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maxtermind · 7 days

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my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol). feedback is appreciated+!! ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart.

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

1K notes · View notes

forjongseong · 2 years

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jealous // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: jay x fem!reader

genre: smut but it doesn't start until you're halfway in lol // warning: oral sex (i don't wanna spoil who's receiving), handjob, bathtub sex? the images on the header serve as spoilers! // wc: ~3.4k

summary: you attend the party of the year and you're lost because your boyfriend isn't there to keep you company. luckily you've got a surprise waiting at home.

author’s note: okay so if you're new to this account, hello! nice to meet you! i mainly write for Heeseung and Jay, but the list of Jay fics in my masterlist are more or less connected, in a sense that they are in the same universe. you can read them separately, it still makes sense, but if you want to read in chronological order, based on the released fics it goes: quiet > rolex > quality time > and then this one!

heads up, in this "universe" Y/N is Namjoon's ex and she has a good relationship with the other members, so you might be seeing a lot of mentions of him and appearances of the BTS members here and there.

it's a JUMP from the order of release that i follow, if you take a look at my masterlist, i have 6 titles lined up for Jay, but i literally started writing jealous a couple of hours ago, loved how it turned out, so i thought why not releasing it now to keep the momentum?

as always, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it! it is definitely based on the jack in the box pre-release party that sort of haunted me and gave me anxiety because i am definitely not a party person lol

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

It was almost midnight and the darkness of the sky outside was accentuated by the dim lights inside the party venue. Looking at the photo she just took at the photomatic box, Y/N swiftly slipped it inside her handbag before closing it again. Her steps were hesitant, knowing that loud music and dark rooms were very much not some of her favorite things.

Feeling her phone buzz, she took it out of her back pocket and saw that she got a text from Jay.

Sorry I can’t be of much help tonight. As soon as we’re done with schedules I am coming over.

Y/N replied with the face emoji full of hearts before locking her phone again and putting it in her pocket. She was now standing in a corner, scanning the whole room with her eyes, squinting because she couldn’t see and at the same time desperately looking for someone she might know.

“Oh, thank God you’re here.”

She almost jumped at the sudden voice behind her. When she turned around, Jin was standing there with a drink in his hands, looking genuinely relieved.

“Hi!” Y/N smiled and leaned in for a hug. Jin gently patted her back with his free hand. “What do you mean thank God?”

“Well,” Jin shifted his weight as fixed the bag he was carrying. “I’ve been here for like an hour, just hiding in a corner reading webtoons because the only person I know is my boss and producer.”

Y/N made a worried face. “The other members?”

Jin pointed to the center of the room with his chin. “They’re scattered around. I don’t see Yoongi though. But now that you’re here please keep me company. Unless you’re looking for someone?”

“Of course, I’ll keep you company, what the heck.”

With that, Jin immediately intertwined his arms with Y/N, dragging her to the booth where they can get drinks. He proceeded to tell Y/N absolutely everything going with his life, and Y/N was very happy to listen and share her thoughts with him. He would occasionally crack his favorite dad jokes and Y/N, relieved that she didn’t have to match the energy of the party, wholeheartedly laughed at each of them.

After losing track of time just talking to each other, Y/N caught someone waving from a distance. The person then started jumping because Y/N wasn’t responding, and because she still couldn’t make out who he was, he started jogging towards her.

“Noona, can you not see me? I’ve been waving at you forever,” Jungkook was panting at this point because of the endless dancing he had been doing with other people near the DJ’s booth.

“Sorry, Kookie,” Y/N leaned in to give him a quick side hug. “It’s dark and my eyesight isn’t the best.”

“Jungkook, are the other members even here?” asked Jin, now leaning on the wall, scanning the room again.

Jungkook shrugged. “I came with Jimin hyung, but I haven’t seen the others either,” Jungkook chugged down a drink he literally just got three seconds ago. “Noona, did you say hi to Hoseok hyung yet?”

Y/N tilted her head, unsure. “I don’t know, he seems very occupied.”

“Alright, I’ll go tell him that you’re here,” Jungkook flashed a smile and quickly dashed away from the two of them.

“Wait—Ah, whatever he’s gonna do what he wants,” Y/N sighed, turning back to face Jin as he was just chuckling at the sight.

Within seconds after Jungkook made it a mission to have Y/N greet Hoseok, the main character of the night made his way towards her. Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumped as she shook her head, speechless at the sight of his perfect appearance—perfect no-makeup makeup look, perfect outfit, perfect aura. Hoseok already had his arms stretched as he kept his eyes on Y/N, his smile wide and inviting.

“I wanted to look pretty tonight and you’re not making me feel pretty,” said Y/N, half shouting into Hoseok’s ear because the music suddenly got too loud. “Congratulations, bestie.”

“I’m so glad you made it!” Hoseok hugged Y/N a little too tighter than usual and Y/N almost squealed. “I’m sorry I’ve been too occupied to notice your arrival.”

“My arrival? Shut up, I’m not that important,” Y/N lightly punched Hoseok’s shoulder and he just grinned.

“You’re a friend of mine and my friends are important, okay,” Hoseok’s eyes were now practically gone caused by the smile he was drawing on his face. “The EN babies?” he asked, eyes suddenly open wide, questioning.

Y/N was sipping on her drink and she quickly swallowed to answer. “Oh, right, they’re promoting right now and they just have a lot on their plate so I don’t think they will show.”

Hoseok nodded. “No wonder the kids greeted me through text. Anyways, keep Jin hyung company?” Hoseok tilted his head, putting on his best puppy face.

“Of course,” Y/N smiled. As Hoseok left, Y/N mouthed ‘bye’ before turning to face Jin.

“Actually I’m gonna go,” Jin said, his face looking tired and also sorry.

“What?!” Y/N quickly put down the empty glass she was still holding. “But then who am I supposed to talk to? Should I just leave too?”

Before Jin could answer, he noticed a familiar figure approaching Y/N from behind.

“The answer is right behind you. Bye, Y/N! And thanks for keeping me company,” Jin smiled really wide before dashing out of the room, leaving Y/N no choice but to actually turn around.

The speed of her movement, however, was way too fast and she almost stumbled losing her balance. The figure in question quickly stabilized her by gently placing his hands under both her elbows.

“Careful,” said Namjoon. “The clumsy one should be me.”

Damn it, Jin. Y/N chuckled and leaned in to give Namjoon a hug.

“You’re here too,” Y/N said as she stepped back and turned to face the center of the room.

“I didn’t know you came. I literally saw you and Jin hyung in the background of someone’s Instagram stories so I just went to find you,” Namjoon said this while darting his eyes across the room as if he was trying to locate something. Then he set his eyes on Y/N. “Your all-black outfit makes it really hard to spot you.”

“Ah,” Y/N nodded understanding. “Mission accomplished, then. I really did not want to be found.”

There was silence for a while, not literally, because music was still playing, but for the longest time Namjoon was just looking at Y/N as she searched through the room again, hoping to come up with a valid excuse to leave the party. Meanwhile, Namjoon was trying to find the right words.

Namjoon straightened up and cleared his throat. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Y/N frowned. “What’s that?” She was looking at the dance floor but her head was already tilted towards Namjoon.

Instead of repeating the question, Namjoon’s breath hitched and as he tried to speak louder, the parade of three in front of him distracted him from everything.

“Namjoon, my man!!!”

It was a man and two other women that Y/N swore were famous, but she couldn’t name their names. She took this as the perfect opportunity to slip out and head over to a quieter corner.

Just as she was about to take her phone out, it started buzzing. She breathed a sigh of relief as she identified the caller and immediately put a hand over her mouth as she picked it up.

“Babe!” She shouted, trying to win over the loud music.

“Whoa, calm down,” Jay sounded startled on the other side of the phone. “You’re still at the party?”

“Obviously,” Y/N looked at Namjoon’s small group and noticed he was looking for her. When he spotted her, Y/N waved and made a sorry face, pointing to her phone. “I really need to find an excuse to leave.”

“Hmmm,” Jay sounded like he was pacing back and forth. “How about your boyfriend is waiting for you at home?”

“You’re home?” Y/N asked back, surprised.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind I let myself in. I texted you like twenty times but you seem occupied.”

“It’s alright, babe,” Jay stretched and let out a yawn. “Anyway, I’ll be here.”

Y/N pulled her phone away for a second to look at the notifications. “I’m sorry. I was busy keeping Jin company.”

“I’ll be there. Leaving now,” Y/N ended the call just as she heard Jay laughing.

Namjoon approached Y/N as soon as she put her phone away.

“Duty calls?” he asked, smiling.

Y/N paused for a second. “Yes, sorry. I’m so beat anyways. Give a big hug to Hoseok for me? And the other guys too.”

Namjoon nodded. Y/N grinned and waved before she left. Namjoon then decided to turn around and rejoin the party.

---

When Y/N texted Jay that she was five minutes away, he immediately started getting busy. From lightly tidying up the living room, washing the one plate and one mug that was dirty, to drawing a bath, he managed to get everything done just right before Y/N arrived.

“What’s that sound?” Y/N asked as she let herself in, taking her shoes and bag off. “Are you going to take a bath?”

“I’m drawing you a bath,” Jay said nonchalantly, helping Y/N take off her jacket.

Y/N merely blinked when Jay positioned himself right in front of her. Jay’s eyes were full of questions.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, squinting her eyes, acting suspicious.

Jay laughed and pulled Y/N into his arms, completely wrapping her. “You sound tired.”

“You’re acting suspicious.”

“Really? I’m doing the bare minimum.”

“Bare minimum? This is extra.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Jay pulled away and held on to Y/N’s shoulders, shaking her. “This is my bare minimum. Just relish it.”

Y/N decided to thank her boyfriend with her lips. She tiptoed slightly and planted a kiss right on the corner of Jay’s lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, face just inches away from his.

Jay leaned in for another, deeper kiss. His hand was firmly placed on her waist and another around her neck, pulling her closer and pressing their lips even harsher together. Y/N’s hands were flat against his chest, trying to keep herself steady. Just as she was about to go a step further, Jay pulled away, his lips making a smacking sound against hers.

“You’re welcome, and I think your bath is ready,” he said, walking away towards the bathroom.

She followed Jay into her bathroom and noticed that he had already turned off the water and put a bath bomb in the tub. The tub was now half full and frothy, the surface covered with bubbles.

Y/N was breathless as she followed Jay’s movements with her eyes. Her brain was already trying to calculate and analyze what kind of night it would be.

“Your bath awaits, my lady,” Jay made a grand gesture pointing towards the tub and Y/N cackled.

“Tell me about the party?” Jay said as he started helping Y/N undress.

Y/N began with the story of meeting Jin. She tugged her t-shirt off and Jay swiftly placed it in the laundry basket. He tilted his head at the sight of the lilac lacy bra Y/N was wearing underneath.

“Is that new?” He asked, intrigued.

Y/N looked down and nodded. “Mmhm. Got it on sale.”

“Looks nice,” Jay reached to gently touch the lace adorning the apex of the bra. Y/N held her breath, expecting to feel his fingers graze her skin. “Continue,” Jay said, sitting down on the closed toilet.

Trying her best not to look disappointed, Y/N continued telling him about the party as she unbuttoned her skinny jeans and struggled to get it off her ankles. Jay stood up and knelt in front of her, gently holding her ankle and pulling the jeans off. Once it was off, though, he found himself facing Y/N’s crotch.

Noticing this, Y/N stopped talking. Jay flicked his eyes upwards to meet hers, not moving from his position.

“Why did you stop?” asked Jay, tilting his head sideways. For someone whose face is just inches away from his girlfriend’s core, he looked pretty innocent.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N straightened her position and started to unclasp her bra.

“Oh,” Jay stood up in a rush. “Let me do that.”

As he leaned in as if going for a hug, Jay slowly unclasped Y/N’s bra, letting her get a whiff of his scent that night. He was wearing Y/N’s favorite perfume in his collection, and he might have done it on purpose.

“You smell good,” said Y/N calmly.

Jay smiled and responded by leaning down, kissing Y/N’s neck. “You too, babe.”

He took a step back and looked at his girlfriend’s body, his face full of adoration. He then looked into her eyes. “Continue.”

Y/N assumed what he meant was continue speaking, so she did. Jay quietly listened and put away all of Y/N’s clothes away before kneeling down in front of her again. When she tilted her head without questioning, Jay merely placed his hands on both her thighs, giving her gentle strokes.

“So he found you among the crowd,” Jay finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Main character moment right there.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly trying to make him—Jay! Oh my God.”

Y/N was caught off guard when Jay leaned in and sniffed her clothed core. He even went so far to lick a stripe from down up, making her legs shake in his hands. Y/N placed a hand on the bathroom counter, committed to stay standing up. He moved his hands upwards to cup her ass and started to squeeze there lightly. While Y/N had her eyes closed, Jay had his opened, staring right into her face and trying to figure out which movement of his tongue would elicit the best moan out of her red-tinted lips.

“J-Jay…” Y/N was breathing heavily, one of her hands found its way to the back of his head. “Please…”

“Mmh, yeah, sorry,” Jay pulled away. “This is getting in the way.”

Jay hooked his fingers on each side of her panties and pulled them down, tossing them away.

“Where were we?” Jay moved closer, his hands secure behind Y/N’s knees. He then started kissing Y/N’s thighs. “Keep going, babe.”

“You’re making it hard for me to speak,” Y/N said, matter-of-factly.

Jay smirked before he leaned in to kiss her bottom lips. Y/N let out a whimper.

“Try finishing the story as I finish you off,” Jay looked up. “Deal?”

Y/N nodded. She decided it was best to keep her eyes closed to stay focused, but it didn’t help since Jay was sliding his tongue up and down her clit, occasionally sucking and nibbling on her thighs to give her core a break and to let her catch her breath. As she continued with her retelling of events, Jay listened intently, not taking his eyes off of her. He would hum whenever Y/N paused, letting her know that he was listening, but the vibration in his voice caused her to stutter.

“He asked me,” Y/N stopped for a split second, her fingers lost in Jay’s hair. “If I wanted to leave the party.”

Hearing this, Jay pressed a thumb on her clit. Her breath hitched.

“What did you say?” he asked.

Y/N could feel her heartbeat beating way too fast and she was already getting dizzy. Jay stroked her thigh lovingly, encouraging her to speak.

“I…” Y/N looked into Jay’s eyes. His gaze was sharp and demanding, but the gentle movements of his hands were the complete opposite. “I pretended I did not hear him, and that’s when you called.”

A smile started creeping up on Jay’s lips. He sighed, keeping his smile on his face. “That’s my good girl.”

Jay immediately dove into Y/N’s core, letting his tongue do most of the work. Y/N moaned and tightened her grip on Jay’s hair, keeping herself steady as her legs started to shake. Jay did everything he could do in an intense speed—sucking, kissing, lapping like he hadn’t tasted her in months. She came without a warning, and Jay took it like a champ. Drinking up her juice and determined to leave no remains, Jay gently took her hand away from his head to make it easier for him to move around. He noticed she was losing balance, so he made her lean on the bathroom counter, gently spreading her legs wider so he could clean up.

When he was done he stood up, and Y/N had this dazed look on her face that made him chuckle. He lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the cheek.

“We better get in the tub while the water is still warm,” Jay said, moving away to take his shirt off and completely undress.

“I knew you didn’t draw the bath just for me,” said Y/N, her voice still weak.

Jay entered the bathtub and leaned back, stretching out his hand signaling Y/N to join him. Y/N took his hand and carefully entered too, watching as the water rose up close to the top of the tub as she lowered herself and leaned into Jay’s chest.

Y/N rested her head on Jay’s shoulder and positioned herself so that Jay could comfortably rest his arms around her waist and she can still look at him sideways. Her nose was touching his jaw and she nuzzled into him, eliciting a chuckle and receiving a kiss on her forehead.

“Did you just do that because you were jealous?” she asked in a whisper, afraid of disturbing the serenity.

Jay frowned. “What makes you think I’m jealous?” he asked back, his hands now rubbing her hands and arms gently.

“The timing,” she squeaked, now sounding slightly worried. “Babe, I saw the chats you sent me before you called me.”

Jay sighed. He was now kneading his fingers into Y/N’s thighs.

“Jay,” Y/N sat up and paused, wondering how she could adjust her position. The tub wasn’t of the biggest size, so she had to stand up, with Jay’s eyes following her every movement. She made Jay sit with his legs straight and then lowered herself to sit on his lap, now facing him. “You know it’s okay to admit if you’re jealous, right? I get jealous all the time.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Really? All the time?” His hands found themselves resting on her waist again.

Y/N nodded a little too enthusiastically. Jay chuckled.

“Heck, I even get jealous when you get all handsy with Jungwon or Jake,” Y/N was now leaning into him, her hands caressing his biceps. “I look at your interactions with them and sometimes think, that should be me.”

Hearing this, Jay laughed out loud, his voice echoing through the bathroom. Y/N smiled, proud at herself for putting a smile on Jay’s face.

“Alright, alright,” Jay sighed in defeat. “I guess I was jealous seeing you attend the party of the year. And socializing. And meeting your ex.”

“You’re just jealous about that last part,” Y/N pouted, lightly slapping Jay’s chest.

Jay playfully winced. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Wanna do something about it?” Y/N asked, her lips close to Jay’s.

“What do you have in mind?” Jay asked back. His calm but flirty demeanor was instantly broken when he gasped as he felt Y/N press her palm on his cock.

“It’s give and take,” Y/N whispered in Jay’s ear, her fingers wrapping around his cock and starting to move. “You gave, so now you take.”

Jay leaned his head back and groaned just as Y/N started to pump his length. She couldn’t see anything beneath the suds, but she was well aware at how Jay was feeling because she felt him harden in her grip. She slid her thumb across the tip and Jay hissed, burying his fingers in her waist.

“You know if we weren’t in water I’d be sucking you off, right?” Y/N continued her ministrations as she spoke in Jay’s ear.

“God,” Jay was now breathing heavily. “Don’t stop. Please.”

It did not take long for Y/N to finish him off, and she wasn’t quite sure if the reason behind it was the tension, the warm water, or the new experience that they were sharing in the bathroom. Jay came in Y/N’s hands and she slowed down her movements, observing Jay’s face closely as he rode his high.

“We need a proper shower,” he then said, looking at the aftermath.

“Preferably separately,” Y/N chuckled, kissing Jay on the cheek. Jay responded by grabbing her face, cupping it and roughly kissing her on the lips.

-END-

reblogs and feedback would be much appreciated!

