other so that his feet were swaddled in one oddly stretched warm cowboy sock. He actually did that pretty often. A fondness special only to his closest friends fell to the pit of Roland’s stomach. 

“Bert?” He nudged him softly. His friend turned, best he could, looking somewhat pensive. “Do you think about the future at all?” He wasn’t sure where the question was coming from but it spilled from his lips nonetheless. 

Cuthbert pulled back suddenly but shared not his laughter rather, an extension of that contemplative look. Narrowed eyes covered by his loose and long hair. “I imagine the flying car business is complete bullshit but I do like to think I die at the hands of a worthy enemy.” 

He smirked, expecting to be smacked but Roland just frowned. Some of his energy deflated a little. “I don’t think that I have, Roland. Not like you.” He shook his head. “Once my thoughts hit the sight of me at the legal drinking age...it gets all fuzzy. Kind of always thought that meant I’d die before seeing twenty-two.” He glanced back to gauge Roland’s response but found that to be too unsettling. 

“Not in any special way that I know about yet-” He shrugged.

“You speak nonsense.” Roland finally interrupted, knowing Cuthbert would just start rambling if he didn’t stop him and he didn’t want to hear any more of the speech.

Cuthbert rolled his eyes, pulling his foot free from it’s sock cage. “Always do.” He smirked but not that happy kind. It made Roland a bit angry. 

“You actually believe this?” 

Cuthbert laughed like the whole situation was ridiculous. “Yeah. I do.” 

Roland felt another wave of frustration roll over him but he didn’t really care for the idea of showing it. He was excellent at fighting and so was Cuthbert. But he didn’t wish to get into that. The day needn’t get worse.  

“I’m not trying to upset you, Roland.” He added with earnest eyes looking down at his lap. “It’s just the way I’ve always thought, huh?” He bumped their arms together with a gentle grin but his friend would have none of it. He sighed. “You could live without me, couldn’t you?” He teased but turned away to add. “I know you could, Roland-”

“Just the same as you could without me, Cuthbert.” He interrupted in a dominantly upset voice. It sent a horrible chill down his friend’s back. “We are strong-willed men, like our fathers before.” He sounded incredibly similar to a scalding parent. “But I don’t wish to live without you. I don’t dare think about such a thing like that, why do you?” 

The laughing boy rolled those big eyes of his again. “I don’t know. I think that was my point.” He shook his head. Roland felt a strong pang of guilt mix with his previous annoyance. 

Dead silence lasted for about another twenty minutes. Roland was an absolute master at refusing to give in first. He’d sit and wait for hours which was arguably a terrible trait. But sometimes---‘No just bad.’ He thought. To pass that time, he found himself staring at a tiny family of frogs resting by the water. Wet and a shiny green color, they glimmered. Their black eyes stared back up at him...

“I might be able to live without you. But I would not love again.” Roland spoke first. He actually managed to do it. He blinked down as if to thank the shiny frogs for boring him so much. They were however gone. 

Cuthbert considered that, looking bemused before turning back and planting a wet kiss to Roland’s cheek. “That’s cute.” 

“I mean it, asshole.” He wiped his sleeve against the spit on his face. At this point in his life, he could hardly be grossed out to the max by his boyfriend’s spit.

Cuthbert nodded. “I know. You always mean what you say. I like that about you, Roland. No one would believe how sweet you are with me.” He helped his friend wipe his face before planting a much softer kiss to his nose. Sweet yet so pleasurable. Roland felt his reaction deep in his gut and found himself to be glad that his father knew of their courtship. It was embarrassing and awful considering Mr. Deschain was steamed. But at least there’d be no more of their silly pretend game of being ‘just friends’. 

Roland smiled, grabbing Cuthbert’s chin to initiate some real kissing. They chuckled against each-other’s warm mouths. “You make me too soft.” He winced at the pathetic way he’d given his anger away just so he could lovingly make-out with him.

“I hope I make you hard.” 

Roland’s mouth watered. He’d be getting a round two after all...

: : : : : : : :

“Can you zip up my jeans, I literally can’t. It’s stuck.” Cuthbert approached Roland, crotch first. He really had no shame. His friend came forth and tugged the tiny metal zipper for him with an amused smile. 

As Roland worked on clothing his boyfriend, Cuthbert took the secret time to admire him. “So, what do you see...in the future, I mean?” He asked, staring down at the top of his boyfriend’s head. 

Roland hummed, finally managing to slide the gadget up and moving to get the button closed for him. “I’d like to get far from here.” He looked around with thought. “Maybe a road-trip with you?” He smiled. 

“That’s it! That’d be what kills me. Traveling with you.” Cuthbert teased and was rewarded with a hard-slap on the arm. “Sorry, sorry. What else?” 

Roland pursed his lips like he might refrain from speaking any more. “A house. Even for a couple of drifters like us.” He gestured between them with a smirk. 

"Any kiddies?” 

Roland shot his head up with puzzled eyes. “How would that-?”

"Adoption, Dumbass.” Cuthbert soaked up this rare moment of Roland being an absolute moron. 

His boyfriend looked down again, looking younger than ever before. “I don’t know about that, Bert. I’m not the nurturing type-”

“Bullshit!” Cuthbert laughed. “You always say that but it’s not true. You’ve proven me right a bunch of times.” He lifted Roland’s hands from his pants and pulled them back down the dirt, towards the water. “Who knows what’s gonna happen? Maybe we will get to have a kid and that house, you and me.” He hopped down to the edge and chuckled. 

Roland admired his wild spirit and held on strongly to his hand. “What will we name this child?”

Cuthbert widened his eyes which filled up with new life. As if he’d never even thought of such an idea. It both filled Roland with joy and sadness. His best friend truly did believe he was to die young. “Oh, what an exciting task!” He swung their grip over the water. 

“We’ve got a lot of time to think about it.” Roland added, with a bit of genuine encouragement. He ached to see Cuthbert so happy. 

“Something stupid and original.” He continued with blazing joy. He might’ve begun to list his thousands of ideas had he not glanced at his boyfriend with such enthusiasm that it made him irresistible. 

Roland had to kiss him just a few more times, wanting the moment to last forever even though it was impossible. He hoped to remember it fondly in that future of theirs...he was sure of it even if Cuthbert wasn’t. “I got you wrapped around my finger, huh?” Cuthbert wiggled his brows when they pulled apart. 

Roland blushed a little. “You like to think so.” He rolled his eyes but felt his chest tighten when his boyfriend stuck his tongue out at him. It was juvenile and very akin to puppy-love but...it was intoxicating. 

“I’m glad we found each other, y’know?” Cuthbert looked off towards the ripples in what was seemingly just still-water. 

Roland came closer and pulled Cuthbert’s arm so they could both rest on the dirt. “Something willed us together. I think.” He threw a rock into the water and smiled like a little boy. 

Cuthbert raised his brow. “Like...the Force?” He giggled, taking up his own little rock-pile. Roland rolled his eyes but found a smirk crawling over his face. He hoped the tiny frog family wasn’t anywhere near their throwing party. “I don’t know about Star Wars, Roland.” 

Instead of replying, Roland pushed him back with a hand to the face, ignoring Cuthbert’s licks to his palm. The oozing blood of the past briefly popped into his brain. The hot-red which had been pouring from Cuthbert’s own palm...It’d almost certainly paused and dried to a crunchy crust.

Roland was in an odd state of complete bliss which was a refreshing change from just a couple hours ago. He owed the mood boost to the man who was just beginning to thwack the open water with dirty rocks. His aim was perfect. He hit nothing but clear water and made excellent splashing distance. 

Roland loved him with all his being. Cuthbert was just about the best-

He burst into a round of hearty laughter at the sight of Cuthbert’s Garfield the Cat underwear sticking out of his pants...the zipper now broken and fly-open. 

It didn’t take long for his boyfriend to realize just what he was laughing at. Maybe it was the breeze...Roland laughed even harder. Cuthbert smirked and leaned back on his palms. “Jokes on you. I like the look.” He shrugged. 

They fell silent again as the daylight bled from a yellow to a dark orange. Signaling the day turning from life to still-memory. Both boys sighed, leaning closer. 

Maybe tomorrow would be just as good...

#idk #i just love them #roland deschain #cuthbert allgood #The Dark Tower #my fanfiction #roland/cuthbert #stephen king #textpost

[tsipasce]

Same Difference, Ch.07

A/N:   Is it really a fanfic without at least one semi-flirty bar scene? 

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06

AO3 | Fanfic

“All work and no play makes Nanami a dull girl~” Hitomi hummed on the other end of the phone “Come out with me tonight.  I haven’t seen you in weeks since you started that research project with… what’s the company’s name?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know it, it’s just a startup.” Nanami replied, quickly dismissing her friend’s question, Overhaul rolling his eyes in the background.  “And I know, I know, I just haven’t had a lot of time, but I’ll definitely make it up to you, scout’s honor.”

“Well scout, you said that last time, so your honor’s really on the line now. It’s a Friday night and I know you have that cute black dress you haven’t taken out for a spin yet, so what’s it gonna be?”

Hitomi was one of her closest girlfriends and had been asking her to have a girl’s night out for weeks. The excuses were running low and the steam she needed to blow off was running high. After all the work she’d put in, it was time to let loose for once. “You know what… Hell yeah.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up at your place around 10. See ya. ~”

Ending the call, Nanami was reinvigorated. She had to admit that despite Overhaul being the opposite of a normal guy, it was a bit demoralizing working so closely with a man her age and only being seen as a colleague. I am a young, vivacious, attractive woman and it’s high time I acted like it. Responsibly, of course.

“I presume you’ll be taking your leave for the night?” He queried but sounded disinterested.

“Why yes I will. I have plans.” She said aloud to him. “Plans that involve me looking cute for once.” She remarked to herself eyeing her usual lab coat + sensible business attire critically in the reflection of one of the glass cabinets. Behind her she could tell he was looking in her direction.

“…. What?” she asked, already expecting a smartass answer.

He stared a beat, looking as if he was wanted to say something, but didn’t, “Nothing. We’ll resume on Monday. Have a nice night.”

