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#there aren’t too many characters until I have to tag them
slasherbvnnie · 1 year
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Until We Found You  Part II
Hi again! Welcome back for part II of Until We Found You, please head the tags: Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+
Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX
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The police were practically useless with your case. After your parents had arrived, they checked the house while they told you to pack a bag. You went back upstairs, still cautious in case the killer was lurking somewhere. You felt your foot slip beneath you, remembering the papers on the floor. You picked them up from the ground, stuffing them into your backpack, following it up with clothes and whatever else you needed to take. You looked out of your window, seeing a red beetle pulling into your driveway and Tatum and Sidney getting out of it. You sighed, finishing packing your bag up, hearing the police begin to make their way to your room. “You can all interview her tomorrow, I want her somewhere safe for the night,” you heard your mom's voice from down the hall, putting your shoes on before peeking your head out and looking up at the officer in front of you. “Dewey,” you called out, seeing the man look back at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did the paramedics check you out already,” he questioned, nodding and offering a tiny smile. “Yup, I wasn’t hurt, just kinda scared I guess,” you murmured, what if the killer got the smart idea to frame it all on you now? Why didn’t they kill you? You weren’t scared for your life, just scared they would ruin it by setting you up.
“Oh, good, yeah. You gave your statement already, right?” He asked, you gave a hum in response. “Crazed masked killer wearing a black outfit, yup. Creepy call too, he asked me about an old horror movie, you know, the one I named Irena after. It was fucking creepy,” You said, recalling the incident from less than an hour ago. “Dewey!” Tatum called, pushing past the other officers with Sidney trailing right behind her. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did they hurt you or anything,” Tatum asked as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, I’m- I’m okay,” you reassured her as Sidney wrapped her arms around you as well.
“Honey,” your dad called, making you pull away from the girls. “The Machers said they would be happy to keep watch on all you kids tonight. I’d feel a little better knowing all your friends will be with you,” he said, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d feel better too, did you guys call Randy and Billy already?” You asked as you turned back to Sidney and Tatum. “Yeah, we called them on the way, we asked Stu if we could stay at his since his is the biggest. We kinda figured you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” Sidney said, making you smile a bit as you nodded. “Thanks,” you said before going to your parents. “What about you guys? Where are you going to stay tonight,” you didn’t want the killer to go after them, next to Irena they were the only thing you cared about. “We’ll be at your aunt's house, we will be safe. You just try relaxing okay? We’ll pick you up in the morning to take you to the station,” your mom said before hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she sighed out.
“I guess you aren’t the killer after all, or maybe you have an accomplice helping you to throw police off your trail,” Randy said in a teasing way to you, huffing when you kicked at him. “Maybe it was you, Randy. Maybe you saw one too many Halloweens and thought you’d take some inspo,” you said as you put your head back onto Sidney’s lap. “Yeah, Randy’s a perfect killer. He probably did it because you wouldn’t sleep with him,” Stu added, making the group laugh except for Randy. “And who says it wasn’t you, Stu? Maybe you got jealous of her seeing your girlfriend's tits more than you,” Randy retorted, making Stu laugh as he looked at you. “Yeah, what's to say it wasn’t me trying to gut you tonight?” Stu asked in a teasing manner, Tatum hitting his shoulder as Billy sounded in. “Can you two idiots shut up about it? Watch the fucking movie,” he huffed out. “Billy’s right guys, I just want to relax tonight. I don’t want to hear about that stupid fucking mask anymore,” you huffed out. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was a little hurt. You had been obsessed with the killings, you didn’t think Weary had killed Maureen, you think it was someone who was still on the loose, the same someone who killed Casey and Steve. The use of knives, the fact that no one saw their face, and how they were killed, it was all too coincidental. You spent over a whole year obsessing over them, only to be betrayed and nearly killed. You were almost killed by the one person who made you feel alive again, someone who brought you excitement, you were hurt by that.
“I’m gonna grab a beer, anyone else want one,” Stu asked as everyone chimed in. “Then someone come and help,” he demanded as he stood, you got off of Sidney’s lap and stood up, “I’ll help. Got anything other than shitty beer down there?” You questioned as he laughed, “I think,” he replied as you two headed down to the garage.
“You know, I’m surprised the horror hottie would follow someone all alone to a dark place,” Stu teased, earning him a shove to his shoulder. “Shut up, Stu. Everyone knows you would probably go searching through my underwear drawer before trying to kill me,” you laughed, “who says I didn’t?” He questioned, making you stumble in your walk for a moment. “Chill out, I was with Tate on the phone while it was going on. I’m just fucking with you,” He chuckled, opening up the fridge and handing you the beers. “Got patron or hard lemonade, take your pick,” he hummed, you pointed at the lemonade. “Hey, Randy’s getting cut off the dumbass keeps talking about his theories,” you heard Billy from the doorway, Stu laughing as he took one of the beers from your hands. “More for me then,” Stu said as he closed the fridge. You turned and saw Billy looking at you, a bit more intensely than his usual crazy eyes. “What? Scared to be near the girl who almost got killed,” you joked as he flashed a smile. “No, surprised you’re still alive though.” “Same here,” Stu said as he looked at Billy, Billy narrowed his eyes at Stu for a moment before he went over to you to help with the beers. “Maybe ghostface has a thing for you or something,” Billy said as you laughed. “Doubt it, I think he got scared that my parents were getting home,” you said, which was partially true, but you couldn’t deny that maybe your obsession helped you survive tonight. “Maybe you have a thing for ghostface then,” Stu chimed in, making your head whip to him. You blushed, shaking your head, “as if,” you huffed out, giving a little laugh to cover up your nervousness.