#writtenbynana #enhypen #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen jongseong #jongseong enhypen #park jongseong #jay park #park jay #jongseong smut #jay hard hours #jay smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #just jay things #jealous #enhypen imagines #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader

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xuminghao-de-qingren · 1 year

Text

Part 1

One Friday night, your friend suddenly cancels your supposed Girls Night Out. So you decided to play around with the dating app while doing your self-care routine.

Pairing: the8 x freader; minghao x freader

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content, oral, face-fucking, unedited so there may be missing words or typos

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

You were just finishing your day at work, excited to clock out when your friend suddenly cancels your GNO. You were so pumped up and ready to party because recently you've been so stressed about your projects and you need a release but the introvert side of you somehow found joy in it.

As you arrived at your apartment, you decided to relax and meditate in the bathroom. While preparing your bath tub, you were at the kitchen preparing your mini cheese board and pink moscato wine tray. You lit up some scented candles and put your lights at a dim, got into the bath tub and start meditating.

You were not a fan of doing this kind of thing because, honestly, you think its impossible to find peace living in a fast paced influenced society in a middle of a super busy city. You recently were curious about meditating because of your favorite idol, Xu Minghao, from Seventeen.

"Ah, Hao, I sure hope this works." You washed you face a little to feel the warm of your bath water. You enjoyed the soothing fragrance of your bath bomb and scented candles: berries and roses. You hear traffic sounds and some noises from outside your apartment as you keep your mind clear and move along with your meditation process.

5 minutes later, you're done meditating not sure if it worked but this a first so you thought "oh, wells". You grabbed a piece of cheese as you open your phone and browse through a dating app.

"Let's see..hmm" as you swipe left several photos in a few seconds. There's this one guy who caught your attention. He's wearing a white weird looking hoodie, face mask almost reaching the lines of he's eyes while he's trying to make an effort opening them more for a selfie, and eyeglasses, sitting somewhere doing a weird peace sign like a hippie.

"Should I?"

"Umm, sketchy"

"He's photo is unique, tho!"

"His description is a bit catchy too: 🖤🎱"

"NOT!!"

Just when you're about to swipe left, your fidgeting thumb accidentally swiped right.

"Oops" as your face showed an exaggerated regret. "I'll just have to get on with it." You stowed your phone to the bathroom shelf beside your tub and finish off your first glass of wine.

After a relaxing bath, you fancy nothing but to feel sexy for tonight's sleep so you wore your one and only-slash-favorite Victoria's Secret nighties. "Huhu, your're so expensive." As you try it on while looking at your body mirror. This is your kind of self love, while everything else in your mind is chaotic you still manage to prioritize your mental health. "Gotta make the most of this weekend, ugh, sad though I've really wanted to go out." Suddenly you heard a "ding" from your phone and a notice came from the dating app came.

A message from "🖤🎱" came:

🖤🎱: "I'm just wondering how'd you find me attractive after seeing my photo here 🤣"

You: "Well, I think its a fake photo. Lol"

🖤🎱: "Heeey, come on!"

You: "🙃"

🖤🎱: "So what do you need my damsel in distress?"

You: "Guess."

🖤🎱: "Sex"

You giggled quietly. "Of course I'll be looking for sex. Why else would I be pampering myself right?" You reply in thought.

You: "Duh. Lol"

🖤🎱: "Unfortunately, I can't go out to have one tho. 🥲"

You: "Why?"

🖤🎱: "It's a secret."

You: "Okay."

🖤🎱: "Wow, you're a savage one."

You: "Sorry, the truth is I suck at this. I really don't know how to respond. Lol"

You: "Can you teach me, sensei?" - your famous flirting line. Lol

🖤🎱: "Well, first, tell me what are you wearing?"

You: "Wow, what are you? A teenager?!"

🖤🎱: "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! 🤣"

🖤🎱: "But seriously tho, I do wanna know. 🥺"

You sent your selfie that you took a while ago after changing showing your back side.

It took him a while to respond.

You: "Are you still there?"

🖤🎱: "Yeah, sorry."

He calls you through the video call portal of the dating app. You answered. He's wearing a bucket hat, chic glasses, and face mask. You were a bit shocked coz he looks very familiar to you but you did not bother because you were trying to maintain your confidence and flirt around some more. Also, you were bothered why he covered his face so much and positions his phone away from his face so you can see side part of his face and shoulders.

He tries to check your face again.

🖤🎱: "Wait, is that you? Y/N?!"

He sounded so familiar.

You: "Huh? What? You sound so familiar. I How'd you know my name? Stop moving your camera, I can't see you!"

🖤🎱: "Huwaa, it is you! Wow, you're still hot!"

Just when you heard his voice again, your heart skipped and was running fast as you respond.

You: "Hao?!"

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

Yep, it was Xu Minghao, he was your high school fling. It was a short while before he started training in his agency then. After that, you lost contact.

You remember your first hook up at your bed room when it was supposed to be a study group session. You were both curious about the deed until it became a fling.

You covered yourself with your blanket as you go on with you video call with Hao.

"Hey, how have you been? And why are you in a dating app?!" You asked.

"Y/N, why are you covering your body. Come on now, I already saw them." His clicks his tongue as he reacts to your body language.

"Oh shut up." You giggled.

"Boo." He replied with disappointment.

"You must be in town since you showed up in my list. Where are you staying now?" You asked him while checking google for Seventeen updates.

"Oh just somewhere, we're currently on a work break." He said while removing his covers and fixing his hair. Then smiled at you looking like a kid who's excited to see his playdate.

"You sly sly sly dog! Why are you in a dating app? Are you trying to get girls vajected tonight? You're so mean." You tease him.

"What are you saying, stop talking and show me those nighties please." He pouts at you.

"No! We're adults now and we're friends. Hold on, I'll wear my robe." You stood up away from your phone.

"No!" He laughs "Don't change please."

"Stop it, Hao." You laughed while walking back to your phone and try to focus on catching up with him.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment again. "Yep, I'm here in town for a while and I decided to spend my break with my family."

"I see." You smiled back. "Then, welcome back, Hao!"

"Thanks." He replied. "So how are you? I assume you don't have someone right now since you're in this dating app we're using." He giggled teasingly.

"Yup, there's nobody right now." You laughed. "Can you introduce me to Jeonghan or Joshua? Hihi"

He replied in a fake smile ignoring your request. "You still look the same! It's like you did not aged. A bit of maturity showing which is a good thing, I think?"

You both feel excited as you try to catch up with each other's life recently.

"Hey, I'm glad to see you today." He said. It seems he's trying to end your call soon.

"Me too." Smiling back at him. At the back of your mind you remember the times you play around. As you feel hot and try to maintain composure, there was an awkward silence.

You heard a long sigh from him and asked: "Are you sleepy?"

"No, I still need to finish these." As you turn your camera showing your serving tray on you bed.

"Shall I join you?" He asked looking like a happy puppy hoping you say yes.

"Sure, you haven't changed at all, Hao. I know what you're up to and I do hope it's not gonna happen. I'll send you my address." Hao laughed at your sarcasm. You ended the call and sent your details through chat. You got up from your bed and changed into your casual clothes. You were so lazy to change so you just put up an oversized sweater enough to cover your night wear.

After an hour, your doorbell rang. "Gosh, it's still 8:30pm?" You walked to your door to see if it's him. He was fully covered in black outfit to make sure no paparazzi could manage to see him. You open your door and greeted him. "Woah, you brought food! You shouldn't have." You took the take-out from his hands and lead him to your kitchen. You busy yourself preparing your wine and snacks.

Meanwhile, Hao's checking out your place while removing his coat and covers. "Nice place you got here. Very you."

"Thanks!" Smiling back at him while carrying the food you prepared on your food tray and putting it on your living room's coffee table.

You both sat down and you enjoyed the rest of your catch up while having dinner and drinks. You reminisced about your silly friends and the things you've done during your high school days and laughed so hard about it.

"I'm glad we stayed friends after 'all' that." You told him still giggling from your last topic.

"Yeah." Hao agreed taking a sip from his wine.

An awkward silence filled the room and your speakers started playing: Fallin' all in you by Shawn Mendez

"You know, we can still do it again. I mean if you want to." Hao breaking his silence in a small tone almost a whisper while looking away.

"What?" You asked shockingly.

"Only if you want to! I'm not gonna force you. You know I'm not like that." He immediately retreated after saying those words.

"Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy just now?" Asking him again.

"Well, hmm.. Ye-es?" Then he paused. "I just thought, what's the reason we're both in a dating app a while ago?"

"Hey, you're an idol and I don't know what you were doing in that app but as for me my reason is valid." You explained in a laughter.

"I'm just looking for a hook up!" Hao reacted childishly.

"While wearing a face mask?!" You tease him.

"No, just someone who I can talk to through a video call.. And uhm, if I get lucky someone might show their hmm.." He bashfully explained while making a gesture of removing clothes. "So you know, I can get my needs.. you know satisfied."

"I see.." nodding your head sarcastically pretending you listen to his bullshit but really he's telling the truth. "Sucks to be you." You laughed at him.

"Hey! Huhu" He said while pouting.

You both laughed. "Let me think about it for a second."

Knowing you, the fact that he's an idol rising to stardom, you don't really care about his status. He's just looking for someone for release with no strings attached. To you, he's just "Hao", the one you met from high school and your friend. It would probably run for a short while since he's just here for a break. He'll definitely go back to Korea for work.

"How long will you be staying here?" You asked him.

"2 weeks? I'm on a break this week and have a few shoots here and there.." Hao replied.

"And this "fling part 2" should only be valid for this schedule?" You asked again.

"Hmm, that depends.." he replied.

"What do you mean?" You asked back.

"Let's just focus on our time right now." He whispered slowly grabbing your hand for a kiss. He rest your hand on his toned shoulder as he kissed your lips and play around with your tongue. He kissed your cheek down to your neck. You can smell his scent, that familiar scent you used from your bath and once again, you felt high on his touch. You definitely remember the feeling, the ecstasy that this thing gave when you were both in high school.

It's getting a bit steamy so you stopped him gently because you can't take it anymore. You stood up and pull him as you lead him to you bed room. You pushed him to your bed. Hao giggled and sat while undoing his buttons showing his well-toned torso. You removed your over-sized sweater and showed him personally your nighties. His tongue clicks in excitement as he pull you and place you on him, sitting on his thighs, and kissed you. His hands are all over the place and enjoys the touch of silk on your body. He touches your back, your waist, and your butt. He moved his lips away from yours and kissed your chin as look up making his way to your firm breast. He moved a bit of your clothing to gain access from your firmed nipple. You moved your arms and hugged him from his head as you enjoy his lips playing on your breast. You brush his hair back and you catch his wild eyes looked at you then looked away enjoying every bit of your soft skin. You focused on rubbing your hands all over his head and shoulders. He moved your body over to his side and dropped you on the bed panting. Your heart raced as you looked at him examining your body once more. He positioned himself over you and kissed you intensely. He removed your top over your head and pulls your panties down until you're completely naked. You placed your arm over your eyes covering it from him, the same thing you did first time with him.

"Hey, really? This again?" He said. "Like I said from last time: don't worry I'll be gentle." He tracked soft sweet kisses from your lips down to you neck, chest, belly button, then down to you clit. You released a soft moan as he started to play around with your pussy. He's so good you shake softly while biting your fingers to avoid making a noise from his licks. "Ni tài shīle, Y/N." He whispered back at your ear.

"Put it in, Hao, please. I want more." You begged. You looked at each other panting as you trail your hands on his torso down to his black denim pants, you felt his erection as he pushed it towards your hand giving you permission to cup it. His eyes locked on you. You undid his zipper and pull down his pants. "Can you show me the way please." He requested. You rubbed him once then lead his hard thing inside you. Hao dropped his face beside yours as you both moan and pant up and down. He likes it slow at first enjoying every inch inside you. You release this kind of heat that makes him so crazy that eventually accelerates your pace.

"Oh my, Hao~" You screamed softly.

"More please, more." You whispered.

"I'm near, Y/N." He said.

"No, let me go first." Asking him to relax.

Hao slowed down his pace. You turned over riding him. He sat down so he can easily kiss your lips while fucking you. You lead him on to your pace as you race to cum first. He's holding you by your waist to assist you as you fuck him. "I'm coming, Hao." You moaned. "Yeah, babe, cum for me please." He replied. Then finally you look up breathlessly as you feel your warm release over him. "Oh, shit." Panting and feeling you. He's still hard inside you. You kissed him and moved out of his erected cock. You went down to his pelvic area and sucked him. "Y/N, you're making me crazy." He said as he enjoys your mouth. He bit his lips as you pace your blowjob well. Your tongue swipes around his head teasing him. "Mmm.." he moaned. His entire length inside your mouth. He can't help but fix your hair up so he can control your face the way he wants to. From here on you thought nothing but to satisfy him and making him cum inside your mouth making you both excited. "I'm coming, Y/N." He moaned and you moved a bit faster. Suddenly, you felt that sweet warm flavor inside your mouth as he holds you on your head while releasing making his leg twitch. You wiped your drools and moved back up beside him tired but satisfied. You both laughed it off and Hao kissed you. "Your so hot, babe." You closed your eyes still awake but resting. You giggled to his flattering comment and replied: "You too. I'm glad to see you back, Hao. Thank you for today." He moved you placing you on his shoulders to a hug. "I'm glad to see you too."

#xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao x y/n #minghao x you #the8 x reader #the8 x you #seventeen au #seventeen xu minghao

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Note

I could see that Vil would want to give Baby!Yuu a bath since the latter is probably dirty from crawling all the way from Ramshackle to the Hall of Mirrors as well as the former would also want to take care of the soft and delicate baby skin since Vil is the type of person who would fuss over something like that since Vil is Vil... then the Pomefiore Dorm Leader would probably dress Baby!Yuu like a doll in different cute outfits that are stylish for a baby and take pictures to post on his Magicam account that would be seen by his many followers, including Cater and Neige, so Baby!Yuu would probably be declare as the “Cutest One of All”. Rook probably has not check his phone to see the text from Jade on the Vice Dorm Leaders group chat as the former is having too much fun helping Vil take care of Baby!Yuu while Epel has been surprised to see Baby!Yuu brought by the hunter into Pomefiore as the First Year knows that both Ace and Deuce are supposed to be babysitting Baby!Yuu with Grim so he decides to give Deuce a call about it on his phone, which is then answered by either Azul or Jade instead as Deuce is probably still being “punish” by Floyd with Ace and Grim for losing Baby!Yuu...

I love your mind! Ok, let’s do this!

Baby!Yuu is a dirty yet very happy baby from his ‘morning stroll’, lol. So while Ramshackle is in chaos and the seafood trio are on the way to pick up their boyfriend-turned-baby, Baby!Yuu is under Pomefiore’s care for a few hours.

(Courtesy of Rook babynapping him from the Hall of Mirrors).

But Rook babynapping Baby!Yuu is a small matter to Vil. He can rearrange his very busy schedule for him. Babysitting? Not a problem for him! Actually, this is great - this is a great opportunity to teach the Directing Student some good manners and how to dress properly for once! (Nevermind that he’s currently a literal baby).

You know what? I can see Vil treating Baby!Yuu as if he’s any other student. He’ll be talking and he expects Baby!Yuu to answer:

“Now do you see this? This is to help moisturise your skin. Make sure you apply them often!” Vil instruct as he waves a purple bottle of lotion. He then lathered the lotion on Baby!Yuu’s chubby arms. The baby squirm playfully and giggle. “Do you understand, Directing Student?”

“Upmfh!”

“Good, make sure to keep up with your new routine to have flawless skin like I do.”

“Ba-Baaah! Uh!”

Not only that, Baby!Yuu is on the receiving end of Vil’s streak of inspirations. Lately, Vil has been sketching and designing some new clothes - all under Pomefiore theme. So in think of a purple suit but Pomefiore style. Sundress but under Pomefiore style and etc. So he instructs Rook and several other Pomefiore students to entertain Baby!Yuu while Vil makes a quick adjustment on turning the clothes suitable for babies.

“Rook, pass Yuu to me. I’ve several clothes I’d like him to model. You there, set up the studio for a photography session.

“Oui, my Roi de poison!”

“Right away, Dorm Leader!”

Baby!Yuu blink and honestly, a little dizzy when he was suddenly rush and brought into a pleasantly cool and dim room. Now there are so many people running around, their purple robes fluttered behind them like butterfly wings! Baby!Yuu tried to reach and grasp the billowing robes but they always slip out of his hand.

“Now then, hold still.” Vil murmurs, deftly switching Baby!Yuu clothes to a beautiful purple onesie. Vil even changed his clothes to match his.

Baby!Yuu prove to be a highly easy child to entertain and was not all bothered by the flashing cameras. Rook, from the sidelines, would make funny faces so he would shriek with laughter in Vil arms.

In less than two hours, over 5 photos of Vil and Baby!Yuu was uploaded into his Magicam account and the app even crashed due to the attraction they got! Baby clothing companies are frantically calling Vil’s manager to ask him to design clothes for them, young mothers couldn’t stop flooding the comments - praising how good they look while others are already starting a trend with:

#DaddyVil #CutestOneOfAll #Vilhasason #Thethirstisreal #Wediditfolks #WEBREAKTHEINTERNET

Yeah... Vil and Baby!Yuu caused quite a stir online!

Rook is having so much fun snapping photos, spoonfeeding Baby!Yuu his lunch after their impromptu fashion session that he completely forgets to check his buzzing phone. Honestly, everyone in Pomefiore fell a little bit in love with Baby!Yuu. And despite the hassle, Vil won’t ever admit that he enjoyed taking care of him.

Now, when Epel finally returns to the dorm from his club practice, he did the ugliest spit take when he saw Vil on his throne, reading a storybook with Baby!Yuu on his lap. Rook came to quietly report that Vil’s bedroom is ready for Baby!Yuu to retire (nap. The dude made sure to throw plushies, soft blankets and pillows on Vil’s bed for Baby!Yuu) and his other dorm members are even sitting on the floor, listening to Vil’s soft voice as he continues to read.

Immediately Epel turn around to run out of the dorm, phone already in his hand to call Ace. Because what the fuck!? Weren’t Adeuce + Grim supposed to take care of Baby!Yuu at Ramshackle!?

But alas, poor Epel. He only managed to take two steps out of Pomefiore before Rook tackle him because Vil is crossed that Epel dirtied. Again. This is thrice in a single day, btw.