“Hm. Suit yourself, see you Monday!” Nanami chirped as she almost skipped out of the door, not realizing he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Nanami rushed home, all-too excited about her plans. She hadn’t treated herself to a night of casual debauchery in what felt like eons and was fully prepared to indulge the whims of her friend. Tossing her bag on the counter, she rushed to the shower, shaving her legs and washing her hair. She knew the exact dress Hitomi meant and made a b-line for the back of her closet to retrieve the box it was in. She’d been too shy to wear it before, but Tonight is the night. She confirmed with herself before slipping on the garment.

It was a short, satin black dress with spaghetti straps and a subtle slit along the side, the straight neckline complimenting her delicate collarbone and now-confident, square shoulders. Damn I look good, she thought gassing herself up in front of the mirror. She decided to wear her hair down, styling it simply with a part down the middle.

Throwing on a pair of strappy shoes, it was now 10:01 and the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole she saw a woman dropping it low, thoroughly invested in making that ass clap while yelling “Ayyyee”.

Yup, Hitomi’s here.

Opening the door, Hitomi turned around greeting her with a huge smile she’d sincerely missed,” Well hello gorgeous. ~” Hitomi beamed as she gave her friend a once over before embracing her, “I missed you, girl.”

“I missed you too,” Nanami replied wholeheartedly, rocking back and forth in the embrace before taking a step back to look her in the eye.  “Are you ready?” Nanami asked, determined to make good on her promise to behave like a “normal” young adult.

“You bet your ass I am... But not before we pregame.” Hitomi said with a devilish grin.

Two shots later and they were in the Guber car. Hitomi chatted about her promotion and the new place she’d just moved into with a killer view. It was nice being a regular twenty-something for a change and getting to talk about all the fun transitions going on in each other’s lives—well, really in Hitomi’s since Nanami had a gag order on half of what she did at present. Still, she listened intently, happy that her friend was thriving.

“So you’re saying I should come over after this?” Nanami chimed in.

“No, I’m telling you you should come over after this. You can borrow some of my pajamas and we’ll make a sleepover out of it!” Hitomi squealed.

“That sounds perfect. Snack run on the way home?”

“You truly are my soulmate,” Hitomi gushed, dramatically. She perked up and gasped, looking past Nanami to the front of the club as the car pulled up.

Stepping out there was a bit of a line and Nanami was already mentally preparing herself to suffer for fashion as her heels were not meant for standing hours on end. Just as she was accepting her fate, Hitomi hooked her arm with her own “Where are you going? I know the manager here.”

“No way, you know I hate skipping lines. We’ll get death stares all night.”

“Didn’t you promise to indulge me tonight? You know, ‘scout’s honor’ and all?” Hitomi cajoled.

“…You’re the worst.” Nanami sighed, admitting defeat. She’d flaked too much to refuse her friend now.

“Knew you’d be a team player. Now let’s get it moving, sweet cheeks.”  

Marching to the bouncer, Hitomi worked her magic and they were in. Nanami was pleasantly surprised it wasn’t loud and rave-like like she’d assumed. The lighting was dark and blue, the dance floor was full of people, moving and singing along to a crowd-pleasing playlist. The bar was at capacity, dozens of drunken hopefuls vying for the stressed bartender’s attention. Despite having a quirk that gave him multiple arms, he was still struggling to keep up. The lounges that lined the wall were filled with people ordering bottle service, putting on airs and trying to look cool as they had to yell at each other over the music just to make casual conversation.  One might think she was judging them, but the opposite was true. It was nice being able to people watch, especially when said people seemed to be enjoying themselves so much. She needed this after the past couple months.

“Come on, let’s get some drinks!” Hitomi yell-whispered in Nanami’s ear over the music.

“Ok, I’ll get in line for us.”

“What? No, this is not the final destination, my sweet. Follow me!”

With their arms still linked, Hitomi led the way up the stairs in the corner of the room, weaving through people that had already drunk themselves underneath the table. The further they went, the more the crowd shifted from casual partygoers to hip bar flies. They continued down a hall until they came to a door with a slit in it, not dissimilar to one you’d find in a medieval castle. Hitomi knocked confidently and Nanami wiggled in excitement at what mystery could be behind the door.  A man on the other side pulled the metal slit open, only revealing his hardened gaze.

“Password.”

“No vermouth for the uncouth” Hitomi recited like it was normal, Nanami trying to keep a straight face.

The slit closed again before the door was opened and they were permitted to enter by the doorman. Upon walking in, Nanami was treated to an ideal speakeasy atmosphere. The lights were low and warm, and the barkeep relaxed as he made artisanal drinks. At the dozen or so small booths people were engaging in easy conversation. This is perfect, Nanami thought to herself, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome.” Hitomi winked, knowing this was what her friend desperately needed. She hadn’t said it outright, but she knew Nanami was massively stressed and just needed to feel pretty and relaxed for an evening. She was more than willing to oblige.

Giving her friend an earnest look of gratitude, Nanami hugged her before offering to get them drinks while Hitomi found a spot to sit. Already feeling a little warm and relaxed from their pregaming, Nanami plopped herself on the barstool and waited patiently for the barkeep to notice her. As she studied the space, she saw a wall lined with unmarked bottles, herbs, and other ingredients for drinks. It looked like a mage’s pantry from a fantasy novel and she was here for it. Now where’s the menu… Nanami thought to herself, glancing around.

“There’s no menu miss,” the barkeep replied confidently to her unasked question as he polished a glass. “we make things custom here. Tell me what kind of spirits and flavors you like, and we’ll go from there.”

“Oh, now that’s interesting. Let’s see I’m ordering two drinks, but for me personally, I like gin... green tea.. and…lavender? Yup. I like lavender.” She said thinking carefully about the ingredients and how they’d mix.

“Those are great flavors. I’ll start working on it now. And for your friend?”

She was much more careful about Hitomi’s, wanting to reward her friend for being so thoughtful in choosing this place. “ Hm… She likes rum, most spicy things, and cinnamon.”

“Got it. Sit tight and I’ll have those drinks out for you in a second.”

“Thanks!”

Friendly staff, lowkey, and interesting drinks?  Yeah, I could really get used to this place. Nanami thought contently, already plotting her next visit. She was about to wave down Hitomi to let her know she’d secured the drink order, but someone she assumed to be the manager she mentioned earlier was making conversation and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not wanting to interrupt, she stayed at the bar, content to be hypnotized by the barkeep’s expert work in making their ~mystery drinks~.

Just as she was fully relaxing, the door opened, but there was no exchange of passwords this time. She turned to see who the VIP who bypassed the system could be and—Omfg. No,no,no. Absolutely not. Nanami thought as her eyes went wide before she snapped her head back forward, attempting to hide her face. What the hell is he doing here?? Ok don’t panic. Don’t panic. There is zero reason to panic… but still why??” Nanami lamented inwardly. She was tipsy, enjoying herself and definitely not in the proper state to deal with him, but here he was.

Overhaul casually strutted into the room like he owned the place, and Nanami quickly realized it was probably because he did. Shit.

Her hair was in a different style, long enough to hide her face, and the lights were low. She prayed it would be enough to keep him from recognizing her. After a couple minutes she was curious as to where he was, hoping he had silently left the room. Not being completely sober, she thought opening up her selfie camera would grant her an ingenious vantage point of the room. She opened it up and saw him sitting casually in a booth behind her, calmly observing the room while two men sat with him, conversing like old friends. If she hadn’t known who he was, she’d think he was just another very hygienic, handsome stranger—Handsome? Where the hell did that come from, Nanami thought to herself, blaming it on the shots from earlier.

Looking up, she could see the shelving that held the liquor and herbs behind the bar was backed with a stylish mirror. Not wanting to look like a creep with her camera open the whole night, she closed her phone and peered at the mirror, continuing to observe him observing other people. Looking closely, she could see what he was wearing now. He was in his trademark black button-up and slacks, but this time his sleeves were rolled up neatly to his forearms and he went without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone exposing a thin gold chain that matched the studs in his ears and the slightest bit of cleavage. Nanami cleared her throat, continuing to study him. His gloves were black this time, matching the rest of his all-black look. He for sure has a closet neatly lined with 100 of the same outfit. Nanami contemplated as she sipped the drink the bartender had handed her. She’d thanked him, but she was massively distracted while doing so. Her eyes roamed up towards his face, and – Shi—Fuck! Nanami exclaimed inwardly, trying not to choke on her drink as she saw him staring right back at her through the mirror, brow raised questioningly at her. Clearing her throat, she pretended as though nothing had happened, suddenly very interested in her drink.

Just as she was about to look back at the mirror to make sure he hadn’t noticed her lame attempt at espionage, she felt a hand place itself on the small of her back. “You alright miss?”

She looked up to see a man she hadn’t met before. He was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked back and neat. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his hand was still firmly placed on the small of her back, Nanami was beginning to get uncomfortable. “Yes, I’m alright, thank you.” She said with a cheery smile, hoping he would go away.

“It’s not a problem, anything for a beautiful lady.”

Ugh, gag. Nanami reacted instinctually. The entire internet exists and pick-up lines are still this corny…

“So you wouldn’t have helped me if I was unattractive?”

“We—Well no—I mean yes! What I mean to say is, could I buy you a drink?”

Waving her drink, still-half full, she replied” No thank you, I’m covered for now.”

“And what about later?” He intoned suggestively moving further into her personal space.

“Yeah, no. I’m good for... a while. Like a really long while.” She retorted, in her mind effectively shutting him down.

A look of annoyance flashed across his face before he maneuvered his hand from the small of her back to her thigh, “I find that hard to believe. You’re here alone so why not leave with some company?” He was close enough she could smell the alcohol on his breath. About to refute him by saying she’d come with a friend, she saw Hitomi heading for the bathroom. DAMN YOUR BLADDER HITOMI Nanami cursed inwardly.

Just as she was about to pop off, she saw the man’s face sour as he looked behind her.  “Haven’t you been rejected enough for one night? Take a hint.” She’d recognize that tone of arrogance anywhere.

“Um, I can speak for myself.” She said to Overhaul who was now standing at her side. Turning she looked the other man in the eye, “Take a hint.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is. My apologies, I didn’t know the lady was claimed.”  He said removing his hand, taking a step back from her.

“Claimed” whose backwards ass mans is this? Nanami thought, getting progressively irritate.

“Well now you know.” Overhaul replied gravely as he stepped closer to her side. Nanami quickly reeled in her look of surprise at the proximity before using her liquid courage to steel her gaze at the unwanted party.