Vil delicately close the book once Baby!Yuu had fallen asleep and Rook wrangled in a snarling Epel. Once he puts away Baby!Yuu in his bedroom, looks like he would need to scrub Epel down for good.

#Monotony's rambling #twisted wonderland #Yay for more Baby!Yuu

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

Text

Endless Love

Author’s Note: This is my piece I wrote for #SalDeLysFirstYear challenge. I poured a lot more into this than I realized I had in me, so hopefully it’s actually good lol. Thanks to @saldelys for allowing me to take part!

Prompt #3 Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more… Pairing: Ivar x Reader Words: 5796 Warnings: Angst, Swearing Ivar was back again. He had promised himself last time would be the final visit to the outdoor Cafe. The coffee was subpar, and he was fairly certain he could make a better lemon bar on a first attempt then the sour tart they were serving. It had been by mistake that he had happened to visit it at all. He had been outdoors enjoying the last days of summer, a day off from work, and the chance to get away from his brothers. Crossing the street, his intended destination had been to the train station, but he never got there.

On that day you had stood in his way. Not literally, but it was the look of you that had him all twisted. You were sitting alone at a table with your coffee, reading from a book like he had seen so many others had done before. The novel in question was ‘The Devil in the White City’, not exactly light reading, and not a story Ivar would have bothered himself to read. On the surface you were ordinary, but beneath his chest, his heart was sure you were anything but. Something had brought him to you, and there was a feeling of knowing you when he had yet to hear you speak.

He chose not to approach you. Growing up tethered to mother’s apron strings, and being labeled clever but strange, had made him a target by the other children. It’s difficult to grow out of that mindset, and as a result, he had turned into a bitter and lonely young man. No Ivar did not approach you. With none of the charisma or confidence of his brothers, he instead had swiveled to a spare table and had watched you behind a one-page menu.

Coming back to today, that’s what he was doing once again. Not every escapade was successful, and often he made the trip in vain when you didn’t show. You weren’t preoccupied with a book today, so he had to be careful as to not be caught gawking. Ivar had a penchant for photography, but it would have been a little presumptuous to you and everyone around if he started snapping in your direction. Instead, he had chosen the discreet, and shameful, way of turning the flash off on his phone camera snapshot. It wasn’t a quality photo, and he would delete it once this phase passed, but for the time being, it was a pleasant secret for his eyes only.

…

Ivar watched you as if you were the only one on the boat. Bjorn had returned from a raid, and you had gone with him and Hvitserk, your first raid as a shieldmaiden. He hated the idea that you were off in different lands, fulfilling your dreams as being Viking while he was left alone in Kattegat. Of course, he had never voiced this grievance to you. Your smile when you had told him the news had been so bright, and he wouldn’t be the reason for it to dim. The days without your company had been long and stagnant, and a chill had settled over Kattegat as if you had taken the warmth of the sun with you.

But you had returned, and things would be as they had always been. You were his friend, and he quietly admired you, longing for your love but accepting your friendship if it meant having you close.

You came to the Great Hall with Hvitserk, both sea-worn from your travels, but with smiles that spoke of the success of your adventures. Hvitserk was starved for food, and you began down the line with Ubbe, greeting each Ragnarsson with an embrace. Once you broke away from Sigurd, you made your way towards Ivar, and he almost shouted how glad he was to see you safe. Instead, he came off as aloof, summoning a small smirk as you knelt down before him. You always did. Unbothered by his typical greeting, you pulled him into a hug. Ivar squeezed back. If he could keep you beside him always, he would.

You began to pull away, and that’s when it happened. It was a gesture you only reserved specially for him, something that Ivar clung to in the hopes that it meant you loved him more than his brothers. You gave his left earlobe a small tug between two fingers, and you gazed into his eyes with a smile that made his heartache.

“Hello, Ivar.”

…

“I knew there was a reason you kept coming back here, and I knew it couldn’t be the coffee,” A voice sounded from behind him.

Ivar panicked. It was Hvitserk, and he had Ubbe with him. How had they found out about his little excursions? Yes, the three of them were roommates, but he was always careful to leave when they couldn’t notice. You were far enough away that you didn’t pick up on the commotion happening, and Ivar was quick to indicate to his brothers to sit. He threw them both a harsh glare, and he had this feeling of shame as if he had been caught doing something inappropriate.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

“We wanted to hang out with you today, but you were already gone when we got up,” Ubbe said.

“Good choice brother,” Hvitserk interrupted as he nodded in your direction. “Have you talked with her yet, or are you waiting until you’re the last two people on Earth?”

“Leave,” He ground out. They were ruining everything…even though he didn’t know what that meant. He hadn’t even approached you yet, and maybe he was embarrassed because Hvitserk had been able to guess that.

Ubbe craned his neck towards your table with a frown. “Who’s the old man with her?”

“What old man?” Ivar spun in his seat and saw that you had stood to embrace the older gentleman who had joined you. “I don’t know, a grandfather maybe?”

“Or maybe he’s her meal ticket,” Hvitserk said with a snicker. “She could be a gold digger, or maybe she’s got a thing for older men. Bad news for you Ivar, guess you aren’t her type.”

“Shut up, she’s not like that.” Okay, so maybe he didn’t know you enough (or at all) to say such a thing, but he was confident there was nothing sinister about you.

“How would you know, have you talked to her?” Ubbe asked, but more with concern than goading.

Ivar didn’t answer but mumbled something scathing under his breath. Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone? He was content in his routine to watch you. Eventually, he would move on and stop coming to the Cafe, but he had wanted to do that on his own terms.

“Time to find out. I’ll just ask the old guy,” Hvitserk said, rising from his seat. You had left the table for a moment, leaving your companion alone.

“No, don’t,” Ivar pleaded, but his brother was already out of reach. “Fuck.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ubbe asked when they were alone.

Ivar kept his eyes glued on Hvitserk as he chatted with the old man. What’s the worst that could happen? You could be what his brother had accused you of, or you could find out about his hobby of watching you and be disgusted. Any scenario that played in his head went from bad to worse, and Ivar was certain this would be his last time seeing you.

“You both have ruined everything.”

Ubbe rolled his eyes and sighed with exhaustion. “Ruined what? Was she supposed to pick up your interest by osmosis?”

“My interest was to take her photograph and maybe ask her to be a model for some shoots. I didn’t want to date her or anything,” Ivar defended. It was a lie, and a poor one at that judging by Ubbe’s doubtful frown.

“If you say so.”

Ivar turned his gaze back to Hvitserk, who was still engaged in conversation. You hadn’t returned to the table yet, but he didn’t want you to come back to find his brother chatting with your friend (hopefully grandfather). When Hvitserk finally stood, he shook the older fellow’s hand in parting and made his way back over to their table. Ivar didn’t like the impassive look on his face, he much preferred the goofy grin. Serious Hvitserk made his stomach clench with anxiety.

“Took you long enough,” Ivar said, gauging his reaction. “What happened?”

“Yeah, who’s the old guy,” said Ubbe.

Hvitserk leaned on his chair but did not take a seat. “I tried to put in a good word for you, brother, but the old man said she’s married to his grandson.”

“Shit,” Ubbe cursed.

Ivar sunk back into the stiff plastic of the chair, blinking with comprehension. So that was it. You were married. It seemed a cruel joke, or a curse, that someone else had met you first. He didn’t even know your name.

“Ivar,” Hvitserk called, waving his hand in front of his face. “Did you hear me?”

“I think I’m finished with my coffee,” He replied, ignoring the question. “Do you want to go do something?”

Ubbe frowned. “Do you?”

“Yes, something…anything. Let’s just go."

Ivar was grabbing his crutches and propelling himself out of his seat before either of them could get another word in. You had made it back to your table, and it was burning his eyes to look in your direction. He needed to get far away, even as his heart leaped to his throat. It was like losing a friend or someone who had been lost to him before. Ivar didn’t understand what he was feeling, all he knew was he wanted to run.

…

Ivar couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Down by the river, Ubbe and a handful of warriors were preparing to set sail back to Kattegat from York, and you were among them. The betrayal and the audacity of you had him seeing red. He could not let you leave.

Perhaps you thought you could escape unnoticed, but you did not keep your head down as Ubbe did. Ivar always noticed you, everywhere you went, and you would have never slipped away unseen.

”(Y/N),“ He demanded, reaching for you even as you had your arms full with supplies. "Where are you going?”

This time your eyes did not reach his, and you passed your armful of provisions to another warrior loading up the boat.

“I’m going home Ivar. I do not want to live in England anymore.”

“Neither do I, and I do plan on returning once we’ve taken our share. Stay, you cannot leave me.”

You crossed your arms, a frown contorting your face. “Yes I can, and I will. Your hatred and misery are leading down a path I refuse to be a part of. Claim your glory and your legacy if you must, but I won’t be a part of it.”

Ivar lashed out at you before he could stop himself, latching onto your arm with a bruising grip that made you draw a sharp breath. “If you leave me now, I will hate you forever.”

You struggled in his grasp, and Ivar let go once he realized he had harmed you. The indentations of his fingers on your flesh were red and ugly. “Then hate me if you must. Know that I will mourn the loss of our friendship, but if you can renounce me so easily, I wonder if I was mistaken for thinking it was real.”

“(Y/N), please,” He pleaded, voice wavering as childish tears began to fall. “I’m sorry.”

You started to back away, back into the company of Ubbe and the other deserters. “So am I.”

On that day Ivar watched you disappear into the horizon, parting as enemies. He wondered if you ever knew that he was in love with you, but he realized the answer didn’t matter. Either way, it would only bring him pain. You had left him, and you deserved his resentment.

…

It had been weeks since Ivar had last visited the Cafe. He made good on his promise to himself to not return, going out of his way to avoid it even if it meant pushing his legs to have to go to a further train station. His thoughts would sometimes drift and dwell on you, and he had yet to delete the blurred image of you from his phone. Baby steps.

His brothers had encouraged him to put himself out there in the world of dating. They mistook his poor reaction that day for loneliness, and after growing tired of their hassling, he had agreed to try. The handful that he went on were not all awful, though there was the matter of working around his legs. Some girls tried to overcompensate by complimenting everything else about him, while others couldn’t disguise the fact that they were looking at his crutches. He tried not to hold it against them. It was his hang-ups, not theirs.

He had taken the night off from his life of dating to go to the store. Hvitserk had Thora over, and Ubbe was out on a date, so he hadn’t exactly felt like third-wheeling. Mumbling some excuse about needing milk, he had slunk out the door and hit the streets just as the sun was setting.

Perusing the aisles, Ivar wandered aimlessly as he picked up items, only to put them back again. He already had the milk, his whole purpose for being there, but he didn’t want to go back to the apartment. There was a chance he’d walk in on a compromising moment between Hvitserk and Thora, and he wanted to save them all the embarrassment.

“Excuse me, can I get by?”

Ivar tilted his head towards the voice and was startled to find you standing there with him in the aisle. Gods were you a lovely sight. You were bundled in autumn gear, and you clung to a basket with the few groceries you had picked up. Ivar couldn’t help but notice the look of weariness on your face, your shoulders sagged with depletion as if you were carrying the weight of the world.

“Sorry, go ahead,” He mumbled as he shifted on his crutches so you could get through.

You didn’t immediately take the chance to go, instead, you stood with a puzzled expression that had him avoiding your eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” He remarked too quickly, and it came off as defensive.

“Wait, I remember now,” You continued, a small smile lifting the corners of your lips. “You go to the same Cafe as me.”

Ivar sputtered as he tried to answer. You had noticed him. Did you catch him when he took your photo? Most likely not, or you probably would have avoided him; the weird guy with the lame legs from the Cafe.

“Oh, right.” 'Smooth, Ivar’, he could hear Hvitserk say in his head.

“I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“I’ve been busy.” It came off as terse, and he regretted using such a tone with you.

“Sorry, that was me being rude,” You replied, bouncing from one foot to another. “It’s none of my business. I should let you finish your shopping.”

You were quick to jostle past, nearly losing the contents of your basket as you went. Ivar didn’t like how skittish you had become, and if that was the last conversation he was to have with you, he didn’t want it to end that way.

“What’s your name?”

You spun back around on the heel of your brown suede boot. “I’m (Y/N),” You said as if anticipating the question.

“Ivar,” He returned in kind.

“It’s nice to meet you Ivar. Maybe I’ll see you around again. We can talk over crappy coffee or something.”

“Maybe.” Ivar smiled, and the warm-hearted feeling stayed with him long after he had returned home with the milk.

…

When Ivar saw you again, you were on opposing sides. You and Ubbe had sided with the treacherous Lagertha. Seeing you standing there with his mother’s murderer had him abandoning any kind feelings he had towards you, but seeing the man standing by your side made his heartbeat with rage. You were round in the middle from pregnancy, and the warrior who held you close must have been your husband.

You were no longer his, and you never had been. Seeing you now made that clear. He hated the power you still unknowingly had over him. If you came back to him now, even in your condition, he would let you. But he couldn’t keep on pretending that everything was alright. He would see Lagertha’s fate sealed by his hands, and you would not get in his way.

Hvitserk had remained loyal at his side, but Ivar could see his mask of resolve slipping the moment he spotted you and Ubbe.

“Having second thoughts?” He provoked.

Hvitserk straightened his back, and shot him a scowl, “No, but this feels wrong. We have family and friends on that side. What are we doing with Harald?”

“The usurper stands there as well. I’d align with Loki himself if it brought me my revenge.”

“And what about (Y/N)? She’s pregnant, don’t you care what happens to her?”

Ivar felt as if a shadow had passed over him, and when he looked at you across the field, you were staring back in despair. “(Y/N) doesn’t need me anymore. She has chosen the failing side, and it will cost her everything.”

Hvitserk let out a harsh laugh. “This is why she left you. You have a stone heart brother, and only Mother could love you.”

“I don’t need love, I need vengeance, and I will have it on Lagertha, Bjorn, Ubbe, (Y/N), and anyone else who stands in my way. Don’t make the same mistake, brother,” Ivar flared back, digging his crutches into the earth as he started back to his chariot.

Angry tears threatened to run down his face, and he wiped them away with a stubborn brush of his hand. It was difficult to hear anything above the whipping wind, but he could make out his heart beating at a furious pace. The pain he felt would recede, it always did. He had piled up all of the rejection and losses that life had brought him, but he never thought you would be among them. Today he looked his last upon you, for tomorrow would bring war and legacy.

…

Ivar couldn’t believe he had fallen back into the same rut. Any of the blind dates he had been set up on had come to a dead stop, and he was back to frequenting the Cafe. The worst part was he had been there enough times that he was starting to enjoy the taste of the weak coffee. He considered it progress that if you weren’t there when he arrived, he wouldn’t wait around for you to show.

On the day that you had been there, you had displayed genuine excitement to see him, and Ivar didn’t know how to handle such a reaction. He had to keep reminding himself that you were married, but every minute he spent in your presence continued to chip away at his resolve. You smelt like patchouli and lemon, and the way you spoke with your hands had him laughing. He couldn’t remember being around someone who was so unabashedly themselves, and he knew if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t stop. You gave him all sorts of bad ideas.

“It looks like rain,” You said, glancing up at the grey sky that was lousy with clouds.

“We could go somewhere else,” Ivar suggested out of the need to keep the afternoon going. He didn’t want to part from you yet. “Somewhere warm, and dry.”

“My apartment is close, we could go there.”

You said it with such innocence as if you had just been discussing the daily news. The proper respect to the implication behind such an invite had not been given. What kind of woman are you? His heart sank in disappointment.

“What about your husband,” He said, taking a terse step back to judge you.

You had the decency to look surprised, and you gave him a hard stare right back. “How do you know about Ben?”

Ivar flushed pink. In his quick anger, he forgot he’d have to explain that he had been watching you from afar for some time. “I…well…”

You interrupted his stammering, realization coming to you. “It wasn’t your brother asking after me that day, he was doing it for you.”

“You knew about that?”

“Wally told me when I got back to the table, but you guys were already clearing out. I didn’t see you again after that day until the market.”

“Yeah, well, you’re married, so I didn’t see the point,” He mumbled, looking away from you.

“I’m a widow, Ivar,” You said, and that quickly grabbed his attention. “I think you and I need to have a talk because you were looking at me just now as if I was the worst type of person, and I don’t like that.”

Ivar felt a flurry of emotions, but at the brunt of it all was guilt. He had practically called you a harlot in so many words, only to discover your husband was dead. He was lucky you didn’t kick his crutch out from under him and leave him on the cold ground.

The first drop of rain hit Ivar between the eyes, and you put a gentle gloved hand on his arm to get him moving again. You didn’t get far before the sky let go, and you were both trudging through puddles. The rain was making his grip on his crutches slick, and he struggled to keep up with your pace while also trying to avoid falling. He felt you slow down beside him, and he felt bad that you were getting soaked just because of him.

“Sorry,” He spoke in a soft manner.

“Don’t be. I’ve been going for walks in the rain for a while now. It’s the only way I can cry in public without people noticing.”

Ivar paused to study you, and that’s when he recognized the same look of sadness that you had worn that day in the market.

“Your husband passed away recently, didn’t he?”

“Just a few months, yeah,” You said while ducking into an alcove of a building. “This is me. Let’s head upstairs.”

Ivar nodded. He was relieved to be getting out of the rain, but a nervous sweat had him hot at the collar. You were about to reveal something personal to him, even when you didn’t owe him an explanation. He hadn’t meant to insert himself into your life in such a short time in a manner such as this, but he would listen to your story. In the end, he hoped he would be one step closer to being a part of your life.

…

On the shores of Kattegat laid the fallen. Bjorn had not been able to surmount Oleg’s forces, and Ivar had come out the victorious son of Ragnar. While the Rus celebrated in the Great Hall, Ivar had escaped outside to the familiar sites of his home. It had been in a different life when he had crawled through the sand. Now he stood tall on his crutches, weaving slowly through the dead. He was searching for his enemies, Bjorn and Harald, to see if their defeat had been decided.

The sun was sinking low, and without the light, it would be difficult to determine the identities of the dead. He pushed on overturned bodies with his crutch, sometimes remembering the faces from his past, while others were strangers. It was an empty victory. He was still under the thumb of Oleg, and he could not restore glory to his home until they were gone. That battle was yet to come.

“…Ivar?”

A weak voice called to him, carried by the wind. Ivar’s eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to find the source.

“Where are you,” He called, possibly to no one.

“I’m here.”