The other man smiled hollowly, putting his hands up in joking surrender. “Well, it’s a shame we couldn’t pursue this connection further. It looks like I’ll be taking my leave, have a nice night~.” And with that he disappeared into the crowd.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nanami quickly found herself holding her breath again as she realized the predicament, she was in. Still close to him she slowly looked up to meet his gaze. She expected to get a smart remark, but he stood silently for a couple moments, studying her. She suddenly felt very vulnerable as his eyes roamed over her and she instinctually shifted in her seat. Seemingly realizing what he was doing, he stepped back a bit, looking away, and Nanami found herself missing the warmth.

Feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks, she quickly turned forward again, now fiddling with the straw in her drink. After a moment of tension, she finally spoke.

“I could’ve handled myself.” He quickly turned his head back to her, giving an incredulous look before she finished, “… But thank you.”

His gaze softened, as he sighed and she could tell he was keeping whatever smart remark he had to himself, “You’re welcome.”  He said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted off the seat next to her before sitting down. He waved down the bartender who quickly dropped what he was doing to start his drink. Nanami was about to gloss over this detail until the possibility of seeing his face hit her.

Biting her lip and looking around nervously, Nanami wasn’t sure where to take this next. Does this even need to be taken anywhere next?... can it? She thought semi-hopefully, before mentally slapping herself  for being tempted so easily. You are tipsy and thirsty. He doesn’t even see you that way, just a colleague helping out another colleague. Stop making it weird.

“Soo…” she began, nervously tucking a stray hair behind her ear “What brings you here?”

He turned; his brow furrowed.

“Ok, that was cheesy.”    

Rolling his eyes he put her out of her misery by answering, “Just business.”

“Yup. Don’t know why I even as—”

“And... I like it here.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Well sure, but I just never imagined you liked anything outside of cleaning and…” She pantomimed a little explosion.

He huffed, bringing a hand up to his mouth. Nanami would usually let it slide, but she was 3 drinks in, and feeling talkative. “Was that a laugh?”

“Absolutely not.” He quickly replied, looking away.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. He’s lying. “It’s alright, I won’t tell. My lips are sealed.” She winked.

“It will be easy since there’s nothing to tell.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Hmm,” Nanami hummed, a look of mischief clear on her face, “challenge accepted.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously,” What do you mean.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just have a new goal. You’ve inspired me,” she replied simply pulling her mini-planner and a pen from her bag. She could feel him eyeing her waiting for an answer, but she continued without a word. Opening the notes section, she turned to fully face him, holding the small booklet between them in one hand with a pen in the other.  Glancing between him and the booklet, she began writing something. After a few seconds of this, she nodded to herself in approval and set the planner down on the bar.

Watching her intently, he looked down to see what she’d been scribbling. Even with most of his face covered, she could tell he frowned, as he shifted his gaze back up to her looking completely done with her foolery. It was a simple doodle of what he could only assume was himself, as the only three features in the portrait were his plague mask, short hair, and two dots she meant to be exaggerated angry eyes. Returning his stare, quite proud of herself, she dramatically lifted the pen before placing two tally marks.

“… What is that.” He asked, obviously irritated. She smiled, unclicking her pen while maintaining eye contact. A few months ago she would have taken his irritation very differently, but over time she came to realize just how fun it was to tease him. Being so serious all the time, he’s practically begging for it. Nanami thought, already enjoying herself.

“What do you mean?” Nanami responded feigning innocence.

“Ignoring that terrible attempt at a portrait, I’m referring to the tally marks. What do they mean and why are there already two of them?”

“First of all, you have wounded me. To question my artistic ability so openly… Haven’t you seen the meticulous diagrams I put into our notes?”

“Yes. I have Kurono redraw them after you leave so people won’t think I’m working with a child.” He deadpanned.

Her brows shot up, her face incredulous at the petty remark. He let out another huff, similar to before. Nanami’s mischievous smile returned as she confidently went to put down another tally. What she knew was a smile underneath his mask seemed to drop as he looked at the notebook and then to her in realization.

She raised a brow, continuing to play dumb,” What? I thought we were having a laugh?”

“Erase it. Now.” He said, placing a finger on the bar to emphasize the “now”.

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re always so particular about taking notes, you should be happy.”

“You truly vex me.”

“… That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Say it again, slower this time.” She meant to say it playfully leaning closer, but it came out way more sultry than she meant it to thanks to the alcohol. They were mere inches away, close enough that she could smell his cologne and discern the specific hue of gold of in his eyes, I always thought they were more yellow gold, but there’s a little saffron in there too... Registering that she was in fact too close, she quickly sat back in her chair, turning her face which felt very warm all the sudden. She had just finished her drink but pretended to be thoroughly invested in it as she stared straight forward. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his head tilt and would bet money he was smirking under that mask. As he leaned towards her, she felt her heart racing, What’s he doing? Why am I so nervous all the sudden?? Just as she braced herself for the unknown, she heard him pick up her pen. Her notebook still open, he began to write something, though the proximity made her too tense to look. Cautioning a glance, she did a double take as she saw him draw a tally mark next to a small doodle she knew was meant to be a portrait of her.

Looking back up at him as he laid down her pen, she managed to get out,” What does that mean?”

“As you so eloquently put it before, ‘you’ve inspired me’.” He replied simply. The bartender nervously placed the new drink in front of them and Overhaul rose to leave.

Still taking in the exchange, Nanami could only think to ask, “You’re just going to leave your drink here?”

“You can have it; I’ve taken enough of your time. Good evening, Dr. Watanabe.” He nodded to her and then someone behind her before leaving, the two other men he came with following shortly after.

“Well, well, well I didn’t know my friend was such a little minx,” Hitomi purred from behind her, wiggling her brows suggestively.

“What do you?... NO. That was—Just no. Absolutely not. That was my research pa—a colleague.” She responded emphatically, her cheeks still too warm for her liking.

“Wish I had a colleague that looked like that~.”

“Don’t make it weird. Where were you anyway? I needed you a while ago.” Nanami said pouting.

“Sorry I got caught up in conversation with the manager here and when I went to the little girls’ room I saw what I presumed to be a mack session after that creep in the suit left. I just decided to let you work your magic in peace.”

“There was in fact no ‘mack session’. And you weren’t going to come over and back me up when that creep was on my case earlier?”

“When have I ever left you high and dry?” Hitomi asked, offended at the implication that she’d just abandon her friend. “I only stayed put because you were all hugged up with your ‘colleague’ and looked like you had it handled.”

Nanami immediately regretted the insinuation. Hitomi had always had her back and she was just projecting because she knew the truth. Though it turned out alright in the end, when the creep was harassing her, she felt helpless for a moment and she hated it. She didn’t want to have to be saved next time, she wanted to save herself.

“I’m sorry, I just felt small in that moment and lashed out at you. That wasn’t fair.”

“I understand, and forgive you,” Hitomi replied softly, hugging her friend from the side. “You didn’t ask for advice, but if you want some, I highly recommend taking some self-defense classes. People always say you’ll forget all the steps in the moment, but at the very least it might give you a confidence boost.”

“That’s not a bad idea. First thing come Monday; I’m going to start looking. Thanks for being such a good friend.” Nanami smiled warmly. “Now, enough with the serious stuff. You ma’am, owe me a sleepover.”

“Oh, I owe you some hang time now? Well let’s go then. I’ll get a drink too and then we can bounce.”

Nanami was confused for a second before remembering Overhaul had left a drink that she was now responsible for finishing. Sighing and dreading as to what kind of boring drink someone like him would order, she was surprised to see another of her own. Smiling to herself for a moment, she sipped slowly. It was naïve to take his act of kindness at face value, but she found herself contented with the turn of events all the same.

#same difference #overhaul #overhaul x oc #overhaul fanfiction #mha overhaul #mha oc #mha fanfic #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #shie hassaikai #bnha fanfic #bnha #bnha oc #overhaul fanfic #overhaul fluff

[bungeegumsurprise]

Fire force request

Can I request a story with Karim with reader on their first date?(or something else lol)

Thank you?

A/N: I was giggling to myself like a giddy little schoolgirl while I wrote this. I am not ashamed XD I hope you enjoy!

(Oneshot) AU! But First, Our First First Date: Karim Flam x Reader

Karim possessed all the polar opposite of qualities that you looked for in a boyfriend.

He was THE ass’s ass to the people he was meeting for the first time, short-tempered, and always happened to be conveniently sporting a seriously long stick of serious seriousness up his butt whenever someone cracked a lame joke.

So how did you end up outside in the middle of Tokyo’s sweltering Summer, standing in a field of dead grass with that very same man?

You remembered how your best friend Hibana, who also happened to be the sole female owner of the popular club that featured only the best exotic male dancers-or how she preferred to call them as “gravel,” that was across the street from your workplace, successfully lured you into what would be the last blind date you ever went on.

Every time you and Hibana met up for drinks after work, she couldn’t stop going on about a guy that she’d known since they were kids because his family happened  to live in the house next to hers, that was also totally into you.

Though her description of him when they first met was, “The annoying brat had the nerve to call my beautiful plump breasts fake, and poked them with a random dirty stick he found on the side of the street. The cocky little thing turned his head off to the side with an unamused look on his face when I threatened to barrage him with my “clematis,” and smirked at me after saying, ‘You don’t have the balls to do it, or should I say, the breasts to do it. You faking fake faker.’”

Her pink pupils looked like she had used her powers to set them on fire from the way she swore to get her revenge on him someday.

But Hibana being Hibana, she didn’t think it was necessary to tell you that the one she was setting you up with, was the tall man with an athletic build, that had an undercut of black hair and a semi-long dark bluish-gray fringe he kept combed towards the front. Not to mention he was also the young bartender that had been working at her club since it opened a few years back, that you couldn’t stand to be sitting next to for than five minutes without wanting to set him flying out the window with your third-generation pyrokinetic powers, who went by the name of Karim Flam.

 -

You had finished getting ready for your blind date after closing your flower shop for the night and walked across the street to head over to Hibana’s club to meet your date.

You walked past the parking lot that was at its usual full capacity and to the front of the long line of people waiting to get in.

“Hey (Y/N), Hibana tells me you have a hot date tonight. Didn’t you say you’d run off to another country, change your name, and live in a cabin somewhere far away in a mountain where no man could ever find you?” The club’s bouncer Obi greeted with a playful smile and unclasped the gold steel clip from the matching pole to pull back the red velvet rope, “But I think this one might be a keeper. I’ve worked with for a while now and the kid’s alright. Horrible sense of humor, but makes a killer martini.” Obi immediately sucked his lips inwards and shifted his eyes back and forth in panic, realizing he had said too much.

You narrowed your eyes at a nervously sweating Obi that held the dark blue door open, “Obi-“you said almost like you were scolding him, and stood on your toes leaning forward to meet his eyes. “Don’t tell me Hibana set me up with him-“

“I swear, it’s not him! I know how much you two hate each other; I promise!” He nervously laughed as you descended your heels back onto the ground, taking a few steps past him and stopping before you walked in.

“Well, if it does turn out that you’re lying, and Hibana finds out that you slipped up and spoiled the surprise that she worked so hard to plan…” He gulped. “Well, I guess I’ll just wish you good luck now just in case she feels like having one of her gravel parades.” You innocently feigned, and patted his shoulder as you entered.

Obi’s shoulders relaxed, “Whew. I almost told her it was Karim. Hibana wouldn’t let me live it down or let me live at all if (Y/N) found out.”

The music continued to boom in your ears as you maneuvered your way through the tight crowds of bodies dancing under the flashing lights and met Hibana at the bar.

“(Y/N)!” She yelled, greeting you with an embrace as you sat onto one of the tall red bar stools next to hers. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“You wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t!” You laughed, giving her a knowing look.

“Will it be the usual?” The current bartender on shift, Benimaru, asked before turning around to the machine of fountain drinks.

“Thanks Beni,” as he pulled the front end of the white towel he kept on his shoulder, wiping off that soda that sprayed onto the outside of the glass, and placed it on the table with a coaster.

You took a long sip of the chilled glass filled with vanilla coke and crushed ice, through the black straw. “Are you sure about this one Hibana?” You turned towards her, “Because the last guy you said was “into me,” the one that you completely “forgot” was also a wanted criminal, was a total psychopath! How did you forget the face of the man who was revealed to be not only a trained assassin, but also worked as the hitman for that lunatic Joker, when the name “Takehisa Hinawa,” was plastered on every wanted flyer and every news broadcast all over Tokyo just a few months prior?”

You eyed the woman sitting next to you who preferred to dress in a mid-thigh length, light pink satin slip dress that was two shades lighter than her shoulder-length hair, against her beautifully tanned skin, along with a pair of white stilettos, at any given time of the day. From her track record, you felt seriously unconvinced that Hibana wouldn’t be setting you up with yet another dangerous man, as you stirred the straw around the inside of the glass.

Hibana took a sip from the crystal glass filled with whiskey, “Well he’s not dangerous, or anywhere near skilled enough to be a criminal, I can tell you that much.”

“That’s not a lot-actually, that’s nothing to go on. Can’t you just tell me who it is already?”

“My shift’s over Hibana,” Benimaru interrupted as he wiped off his hands on a towel and pushed past the counter’s swinging door.

“Perfect timing, you’re date’s here! You can keep me company as I finish my drink, Beni.” Hibana got off the stool and hurriedly pushed a grumpy looking Beni towards the main part of the club.

“Don’t call me Beni, you fiend of a woman!”

“Wait, Hibana! Where are you-“ You reached your hand out but was instead met face to face with your date that was about to start his shift.

Your eyes widened as you pointed an accusatory finger to the person you had a hunch but prayed that you were wrong about. “You-!”

“Ugh, don’t tell me-That Hibana-“ He smoothed a hand over his annoyed face before walking behind the counter.

“Why did I have a feeling that it was you?” You sighed and took another sip of your drink. “I’m leaving,” as you dug in your purse and placed the money for your drink under the coaster before slipping on the strap of your purse and sliding off the stool. “Just tell Hibana I wasn’t feeling well and went home before you got here,” you turned around and waved a lazy hand.

“Hey wait a second!” Karim reached over the counter and grasped the back of your forearm, “I’m the one that asked Hibana to set me up with you,” Karim confessed as he released his hold on your arm when you paused for a brief moment before turning back around.

You looked him in the eyes and sighed. “Is this a joke Karim? You and I both know we can’t stand to be in the same room with one another without losing our tempers. You’ve hated me since the moment we met, so tell me Karim. Why am I here?” Your eyes followed his that looked downwards at the floor lost in deep thought, doubtful that whatever he said could change how you felt towards each other.

He breathed, “I’m not good at expressing how I feel with my words. They always get misunderstood and don’t come out the way I mean them to,” as you stood stilled in disbelief but allowed him to finish.

“I have a habit of putting up my guard whenever I first meet someone. You know the thing about Rekka, I’ve been like this ever since; and I guess the reason I’m always being sarcastic and tease you a lot, is because I’m comfortable around you. Even though we argue a lot, you’ve never once looked at me like the culprit.”

“So, that’s your reason?” Karim looked back up at you confused.

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t your fault for Rekka ending up the way that he did. You tried your best to save him, and at the end of the day, that’s all we can do,” as Karim gave you a saddened half smile.

“And! If you wanted a date, why didn’t you just ask me? Why go through all the trouble of making Hibana brag about you and drag me here?” You slightly tilted your head and waited for his answer.

“Because! I thought you’d turn me down, and by the time I realized I should’ve asked you myself, it was too late. It didn’t matter how much I begged her to help me, she wouldn’t help unless I paid an amount equal to the gravel I was or some crap, so I let her take whatever she wanted from my paycheck. I was going to ask you out last week and when I told Hibana I wanted my money back, she said she already blew the money from half my paycheck on some stupid shoes.”

“Pft-“ You both looked to each other for a moment before laughing at the same time, “That’s Hibana before you. There’s no refunds when you offer her money to do anything.” You shook your head at your best friend who still acted like the child from when you first met.

Karim rubbed the back of his neck, “I know. There’s no coming between that woman and her shoes. I’m pretty stupid right?”

“I think that might’ve been the first honest thing you’ve said today,” you joked.

“Then here’s the second most honest thing I’ve said today, I like you (Y/N). Will you go out with me?”

You purposely hesitated for a second longer just to see his cocky smile waver the slightest, “Yes.”

“What took you so long woman! Geez, you were about to give me a heart-attack!”

 A Few Days Later

“Can you tell me what we’re doing out here Karim?” You felt like you were going to melt into a human puddle for how unbearably hot it was outside, “It’s in the middle of freaking Summer. It’s too hot!”

Karim chuckled as he unzipped the large bag he was lugging around on his shoulder the entire way and pulled out his special instrument, “I want you to aim the biggest ball of your flames at me.”

You looked at him bewildered. “Is all this sun going to your head?”

He pulled his earphones over his ears, “Come on, just do it. Trust me!” as he positioned himself.

You had no idea what he was planning, “O-okay, here goes!” as you took a deep breath summoning your flames that started out as a spinning sphere that instantly expanded into something of a giant burning meteor, and raised it over your head as you launched it at Karim with all your might.

You watched as Karim held his ground and waited for the perfect moment for his instrument to inhale in all the fire as he rung his bell loudly. The sounds waves from the bell fluctuated the air in your flames, the heat expanding and compressing within the valves of his instrument repeatedly, and when the sound waves expanded, it drastically changed the temperature of your flames by cooling it  down.

A frigid gust of wind blew as your fire extinguished and you waited not knowing what to expect. You could hear the sound within the instrument stiffening as Karim aimed the other end of his instrument towards the ground.

“I heard you’d never gone ice-skating!” He called from the other side of the field.

You grinned, “I haven’t!” You watched in awe as the brown grass beneath you froze over into a giant field of solid ice to form your own personal ice rink.

Karim happily smiled as he ran around the rink towards you while holding two pairs of skates. “How’s this as our first officially official first date?”

#anon asks #fire force #fire force oneshot #fireforce headcanon #enen no shouboutai #enen no shouboutai oneshot #enen no shouboutai headcanon #fire force fanfiction #fanfiction #fire force writings #writings #enen no shouboutai fanfiction #enen no shouboutai writings #karim flam #karim flam x reader #SFW #comedy #first dates #akitaru obi #karim flam oneshot #karim flam headcanon #karim flam fanfiction #karim flam writings #romance #submission

[kpopchangedme]

All I Want For Christmas is: The Maple Goddess [Youngjae]

Love is in the air at the Christmas Market when you finally get to spend some quality time with the cute guy from the ice skating rink.

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: SFW - Holiday Season - Romance - First Date - shy!jae || [One Shot]

[All I Want For Christmas: is a GOT7 collab]

GOT7 | M.list

You’re glorious today, as usual. Your red winter coat brings out the colours of your cheeks, even from the other side of the alley, you're glowing. Youngjae rolls his thick sleeve to peek at his watch, almost an hour to go before his first break… Sniffing, he observes from his fortune hideout as you explain something to rare morning onlookers, waving your hands around energetically. When he's sitting down behind his booth, he's mostly concealed by the counter, hardly able to see you. In the end, they buy something from the stand, how could they not? No one can resist a smile like yours, and you grin every time you make a sale. A series of aggressive knocks on his wooden counter forces him out of his daydream. He stands up from his chair in a hurry, taken by surprise. 

“Size twelve.” A boy narrows his eyes haughtily and his four friends snicker behind him. He's a teenager – he was probably in diapers when Youngjae finished high school – but still, he has nothing but contempt for the older guy. The Ice Skating Rink promised to be a romantic mystical workplace with its Christmas lights and view on the giant decorated tree, but it turned out to be a damn babysitting job.

Don't push your friends... No headsets! I told you, this is your last warning...

“Then it's size eleven,” Youngjae blinks, quickly catching on, “and 10 bucks.”

“The raffle guy said you'd make us a discount!” They immediately start to whine in protest, and Youngjae bites the interior of his cheek to remain polite. Grabbing the frame of his booth, he bends through the opening to glare at his ‘friend’. Bambam shrugs unapologetically, not looking exactly contrite enough to his liking. He's been sending his victims to the rink for discounts far too often this past month.

“How much do you have left?”

Sighing, Youngjae bargains with the group, ending up renting all of them skates at half the value. How are other businesses supposed to make a living if Bambam keeps scamming kids out of their allowance? He cusses lowly, picking up 5 pairs of ice skates from the tablets behind him and handing them. It's his first year working at The White Miracle Market and definitely his last. He thought it would be a great opportunity to earn some extra cash for his Christmas gifts, but that's not how it went. Instead, he ended up spending his days freezing to death, quarrelling with kids, and spending all of his money on the job.