The voice was not as far away as he thought. He caught the motion of a limp hand waving through the stillness. Ivar made his way through the remnants of the battlefield until he came to the body perched up against a boulder. It was you. He had not recognized your call, most of it lost and weakened, much like your body. You were battered and bleeding, and with the mark of death soon upon you.

Ivar dropped to his knees and crawled to you. The moment he touched you, you fell into his arms. Your breathing was a series of harsh wheezes, and your eyelids fluttered.

“You found me,” You croaked out, holding your hand to the ax wound at your gut. A slow way to die.

“(Y/N),” Ivar whispered, brushing your hair from your forehead. You were sweating and cold to the touch. “Why were you here?”

“Kattegat is my home. I would never abandon it.”

“Where is your family? I need to get you to them,” He said, recalling that you would have a small child waiting for you.

“My family is dead, Ivar. I will go to them now, and be reunited in Valhalla.”

“Stupid woman. If you had just stayed with me, I could have protected you.” He didn’t just mean from this battle, but since you had left him in York. “I loved you.”

“I loved you as well, but I did not want your path to be mine,” You said and you reached for his ear, giving the lobe a small tug that caused his heart to burn in agony. “Perhaps the Gods will find a way for us to start again. When Thor cracks his hammer, and the storm fades, we will find each other again, Ivar the Boneless.”

“Don’t go, not yet.” Angry tears ran lines through the blood and mud on his face. There was no point in his pleading. You belonged to the Gods now.

“Odin is calling me,” You said, and your arm fell down at your side. “Please, Ivar, I do not want to die this way. My breath is leaving me too slowly, and every beat of my heart is as long as a life age. I want to go, but I am afraid.”

Your ramblings were turning incoherent, and he wondered if you could still see his face. Many of his tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but you had not flinched. Ivar knew what he had to do, but he did not know if he had the strength to ease your passing.

“Please.”

You were staring up at the sky, and Ivar felt invisible. His hand moved with precision, and he brought his knife down to the hilt through to your heart. A gasp escaped you, and then an endless stillness. You had a vacant expression of peace, and Ivar closed your eyes to rest.

When night came, he had managed without aid in loading your body onto a boat. It was just something he had to see done alone. Being away from you for so long, he had no mementos to send with you, save one. He had set upon you his hammer of Thor while remembering your words with the hope that it would see you to the halls of Valhalla. With one arrow your vessel was set ablaze in the twilight, and Ivar was up 'til dawn as you drifted passed the horizon, and beyond his sight. But you would never be beyond his heart, and time would bring you back to him. He would find you again, even if it took a thousand years.

…

Ivar followed you into your apartment, both dripping wet from the rain. He stood on your doormat, hair clinging to his neck as he balanced on his crutches. You kicked off your shoes before shrugging out of your coat.

“Let me grab you a towel,” You said, shooting him a quick smile before you ventured down the hallway.

Ivar stood unmoving while he tried to absorb everything around him. Was this your apartment, or had your husband lived here before what he assumed was an untimely death? There was a hint of eucalyptus and mint in the air, and other than the wet shoes and your abandoned coat, everything appeared to be in order.

He was saved from drowning in his own thoughts when you returned with a purple towel. Grateful to finally be dry, he took it from your outstretched hand, trading you for one of his crutches. He swayed only for a moment before finding his balance as he toweled off his damp hair.

“Need a hand?” Your timid voice broke through even as he had his head turned.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He managed to keep from being curt, knowing you weren’t asking out of pity.

“Well, at least come inside. I feel strange making you stand in my doorway.”

You started ahead, and Ivar followed. He noticed you had already dried your own hair, the ends frizzy and curling. Now in the comfort of your own home, you were without the bundled garments he always met you in, and beneath was a blue dress with black nylons. Stockings on a woman were enough to drive any man crazy, and he tried to keep his eyes trained forward. He was here to listen to your story, not ogle you like a schoolboy.

The rain outside had picked up strength and was pelting your window in swells. You switched on a table lamp, a dim warmth glowing in the room. Ivar felt some shame that his first instinct was to check for any framed photographs of your husband. He needed to confirm his existence, and maybe compare himself to the man you had loved and lost.

“Did you want anything to drink?” You interrupted his investigating, bringing his eyes back to you. You were lovely, standing there against the backdrop of the raging storm.

“I’m alright,” Ivar replied, anxious to get to the truth of the matter.

You took the towel that hung in his grasp at his side and brought it back to the side of his face that was still wet. Once you were satisfied, you gave his earlobe a small tug, and it sent his heart into a frenzy. Where did that come from?

“Good as new,” You said, a mesmerizing look glazing over your eyes.

“Thanks,” Ivar murmured, touching his ear.

You sighed as you parked yourself on the sofa, breaking the spell. “Sorry, I’m stalling. It’s just…it’s difficult to rehash a chapter I only just finished closing.”

“I don’t want to force you,” He explained, taking the other side of the sofa. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, I’m not letting you go back out in the rain. Besides, I owe you an explanation,” You paused a moment, gathering your strength before continuing. “Ben died from stage four pancreatic cancer this past spring. He wasn’t sick when we first got together, but he got his diagnosis only two months into our relationship. By the time he was diagnosed it had already metastasized, and the chemo was ineffective. When the doctor gave him a year to live, that’s when he proposed to me.”

Ivar felt his face sink into a frown as you told the story. Your husband had been dealt a bad hand, unjust and cruel. He suddenly felt ridiculous for even being jealous of a dead man. A great evil had been done to Ben, the work of forces unknown, and Ivar was a mix of elation and regret. He was strangely fortunate that the man was no longer in your life, and it was an awful thing to say, let alone think.

“How long into your relationship was that?”

“About five months. When I think back on it, I’m not even sure if our dating would have progressed to marriage naturally. Our dates went from restaurants to hospital appointments, but I never considered walking away even when Ben and his family all suggested it was a lot for a new relationship,” You said, bringing your legs up onto the couch, and you jumped when a thrash of thunder boomed outside. “I never thought of it that way though. When Ben proposed, he said it was because he wanted to experience being married before cancer took him. I’m not sure if either of us were in love, but we cared about one another, and at the time that was enough. The only thing I had to lose was Ben, which eventually I did. He didn’t even last the full year that the doctor had estimated.”

Ivar didn’t know what to say. 'I’m sorry’ was trite and cliche, and he was certain you had been told so enough. Though your voice wavered, you did not cry. He wanted to hold you close, but he didn’t have the courage to cross the invisible barrier that seemed to keep you trapped away from him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m terrible for accusing you of wanting to be unfaithful. I guess I got so caught up in my own feelings, I didn’t consider yours,” He said, looking down at his lap.

He felt the sofa shift with your weight as you shuffled closer to him. “These feelings you have Ivar, I don’t understand. You don’t know me very well.”

“But I feel like I do,” He was quick to say, eyes flashing to you. It sounded absurd, and he flinched, preparing for your bad reaction.

“I know,” You said, blinking in surprise. “It’s strange, but you are so familiar to me. It’s like we’ve been here before.”

You reached out your hand, and Ivar snatched it up, not letting anything take away the moment in front of him. All of the doubts and the unfair restrictions that had kept you from him went away, and he pulled you close until you were in his arms. The apartment fell to silence, and the storm began to relent. Your head was nestled into his neck, warm little puffs of air tickling his skin. Ivar kept his nose pressed into your hair, breathing in your scent. He was reminded of fire, and of a ship sailing into the setting sun. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, but as you held each other through the fading thunder, Ivar was sure he had loved you once. Time had brought you back, and now that he had found you, he would never let go.

@peachyboneless @didiintheblog @saldelys @soleil-dor @zuxiezendler @pieces-by-me @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @everyartistwas-firstanamateur @youbloodymadgenius @xceafh @shannygoatgruff @tgrrose @1950schick @castielsangelsx

#SalDeLysFirstYear #history vikings #vikings #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x you #ivar x reader #ivar angst #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar fic #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern ivar x you #ivar imagine

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imjeralee · 3 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 21 - A Tale of Two Sisters

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

NOTE: First update of 2021! I used my blood, sweat and tears for this chapter lol. I hope you enjoy it but there is a lot of fluff

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell here is the latest update

A Tale of Two Sisters

…

[Tape 4A. Audio Recording. Subject: Ezra and I discuss evil spirits:

00:02.11: Me: "Isn’t there anything we can do to help them?"

00:13.33: Ezra: "No. Evil spirits are condemned to roam without a physical form and will be compelled to wreak havoc on the living. They are beings that died with unfulfilled desires or anger and are said to 'linger' until such issues are resolved."

00:15.73: Me: "Has anyone attempted to research them?"

00:23.01: Ezra: "It was once believed that there was a way to control or communicate with them but any research or attempt on this matter is condemned by the Church."

00:24.70: Me: “But we're not aligned with the Church.”

00:26.42: Ezra: "Don't even think about it, kid."

The recording stops here.]

…

“How peculiar,” you utter, “I can understand what you’re saying.”

Gengar blinks blankly at you before he tells you he’s been speaking to you the entire time since you met at his master’s manor.

This must be what Ezra had noticed about you earlier. You’ve grown stronger. Your senses have heightened to another level. You’re becoming similar to Rosie except it’s taken you longer. You recall how she understood what Dusknoir was saying when you found her playing in the basement and she could communicate with it.

You’ve always understood what Gengar was trying to communicate from his actions but this…? You can understand ghost pokemon now (or maybe just Gengar). Perhaps you would grow even stronger in the future.

Mimikyu is lying next to you so you gently pick her up. "Psst....Mimi, are you asleep? Say something."

Stirring, the little glowing dots blink behind the fabric of her ragdoll disguise. "What is it, mi? Let mi sleep."

She swats you away with a claw and you put her back down; the pokemon rolls away from you, curling up. "Huh, there's no difference. What about you, Vulpix?"

The little red fox looks at you as you lift her up in your arms, her paws dangling in the air. She cocks her head to the side. "Vul."

"Hm. No difference here either," you murmur as you gently let her back down.

Leon returns to the tent after he’s done a quick sweep of the area; there’s no ghosts around regardless and there is certainly no-one else in the vicinity.

You’ve told him there’s nothing to be concerned about but he was still adamant in checking the rest of the camp just in case. You appreciate that he’s trying to keep you safe.

He zips the flap up and watches as you ask Rotom to take a photo of the bloodied hairclip on the ground and once he’s finished, you carefully slip the floral hairclip into a sealable plastic bag; it’s piano black, sleek and shiny, with the occasional flecks of dried blood and a strand of long hair.

“So… a spirit left that for you?” he asks, as you inspect the bag keenly, holding it up under the dim light of the lamp.

You nod. “It’s evidence. Looks like I have a new case.”

You tell him you saw a ghost in broad daylight this afternoon and it saw you. Now it looks like the ghost has followed you all the way out here. Also, Vulpix sensed her first. You pet her fondly as she dozes beside who Mimikyu is also fast asleep, snoozing away.

“Remember the ghost of South Miloch? Well, this is more or less the same way she contacted me, so I know this one needs help,” you add, “she knows I got the message. She won’t bother us for the rest of the night.”

He looks uneasy. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I'll post it up on my blog," you reply, and you quickly access your website and upload the photo onto a new post, typing out a message. "'If this belongs to you, please contact me'. There we go, all done. Now we wait.”

You smile at him and he flicks a glance to Rotom. It’s 3am.

“Let’s go back to sleep.”

You’re a little excited to sleep though, knowing that Gengar had spoken to you and you want to talk as much as possible but the ghost pokemon pokes his head from your shadow and tells you he’s going to rest too so you suppose you should just take it easy and sleep considering how exhausted you are.

With a yawn, you nod and flop over the sleeping bag with Leon’s arms wrapped around you. Now that you think about it, you’re amazed you were able to sleep so soundly with him beside you.

You had enjoyed being spooned so you turn to lie on your side with your back pressed against his chest and as expected, he gently worms his arm around your waist and you sigh with content. You make yourself comfortable and cosy in your spot before grabbing his arm and holding it tightly to your chest. His heartbeat speeds up and he swallows down loudly.

"Leon?"

"Y-yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"...I'm okay."

You let out a stifled laugh. “Alright then. Goodnight.”

“G-goodnight.”

Reaching over, you switch off the lamp and the tent is encased in darkness once again.

…

You wake up before Leon and during the night, you’ve deviated a great deal; you find yourself lying flat on your back and he’s curled up beside you with his face buried against your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. What surprises you the most is how tightly he holds you and how much he’s pressed himself against your body with your legs tangled together.

He’s still fast asleep and you don’t want to wake him up so you remain still, staring at the ceiling of the tent and thinking about last night before you swerve your gaze down to the sleeping champion once more.

Leon grumbles incoherently before he inches even closer to you than ever before, burying his nose further into your nape and sighing under his breath. His hair tickles your chin, cheeks and nose and you try your best not to laugh.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to be at ease and to relax with a smile on your face until Rotom suddenly twitches in his spot and he rises into the air, his eyes glowing brightly before he emits a loud ring and this time, both you and Leon groan heavily in response.

“Bzzrt, eep! Mezzzage! You have received a private mezzage from PinkZzylveon! Bzz, I hope thizzz izzz urgent….” Rotom buzzes helplessly as he’s forced awake.

“Huh…?” you utter whilst Leon clings onto you, half-awake.

“Nmm…what time is it?” he mumbles blearily.

“Six am….”

“You can watch the sunrizzze if you’re quick enough…” Rotom adds, disgruntled.

“Oh….good idea…” Leon mutters and he settles himself into your embrace once more and you watch as he closes his eyes for a brief moment…then re-open again in a split second. He swerves his gaze up to you and you look at him, then Leon untangles his arms from you hastily, wide awake with shock, and promptly sits up. “Um, g-good morning…”

“Morning Leon.”

“Arceus, I-I’m so sorry.”

You watch him splutter and stammer for a few seconds before you say, “Sorry for what?”

His face turns various shades of red but when you smile at him reassuringly, he gradually calms down and smiles bashfully at you in response.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs quietly.

You nod. "Did you?"

"I did. It was the best sleep I'd ever had."

You are oddly flattered.

“C’mon, let’s get ready,” you reply, moving to stand, stretching slightly. “Do you want to watch the sunrise together?”

“Yes,” he agrees, as you rifle through your pile of folded clothes and hand him his hoodie to him before you grab your sweater and throw it on.

Afterwards, Rotom settles into your hands and you swipe the screen to see what this message is. It was sent to you via your blog, only visible to you. It says: This is regarding the hairclip. Please come to 23 Dorset Road, Motostoke. It belongs to my sister. We need your help. This is my number.

“Interesting,” you utter under your breath as your eyes roam over the phone number provided. The area code belongs to Kanto.

“Zzzhall we reply?”

“Not yet.”

You’re wanting to watch the sunrise with Leon, so you both get ready in the tent though he says he should leave to give you some privacy but it’s freezing outside so you tell him he can just turn round. When you’re fully dressed, you don your coat whilst Leon pulls on his thick hoodie. He takes his scarf and loops it around your neck before you both leave the sanctity of the tent and step out into the cold. It’s always frigid in the Wild Area on mornings like this which you’re beginning to get used to.

“I wonder if there’s a good spot nearby,” Leon muses under his breath before he brings out his own Rotom phone and tampers with it. He scrutinises the screen thoroughly before he beams widely. “Ah, found one.”

“Whereabouts?” you ask, joining his side.

“It’s telling us to go that way,” Leon says, pointing to the far right of the lake.

However, when you check the phone, something doesn’t look quite right with the direction he’s pointing to and the marker on the map doesn't align properly – on the contrary, it is indicating to the left.

You gently take his arm and swivel him round so he’s pointing to the other way. The marker follows his movement and the marker begins to blink, indicating he is now on the right track, in the correct direction. Leon blushes whilst you smile.

Despite having a cold breakfast consisting of berry juice, granola and yoghurt, it tastes ten times delicious than usual because you’re eating together and when you’re finished, you and Leon head for the direction of the marker.

Vulpix trots alongside you and Charizard lingers behind.

“Was she born like that?” you utter under your breath as you throw a sideways glance to the fox pokemon. She seems to be doing well despite missing an eye though she leans heavily to one side as she pads along.

“Yeah, so her owner deemed her unsuitable for battling,” Leon explains, “she was abandoned at the pokemon nursery.”

You shake your head at this.

Vulpix seems happy under your care and she looks up at you and you look at her. When you lock gazes, she wags her little tail.

“She’s still a baby. The tail is meant to split as they grow older, right?”

“Yep,” Leon replies jovially.

“I’ll make sure she grows healthy and strong.”

Vulpix yaps affectionately, you smile at her and Leon squeezes your hand tightly.

He wanted to hold your hand along the way; you had seen him glancing at you wistfully though he had remained quiet but alas, actions speak louder than words and he had gently reached for your hand, pulling you close to him and weaving your fingers together.

He blushes the entire time and his hand becomes sweaty as he sneaks little peeks at you every now and then from the corner of his eyes for your reaction.

And when you’d glance up at him curiously, he doesn’t look away as you expected; instead, he holds your gaze, smiles and brush his thumb against the base of your palm tenderly which sends numerous shivers down your spine. This is a side to Leon which you didn’t think you’d ever see at all.

It also occurs to you that you will need to tell Sonia, Jace, the professor and Graves about this. No doubt, Sonia might be squealing for days. Jace seems a little on the fence with Leon judging from your past conversations, and you’re not sure how Graves will react either but he seems relaxed about Leon.

That’s a thought for another time as Rotom leads you away from the campsite - at least a good twenty minutes or so - and you find yourselves situated at a grassy hill that’s much larger than the other spot you took Leon last time and on this occasion, the view is far more rewarding and grandiose.

A clean, grassy spot invites you to plop yourselves down along with Charizard but the flame pokemon decides not to be a third wheel; before he leaves, he nudges the two of you to sit closely together as much as possible, then he retreats to the direction of the trees where he joins Vulpix so it’s just you and Leon. Charizard gives you the equivalent of a thumbs up using his claws.

“I once told myself I’d see the sunrise with someone special…I always hoped it would be you," Leon says.

You blush heavily and he grins at your response.

When you realise he’s not looking away, it occurs to you he’s admiring you and your cheeks grow even warmer; he reaches over and wraps an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close and you blink wide-eyed for a brief moment before smiling widely.

You huddle together as the sun begins to peek out between the trees and hills. The dark horizon eventually begins to clear up, bathing the wilderness with a tawny, warm glow and you recall the dream.

“Are you free this evening?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to have dinner?”