Work with us, they said…

Youngjae shouldn't have let himself get convinced by the guys. He's the only one that ended up in a stall with a defective heater and… Ok, fine, admittedly he has the greatest view of all time… Raising his head to your booth facing his, he forgets for a brief second he's still standing up and hits the large metal radiator hanging above. Yelping, he reaches for his head with both gloves, for once thankful the thing isn't working at full capacity. Through his tears, he glares at the heater with rancour. 

It will be fun, they said…

Carefully sitting back, Youngjae loses the next half-hour reluctantly monitoring the skating little monsters through his left side window. He doesn't even find it in himself to scold them when they start throwing ice at each other. One could lose an eye or two for all he cares.

___

Today is a bit of a slow start. It could come as a surprise considering there are only a few days left before Christmas, but it's often like that during the day. People come to the Market for enchantment and a chaotic array of wooden stalls doesn't quite reach its full magical effect before sunset. Even with the current beautiful snow falling in slow motion from the gray sky. Of course, your booth isn't like the other boring ones, you don't rely on fir ornaments, red velvet bows or fairy lights to sell. Undeniably, the Maplesque!’ strongest asset is the alluring smell of maple syrup always cooking in the large pan.

“Ouch,” Emma giggles, making you raise your head from the wood bucket of clean snow you're preparing, “that outta hurt!”

“What?” Whipping around to see what she means, you wince. Cute guy from the ice skating booth is holding the top of his head with both hands. Above him, his stall's radiator is wobbling. You hope he didn't burn himself. “Don't stare,” mortified by the secondhand embarrassment, you click your tongue, forcing your sister's eyes down.

“Why not?” She smirks, leaning above the counter and making the display of leaf-shaped lollipops tilt dangerously. “He stares at us all day.”

“Does. Not.” You lie, pushing the rack back to safety and Emma rolls her eyes. “Stop being delusional and go check the pan's temperature.”

“In case you didn't notice…” She stretches both arms open towards the empty snowy alley like she's the messiah. “No one buys your taffy before supper, Ô dear Maple Goddess.”

“If you're unhappy, you can go home.” Grumbling, you round the booth, done with your taffy-on-ice tempting display. Walking by the pan, you check it yourself, pleased to find the temperature of the syrup is climbing slowly.

“There's no ridiculously hot guys at home.” Emma sing-songs and you look at her, dumbfounded. “The White Miracle might be cold but I swear, there's no better place to be in town…”

“What?” Crouching, you plug the hot chocolate machine. Is this why she comes to the Market even though she never lends a hand?

Your little sister has been obsessing a lot about boys lately, maybe she's at that age. In previous years, she never cared to visit. Your parents were the ones running this booth while you helped out as much as you could. It's the first year you fully took over so they could stay on the farm, handling most of the crafting and shipping. This Christmas Market is a tradition, sort of a mandatory one when it’s the whole family business. Holidays are always very busy, right before the maple season starts.

“Are you dumb?” Emma snorts in disbelief, “Blind? Every guy here is sexier than the other. It's like they are fighting every day to win me over. There's the toymakers pair, very kissable under potential mistletoe; the steamy ticket seller, I personally find his constant frowning highly attractive; there's Santa, help me Lord-”

“I guess I’m too busy to notice,” you interrupt unimpressed and check the display one last time to see if everything is in order, “someone has to work our booth.”

“Well, hot rental-guy notices, rental-guy isn't blind. Everyone at TWM knows he's desperately pining over you!” You turn to her – acting lost – and she rolls her eyes once more in desperation. Without another word, Emma raises her glove the rink’s way, unsubtly pointing to the man in his ice skating booth. Gasping, you jump forward to pull down her arm, feeling your whole face flush in shame. You're acutely aware of how much he looks your way, there's no need to make it more obvious. Really, how bold can a fifteen years old get? 

“Jesus, Emma,” heaving you hold her arm down tightly, “we don't point at people!”

She tugs at it, but you don't let go. “Oh look, he's staring again!” She waves hello his way and you let her go in horror. Urgently spinning around only to discover that rental-guy isn't looking your way. Not at all, in fact, he seems rather absorbed by the contemplation of the kids skating on the rink. “You should see your face right now!” Emma cracks up, sinking back into her chair with a book and you kick her leg, fuming. You swear sometimes she still acts like a 10 years old. "Admit it, you like him back, he's cute...”

You don't dignify this with an answer, dropping your chin into your open palms, bent in two, elbows resting on the counter. Cute? Ice skating guy is cute alright. You aren't as blind as you'd want her to believe. You've been looking forward to his breaks for an entire month.

You asked you noted; Choi Youngjae, your age, first year working at the White Miracle, single… Very unsubtly crushing on you and talking about it to a lot of people.

He's off in around 50 minutes; which means he’ll come by to pick two maple hot chocolates just to see you. You hate to admit, but he is at his cutest when he's a blushing mess for you. 

In a parallel universe, one where the Holiday season truly is magical… You'd both do a lot more than stare. 

He'd actually ask you out, maybe he'd spill his drink on his coat while doing so, but you wouldn't mind. You wouldn't mind because you'd be busy being nervous yourself, smoothly agreeing to anything. You like him too, a lot. How could you not fall for the guy who gave you the most flattering nickname to ever be? 

Not Farm-Girl like back when you were in high school. 

Maple. Goddess.

You're an OG of this Christmas Market, so of course, everyone told you about him. The White Miracle’ staff is like a second family, you were made aware of his infatuation within a week of him starting here. Even the guy at the Mulled Wine stall knew about Youngjae and you and he's a loner that keeps to himself.

You bite the interior of your cheek, sneaking another glance at the rental booth.

Maybe you should just ask him out yourself. It's not like waiting on him is doing any good and Holiday season is almost over...

___

To be honest, Youngjae doesn't feel particularly excited at Jackson showing up for his break. It's suspiciously that he considers his friend when his face pops over the counter to gaze down at him. By this point, Youngjae was dozing off, ice rink empty and his will to live in the negative – matching the mercury-in-glass quite nicely. 

“OY!” The exuberant chocolate-lover greets, face sliced in two by his largest grin. The last time they spoke was two days prior, Jackson was so taken by some dumb competition with another booth that he snapped and told Youngjae off. He got mad and claimed he was done, that he couldn't stand hearing about y/n again.

“Hi,” wary, Youngjae sits straight, “I thought you didn't want to be around me anymore.”

Jackson's face twists, “What? I never said that. I’m pretty sure my exact words were ‘man-up and ask her out for baby-Jesus’s sake!’... But I’m here to apologize, I'm sorry I yelled, Jinyoung says I need to make amends…” Picture of innocence, the childish man smiles and tilts his head. This look on him is never a good omen. Whenever Jackson wiggles his brows like that, he's always about to cause a holy mess. “Sooooooooo,” he goes on mischievously, “I thought about it and decided I should be the one that buys you hot chocolate today.” The last words are utter so theatrically they’re barely words at all: “At last, I shall meet your maple dame!”

Sheer panic courses through Youngjae's body when he understands. He knew he had reasons to be apprehensive. Of course Jackson is gonna get involved with his crush! The man can't ever stay out of anyone's business! Your formal rejection is the last thing he needs before Christmas. He'd much prefer remaining anonymous.

Unfortunately, Jackson has already crossed the snowy alley in your direction before he is even out, running after him. Mid-way there, Youngjae stops altogether hesitating; he could face this like a man and apologize, or run away and never come back to this cursed Market…  Sadly, then he'd never see you again.

There's no doubt he's tomato red when he finally joins his former friend in front of the Maplesque! stall. You're already smiling, greeting them, as kind and breathtaking as ever.

“HI, HELLO!” Jackson blurts out too loudly, making you twitch back in surprise. “You're the Maple Goddess!” Dumbfounded, your eyes fall on Youngjae, standing a step back and wincing nervously.

“It's just Y-Y/n,” you stutter cutely on your own name, making his knees weak, “you're the chocol-”

“Jackson Wang!” Your little sister seemingly jumps from under the counter, eyes glimmering in awe. She's there every day with you, always on her phone or reading a book. “Excuse my sis, she's no good around hot guys!” Bending in two through the stall opening, the younger girl reaches to offer her hand in a hurry. To Youngjae's despair, she's obviously very taken by Jackson.

Getting rejected might not be the worst possible outcome to this encounter after all, you could fall for the chocolatier's charm. Like everyone else always does...

"Well, aren't you a treat!” Instead of shaking her hand – like a normal human being – the bold man straight up kisses her glove. Youngjae cringes so hard, he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “And you are...”

“Emma!” She blurts out in pure glee:

“Please Y/n, don't mind Jackson!” Finally stepping up, Youngjae slaps a 10$ bill on the counter, startling you. Gulping, he falters under your wide gaze, “He's always been odd.”

“I’m afraid his reputation precedes him.” You divert your eyes to the bill, biting your lower lip. “Two maple hot chocos coming.” Turning around in haste, you elbow the lollipop display and your sister catches it with a dramatic eye roll before it crashes. Youngjae can only smile like a fool, observing as you work. You're irresistible.

"So – Maple Goddess – are you free?” You're pouring the beverages when Jackson asks the question and you visibly spasm, nearly scalding yourself. Youngjae turns to his friend in horror. He might want to help, but he's as subtle as a bull in a China shop.

Emma snorts; “Yes, but Y/n's all work and no fun.” The young girl plops herself down on the counter, dropping her chin in her palm to gaze at the older men. “I'm all fun.”

"You’re jailbait.” You deadpan ruthlessly, bringing the men's attention back on you and making your sister whine. Still, you frown in concentration, pouring syrup in the two hot chocolates. “I’m just busy building a maple empire, Jackson, I’m sure you can relate.”

The chocolatier seems severely undermined and he grimaces; “That's unfortunate, Youngjae was hoping you'd join us for a break at the rink.” Wait, what!? Jackson just said what?

“Me, skate? On ice.” You seem confused, as though that's the strangest idea ever. Oh God, you hate them both already. You're gonna reject him.