It takes a lot to keep yourself calm and collected and you croak out, “I’d love to but where would we go? People are going to recognise you.”

“You could come over to my house. I’ll let my mum know you’re coming. She wants to see you again.”

You’re about to reply, but the sun becomes so bright you have to shield your eyes; you soak in the warmth of the sun, sighing with content and squaring your shoulders, causing him to chuckle. Unfortunately, the sunrise is over in a short period of time which prompts you both to leave.

It’s time to part ways though you have agreed to have dinner with him later at his house: Leon will return to Wyndon for his photoshoot with Miss Galar and you will check out the address in Motostoke and return the hairclip.

Leon helps you to stand and as you turn, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you but you believed you had seen the dark silhouette of a man standing behind the pokemon as they were waiting for you.

In the blink of an eye however, the shadow disappears and you’re left staring at Charizard and Vulpix.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.”

Returning to the campsite, Charizard helps you take down the tent and roll it up whilst Mimikyu and Vulpix help Leon out with the packing.

Once everything’s stowed away, the campsite is vacated and you begin the hike to return to the challenger’s path, chatting and holding hands until a faint rumbling sound grabs your attention and you turn round to see a familiar and large wooden wagon approaching, pulled by a Tauros.

You wonder if Leon would let go of your hand (he doesn't) and you ponder if whoever is driving the wagon is staring (they are).

As the wagon passes you, it is driven by none other than the farmer from Turrfield, the one who passed you and Leon when you had first met. The one who wouldn't let you on and called you cursed and bad luck.

He's staring with widened eyes at you and obviously you're holding hands with the Champion. In fact, he gawks so relentlessly that he doesn't realise where he's going and he misses the gaping dirt hole up ahead. The wagon jostles, the wheel lodged fast in the ditch and he yelps as everything comes to a stop and Tauros rears with a bellow.

"Whoa there, Toro!! Easy, old boy...easy..."

The wagon's stuck; after calming the bull, the farmer jumps off to inspect the wheel and sighs, scratching his head underneath his straw hat.

You exchange quick glances with Leon before heading over. The farmer notices and begins spluttering at once.

"G-good mornin', Mr Champion! Fancy seein' you here again!"

"Apologies, have we met before?" Leon asks with a smile.

Leon doesn’t remember his face. The farmer looks as surprised as you are. You could tell him, say it's the old fart who wouldn't give you a ride last time, but you remain silent and the farmer throws a sheepish glance to the ground.

"Do you need help with that?" Leon asks.

He clears his throat and stutters out, "Nah, s’alright. You two young'uns better run along now. I got this covered..." he trots to the back of his wagon and begins to push, leaning his scrawny self against the wood. "God-freakin'-damnit, I knew I should've bought that lousy HM!"

True, the Strength HM would've been helpful in these kinds of situation. He struggles, grunting and growling, and Leon rolls his sleeves up, releases Charizard, and they both head to the back of the wagon to assist the old man.

"We'll give you a hand."

"Oh, thank you, you're so kind, Mr Champion."

"It's no problem at all, sir."

"Hey...you there, girl. Do you mind watchin' over old Toro for me?" the farmer asks, "but be gentle with 'im. He's still a brute."

You nod and stroll over to Tauros who huffs and stomps one hoof on the dusty ground, shaking himself. He's somewhat agitated but you do your best to calm him. Reaching over, you gently stroke his grizzled mane and he watches as you pat his horns and rub the bottom of his jaw. The pokemon grows still, and you smile.

"Good boy," you murmur.

"Be careful," Leon says, peeking out from one side of the wagon.

On the count of three, the men and Charizard successfully push the wagon out and you hop away as the wheel is finally freed and the wagon is back on the path, safe. The farmer looks pleased as Leon returns Charizard and heads over to your side with a grin. You check if he's fine before dabbing away at some sweat on his forehead with a tissue.

"Well, I can't thank you two enough," the farmer says as he hops into the seat. "And uh....here, this is somethin' for your troubles." He reaches to the side and pulls out two fresh bottles of moo moo milks and pots of honey which he hands over. “It’s not much but it’s the best I can do, sorry."

"No problem, sir. Have a good day."

"You too. Take care. Goodbye now."

With the minor distraction out of the way, you continue your journey and finally, you reach a fork in the path – one that will lead to Hammerlocke and the other to Motostoke.

You and Leon will part ways here.

The path looks unwelcoming all of a sudden.

You throw him a glance from the corner of your eye, wondering what he might be thinking of when he instinctively steps towards you and anxiously slides his arms around your waist, his warm hands brushing against the side of your body before he gently pulls you closer to him.

His gesture brings a smile to your face as you plant your arms on his shoulders, weaving and twirling your fingers through his thick, long hair.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, “are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reply with the same hushed tone he’s employed.

The moment your eyes meet, your breath lodges in your throat; neither of you make a move to pull away and you both linger a little longer than necessary before Leon begins to lean forwards.

Although you can tell he’s getting nervous again, you stand still for him as the gap between you grows smaller and smaller and your noses brush together.

Relishing your presence and the close proximity, he affectionately nuzzles you for a few seconds or so before he angles his face to the side, his lips pucker up slightly and you bite down on your lip, trying not to laugh.

Oblivious, Leon lightly skims his mouth over yours before he presses his lips against yours firmly.

He starts off gentle, being very careful not to hurt you or make you uncomfortable in any way. You let him lead this time and he kisses you coyly.

His lips are so soft against yours, slowly pulling you in and ensuring every inch of your lips are covered by his mouth.

Heat blooms in your chest and your heart thuds; your mouths seem to mould together perfectly and your thoughts are silenced as his scents enraptures you from all over along with the searing warmth of his hands on your body, his fingers faintly digging into your flesh.

He clutches you tightly to him, your lips pressing together until you sweep your hand over his cheek and your fingertips brush over the rugged stubble along his jaw.

Leon grins against your mouth then presses a light, feathery peck on your lips before applying just the tiniest amount of pressure to deepen the kiss.

You giggle lightly in response until your ears pick up the sounds of a twig snapping and you both stop at once, pulling away and glancing over to the source.

A few feet away, a couple of bushes rustle loudly until a chubby Gloom pops out and waddles from the undergrowth, followed by two diminutive Oddish; you and Leon watch as they cross the path in front of you and hop over to the other side, disappearing into the tall grass.

You sigh with relief whilst Leon chuckles and lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss over your knuckles then over your cheek before he retreats, his face reddening as he watches you for your reaction.

“H-how was that?” he asks nervously, and you know he’s talking about the kiss.

“Hmm, I think we should practice more.”

“I’d like that,” he admits quietly.

You smile fondly at him in return as he swerves his glance to your entwined hands.

”Am I...your first kiss?” Leon is your first proper kiss, so you nod.

He gleams at once, ecstatic. He’s positively glowing now.

”You’re my first too,” he murmurs.

“You’re so sweet, Leon,” you reply, and his face turns a darker shade of red.

“...There’s something I need to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Will you wait for me?” he murmurs, “I get challenged by gym challengers every day and I have been defending my title for many years…but there will be a day when I'm no longer Galar’s Champion.”

“Don’t say that,” you reply with a pout.

“It’s true, but until that day happens I’ll continue doing my best. It’s my dream to make the trainers of Galar the strongest in the world. I just wanted to know…when the day comes and Galar no longer needs me... will you be there for me?”

“Of course!” you reassure him with a wide grin, squeezing his hand. “I’ll always be there for you.”

His cheeks go pink and he nods.

“And, um…The party. It’s after my match with Volkner. The dress code is formalwear and there will be dancing. There’ll be a simple waltz.”

You go bug-eyed by the mere mention. “Dancing?? I don’t really dance…”

“Do you know how to dance?”

“No.”

He chuckles. “I can teach you the basics. I'm not an expert but I had to learn how to dance for events like these, though they are very rare.”

“Is it weird that I know how to deal with evil spirits but I don’t know how to dance?” you utter without thinking twice, and Leon laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, I’ll need to do a bit of shopping then. I'll need something to wear. I should go now.”

You toss your glance to the path and jab your thumb to the other direction with much reluctance.

“Sure, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

“…Goodbye.”

You hop onto the path with your bag swinging behind you, turning round to wave as he stands limply on his spot. “Bye, Leon.”

He reluctantly sets off to his direction, waving. “Bye.”

The departure is painful.

It is strange, just waving to him and walking off. Maybe you should've kissed and cuddled more. A hell lot more. You remind yourself that you are seeing him later.

So here you are, unwillingly meandering down the path to Motostoke on your own and away from Leon who’s on the path to Wyndon; you keep throwing glances over your shoulder before he’s out of sight and he does the same; the moment your eyes meet and surprisingly enough, you’re not inclined to look away as you would usually do.

And unfortunately you no longer get to see him when you head down the bend of the path and a huge dollop of trees blocks your view and he is finally out of sight. Your heart is still hammering and your cheeks still feel very warm, your lips tingling. You can’t wait to see him again later in the evening.

Glancing up to the clear blue sky above your head, a flock of bird pokemon soars ahead in V formation and you sigh with content as you gaze at the lush forestry, at the flowing river to your left where little Woopers and Barboach weave their way upstream.

Smiling to yourself, you grasp the strap of your bag firmly to your chest as you close your eyes and inhale a deep breath of fresh, crisp air.

You head to an empty forest clearing in order to receive a better signal before you bring up the message you received about the hairclip and ask Rotom to call the number and wait for a response.

“Hello?”

The voice belongs to a girl.

“Good morning, this is the pokemon researcher of Wedgehurst. I received your message.”

“Oh! Thanks for the callback.”

“No problem. Have I called you at a good time?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all good. Do you have the hairclip?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of returning it to you today if possible.”

“Yes please, I’m free right now. Could you come over? You’ve got my address, right?”

“I do. I’ll be there in half hour tops.”

“Thank you.”

After you hang up, you call for a Corviknight taxi to take you to twenty three Dorset Road, Motostoke. The shops aren’t open yet, so you could do some investigation first.

When it arrives, you climb in and Corviknight spreads his wings with a loud caw and takes off to the skies and in a matter of minutes, you have arrived outside a quaint two-storey, detached house with umber red walls and a white door; it opens and the same pink-haired girl you had seen yesterday emerges with a Sylveon by her side.

When the carriage lands on the front lawn with a gentle thud, you climb out and as you’re about to pay the fare, the girl quickly steps over and pulls out a wad of notes from her pocket, handing them to the cabbie.

“It’s on me,” she says before she turns to you and nudges her head towards the house. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, as Corviknight and the cabbie take their leave.

She holds the door open for you and you step inside the house, arriving at a small entryway where she urges you to remove your shoes. She removes her slippers, leaving herself barefoot as she weaves into the lounge.

The house is an atypical home and you see nothing out of the ordinary, though you can sense a darkness has settled within. It’s slathered all over the ceiling and crawls down the walls. A pungent, sour smell invades your nose….possibly originating from old shoes or leftover food.

And somewhere upstairs, you hear muffled sobbing and wailing.

“That’s my mum,” she says, “don’t mind her.”

At the top of the stairs, the ghost you saw yesterday lingers by the banister, staring at you silently.

It’s bizarre seeing a spirit in broad daylight and in this shape and form yet your eyes do not play tricks on you. Stepping forwards for a closer look, you mentally note that her body is transparent yet her eyes are as dark as night. You scrutinize her form for a while before she turns a smooth one eighty angle and floats away, disappearing into the wall.

“That’s Flora. My sister,” the girl says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“You can see her?”

“Yeah. I’ve always been able to see ghosts. And uh, thanks for coming by the way.”

She appears oblivious to your stunned expression and invites you to enter the living room where the negative energy is even stronger and the entire room is encased in darkness; your throat clams up, windpipe constricting and you struggle for breath. She doesn’t seem to notice how suffocated you are as you blindly make your way inside and she gestures for you to sit on one of the couches.

The Sylveon heads to a basket near the TV and curls up inside as the girl strolls past you and into the kitchen, asking if you want a drink. Tea or coffee. You opt for tea and a while later, she returns with two pink Jigglypuff mugs of steaming hot drinks and sits down on the couch adjacent to yours.

She looks at you from head to toe and you do the same.

The Delcatty clock ticks loudly on the wall.

You lift the cup to your lips and take a sip.

It's too hot.

The distorted weeping upstairs grows steadily in volume.

“I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh,” she says quietly, “I’ve read all about you, I’m a longtime lurker of your blog by the way and I love what you do. Ghosts, evil spirits, cursed objects…I’ve read every article you’ve posted.”

“Thank you very much for the patronage.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all. I love your work. So…where should I begin?”

“You could start off by telling me a bit about yourself and what you need my help for.”

She nods and places her cup down on the glass table. It emits a loud clang. The sobbing begins to descend into persistent croaks and gasps before it acts up again.

“Sure. My name is Francesca Warren. Everyone calls me Frankie. I’m fifteen years old and I’ve been able to see ghosts for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t really a problem for me…I learned to ignore them but unfortunately, it means I can see Flora. I want to help her move on but I don’t know how or why she can’t, and that’s why I need your help. I know you wrote about this on your blog but I’d love it if you could tell me everything in person.”

You nod in response. “Of course. There are a variety of reasons why spirits can’t move on. It’s usually due to their attachments to people, places, and also there may even be things that could hold her back from making the transition.”

“Like what?”

The crying upstairs continues so you briefly flick your glance up to the ceiling.

“Sometimes it’s because there is a loved one who can’t let go of the deceased, so this emotional bond binds the spirit and thus it cannot move on.”

“Oh,” says Frankie.

“Then there are negative emotions such as hatred or injustice towards something or someone, usually their murderer. If they are severe, the spirit will refuse to move on and this is more difficult to deal with…but there are also instances when people are confused or disoriented at the moment of their death, so they may not realise they’re dead which can also impact their moving on.”

“Got it.”

“Either way, I’m glad you reached out, your sister needs to move on as soon as possible. I’ll see what I can do.”

You wonder if she may need time to mourn when you see the corner of her eyes begin to fill up with tears yet she suddenly clenches her knuckles and says, “Thank you so much. I know how much you charge and I’m prepared to pay.”

“We can talk about renumeration afterwards.”

“Thank you.”

And the crying upstairs eventually subsides.

You shift your gaze to the ceiling and Frankie does the same briefly, before she averts her gaze to you and you glance at her and for a second or so, your gazes linger for a rather uncomfortable moment or so before she smiles thinly and you are forced to respond with a smile of your own.

“Then let’s get started,” Frankie says, rising from her seat. “Uh…where exactly should we start?”

“Tell me a bit more about Flora. What are the circumstances?”

“Oh, right. Of course. Well…” she lowers her voice drastically and urges you to lean towards her so she can whisper, “my sister doesn’t remember how she died…nor does she know why she died or who killed her, but we do.”

She grabs a manila folder from a shelf of the coffee table and hands it to you; you lift the flap and pull out a newspaper clipping. The headlines says: “BLACKBELT KILLS GIRLFRIEND” and there is a mugshot of an attractive but stern-looking young man with dark eyes on the cover.

“It was him. He did it. And since then, Flora appeared to me. Do you know how hard it is to see your sister, dead as a doornail?" she says, her voice beginning to rise a few octaves.

"...I can't possibly imagine your pain."

Frankie regains her composure and takes a deep breath. "Anyway, I attend boarding school in Kanto, Fuchsia City, so I’ve been away from home for a while. I just flew back. And when I got the news, the weather was bad and I had a dreadful feeling, like something wasn’t quite right. Then I got a call from my mum, saying Flora had been killed and her body was found. I flew back home on the first flight.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been horrible.”

“It was, but seeing her like this is worse. I usually see her in the house but lately she disappears at night and cabbies are finding her at the Watchtower Ruins in the Wild Area. She’ll hitch a ride, come back to the house but she'll disappear in the cab mid-ride. It’s happened four times now. You can read how Flora was killed in that newspaper I gave you but there’s also something else you should know.”

Frankie heads to the mantelpiece in the lounge, beckoning you over.

There are only a few photos on display and the rest of the mantelpiece appears to be covered in a thin layer of dust, albeit there are some ‘clean’ spots which shows that there used to be adornments here but had been removed.

The photos contain a beautiful young woman smiling widely for the camera – Flora, of course – dressed in all sorts of evening gowns and donned in tiaras and ribbons. The awards, ribbons and trophies are also inscribed with her name and the ribbon says ‘Miss Motostoke’.

“Flora was Miss Motostoke?” you murmur, and Frankie nods furiously, “the beauty pageant is over though. Flora was supposed to compete?”

“Yeah. She made it to the finals. But obviously after news of her death, another girl from Motostoke took her place instead.”

You check the remainder of the photos and see another woman is heavily featured in some photos. “Your mum, right?"

Frankie nods.

“She’s an ex-beauty pageant queen?”

“Yep.”

Glancing at the mantelpiece, you inspect the clean spots. “What was here before?” you ask out of curiosity.

“I think it was my mother’s trophies. I'm sure her tiara was here. She must’ve put it away. She won Miss Galar a long time ago.”

It’s also worth noting that you don’t see any photos of Frankie or her father anywhere. “Is your dad…?”

“He left when I was born,” Frankie replies, a little offhandedly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I barely knew him.”

“Can I talk to your sister?”

Frankie deadpans. “Um….you can try,” she says dryly, “she doesn’t actually talk. I’ll show you what I mean. Follow me.”

Frankie leads you out of the living room and to the stairs where you see a tall and dark shadow standing at the top of the landing: you freeze on the spot but it’s not Flora – it’s a bedraggled looking woman with long hair framing the sides of her face….and she is bathed in squirming dark tendrils that has completely swamped her from head to toe.

Whilst you merely stare, Frankie is clearly alarmed and exclaims, “Mum! You gave me a fright.”

“Sorry, Frank,” she blows her nose into a tissue; her eyes are swollen, red and watery. “Who’s this?”

Frankie flings her glance to you and introduces you briefly, mentioning your name but she doesn’t say you are a researcher and that she invited you. Instead, she tells her mother that you are a friend of Flora’s.

“Hello ma’am,” you say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The woman looks a little confused before her eyes ultimately narrow into slits. “Flora never mentioned your name to me before,” she hisses with much suspicion.

“It’s okay, mum. We’re friends.”

Without another word, the woman tosses you another wary look before she retreats into her room and you hear the door slam shut.

Frankie glances at you and bites on her lip nervously. “Sorry. My mum usually isn’t like this. She’s completely changed since Flora died.”