“Yes…” Narrowing his eyes at his friend meanly, Youngjae clenches his fists, mustering his courage. For weeks, he had been considering the best way to asking you out and that wasn't it at all. “I was wondering if you would like to take a break from the stall and skate with me… and Jackson.” He's completely winded at the prospect but his friend smiles brightly, offering two thumbs up, very proud of himself. What is the point of this? With Jackson there, that's not even a date. It doesn't help him at all, it's a shitty plan.

“Oh, the thing is–” You start to protest but get interrupted.

“I’ll keep the booth!” Emma blurts out, beaming and you turn to her with a scowl. “I can manage here for a while, you go… Have fun… With guys...”

“You don't have to!” Youngjae eagerly offers an out, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Still, his heart is pounding in expectation, waiting for your answer. Part of him wants to murder Jackson for forcing him out of his comfort zone, but what's done is done. The two maple hot mugs are now abandoned on the counter, steaming. 

“I...” You seem to be unsure what to say, put on the spot. It takes a moment for you to finally make a choice. “Y-Yes, I would like that a lot.”

___

You're buzzing in a mix of excitement and dread stepping out of the booth. Even after agreeing, you aren't sure how it happened, don't know how you even let yourself get convinced. Sure, you've been daydreaming about spending time with rental-guy for a month – Youngjae – but still… like that? You must have momentarily lost your mind. And it's not like he invited you to join them on his own, his friend did. You follow awkwardly when both men walk back to the rental booth, Emma delighted coos echoing from the Maplesque!. Really, you're gonna have to kick her ass when you get back home tonight.

You should say something – call this whole ice skating thing off – but instead, you give Youngjae your shoe size, waiting as the guys silently bicker with one another. Clearly, you aren't the only one that hasn't thought stuff through.

You're still trying to find a way to get out of this without hurting anyone's feeling when Jackson suddenly slaps his forehead. It's like he just remembered he forgot to close the tap back home. "Oh SHOO!” The man pouts dramatically and his friend turns to him, oblong eyes round of evident apprehension. Jackson is already stepping backwards in a hurry, fleeing away from you both. He fakes looking down at his phone. “I forgot Mark had something to tell me! I need to go right now!” He's almost running up the alley now. “May your date be maple and bright!” 

Wait.

What.

Date?

Did the chocolatier just set you up with his friend? 

You knew you intimidated rental-guy – so did the whole world – but you didn't think it would come to this. When you face Youngjae however, you realize this wasn't his plan either. He's staring blankly at the pair of skates he picked up for you on the counter, cheekbones afire. Clearly, he's in shock. His friend just forced this unto him and he doesn't know what to do.

Wow. Can it be considered a real date if you're coerced into it? Even if you both want to meet, dates are supposed to be planned, actual outings, not just random breaks taken from work.

Besides, you don't know how to ice skate.

Well, it's not like you can get out of it now. If you try to stop this from happening it will be worse. Youngjae is so adorable, you don't want him to think you aren't interested. 

Surely, ice skating can't be that complicated. You see kids on that rink every day... 

“I knew about it,” you hush, trying to find something to initiate conversation.

Startled, he looks up. “Uh?”

“The whole Maple Goddess thing.”

“Oh,” Youngjae forces a chuckle, clenching his teeth, “Jackson comes up with weird stuff all the time… Sorry...” Never has a lie been more obvious. You meant his crush too, but he doesn't seem to want to hear that. To hide your growing smile, you bring your hands to your mouth, blowing air to warm them up. Unfortunately, you let your gloves at the booth.

“You don't have to do this, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to trick you into hanging out with me. I didn't even know what Jac–”

“It's fine,” you interrupt, “I was actually about to give up and ask you out myself.”

“You... What?” His mouth is open in astonishment. 

Ok. This is the perfect set up for a confession. There's snow falling, you're all alone… You should probably just get it out in the open.

“I hear about you and… I like you too.”

“You like me,” Youngjae repeats doubtfully. 

“Yes.” Butterflies. Butterflies everywhere. Grabbing the dreaded skates, you turn to face the rink, grinning. “So, are we gonna do this or what?" 

Amused beyond logic, you laugh, leaving him hanging to go sit on a nearby bench. You try to control your nerves, slipping out of your Uggs to tightly lace the rental skates. Ice can't be much different from concrete, you've rollerbladed before. Dead silent, Youngjae comes to sit next to you, putting on ice skates himself. His are black and red, evidently personal ones, way fancier. You've never seen him on the rink before, but one probably needs to know how to ice skate to be hired at that booth. It makes sense. Done, you wait for him to finish. 

Well, that's painfully awkward. You should be talking. People talk on dates. Is this a date?

Suddenly, Youngjae stands up, sliding on the ice with no effort whatsoever. He's gracious, grinning at you from ear to ear. He seemed to have processed your little confession now, at least. His feet form a V shape, making him swirl in a large circle before he stops back in front of the bench. In a messed up way, you kind of wished him to be as clumsy at this as everything else. 

Evidently, he's waiting for you to get up and do some twirls of your own, a grandiose arabesque perhaps, impressive, breathtaking. Oh God, the longer he's anticipating this the worse is. Come on, here goes nothing. You can do this. Ice skating can't be that complicated. Finally standing up, you pray for some sort of miracle. You take a weird step forward on the ice. Unfortunately, your stance is so wobbly you very nearly fall on your ass, arms flying in rotation to regain balance. At the last second, Youngjae catches your forearms, saving your ass (literally). His hands wrap around your elbow holding you up steady on the slippery ice. It's the first time he has touched you and even though it's through layers of clothing, butterflies soar once more.

You look so stupid. Breaking your neck won't charm cute rental-guy. You’ll just humiliate yourself. 

“You can't skate.” Youngjae states this simple fact and your entire face burns of shame. You try to pull away, to step back on the much safer and stable snow, but he holds on. Probably because he fears you're falling again. 

“I can skate,” you lie, vexed, “I just haven't done this… In a while.” More like ever.

“Have fun?” Youngjae's smile widens inhumanly at his joke, lips curling upwards to expose the entirety of his dentition.  

"If you call breaking a leg fun, you're a weird guy.”

You don't even notice when you start to glide, too busy smiling back. "That's okay, I got you.” Youngjae is easily skating backwards pulling you with him. “But just to be clear… You agreed to this even though you couldn't skate?”

“I couldn't refuse, you never invited me to do anything before… And I can skate,” you repeat. Just not on ice.

“So you accepted Jackson's invitation… To be with me?”

You aren't sure what he finds so hard to grasp. “Yes,” you breathe out, embarrassed, “but now I might die for it.” Your eyes dart down when Youngjae expertly crosses his blades, he's got some very impressive moves. “Showoff.”

He laughs and instantly you feel a whole lot better. “I won't let you die on my watch!” Well, the relief was short. You yelp when he releases your arms, disappearing in your back. 

“H-Hey!” Precarious, you straighten and lose your balance but this time Youngjae grabs your waist, holding you up.

Wow. If you didn't risk severe head injury otherwise, you might believe he has game. But that's impossible, rental-guy spent a whole month openly pinning over you without even making a move. Plus the only reason you're in this mess is because Jackson and Emma ganged-up on you.

“I got you now, I won't let you fall. I'll teach you.” Youngjae's voice rings above your shoulder.

Though he sounds serious about the task ahead, you can't help your chills at his breath on your ear. Unfortunately for him, his close proximity is highly distracting. He's pressed against your back and you mentally curse the thickness your damn winter coat. You wish you could actually feel him, but that may be too much for a first non-date.

“Bend your knees,” he whispers in concentration, “more, more, there. Lean forward.” Biting your lower lip, you try to push aside the other images his commands summon. What is wrong with you? The man seems oblivious to his effect, intended on helping you learn. When Youngjae is fully satisfied, you're in a weird semi-sitting position. “There, you need to keep your center of gravity low to avoid falling.”

You must look absolutely ridiculous but this is strangely romantic. Something tells you Emma is filming the whole scene from the stall, although you forget everything about that when he presses closer.

“Now you just… Glide...” As you obey once more, Youngjae's hands slide down on your hips. “Again, push to the side, like me. You want the blade to bite the ice...”

Screw that. It may come as a total surprise, but the man has game. Enjoying every second of this – probably a bit too much – you begin to gain momentum with his help. He's still holding you tightly when you complete your second full circle around the rink. Even though you're vacillating and your steps lack finesse, you'd say you are doing a pretty good job. You're skating, on ice, alone with cute rental-guy.  Smiling in joy, you bend a bit lower to accelerate. After a while, Youngjae's hands desert you altogether, and you would protest but he quickly reappears in front of you. Skating backwards, he barely needs to look over his shoulder to know where he is going. It's like its a second nature to him, something you find strangely attractive. As if aware of this, he maintains eye contact for far too long, you feel the tip of your ears burn and not from the cold. His brown hair is flying around his face, strands whipping the wind. For some reason the sight makes you light, you're flying around above the Christmas Market with the cotton-like snow.

Fine, maybe not all dates need to be official to be meaningful.

“I told you I could skate,” your bold claim makes him snort in disbelief. 

“You might need to practice more often.”

“How about…” You pause, holding a breath, “We make this a daily thing?”

“Sure,” Youngjae offers a hand and you take it, electrified by the touch, “I’ll trade you lessons for free maple choco.”

Your heart race at the thought of doing something like this with him every day. Humming, you fake to consider his offer for a second; “Deal!”

“It's a date then!” Laughing, you keep skating, staring at each other like you're alone in the world.

Unfortunately, you forget you truly aren't and he does too. Youngjae is totally spooked when someone hollers at him aggressively, a young teen is standing in front of the rental booth for service waving both arms. Apparently, break is over.

Twisting his skates without warning, Youngjae comes to an abrupt stop in front of you, forgetting one major detail.

You hit him at full speed, albeit not very fast, but it still manages to sweep him off his feet. With a loud huff, air exhales his lungs when he hits the ice and you land on top of him. Mouth ajar, you gape, meeting his soft chestnut irides. You're too flustered to say anything and he's not doing much better than you. That's not exactly how you envisioned ever climbing him up.

Your faces are so close you can see every single one of his eyelashes, his cute pinkened nose, his beauty mark. Your eyes keep exploring his features, dipping low to his dark pout, full and inviting. You want to kiss him. Snow keeps falling, swirling in the chilly air around. You haven't chosen between pulling away or going for it when Youngjae's hand finds your nape. Slowly, he closes the gap between you, lips brushing yours delicately. Adding pressure, you kiss him back.

You knew it. The man has game. 

There's no mistletoe, no fairy lights flickering, but your first kiss is fireworks. The moment is enchanting, infinite, as you both lay on the ice like one. Maybe that's the famous magic of The White Miracle Market you've heard so much about. You forget about the outside world, space, time. There's nothing but you two and the snow.

When you pull back to breathe, Youngjae is smiling softly. “Tomorrow,” he whispers, so low you can barely hear, “I'm teaching you the snowplow stop.”

“Yes,” you breathe out, winded, “that might be useful.”

GOT7 | M.list

[All I Want For Christmas: is a GOT7 collab]

#Youngjae #choi Youngjae #GOT7 #Youngjae FLuff #Youngjae Stories #Youngjae fanfic #Youngjae imagines #Youngjae drabbles #GOT7 stories #GOT7 fanfic #GOT7 Imagines #GOT7 Drabbles #GOT7 Fanfictions #CHoi Youngjae fanfic #Choi Youngjae drabbles #Choi Youngjae Stories #Choi Youngjae ROmance #Romance #cute #fluff #wow #lol #Christmas Stories #Christmas collaboration #GOT7 Christmas #GOT7 Holidays #All I Want For Christmas is

[artificialqueens]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered, Chapter 2 (Crygi, Jan x Nicky) - Joley

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Crystal had spent two days trying to figure out how to explain this new situation to Gigi. She considered testing the waters by joking about it, then thought maybe she should just rip the Band-Aid off and tell her outright. But any train of thought drove her right into a wall. And Jan wasn’t much help either.

“Maybe you could text her,” Jan had mused offhandedly. She was trying to help as much as she could – her suggestion was made while she was sitting in front of her laptop researching what actually went into planning a wedding, method acting, if you will. They were committed to this lie now, it seemed like there was no choice but to go all in.

“Text her?!” Crystal’s eyes were wide, she couldn’t possibly be serious. “I can’t just be like, ‘Hey Geege, Jan told Nicky we’re getting married lol T-T-Y-L and hope for the best.”

“Well, obviously not that, no one says T-T-Y-L anymore.”

“Jan!”

Jan sighed, spinning her desk chair around to face her. “I’m sorry, but I already have a lot of ground to cover. Telling Gigi is your job.”

Crystal threw her head back and whined. “But I don’t wanna.”

“Would you rather I do it?”

She quickly put her hands up in surrender. “No, no, I got it,” she assured. “She’s still at the studio, I’ll just… go there and tell her when she’s finished. I’ll call you if I need backup.”

“Get it done, sis.” Jan hummed before turning back to the screen, mumbling under her breath about how unreasonably expensive wedding bouquets are. “They’re flowers. Why would you pay that much for fucking flowers?”

And Crystal had hoped the walk she took from there to the studio would help her build her nerve, but she was hit with a new wave of anxiety the moment Gigi saw her.

Gigi waved her over, not straying from her work station. “I’ll be about another fifteen minutes or so, but you can just hang out if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, no that’s fine,” she assured, sitting at one of the empty stations. On a normal day, she would enjoy watching Gigi at work. There was something almost magical about watching someone create art they were passionate about that Crystal found absolutely entrancing. Plus, it was Gigi – she could watch her read the phone book.

“So, what’s up with you?” Gigi asked casually, holding up two different types of lace against white fabric.

Crystal wasn’t sure what she opened her mouth to say, but she ended up blurting out, “We need to pretend to be getting married when Nicky comes here to visit Jan.”

That stopped Gigi in her tracks. She set the lace down and turned to face her friend. “I’m sorry, what?”

Crystal took a deep breath, feeling almost relieved that she had ripped the bandage off, but still worried that she wouldn’t be able to explain herself in a way that would actually get the other girl on board with this charade. “So… here’s the thing. Jan obviously really wants to see Nicky in person, but they haven’t been able to commit to a plan. So I, being the super smart person I am, suggested she tell her there’s an event coming up that she should fly out for. And… long story short that event is our wedding and now we’re along for the ride.”

Gigi blinked, taking the time to digest the information she received. “What the fuck, Crystal?” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Well, when’s the ‘wedding?’”

“In like, a month. Maybe two.”

With her lips still in a fine line, Gigi let out a strangled noise of frustration. “In a month or two,” she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s do what we have to do.”

Crystal felt a massive weight lift from her chest and she exhaled deeply. “Really?”

“I mean, I’m never gonna let you hear the end of it, but yeah. Sure. Why not?” She shrugged. Glancing over at her dress, she decided she’d done enough work for the day. “I guess we better reconvene with Jan then.”

As she pushed herself back to her feet, Crystal still felt a little lightheaded. Sure, she was thanking every possible deity that Gigi was on board with this half-baked scheme, but now she would have far fewer chances to suppress and ignore her feelings. “Yeah, she’ll definitely appreciate that.”

When they did return to the apartment, Jan was still on her laptop in her room, deeply immersed in her research. It took Crystal and Gigi getting right in front of her for her to even become aware of her presence. “Oh, hey guys,” she greeted, setting her laptop next to her on the bed before looking at Crystal. “Did you tell her?”

“Very subtle, Jan,” Crystal retorted flatly. “But yes, I told her.”

“When did you tell Nicky to come here?” Gigi asked.

Jan shrugged. “I didn’t give a specific date yet. So, you know, work that out amongst yourselves. Also, you guys should get registered at some stores. At least that way if someone stumbles upon it, you could get like… a toaster or something.”

“I do love toast,” Gigi mused. “But I wanna know just how far we’re taking this. Like, are Crystal and I gonna pretend to get married? Do we break up? Or are you gonna wait til after you get Nicky in bed with you and then tell her the truth?”

“I… haven’t actually gotten that far yet,” she admitted. “I don’t think we should stage a fake wedding, though. Because then you guys are just gonna have to keep up the act indefinitely or get a fake divorce. We’ll work it out as we keep going.”

Crystal leaned against Jan’s desk, finally coming to terms with the fact that the three of them were definitely not backing out of this, that there was no chance of just scrapping the plan and calling it a day. “So other than that, what do we need to do?”

Jan picked her laptop back up. “We need to make a couple of invitations, I figure we could just get one or two free samples, just to send one to Nicky and keep one for our own records. Crystal needs to rent or borrow a dress, and we should probably go through the motions of planning a wedding without like, going fifty thousand dollars in debt.”

“Rings!” Gigi suddenly exclaimed. “What are we gonna do about rings? That’s a pretty fucking important part of being engaged.”

Crystal and Jan looked at each other, both of them searching for an answer, but there was the slightest bit of amusement in their expressions when it became clear that Gigi was now taking this as seriously as they were. “I’m sure we could get some convincing fake ones online. It’s not like she’s a professional jewelry appraiser,” Jan suggested.

“I’m not wearing something that’ll turn my finger green,” Gigi warned with a grave deadpan. “I’ll see if my mom has anything we can borrow. She has a collection of vintage and like, random, unique jewelry. I’m sure she’ll let me temporarily poach something off of her.”

Jan arched her brow. “So you’re gonna rope her into this too? Or are you gonna give her some other excuse?”

That gave Gigi pause, and she realized she was either going to bring another person into the party or dig all of them into a deeper hole. “I should probably just tell her,” she decided, the other two girls nodding in agreement.

“I would really like to watch this conversation take place,” Crystal piped up.

“Well, why don’t you guys do that? I’ve got a call with Nicky in ten,” Jan chimed in, looking at her phone.

“Well, far be it for us to interrupt your sexy Skype session,” Gigi retorted with a soft laugh. “Come, Crystal,” she curled her finger, and the two of them left Jan to her own devices.

Jan waved them off before getting up to fix her hair and makeup in the mirror, then moved her laptop to her desk so she could look at the screen dead-on. When she saw Nicky calling, she beamed brightly as she answered it. “Well damn, what sort of runway are you dressed up for?”

Nicky laughed and looked down. Her hair was styled up in a bouffant and the normally straight locks were in gentle waves. Her makeup – which Jan knew she did herself – was immaculate beyond reproach. “Don’t jinx it, I had my friend take some headshots for my portfolio today. So, fingers crossed there are runways in the future.”

“It’s basically a given, I can just tell,” Jan grinned, her elbows propped on her desk and face in her hands. The look in her eyes was full to the brim with enamored adoration; even she was surprised that Nicky hadn’t picked up on her feelings. “And then I’ll get to say I knew you way back when.”

“Bitch please,” she scoffed. “If I ever get famous, you know I’m flying your ass out here first class. It wouldn’t be fun without my sweet Janice by my side.”

She blushed, her hands moving from her face to stroke her ponytail. Hearing Nicky call her ‘hers’ in any capacity had her heart ready to leap right out of her chest. It was times like that that made her wonder if it would’ve been that crazy for her to profess her feelings, if she was building all of this fear and anxiety over owning her feelings for nothing. It sometimes felt like a declaration of love was dancing on the tip of her tongue, threatening to slip past her lips.

But nothing was ever enough to get her over that hurdle. Her stubborn fear of rejection outweighed even common sense. So, instead, she kept it sweet and vague. “Well, you know I’ll always be there whether you like it or not.”

“I’m offended you think there’s a chance I wouldn’t.” Nicky scoffed playfully. “Anyway, what have you been up to today?”

“Oh, just… helping the girls with planning and stuff.” It was technically true, so she counted it as one less lie she was telling her. She found that the easiest thing to do was to just keep the focus off herself until she felt more confident in this charade. “It’s just boring details really. Have you been working on learning any songs lately?”

Nicky shook her head. “Actually, I was hoping to convince you to sing for me,” she cooed, batting her lashes in an over-exaggerated manner.

It was a look that Jan was an undeniable sucker for that look, and she was certain that Nicky had figured out that much. “I suppose I could do that. Any requests?”

Nicky tilted her head, taking a moment to think. “Can you do that one from Grease? The magic one?”

Jan giggled softly, knowing she meant ‘Those Magic Changes.’ The song had been buried in her repertoire for ages until she’d stumbled upon a clip of her performing it in her freshman year of college. She’d sent it to Nicky, just thinking it’d be a cute throwback of sorts, but her penpal absolutely loved it, and brought it up every time she could. She didn’t quite get it, but she was thrilled that there was something she could do that would make her so happy. “For you? Of course.”