You nod as you begin your ascent up the stairs which you find rather steep, and the higher you go up, the pressure of the house increases and you let out a loud gasp of breath.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks, with an eyebrow raised.

“Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

You shake your head limply and as you pass the mother’s room where more dark tendrils squiggle and writhe between the gaps of the door, you murmur a quick chant to bless it but at the same time, you can see Frankie's mother inside.

She sits on the edge of the bed, crying and clutching a silver tiara in hands. It's the Miss Galar tiara - a beautiful, glimmering silver crown that glints brightly under the light adorned with a pink gemstone in the middle.

You quietly step away; she doesn't notice.

The shadows dissolve in a quick moment and you follow Frankie as she escorts you to a room. The door is closed and a plaque decorated with flowers says ‘Flora’ in flowery print.

Frankie takes a deep breath and slowly eases the door open as silently as possible.

The first thing you notice is that the room is musty. Her room must have been closed off for some time and there is a thin layer of dust on the ground. Frankie instructs you to keep quiet and to be as careful as possible as she tiptoes around the bed where the sheets haven’t been touched and there’s a pillow with a dent in the middle where someone used to lay their head down on it.

You follow her, creeping around the desk where a sketchbook lays open on the surface containing a bunch of fashion designs along with an unused pen that stands beside a ballerina figurine. A dressmaking mannequin is propped to the right near the bookshelf where a beautiful, tailored ruby red dress has been slipped over.

Frankie heads over to the dress at once, dusting at the pauldrons with her fingers before she glances at you; you’re fixated on something else entirely. Flora stands in front of the wide window with her back to you, her neck uncomfortably bent to one side.

“Flora?” you say quietly.

She does not reply so you swerve your gaze to Frankie and she whispers, “See what I mean?”

Flora was responsive enough to leave behind her hairclip for you though.

A few seconds later and she slowly turns round, her eerie and empty eyes meeting yours. Now you believe otherwise, so you tell her your name and who you are, what you do.

“I’m here to help,” you add, “Frankie and I will do our best to help you move on.”

The spirit appears calm and docile but it is apparent she is responsible for the dark presence that has encompassed the entire house and most noticeably, their mother. The energy is emitting from her in little wisps.

“In order to do that, you need to tell us what you want.”

“The pageant.”

Frankie’s jaw drops.

Flora’s voice is faint. An echo.

“She talked,” Frankie breathes out.

”What about the pageant, Flora?”

“I need to compete. I know it’s over but I wish there was a way I could have participated.”

You contemplate for a while before you swerve your eyes to the dress on the mannequin. Frankie gawks at her sister with disbelief.

The room drops into silence before you say, “There is a way. I can... let you possess me.”

Frankie continues gawping. “What?”

“It’s not unheard of. I can let you possess me and we’ll hold our own private pageant. I think we're both roughly the same height and size, so...the clothes shouldn't be an issue.”

“S-seriously???”

You nod.

“Are you okay with that?” Frankie splutters out, “will you be okay??”

“Yes. We need to help her move on. If this is the only way to help her, so be it. If we do nothing, she’ll become an evil spirit; she’s already at an early stage-“

“Who on earth gave you permission to go in here?!” screams a shrill voice, and Flora immediately vanishes whilst you and Frankie wince uncontrollably from the extortionate noise.

Frankie’s mum stands at the doorway, her face flush with anger.

“Get out!! Get out at once!”

“S-sorry mum,” Frankie says and you’re both quickly booted out of the room.

You watch the woman inspect the dress before she hysterically checks the pillows and the sheets, before she sighs with relief when everything is intact.

“Um, let’s go,” Frankie mutters under her breath, tugging on your sleeve.

Once you’re downstairs, you tell Frankie you should take your leave, which she agrees. She watches as you pick up your shoes and slip them on.

“By the way, did you mean what you said…that Flora will become an evil spirit? Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious. She’s haunting you and your house."

"Don't say it like that, I'm glad I still get to see her!"

"It's the truth. There are spirits who have unfinished business and the longer a spirit remains on this plane, the more it will begin to lose consciousness of itself. It will begin to warp and lose shape and form. It will lose everything.”

“But Flora’s not…she’s not evil.”

“There are plenty of reasons why evil spirits are created. It doesn’t necessarily have to be because it is evil. They no longer belong to this world, Frankie.”

She nods meekly.

“But you’re right. Your sister was gravely injured, particularly on her head…so I think that’s why she doesn’t recall how she died because if she did, well...she would’ve turned into an evil spirit immediately. Most evil spirits want to exact revenge against their murderers or they inflict their pain and suffering onto others. By then, they’re unsalvageable.”

“So…it’s a good thing Flora doesn’t remember?”

“Well, yes and no...but let’s not focus on that. There are several things we need to work on right now. Firstly, since we’re going to help your sister move on and her wish is to compete in the pageant, we need to reenact it. That means I need the clothes she was going to wear for it, any props and accessories, but I also want you to ask your mum for permission. Second, we should get a tiara or something for the pageant if possible-“

“Oh! Leave that to me, I could just borrow my mum’s. She won’t even notice!”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Will this work though?”

“Yes, it should.”

“Okay, let me get my sister’s stuff ready. I’ll let you know how I get on. When will we hold it?”

”I’ll be in touch.”

Without further ado, you leave the Warren residence and turn to look at the house one last time.

Flora stands at the window of her bedroom, staring limply outside.

…

#jeralee #Comfort in Despair #fanfic #fic #pokemon #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #pokemon sword and shield #reader #reader insert #leon #leon x reader #Leon x you #dande #pkmn #pokemonswordandshield

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Text

I just squealed in my living room because I got a songfic idea and I AHHHHHHHH my mom thinks I have a problem lmao sorry madre

I’m gonna make it up to you with some pure fluff.

No angst, no mental issues, no tragic event, just fluff.

And it’s also not a request because I’ll do those later lol procrastination

And for once I’m giving you a non depressed Tsukishima so cherish the moment while it lasts because depressed Tsukishima is gonna be back

Frozen// Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Mild to no swearing

Summary: It’s fluff hours

Your entire body feels hot, as if everything inside of you is burning up. Your nose is tinted red as a blush spreads through your cheeks, a snowflake floating down and landing on the tip of it. Thank god it’s pitch black at night, or you would just dig a hole and crawl into it out of embarrassment. The coat that is draped around you only adds to the effect, warming your body up like a radiation heater. It’s a pretty big coat, considering the fact that it belongs to someone who’s a whole foot taller than you. You hug yourself under the thick fabric, taking in the scent as you snuggled into it. It’s snowing like crazy in the empty streets of Miyagi, and the only thing keeping you somewhat warm is this huge ass trench coat that Tsukishima was nice enough to borrow to you. “Dude, are we there yet? It’s cold as hell out here. I came to sketch flowers, not let you haul my frozen body back home as a statue.” You scoff, letting out a dry chuckle. “No one asked you to give me your coat. And just hold on, we’re almost there. Just take your coat back, I don’t want you getting sick.” The blond rolls his eyes, his face breaking into that iconic shit eating smirk. “You look like you’re getting pretty comfy with it.” “Shut up! I’m trying to be nice over here!” Tsukshima’s fingers fiddle with each other in his pant pockets. Just a few minutes ago, when he saw you start shivering, he didn’t hesitate to take his thick coat off and throw it at you. He would rather die than admit it, but he felt like a million butterflies hatched from his stomach, and made their way all the way up to his chest as well. Under the dim moonlight, if you pay enough attention, you should be able to notice the beet red in the tips of his ears. Although it’s negative two degrees out, he only feels slightly colder than usual. He’s wearing about three layers, not including the coat he gave you. A tight fitting long sleeved shirt, a slightly thicker shirt, and a wool sweater is enough to keep him warm. In addition to that, he’s also extremely flustered, his entire body tingling with warmth. He’s trying his best to flirt with you, teasing you and poking fun at your tiny figure who is now making sweater paws with his coat. His heart is thumping so wildly that he’s somewhat nervous about you being able to hear it. In his bag, a camera, a notebook, his phone, and his pencil case make occasional shuffling noises. Maybe that’s why you can’t hear the drums hammering in his chest, threatening to reveal themselves.

“Right ahead, they start blooming right under that bridge.” You point to a wooden bridge, a field of moon flowers starting to bloom in the pitch black night. The moon reflects off their surfaces, letting them illuminate the area around them a beautiful hue of maya blue. Tsukishima’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he stares at the flowers in awe. “Wow, they’re really pretty.” You chuckle, glancing back at him cheekily. “I told you, they look awesome don’t they?” The blond ignores you, completely mesmerised by the blooming moon flowers as he wanders onto the bridge, you trailing closely behind him. He grabs his bag, and sits down, back pressing against the railing. You take a seat next to him, hugging yourself in his coat. He reaches into the relatively large laptop bag, pulling out a camera case. You watch him fiddle with the settings, more so observing his face more than anything else. You watch as his eyes squint slightly as he tries toggling a knob, before bringing the camera up to his face and testing it out, before pouting slightly, continuing his toggling. Finally, he stands up, walking to the edge of the bridge as he snaps a photo of the moon flowers. He walks back to where you are, plopping down next to you as he pulls the picture up, blowing some snowflakes off of the camera. His lips curl up into a rare smile as he stares at the photo. “Nice.” You try your best to stay calm, but deep down inside, you’re about to squeal like a crazy fangirl. You didn’t think he could get any more handsome, but Tsukishima Kei looks like a whole ass god in front of you right now, the cold hues of the night complimenting his looks perfectly as tiny snowflakes make their way onto his lashes. The peaceful smile on his face is soon replaced by a sly smirk. “Enjoying the view or something?” If you knew better, you should’ve been able to tell how much he enjoyed the fact that you were staring at him. He doesn’t care if it’s just some random person that admires him, but when it comes to you, everything matters. You snap out of your tiny trance, going beet red. “I just dozed off with my eyes open, don’t get cocky idiot.” The boy chuckles, pulling his pencil case and notebook out of the bag. He takes a look at the photo, before starting to sketch. You sit there, not knowing what to do. Here you are, alone with the person you’ve liked for a solid two years, sitting in peaceful silence as he sketches moon flowers. This is everything you could possibly ask for, except you’re terrified to say anything. You hold your words back, not wanting to jeopardise the close friendship you managed to form with the cold middle blocker. You rack your brains, desperately trying to think of a way to interact with him.

“Hey Tsukki?”

The blond glances at you, pencil still in hand.

“Yeah?”

“It’s sad boy hours, wanna rant?”

He leads his eyes back to the semi-completed sketch, continuing to swipe tiny strokes on the paper.

“You want me to start?”

You nod, hugging yourself tighter.

Tsukishima sighs, glancing at you once more, before looking down. He contemplates his options. Should he rant about a real issue that had been bothering him forever, or a random thing that happened during school? He weighed the options, comparing the stakes.

“Sad boy hours are the best. I get to rant to you as much as I can. I’m gonna get it out there and just tell you this. There’s this girl that I like a lot.”

Your heart drops, but you play it off and wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“Ooooh Tsukishima salt lord Kei has a cruuuuuush~”

The blond rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks go warm.

“Shut up and let me talk shortie. There’s this girl I really like, but I can’t tell her anything because if I do she might stop being friends with me. I can’t afford to let that happen, so I stay silent, but it hurts knowing that someone else can swoop in and take her any day. I- damn, she’s just amazing. It’s hard not knowing what she thinks about me. She might hate me, or she might like me back. I wouldn’t know until I ask, but I’m too scared to do that. It’s been bothering me since last year and quite frankly it won’t get out of my head.” He goes silent, waiting for your response.

“Dude, same. I feel you. I’ve liked someone for years, and yet I still haven’t confessed to him. Honestly it bothers me too, but I don’t know what to do myself. I can give you advice, but I won’t act on it because I don’t know how to. The risk is too high and I can’t lose another close friend.” You stop, playing with the hem of the thick coat as wind blows around you two.

“What do you think I should do then?”

You huff out, a puff of steam coming out from your mouth.

“You should totally just tell her. She would understand if she was a real friend. If your feelings end up unrequited and she stops being friends with you because of that then it’s just immature. To be honest she probably likes you too, I mean who wouldn’t? You’re literally top tier boyfriend material, there’s no way she hasn’t fallen for you yet.” Pointing at him, you wave your index finger in circles around him, hyping him up. Although you’re slightly disheartened by the fact that Tsukishima already likes somebody, you’re still determined to help him get to whoever this girl is. As long as he’s happy, your issues can wait.

The blond chuckles dryly, his mind racing.

“It’s not that easy you know. Are you sure this is gonna work?”

You slyly smile, nodding your head furiously. You’re all here for Tsukishima confessing to the girl of his dreams even if it hur-

“It’s you.”

Wait what?

Your mind goes blank for a second, trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. His statement echoes through your head loud and clear. Your mouth slowly drops, hanging open as it curls up into a wide smile. You start to laugh until you grab your stomach and double over. Tsukishima stares at you in confusion. “What?” You wipe the tears in your eyes, continuing to laugh your ass off while you shake your head. “No way, there’s no way you like me. Never in a million years. Dude stop joking around and call your crush, I wanna see her reaction! Plus, I’m not good enough for you, you’re literally the definition of perfecti-”

You shut up as you feel a pair of lips on yours, and a hand pulling your chin in. You gasp in surprise, not knowing how to react. It’s like you’re suddenly hypersensitive to everything around you. The glow of the flowers seem more vibrant than when you first got here. The wind felt colder than it should have. The moon is blindingly bright, like a flashlight in a cave, illuminating everything. You can feel every single snowflake that lands on you, tingling your skin. Feeling the grip on your chin that loosened, you pull away slightly, eyes agape and face dusted red as you stare back at Tsukishima’s eyes. Those goddamn eyes that get you every time. His permanent frown is now a tiny, but slightly melancholy grin.

“Does that prove it?”

You don’t know what to say. Your composure is completely broken. The thumping of your heart is heavy and you can’t hear anything apart from that. Your face is completely red, warming you up better that his coat ever can. You try your best to make a clear sentence. “Kei I- I wa- Tha-” Giving up, you do the only thing you can think of to show him how you feel. Grabbing his sweater, you pull him into another kiss, this time squeezing your eyes shut as you appreciate the moment. You know that the moon flowers are still blooming, the snow is still falling, but you don’t care. All you want is for time to be frozen for this. You wish for this moment to last forever, although you know it’s impossible. Just you, and Tsukishima, pouring out your feelings for each other in a field of glowing flowers and silence in the darkness of the night. His hands find their way to your cheeks, cupping them tenderly as he smiles. This is the best he’s ever felt in a really, really long time. It’s as if a weight had been removed from his chest. He no longer has to hide his emotions. This is enough to show him everything. His notebook lays next to him, the pencil rolling off of it and onto the bridge. The half finished two page drawing is made visible by the moonlight, and it isn’t just a drawing of the flowers.

It’s you. He was drawing your expression when you saw the field of flowers, along with the blooming wonders in front of him.

The two of you stay in that position, lips connected, until you feel your lungs give out. Pulling away, you give out an audible gasp, giggling to yourself.

“Well that felt nice. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

The world might’ve still been spinning, and everyone might’ve still been sleeping soundly in bed, or they might’ve been doing whatever they were doing as the world moved on.

But just for a few moments, you swore that time was frozen for the two of you.

References:

Frozen by Sabrina Claudio

Lyrics from Frozen

A shit ton of weird flower searches on google

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @tiger1719 @trashcanweeb @just-another-bored-writer @justachillgirl @random-fandomlover @kaylacinderella @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @macaronnv @inlwlevi @mariechan123 @tiredgr3mlin @bokutokoutarou @for-ests @burnt-tomato @letshaikyuu @estherwritess @emsvegetables @artsamber @fullmetalfangirl21 @sakusasgarbage @agentvicinity

Dm or comment if you want to be tagged!

Wow for once Tsukishima is happy on this blog lmaooo

Have fun reading this thing that I spent like hours on

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu tsukishima #hq #hq x reader #hq scenario #hq hadcanons #hq imagine #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenario #tsukishima x reader #fluff #anime #please read this i spent hours on it thank you

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

Note

Ram/Sita + spy au+ friends to lovers + “you know i’ll do anything for you”

lol this...AGAIN....spun out of my control.....and is apparently 6020 words while still having massive massive holes in characterization and plot and ...general stuff..lol. anyways hope u like it? it ended up being way less Spy Spy and more ....arranged marriage au...... because everything i’ve written has basically been that now lol and raazi is the only spy movie i could think of that works bc rama and sita dont have mr and mrs smith vibes to me. love u!!!!!!

----

“Are you serious?”

The face on the screen is somehow almost as familiar as Sita’s own -- she’s never been one for the gossip rags, but at some point, it’s almost harder not to know the features of someone who’s been famous since his parents announced his conception.

“You know him, then.” Sita’s handler Kaikeyi seems remarkably even-tempered for a woman charging Sita, her top recruit, to attach herself to the arm of Kaikey’s stepson -- a boy that the papers seem to believe Kaikeyi prefers even to her own Bharata. Sita raises an incredulous eyebrow before realizing that Kaikeyi does actually expect Sita to recite what she knows about her newest target.

“Ramachandra Raghav,” Sita recites from memory, “but the papers call him Ram. Only son of Dasaratha and his first wife Kausalya, sole presumptive inheritor to the Kosala industries fortune. Dasaratha Raghav and his wife publicly struggled to conceive and adopted a daughter, Shanta, nine years before they had Ram whose birth coincided with the release of Dasartha’s final film and his entry into politics.” Sita purses her lips, unsure if she should continue, but Kaikeyi remains impassive. “Dasaratha and Kausalya divorced when Ram was five, and three months later Dasaratha married you.” Judiciously Sita chooses not to include the fact that Kaikeyi, who during her acting days had only been paired with the already greying movie star, reportedly delivered her eight-pound son Bharata three months early.

Kaikeyi rolls her eyes, still the same striking green that had made her first film such a hit. “Of course I was pregnant when we got married. What else.”

Sita racks her mind. “The custody case was unusual -- Kausalya shifted to America with her children, but Dasaratha petitioned for them to stay with him in India. Shanta was 16 and decided to finish school abroad with Kausalya, but the courts decided that Ram would spend alternate years with each parent until he reached his majority.” It was the oddity of the arrangement that kept the Indian public so desperate for news about what otherwise might have been just another star-turned-politician’s son: pictures of Bharata, who was constantly being presented at building openings, movie premiers and other assorted Party functions went for nearly a quarter of the price as those of Ram whose arrival at the Delhi airport became more and more of a national event in sync with his father’s increasing political power. The exoticism of his American English was viewed with as much pride as his unaccented Hindi which the Party often used to great effect, having him canvass his father’s constituents on camera the year Dasaratha was put forward as the party’s candidate for Chief Minister and releasing them online.

But it has been a few years since Ram was last in India for more than a month or so’s vacation -- at 16 he graduated from school and sent the Indian media into near paralytic shock when he decided to attend university in Delhi. Not even three years dimmed the public’s fascination, which quickly turned into genuine discontent when it was announced that Ram had accepted an offer to do his doctorate in California and had barely been seen in India since.

“You want me to investigate a Chief Minister’s son?” Again, Sita leaves unsaid the rumors that swirl even in headquarters -- that Dasaratha’s relative competency at state-wide management has made him a viable candidate for even higher office. That after the last election’s dismal results, it is apparent that Dasaratha might be the only remaining Party figure popular enough to lead a coalition that would bring them to power in the Centre after nearly a decade at the periphery.

Kaikeyi laughs. “Not quite,” she says, still perfect red lips twisting in a faint smile, “Ram is in New York now working for the UN, and it seems that he will have a long and illustrious career in diplomacy which will bring him into contact with all sorts of people of interest to our national security agencies. We need someone at his side to make sure that those contacts are being utilized to their full potential.”

Sita frowns. “He’s too young to need a trusted aide or a secretary.”

“Correct. That’s why we’re sending you to New York as his wife.”

When Sita is 18, a woman comes up to her on the street asking if she’d like to be a model. As a laugh Sita shows up at what the woman’s business card says is the head-hunting agency’s main office only to be quickly moved to a backroom, divested of her backpack, phone and shoes and investing her with a new lifelong wariness of strangers with offers too good to be true. Her father is the aging yet venerable University President -- they don’t have the money for ransom, but Sita just as quickly rules out potential trafficking since her father has one or two connections that would raise quite the fuss if he informed them that his daughter was missing. But before she can think of another reason behind her apparent kidnapping, the door opens, and Sita’s life changes with the incoming rush of bright light into the dark room.

“You’re..” she splutters, eyes raking up and down the perfect figure of the woman in front of her.

“Yes,” Kaikeyi Raghav says, sunglasses perched delicately at the top of her head as she adjusts the pallu of her elegant chiffon sari. “I’m sorry for all the confusion, but we really needed to get you alone before we could try and talk to you.”

“Talk,” Sita rasps, suddenly hyper aware of her own dry throat. Kaikeyi sighs, clapping her hands once before taking a bottle of water that appeared almost instantly at the door’s threshold, opening the cap and offering it to Sita who gulps it down. “Talk about what?” Sita asks.

“One of our associates brought you to our attention about a year ago thinking that with some work you could be turned into something quite extraordinary.” Kaikeyi brings up her right hand to pull down her hair from its updo, the cascades only making her more breathtaking to Sita, whose father always had a soft spot for the old Dasaratha-Kaikeyi films. “I’ve been observing you ever since, and recently came to the same conclusion.”

Sita can’t help but glow at the praise, even as she tries to keep her sense of rationality -- she’s been kidnapped after all, even if by one of the nation’s most illustrious figures. First: “Are you trying to traffick me into sex work?”

Kaikeyi laughs, and the sound is clear and captivating like a bell. The more Sita watches, the smaller details begin to stand out -- a mole just slightly to the right of Kaikeyi’s collarbone, the green of the embroidery that brings out those colors in her eyes, the red fingernails that perfectly match Kaikeyi’s lips.

“Do I look like a pimp?” Kaikeyi’s tone is one that does not truly seek a response, though Sita is not sure she even has one. The proclivities of the rich and powerful are rumored to skew to the truly scandalous, and there is no reason that an elegant woman could not be the front for the procurement of such services.

“Then is this supposed to be recruitment for politics?” Sita has never thought herself particularly gifted at deception, which seems to be the first requirement for a fruitful career of public service.

“No,” Kaikeyi laughs again, “but I find it interesting that you didn’t consider that I might be signing you on as a heroine.”

“I don’t have a face for film,” Sita says, “and I have no intention of leaving Delhi.”

“You have exactly the face for film,” Kaikeyi counters, “but I agree -- your mind would be as wasted as mine in Bombay.”

“Then politics?” Sita, who was born and brought up in Calcutta before her father was given a position in Delhi had never given much thought to the Raghav’s stronghold Ayodhya -- she can’t imagine what Kaikeyi could possibly see in her.

Kaikeyi shakes her head. “What do you know about this country’s intelligence services?”

Sita blinks. “You want me to be a spy?”

Five years after their first meeting, Sita has learned how to handle all sorts of weapons including her own body, how to speak a dozen languages, how to scope out a room. In some strange way, Kaikeyi seems to have filled the gaping hole left behind by Sita’s long-dead mother Sunaina, who Sita is not entirely sure would approve of what her daughter decided to make of her life. There isn’t quite a bond of affection, but there is loyalty beyond even what Sita would have given her own mother -- no better proof than the fact that here Sita is agreeing to marry Kaikeyi’s stepson entirely because Kaikeyi demanded it, where Sunaina would have had quite the shock if she had tried to suggest a man for Sita to wed. Sita had dreamed of marrying for love, but loyalty she reasons is close enough.

Ostensibly, Sita has finished her MA with high honors and works at an NGO that enjoys Kaikeyi’s patronage -- this, they decide, is how the papers will be told Kaikeyi knows Sita. There are a few strategically leaked photos of Kaikeyi first paying the NGO a visit, then taking Sita out for a series of lunches. Sita finally travels to the ancestral Raghav mansion in Ayodhya for Diwali, bringing along her father to meet and pay his respects to his favorite screen star.

“You must be Sita’s father,” Dasaratha booms when they approach, somehow brimming with the same vitality and presence that drew such crowds to the theater in his youth. He grins, left arm wound around Kaikeyi’s waist at his side as he turns to speak to Sita. “My wife has grown old and taken up matchmaking to pass the time, but from what I have seen you would be a fine choice for my Ram.”

Janaka stiffens at Sita’s side, hearing about such an arrangement for the first time, but Dasaratha’s charisma pulls him into its orbit as Dasaratha reaches out his hands. “I confess that I was never well educated myself, but I believe it would only bring me and my family honor to be able to call someone as learned as yourself ‘Brother.’”

Janaka is sold. Sita, who has never been quite sure about the real dynamic between Kaikeyi and her husband, realizes with some relief that there is genuine fondness, even love, in the smile she flashes her husband. Perhaps there might be hope for Sita herself.

Dasaratha insists that the informal engagement is enough to justify Sita and her father’s extended stay at the mansion. After one day, he calls Ram himself informing his son that Dasaratha has found him a wife. Within a week, the news reports that Dasaratha’s eldest son has found himself back on Indian soil.

Sita finally leaves the mansion two weeks after Diwali with the instruction that she must treat the property as her own home whenever she returns to India -- after all, Dasaratha booms, she is his beloved Ram’s wife now, and Dasaratha’s daughter now as much as Janaka’s.

“So,” Sita says on their first night, sitting on what's supposed to be their marital bed, “what name should I call you?”

Her husband raises an eyebrow, silent just as he has been for almost the entire week since he was called home. Kaikeyi, when Sita asked for details, had not elaborated on the character of her stepson nor had she offered details about how Sita might best seduce him.

“Follow your instincts,” Kaikeyi had said, smiling at Sita’s frustration. “You’ll know what I mean when you spend time with him.”

Well, Sita thinks perversely, her instincts are telling her to confess everything to the man she has promised herself to in front of her father, and God almighty. Somehow, she is meant to maintain a lifelong relationship with a man she is only now speaking to, and to mine his contacts for information to send back to her handler, his stepmother.

“The papers call you Ram,” Sita says, only a little sullen at the thought of the task ahead of her, “as does your family. Is that what you prefer to go by?”

“My father’s family,” he corrects mildly, and Sita immediately flushes at the mistake. Kaushalya and Shanta had of course come, but arrived only the night before the wedding -- Sita had met them both the morning of, but only enough to touch their feet and have Kaushalya cluck, teary-eyed, over the beauty of Sita in her wedding sari.

“Of course,” Kaushalya had said off-handedly to Shanta standing at her side, “Kaikeyi has always had excellent taste.” Sita had not trusted herself to answer.

“Will we live with your mother in America?” Sita has been provided with what she considers shockingly little information regarding her future living situation -- Kaikeyi insists that, largely, this assignment requires Sita to effectively live her own life and as such being more information than provided a new wife would only detract from her performance.

He shakes his head. “My mother and Shanta live in New York too, but Shanta needed to be closer to Columbia and...” he looks away, suddenly just slightly awkward. “Things changed so much for Mother throughout my life that I think she was finally able to find some type of stability when I was away at university. When it turned out that I was moving back, I didn’t want to be the one to throw her life back into flux.”

Sita nods. “Are you close?”

Her husband hums, fingers of one hand slightly worrying at the hem of a blanket. “As much as I can be, having spent every other year away.”

Sita can’t imagine -- for years, the story of the boy caught so explicitly between two worlds has always been interesting or amusing, but now that she’s confronted with him in the flesh she knows that it must have been sad, too. She tries to imagine a mother committing to the notion that the child she waves off at the airport gate would not be the one who returned, and finds that it’s impossible.

“It must have been difficult,” she offers, not elaborating on whether she is speaking of her husband’s family, or himself.

He nods. “Father and Mother Kaikeyi always had Bharata, and the Party. I was glad when Mother found Sumitra and the boys.”

Sita’s eyes widen. “A friend?”

He turns his body to look at her for the first time head-on. “No,” he says, eyes boring into Sita’s, exuding the same gravitational force as his father. “Her wife. The boys are my Father’s during a...period of disagreement with Mother Kaikeyi, and when Sumitra decided to keep them Mother brought her to New York to have the children. They fell in love.”

This is a test, Sita realizes, and for the first time, she realizes the wisdom of Kaikeyi’s lack of preparatory material even as she curses Kaikeyi in equal measure. She would have liked to have not been blindsided, but there is a truth to her reaction she could never have mimicked so effectively. Her mind roils with the amount of information relayed in such few sentences -- Dasaratha, already so old, still fathering sons. Kaikeyi and her husband having a disagreement so strident it sent him into another’s arms. Kausalya, raising more of Dasaratha’s children as her own. Kausalya, in love with a woman.

Her silence has drawn on too long during her contemplation, and her husband’s eyes have gone cold as he leans away from her.

“You call her Sumitra,” she decides on, “but if she’s your mother’s wife, should I call her mother in law as well?”

Her husband is wide-eyed himself for a moment, but then his face cracks into a smile just dripping with sudden, unexpected delight. Sita’s heart skips a beat at the sight.

“It would make her very happy if you did,” he says. “And as for me, my mother has always insisted on calling me Ramachandra and none of my siblings use my name at all. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

---

“Rama!” Sita exclaims, trying to rise from the chair behind her desk and managing to trip on the hanging sleeve of the sweater she had been sitting on. She laughs, picking herself up off the ground. “Oh, and you brought the boys too!”

It’s been a year since Sita moved to New York, a year in which she’s found fulfilling work at a South Asian women’s shelter, learned how to navigate herself via subway to find the best of ten different cuisines in New York, read three books related to Shanta’s new area of interest, featured in the boys’ Instagram Lives over 20 different times, and found herself a best friend in the form of her husband.

Ram, she had decided, was how the public knew him even if his father’s family chose the same. Ramachandra was much too long. Rama was short, sweet, vowels easy in Sita’s mouth.

“No one calls me that,” he’d said when she’d first used the name, his tone again one of unexpected delight. “I’ve always thought it was strange that they never did.”

Sita’s due a lunch break, but she’s always been prone to eating at her desk unless she’s eating out -- a budgeted, once weekly expense she keeps track of after the humiliating exorbitancy of her first month’s bill.

“We have money,” Rama had said, bemused at Sita’s profuse apologies. “I’ve got a trust fund, but my salary certainly pays well enough for this.” He’d glanced at the bill Sita had handed him as she had wrung her hands in front of him, so unsure of how she’d managed to spend so much. “It looks like this is mostly just restaurant charges anyway, and,” he’d looked up at Sita with a smile, rising to hold her hands before she could twist them again, “you live in New York now. I’m glad that you’ve spent the last month trying all sorts of the things the city has to offer. It’s exactly what I did when I moved back, except I probably spent twice as much.”

Sita had felt the first of many twin pangs at his kindness -- one pang of joy, at being with someone so well suited to herself, and another of sorrow when she thought of how their relationship was founded on a lie. Kaikeyi had told Sita that there was no need to actively seek out contacts for at least the first year, and so the extent of her real work was having regular conversations with Kaikeyi that easily blurred the line between professional and personal relationships.

“Is he any good at sex,” Kaikeyi had asked one day after asking for a report about Rama’s “family situation” which Sita found distressingly similar to the inquiries of a second wife wondering about her husband’s former paramours. Sita had hung up.

“Sita?” Sita starts, bringing herself out of her reverie and smiling.

“Sorry,” she says, grabbing her coat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Something interesting?” He takes the coat and holds it out for Sita to slip her arms into, smoothing down the lapels when she turns around. “I spent the whole morning stuck in the single least productive set of meetings, and knowing them they’re probably arguing about what appetizers to get for lunch. I’ve never felt as lucky as I did when I told them all that, unfortunately, I’d already logged that I was taking a half-day to take care of my brothers.”

The boys scowl. “We’re thirteen years old,” Lakshmana says. Shatrughana nods in agreement. “We could have gone home by ourselves!”

Sita flashes Rama a smile, leaning down with an expression as if in deep thought. “That’s true enough -- if you’d like we can send you home and just join you after I finish work, but aren’t your moms on a health kick right now?”

Lakshmana, always the more suspicious of the pair, crosses his arms. “And?”

“Well,” Sita drawls, hearing Rama snort softly next to her, “your brother and I were thinking of taking you to the greasiest joint we can find in walking distance, and then to 7/11 after to find you both snacks for when you spend the weekend at our apartment. But if you’d rather not, that’s totally ok too!”

The boys fall for the line, hook and sinker.

“Oh,” Lakshmana says, voice suddenly a pitch lower than usual as he squares his shoulders in what Sita doesn’t think any of the three recognize is his best imitation of Rama, “that’s ok.” He looks over at Shatrughana, who nods. “Family is important. Let’s go eat!”

“Thank you,” Rama says softly after they’ve finally decided where to eat and are walking in the correct direction. Sita raises an eyebrow. “You’re good with the boys,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I was expecting to have to take them out on my own, and stay at my mother’s when I wanted to spend time with them but --”

Sita interrupts him before he says something truly embarrassing about what she only sees as a pleasure. “It’s easy when they’re such good kids,” she says, “and I would have done it even if it was harder. It’s the least I could have done for you, after everything.”

Everything being the credit cards he’d given her when they landed, his insistence that he wouldn’t monitor her spending and would set up a bank account for her that he would periodically transfer money into but not be able to access. Everything being the books he shared with her and the books he read on her recommendation, in turn, the concerts they’d attended together, the plays and musicals and movies and street festivals. Everything being the conversations they’d had on the couch until late at night, the meals he learned to cook because they reminded her of home.

The one similarity underlying all others between them, Sita realized one day, was that they had both grown up lonely, without anyone person, they could claim truly, entirely understood them. Neither of them had had a best friend until they met the other. By unspoken agreement, they had not consummated their marriage that first night, nor during the first few hectic months of Sita’s acclimation to New York. Eventually, it became easier to simply maintain things as they were and to enjoy the novelty of a companion before things became ... complicated.

If a part of Sita insisted that she hold off from sex so as to not build even more on an inherently unstable foundation -- if that same part screamed that her husband had given her trust beyond all else and she squandered the gift every day she didn’t tell him who she really was -- then that was something for Sita, and only Sita, to think about.

---

“Oh,” Sita hears from the bathroom threshold, glancing through the mirror at the figure Rama cuts in his tailored tuxedo. It’s been nearly a year and six months since their marriage, and what Sita thought of as friendship has since bloomed into a wild, uncontrollable love. Yet, she keeps her love to herself, knowing that it would be cruel to offer him fruit with a rotted core.

He cares too, she knows -- only a fool could willingly ignore the little signs of it he offers so freely, long and lingering looks, kisses to her cheek, forehead, the corner of her lips and the edges of her knuckles. She knows that her resistance to further intimacy must confuse him, perhaps even hurt him, but still, she can’t help but think that things would be worse if she gave in only for him to find out later. Sometimes, she wonders if Dasaratha knows about Kaikeyi -- if Lakshmana and Shatrughana owe their existence to a revelation of the truth which so discomfited their sire that he sought another woman to drown in.

Sita is selfish, far too much so, to allow the truth to poison what she now has, half-life as it is. So she smiles over meals Rama cooks for her, meets the contacts Kaikeyi has started sending her way during lunch breaks she takes less frequently at her desk and begins preparing her heart for when things will inevitably fall apart. Today, she and Rama will attend a gala meant to raise funds for refugees which will double as a drop-point for some dissident’s data collection from the last five years on the inside of their regime’s surveillance operation.

“You look beautiful,” Rama says, walking in. Sita’s hands, haphazardly smoothing down the last wisps of hair that refuse to curve to her skull in their updo, pause when he places his own over them. “Is that my mother’s sari?”

Sita nods. “The style has come back,” she says, reaching out to the counter for the strand of jasmine Sumitra had sent to their apartment to be paired with Kausalya’s sari. “Even Kaikeyi approved, which means that this outfit technically has the approval of all three of your mothers, and your sister as well.”

Rama smiles softly, taking the jasmine and pinning it up with a deft hand that speaks of experience. “I’ve never been one to keep up with fashion trends, but I think you wear it very well.”

“Kaikeyi says it makes me look like a movie star.” In order for the drop to be successful, Kaikeyi had demanded Sita pull out all the stops possible within the relatively demure confines of charity-wear. Sita’s blouse plunges at the back, skin unobstructed by a pallu or bra, and she shivers slightly when Rama’s left-hand traces lines.

“I suppose she would know,” he says absently, eyes raking up and down at Sita’s reflection in the mirror they both face, passing over her eyes rimmed with kohl and her dark red lips. His right-hand falls to his pocket, searching for a moment before he finds what he needs, pulling out a pair of beautiful earrings Sita hadn’t known he had.