Once Jan found the karaoke version of the song on her phone, she played it and sang along, serenading Nicky as she’d done a number of times. While it was night time in France, it was still late afternoon for her, so she wasn’t concerned about the volume. Though, even if it had been later, she probably would have risked it – it just wouldn’t be the same if she used her ‘neighbor friendly’ voice.

Nicky applauded cheerfully when Jan finished. Her eyes were bright and warm with the enthusiasm of a child who just heard their favorite bedtime story despite getting it every night. It simply never got old for her. “You’re going to have to sing me to sleep every night once we’re in the same time zone,” she mused.

“You know I will,” Jan smiled softly, her mind conjuring up the image of the two of them laying in bed together, cuddled up close after a long day. Nicky would hold her in her arms while she sang to her, then fall asleep in her embrace, knowing she would sleep soundly because she got to wake up in her arms. She already knew what she smelled like, thanks to her scented letters, and longed to be able to wake up to it lingering on her skin instead of soaked into paper, she just yearned for the day where none of her senses were deprived of the other girl.

“You’re so good to me,” she cooed.

“That’s right, now I’m going to remind you to take that makeup off.” She chuckled. “It’s like, a quarter to eleven where you are, I don’t want you falling asleep with all that on.”

Nicky snorted softly. “There it is.” She rolled her eyes fondly, then reached across her desk. “I came prepared for this,” she explained, holding up a pack of makeup wipes. And, just to assure her she was actually following through, she took a wipe out and began cleaning off her face.

Jan grinned triumphantly. “See? I knew I’d start to rub off on you sooner or later.” Of course, she was guilty of just as many bad habits, if not more. But that was beside the point as far as she was concerned. Either way, she watched until Nicky had finished cleaning off her face, and she almost found it unfair that someone could be even more flawless underneath the makeup.

“Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed before you lecture me about that too,” Nicky teased. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bye!” She blew a kiss at the screen before they ended the call.

After the call ended, Jan closed her laptop and got up to look in the mirror. She stared at herself, silently questioning why she was like this, so hopelessly taken with someone that it clouded her judgement, that she let thoughts of her cloud both her waking thoughts and her dreams. It was as frustrating and painful as it was intoxicatingly addictive.

The only thing that pulled Jan from her train of thoughts was her phone ringing, and she nearly dropped it as she got it out from her pocket. “What’s up, Crystal? Please tell me this isn’t a crisis call.”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Crystal quickly assured. “We’re at Gigi’s mom’s house and she invited us to stay for dinner. So I won’t be back for like… another couple hours, give or take.”

“Oh, okay, cool. I take it the ring issue was taken care of?”

Crystal beamed, admiring the ring on her finger as if Gigi had actually proposed to her with it. “Everything’s fine on that front, trust me. I have to send you a picture of this, you’re gonna die.”

Jan laughed lightly. “I’m sure I will. Go ahead, then enjoy your dinner. Tell Mama Goode I said hi.”

“Can do,” Crystal assured before hanging up, her eyes still trained on the ring. The ring itself was rose gold, the band carved with vine-like design. The diamond at the center was square-cut and surrounded by tiny, round diamonds. While just towing the line of being over-the-top, it had the sort of unique, quirky vibe that made it perfect for someone like her.

“It’s like it was made for you,” Gigi had told her when she picked it out. “It’s actually kind of spooky.” She had picked out a ring for herself as well, one that had more of an antique aesthetic that she appreciated. It was gold with diamonds embedded along the band, centering an ornately-bordered radiant-cut diamond. It wasn’t as flashy as Crystal’s, but she was drawn to the details in the ring.

When they put their left hands on the table next to each other, they noted that there weren’t any significant similarities between what they’d chosen, but both of their personalities seemed properly represented. “We should have a little hand-modeling shoot for this,” Gigi mused, figuring she could ask her mom for help with that as well. They had explained their circumstances right away, and much to their relief, Gigi’s mom had found their story to be very funny and agreed to help however they needed under the condition that she could retell the tale once everything was over with. Crystal was happy to agree to these conditions, while Gigi did so more reluctantly.

Crystal wouldn’t admit as much, but as she sat down for dinner with the Goodes, it felt all too right. Like she was just having a meal with her future wife and mother-in-law, the energy that flowed among the three of them was always so calm and natural, even-keeled and even quiet at times. It was a stark contrast from her own family dinners in both positive and negative ways. But when it came down to it, what stood out the most to her was that she felt so perfectly at home with them, she couldn’t help but wish this at least felt fake. It would be easier to bear when it was all over.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #nicky doll #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #jan x nicky #lesbian au #university au #college au #signed sealed delivered #joley #s12

[the-prince-of-pink]

Lockdown: Tempo and Jest

No pain or numbness filled the entire right side of Tempo’s body. He could feel the remaining wires that hadn’t burst open slightly nudge themselves forward, simulating the movement of pushing Jest away. “Stop trying to move it, you’re just gonna open the gash more.” Jest explained as he carefully soldered a piece of copper wire to a microchip, smoke reflecting off of Tempo’s screen eyes back onto Jest’s bronze-black goggles. Tempo’s magenta eyes flickered against the black background of the screen they were on as Jest stopped welding for a minute and stood up, putting one hand in his coat pocket.

“So, you gonna tell me how THIS all happened?” Jest said, pointing at Tempo’s head which had valleys of bumps and dents, his finger moving down from Tempo’s now calamity of an arm and finally to the scraped back metal plates with streaks of oil dripping down the contours of Tempo’s leg down to the single wire still holding Tempo’s foot to its joint. Tempo’s head felt as if it was a tornado of conflicting data and errors, each word comprised of at least seven symbols, 3 letters and 5 numbers. “I acknowledge you for this act of service.” Tempo said with a voice like cracked glass instead of the usual clear-cut voice of a Vocaloid. Jest said nothing, he continued welding Tempo’s blue metallic plates back together as if trying to restore a broken vase.

Tempo thought back to what caused this, fragments of memory among the error codes within his head revealed the dark, rainy road where he was staring at his hands. Somehow, the error codes weren’t getting in the way of Tempo’s normally clear logic but now endless reminders of strange oddities in Tempo’s programming flooded Tempo’s head. One second a popup would invade Tempo’s eyesight, and echo following soon behind it with the words defective as its only message. The popups kept on repeating and repeating and repeating, every second Tempo knew he was alone, the more the reminders blocked Tempo’s sensors to the point of drowning out everything, only Tempo’s eyes weren’t completely blocked out. There vague images of blocks with lights on them which Tempo’s analysis program could barely recognize as they seemed to move so quickly and yet so quietly. The echoes in Tempo’s head were suffocating, all he knew was that he was created like this for a reason, he knew his form wasn’t an error, nor was he but at that point, he believed those thoughts were simply more rose-tinted messages his program tried to send him.

Though he still wanted to prove something, the smallest line of code deep within his system believed those hopeful messages meant something, the smallest chance of his programming not being corrupted or wrong, the smallest chance of him being perfect. Tempo looked up again at the blurs of light zooming left and right, deciding he would finally prove he wasn’t human, that he didn’t think like one and that he wasn’t going to be bound by emotions nor any other faulty thing organics have. He ran forward, barely feeling the wind of each object zoom past and seeing flickers of light leave and enter his vision. Just as his vision began to clear and the objects turned into vehicles, he felt something in his “heart”, a sudden command that stiffened his whole body, messages of disappointment flaring in his head and the overwhelming desire to return to the roadside as if nothing had ever happened. The next thing he remembered was a strong light behind him and then half of his entire body felt like shattered glass as his head almost flew off his neck, hammering itself to the dark, rainy road. And then nothing.

The next thing he remembered was Jest rebooting his system. “Tempo? Ya good there?” Jest said, interrupting Tempo’s memory search. “Affirmative, my systems are no longer completely compromised, I can handle further repairs from here.” He replied, still staring at the oil-covered floor. Jest took off his goggles which ruffled his coffee-colored hair. Jest let out a deep, hearty sigh. One of relief yet confused worry. Jest rubbed his temples, “You have basically a rock glued to a string for a foot and the mouth of a shark for an elbow, there is no way in the nine circles of whatever that I’m gonna let you fix yourself up.” “ I can assure you that my condition will not prohibit me from further reconstructing my form.” Jest pushed Tempo back onto the table as Tempo shifted his remaining usable arm and leg around.

“No, stop that. You’re not getting off this table till I can either get your arm back to looking like an actual arm, or you at least tell me what in the Sam Hill happened.”

“It was simply a rare case of a setback while I was completing a simple mission, something so trivial is something your concern isn’t worth.”

“Look, Tempo. Your dad nor your little cousin are here and I’m not here to judge or blame you for gettin yourself into an accident so please.” Jest explained as he removed his burned glove and put his hand on Tempo’s shoulder. “ Tell me what happened.”

Tempo stared at him, He took Jest’s hand off his shoulder and stood up with one leg, pushing against Jest. “Not your brother nor your “child” will know about this as my systems will be restored faster than an organism such as yourself can accomplish. Now I implore you to exit this room so that I may begin in peace.” Jest only pushed him back again, Tempo pushed himself forward as they clashed. “Why won’t you just tell me what happened? You kept telling me you don’t have the capacity to fear anything and yet now you can’t even explain an accident?” “Depart from this room,” Tempo repeated. Jest saw Tempo’s eyes now, completely glowing magenta and the room turning cold, Tempo now stood eye-level to Jest as if his foot weren’t dragging behind him. Jest didn’t make a sound, his face turned, the frustration had drained into an understanding yet troubled expression as he let go of Tempo’s shoulder. “Alright fine, take your time. There’s a spare plate of Metal in the top shelf if ya need it.”Jest said, slightly sarcastically but meaningfully.“Understood.” Jest walked to the door, sweeping the oil into a drain near the table which was now covered in it.

“Oh and I’ll be in the living room, if ya need anything. I’ll check on ya in a bit.”

“That will not be required.”

Jest paused for a moment, his eyes now softer yet sadder.

“Alright then, good luck, Tempo.” Jest said reassuringly.

Tempo said nothing, he pushed Jest out of the room, locking the door behind him.

#long post #story! #Memento’s Vivere #this was originally an english assignment but I saved it cause yea #blood and gore tw #does it count if its robot parts? #idk how to write stories or characters ack- #potato118’s art #memento's vivere