“Mother Kaikeyi had me get these from storage a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if they would suit what you were planning on wearing.” They look at the pieces in his hands, realizing together how well the earrings will look with Sita’s sari.

“Will you put them on me,” Sita asks, voice thin and breathy despite herself. His hands are gentle, just slightly cool to the touch as they gently thread the earrings into her lobes, tightening the screws and caressing her ear before moving to ghost over Sita’s hips. If Sita moved into his touch, allowed him to grasp her body so hard that she bruised if she turned her face just slightly and brushed her lips against his -- her entire body is one flame, but even now she is attending this gala with her own motive, even has a small gun she plans on holstering to her left leg as insurance. She can’t.

She can’t. Sita takes one step forward, Rama’s hands falling back to his own sides.

“We’ll be late,” Sita says, moving them back into purgatory instead of choosing heaven or hell.

Rama shakes his head slightly, taking a breath. “Yes,” he replies, tone never betraying a sense of the frustration he must feel. He smiles again, holding out a hand. Sita will tell him one day, she tells herself. He deserves that much.

“Let’s go.”

One day, it seems, will be sooner rather than later. Sita’s very first drop of this assignment, after nearly two years of prep, and it seems like she’s going to end up just another statistic, shot in the head for all her efforts.

Worse, she thinks, she’s going to break Rama’s heart. The dissident was less careful than they’d thought, trusted someone they shouldn’t have, and now they’re both being held up against a wall and being told to recite any final prayers for their souls. Sita’s single measly gun at her hip wouldn’t change the odds of 10 against 2, especially since no amount of physical training will significantly change the realities of her smaller physique going up against larger numbers of even better-trained muscle.

She only wishes that she’d thrown caution to the wind once, had told Rama the truth and let the cards fall where they may. She wishes she could see him one more time and apologize, reassure him that her love was true even if her initial motives weren’t.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere in the distance, away from their cluster of a firing squad. Her heart simultaneously sinks and soars to realize that the voice is Rama. “That’s my wife!”

The leader laughs, just as the dissident sobs. Sita clutches their hand tighter. “Then I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t been much of a wife,” the leader sneers, “just another one of Kaikeyi’s little rats meddling where they’re unwanted.”

“Run!” Sita screams, deciding that she’d rather Rama be alive than hear her confessions before he too is killed. “For my sake run, before they decide to kill you too!” In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s already too late -- people are executed for far less than what Rama is doing, which is continuing to walk forward.

He sighs audibly, not even pausing his forward momentum. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for some reason, Sita genuinely believes that he is. “You know I’d do anything for you, but there’s something I haven’t told you yet about me.”

Shouldn’t that be Sita’s line? “What,” she croaks, captivated by how he’s somehow holding the group hostage, each of them curiously watching as he walks right up to wear Sita and her companion stand against the wall. “Please,” she sobs, breaking her own vow to face death with dignity, “if you’ve ever cared about me, you would leave.”

Rama’s fingers come up to trace Sita’s bruised eye, her puffy lip, the cut at her cheekbone. “Concussion?” he asks, completely ignoring Sita’s plea.

“It hardly matters,” she says, “when I’m going to die in about five minutes. Just like you will if you don’t leave right now.”

Rama hums, right hand shifting down to her thigh, where her gun is strapped. Sita’s eyes widen as though the fabric he seems to be easing the gun out and up to where the fabric wraps around her waist. Left hand still caressing her cheek as the right holds the gun in place against her stomach, he leans in to gently kiss Sita’s forehead.

“All three of us are going to live tonight,” he says, so confident that it seems as if it would be absurd for Sita to think anything else as if even three against 10 the odds are stacked firmly in their favor. “Hold this for me?”

Sita’s hand shifts down to the gun still hidden in the fabric as Rama steps away and turns, his hands now busy divesting himself of his tuxedo jacket and the bowtie Sita had so painstakingly learned how to tie for him earlier.

“Now,” he says casually, as everyone watches him worry at his cufflinks, dropping them in the pile now at Sita’s feet, later followed by his wedding ring. “Unfortunately for you all this means that you will not be surviving this encounter. Do you have any last words?”

The leader laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rama’s left-hand reaches out behind him. Sita, as if in a trance, dutifully fishes out the gun and places it in his hand before realizing that she has something she needs to say before it's too late. His own confidence gives her some of her own, but still how could he possibly win? How will they possibly survive -- and if, against all odds they do, what on earth is she going to say? So: “I love you,” she blurts out, smiling slightly when Rama’s head twists to look at her, incredulous, but before he can respond the first bullet fires and he explodes into action.

For the first two minutes, the fight is 10 against 1 and still, Rama makes it look like child play. Weaving in and out, every shot he fires taking down at least one if not more of the men against him. At some point, he grabs another gun and tosses it in Sita’s direction, whose entrance into the melee serves to turn the tide even further. At least she’s always been a good shot, she thinks to herself, taking a man out even when her head rings with what she knows her husband accurately diagnosed as the beginning of a concussion. Part of her can’t do anything but watch as her studious, gentle husband breaks someone’s nose before shooting them through the heart.

Within five minutes, it’s over. Just like Rama said, all ten men are dead at their feet. The gun drops out of his hand, slippery now with other people’s blood. Sita’s kill count is 2. He’s just killed eight men.

“I...” Sita starts, realizing she doesn’t know what to say. She swallows, looking at the carnage around her and tries again to reconcile the sight with Rama’s soft sweaters, old fashioned glasses, and aversion of horror films. “How?”

Rama purses his lips. “Same as you,” he says, wiping his hands on his pants with a grimace. “Mother Kaikeyi trained me, and while I was in India I was sent on assignment.”

Sita pauses. “You’re a spy?” Even as she says it, she knows that she’s in no position to speak with such scandal in her voice -- yet, she thinks, she had thought she knew him, that he had trusted her.

Rama laughs as he never has: short, hollow, bitter. “No,” he says, “not anymore. And even when I was, I was more of a hitman than anything else. I quit and moved away, and I assume that’s why Mother Kaikeyi sent someone to make sure I didn’t step too far out of line as a rogue element.”

Somehow, Sita thinks, this is worse than she imagined. “No,” she says, rushing forward, hands wringing as if he’s looking again at her first credit card bill. “I asked at the beginning. It was never about you.”

Rama is silent for a moment that seems to stretch endlessly as the adrenaline wears off for Sita, and her aches start to make themselves known. Her face throbs, her head spins, and there’s something in the vicinity of her ribs that twinges while she stands still -- not broken, she doesn’t think, but maybe bruised? Rama’s hands, almost as if it were against his mind’s will, come to stop her hands and tangle his fingers in his own as they do nothing but stare into the darkness over the other’s shoulder. “I’m glad that that’s what you were told,” he says eventually, and Sita suddenly realizes that there is an entire lifetime’s worth of complication she hadn’t known existed.

“I wasn’t told anything,” she says, sure now that Dasaratha knows at least part of Kaikeyi’s truth, because why else would Kaikeyi have made sure that Sita walked into her relationship as transparent as possible. “Everything we shared was real.” She pauses, uncertain. “At least from my end.”

Rama’s hands are like vices, clutching Sita’s fingers so hard it feels like he’s cut her circulation. “From mine as well. So when you just said--”

“Yes,” Sita says, unable to say now what fear of imminent death had so successfully inspired. “Before, I was afraid of you finding out about me, but yes of course.”

Rama exhales. “I’d hoped that’s what was stopping you, but I was never entirely sure that you really were one of Mother Kaikeyi’s recruits,” he smiles with a hint of self-deprecation. “You’re a good actor, you know.”

“No,” Sita says, bringing her hands up to cup his face, finally deciding to be brave. “I’m really not.” She leans in.

Their first kiss is gentle, tastes just slightly like blood, and ends quickly when Sita’s lip is irritated and makes itself known. It’s perfect.

“I love you,” Rama breathes into the sliver of space when they part, one hand drifting to hold her at the waist, another rubbing small circles into the nape of her neck. Sita’s head spins, and not only from the concussion.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere behind. “I’m glad you two seem to have made up...and also .... that we’re all alive. But can we go now?”

Sita laughs, and then immediately regrets doing so. “Yes,” she says as Rama holds her still, “let's go.”

#ramayana #maya writes #avani008

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kitkatwinchester · 4 years

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Aesthetic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me @jelly-pies and @letscatchyoulater! I know you guys tagged me a while ago, but it took me a bit to come up with my own aesthetics lol. It was super fun though!!

Rules: Bold the aesthetics you relate to and add twenty of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold

I’m tagging @baloobird, @jen27ny, @crowleyellestair, @howdoistopthetrain, @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover, @ironfamjam, @jolinarjackson, @irondad-not-ironsad, @joyful-soul-collector, @justme--emily, and @annieshurley.

#tag game #aesthetics #enjoy! <3

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girls-scenarios · 5 years

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I Need U

Idol: Yeeun (CLC)

Prompt: I’m so happy you’re taking clc requests and went out of your way to promote their INSANE comeback! Could you do a Yeeun scenario where she pretends the reader is her girlfriend so her ex leaves her alone? Thank you for everything you do! Stan CLC!!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: Yes, Stan CLC! The title is from one of their sidetracks, check it out, it’s a bop! Sorry I didn’t have one up yesterday, work got crazy, but I love this type of prompt and I hope you guys enjoy!

This was a dumb idea. Yeeun had watched enough dramas to know that this would only end badly, but here she was, ready to ask this dumb question because she had no other choice.

“This is going to sound weird,” she said as you sat down at her kitchen table, a slightly confused look on your face. She’d asked you to come over out of nowhere, saying that she needed your help, and like the good friend you were, you'd come straight over. It occurred to her now that she probably should have specified what kind of help she needed. “I basically need you to date me.”

Your eyes widened, and you stalled for a moment, frozen in shock. “I-. What?”

“Fake date me,” Yeeun clarified, clasping her hands together. “Just pretend to be my girlfriend for a little while, please.” You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms, but the way you leaned forward slightly told her that you weren’t totally against the idea.

“Why exactly do you need me to pretend to date you?” Yeeun took a deep breath before launching into the story.

It was kind of her own fault this was happening. She’d let her ex girlfriend back into her life, despite knowing how toxic and possessive she could be. Now, this ex wouldn’t leave her alone, somehow convinced that Yeeun talking to her meant that she still liked her. Yeeun knew she should tell her straight up, but she hated confrontation and knew that the ex would step off if she thought Yeeun was dating someone else. From that had come this stupid, stupid idea, and now she sat in front of you with her best smile on her face, hoping that you’d say yes.

“I told you that she was no good and you should stay away,” you told her, shaking your head, “but fine. I'll be your fake girlfriend for a little while. Because I'm a nice person.” Yeeun’s shoulders slumped in relief and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Thank you! You’re the best, (Y/N), it’s my treat whenever we go out.” You grinned.

“If you’re the only one who pays for our dates, that makes me a bad girlfriend. Let me at least pay for a few.” You calling yourself her girlfriend made her head spin a little. “Also, since I came all the way over here, can we watch some Netflix or something?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll make some popcorn.”

“Awesome! I’ll go set up the tv.” You stood up to make your way into her living room, and she watched you go with her heart beating hard. Yeah. This was a really dumb idea. But she was going to saver every minute of it.

“So, I did something stupid .”

“What’s new?” Sorn snickered as Yeeun turned to glare at her. “I’m kidding. What happened?” Yeeun let out a sigh and resumed staring at the dull patterns on the ceiling.

“I asked (Y/N) to be my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? You’ve been pining after her for ages.”

“Fake girlfriend,” Yeeun clarified, and Sorn winced.

“Okay, not so good. Did dramas teach you nothing? You’re going to fall for her even deeper but it’ll all be pretend and then she’ll be able to go back to her normal life but you’ll be left heartbroken.”

“I know! I know, okay? But my ex wouldn't leave me alone and I know the only way I can get her off my back is to pretend to be dating someone else.”

“Couldn’t you have asked me?”

“Ew, that would be like dating my sister.”

“But you wouldn’t fall in love with me during the process.”

“... You’ve got a point.”

“Are you going to be okay after this?” Yeeun paused, looked over at Sorn who had put down her phone and was staring at her intently.

“I think I will. I just need support.”

“Well, you’ve got me. When you get your heart broken and come crawling back I’ll make you some food and we’ll watch trashy romantic comedies until you never want to fall in love again.” Yeeun smiled and reached out to fist bump her friend.

“Thanks, dude.”

“Anytime.”

The dates started out kind of awkward, with neither of you really knowing what to do. It was hanging out, but.... Different. It wasn’t until the third “date” that things started to get better.

“Let’s just try to act like normal,” Yeeun said as the two of you sat down at the movies, popcorn and snacks in hand. “I’ve got photos for social media, and that should be enough. There’s no need for you to pretend outside of that. We can just act like we’re hanging out, like we always do.” Something crossed your face, an emotion that she couldn’t read, but then you gave her a smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“Sounds good to me. It was getting really awkward.”

“No kidding.” She let out a little laugh and settled back into her seat, hoping that you didn’t notice the tinge of sadness that colored her voice. She should have known better. Her feelings for you weren’t reciprocated, so this was just making you uncomfortable. Maybe she should have gone to Sorn after all.

The theater dimmed, and as the movie began to play, she felt you take her hand in yours. She jumped a little and turned to look at you, but you were looking at the screen, a small little smile on your face. Swallowing, she turned her attention back to the screen, but she could no longer concentrate. Did you know what you were doing to her?

“Finally!” You jumped at her exclamation and looked up from your sandwich to her, and then at the people sitting in the restaurant around the two of you, giving them an apologetic smile.

“You shouldn’t be so loud in here,” you said, and she grinned sheepishly, putting down her phone.

“Sorry. I just got so excited.”

“What is it?”

“My ex texted me. She said that she didn’t know I had a girlfriend and that she won’t bother me anymore. Isn’t that great news? Our plan worked!” Again, that emotion flitted across your face, but you smiled and held up your hand to high-five her.

“That’s great news!”

“Right?” Yeeun bit her lip as she brought her hand back down, remembering what this meant. She wasn’t ready to stop dating you. She wasn’t ready to go back to being just friends. But it was time to let you go. “This means you don’t have to fake date me.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Trying to ignore the feelings bubbling up in her chest, she smiled.

“We are officially broken up now. Sorry for forcing you to do this with me.” You looked down at your sandwich again, and Yeeun knew she was just imagining, hoping, but you seemed sad.

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” When you looked back up, you had a smile on your face again. “It was fun dating you.” A million things ran through her mind, but she couldn’t get any of them out. Her heart sat broken in her heart as she thanked you, keeping the fake smile on her face. The plan had worked, but it had been dumb. And now she was more in love with you than she’d been before.

“Isn’t this what I told you would happen?”

“Please shut up and commiserate with me,” Yeeun groaned, voice muffled from the pillow she’d buried her face into. From the other side of her bed, Sorn kicked her softly.

“No. I refuse to let you just wallow in self-pity when you could be doing something.”

“I can’t do anything. (Y/N) doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?” Yeeun turned over to look at her friend, eyebrows raised. “You said she was sad, right?”

“I said that she seemed sad, but I think it was just my imagination. I wanted her to feel the same way, so I just put emotions on her.”

“No offense, Yeeun, but I don’t think you can imagine an emotion onto someone. You said she held your hand, right?”

“Well, yeah, but she could have just felt like she had to-.”

“You told her that she didn’t and she still did. Come on, dude. You’re either going to pine away and drown in your own feelings, or you’re going to woman up and go confess. I swear that you’ll end up regretting it if you don’t confess.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I almost lost my chance with Seunghee after waiting too long to confess. Seriously. Just do it. I’m going to leave, and I want you to text her and tell her that you need to tell her something. Then have her come over and ask her to date you for real. Then you can know her feelings and you don’t have to wonder or imagine.”

“That’s scary,” Yeeun whined, and Sorn shrugged, standing up and reaching over to flick the older girl’s forehead before turning on her heel.

“You can do it, I believe in you. Good luck.” Yeeun sat up and watched Sorn leave, dumbstruck for a few minutes before she blinked and looked down at her phone. Could she really text you? Have you come over and confess for real?

She picked up the phone and thought about the way you smiled at her, how your hand felt in yours, and how cute the photos she’d taken for social media had been. Sorn was right. She needed to tell you.

-Hey, sorry to bother you but can you come over? I have something I need to tell you.

-Do you need me to fake date you again? Jk lol. I was just about to text you saying the same thing.

-Oh wow, telepathy! So your place or mine?

-I’ll come to yours. Wait for me!

Her heart was in her throat as she put the phone down and got out of bed to do a little cleaning. This was it. She had to tell you.

When she opened the door to let you in, her cheeks were already slightly flushed, and she was fidgeting with her long sleeves. You also seemed a little nervous as you stepped inside, struggling a little with your jacket and shoes before the two of you headed in to her living room.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Oh, yeah. You had something to tell her too, right?

“You can go first,” she said, but you waved your hands and shook your head, shifting on the couch to face her.

“No, you go ahead! We’re at your house, after all.” Yeeun swallowed, and knew that, if she didn’t tell you now, she’d chicken out. So she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and looked you in the eyes.

“(Y/N), I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while. And fake dating you only made me want to actually date you even more. It made me realize that I don’t want to go back to being friends.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, and her stomach twisted. “Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I needed to tell you the truth.”

“No! Actually, that’s almost exactly what I came over to tell you.” Her eyes widened, and you fidgeted with your fingers. “I realized that I liked you while we were fake dating, and I probably have for a while. And it made me realize that I needed you, so I wanted to tell you that.” Your words settled in Yeeun’s heart, and she could have cried, she was so relieved, reaching over to take your hands into her own.

“I’m so happy you feel the same way,” she said, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. “I was scared that you would hate me if you knew.”

“I could never hate you,” you replied, smiling that smile that she’d fallen for so long ago. The two of you looked at each other before delving into shy giggles.

“Does this mean you’ll date me?”

“For real this time?”

“For real. I want you to be my real girlfriend.” You grinned, and the butterflies in Yeeun’s stomach started up again. She would have to thank Sorn later.

“Then I’ll say yes. But kiss me to seal the deal.” You leaned in closer, and as Yeeun’s eyes fluttered closed and her lips touched yours, she rescinded her original stance. All those dramas were lying. This idea hadn’t been so dumb after all.

#clc #yeeun #clc yeeun #clc scenario #clc scenarios #yeeun scenario #yeeun scenarios #girl group scenario #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop girl groups #girl groups

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