Time passed by quickly that night, you all spent the night drinking and watching movies, mostly horror movies involving Jamie Lee Curtis since Stu insisted on watching them. Tate was cooped up in Stu’s room with him, Randy had passed out on the couch and Sidney and Billy were probably in the guest room fast asleep. You had snuck out into the backyard, letting your mind wander once again as you stared up at the stars. Your phone began to ring, you stared at it and debated answering before seeing it was Sidney’s number. You sighed and picked it up, wondering if she needed anything. “Hey,” you answered, hearing a familiar voice. “The Machers, huh? Don’t you know not to split up?” The voice questioned, making you sit up. “You let me live, why are you calling?” You asked, looking around before standing and heading back for the door to get inside. “I wanted to talk to my fan, I saw all your papers. Thought you would like a phone call, or are you mad I didn’t slit that pretty little throat,” the person taunted as you messed around with the doorknob, it had locked behind you when you left. “That was before I realized I was on your kill list,” you retorted, heading around the house to the front door to wake Randy up. “No hard feelings, it was before I realized you were a fan. Leave your window open when you’re back at home. I would like to see what my pretty little fan is willing to do for not slitting her throat.” The killer said, chuckling as you blushed a little, about to respond before you heard the beeping that indicated they had hung up. You smiled slightly, happy that they wanted to see you again.
The front door opened, Billy looking at you with panicked eyes and a knife in hand. “Jesus, I thought you were the weirdo, I heard you trying to open the back door,” he said, making you laugh a bit. “Yeah, sorry, the back door was locked,” you said as he moved out of the doorway. “Come on, get inside before you end up like Casey,” he said as you walked in, “not funny, Billy.” You said as you yawned. “Mind if I crash with you and Sid? I don’t want Randy to make any passes,” you asked as Billy laughed, heading to the kitchen to put up the knife. “Be my guest, you and Sid can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.” “What a gentleman,” you teased. “Shut up before I let Randy take a stab at you.” He said, mimicking a stabbing movement as you laughed and pushed him.
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jaemmphilia · 9 months
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★ 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦: 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵 ★ || han j.s
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★ summary: after cleaning up the amazing dinner you all had, you, chan, han, and jeongin walk to the convenience store to get some drinks. you stick close to han, thanking him for being such a sweetheart to you. the four of you get back to the house, and then the nine of you relax by the fire pit. one too many drinks later, you end up tangled in han's embrace.
★ characters: bang chan, lee know, changbin, y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), hyunjin, han, felix, seungmin, i.n
★ warnings: alcohol, drunk skz, drunken sex, unprotected sex (don't be like them, guys), they're falling in love your honor, the reader is the bottom in this one, sorry not sorry
★ word count: 3.8K (3587)
★ binnie's thoughts: welcome to part three of the mixtape: black diamonds series! we're almost to the end of the series and i'm a little sad...but no worries, i have another series coming soon!
★ requested?: X
★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so enjoy! this part contains smut, so minors do not interact!
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“Alright, everyone text me what kind of drink you kids want!” 
Chan’s voice rings out through the house, and you can hear various replies from the members who aren’t coming along. You shrug on your coat, watching as Han tugs on his shoes next to you. 
At first you didn’t want to walk to the convenience store, but when Han notified you that he was tagging along, you jumped up eagerly (you nearly fell when you jumped, but you played it off real smooth). You’ll take any opportunity you can get if it means you get to spend time with the younger male. 
You slip on your shoes, standing by the door with Jeongin, waiting for your leader to lead you all to the corner store. Once the oldest male appears, the four of you venture out into the biting nighttime air. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself. You didn’t really expect it to be so cold out tonight, or else you would have brought a bigger jacket. 
Suddenly, you feel light warmth at your right side, and you look over to see Han walking beside you. There’s not much room in between you both, maybe about the width of a toothpick’s worth of room. You flash him a smile, and he gives you one in return. Jeongin and Chan walk a few feet ahead of you, the two of them locked in conversation. 
You and Han walk beside each other, your arms touching occasionally due to the close proximity you two are in. You playfully nudge his arm, making him stumble to the side dramatically with a soft laugh. He nudges you back, and it goes back and forth for a bit. The two of you stop, giggling like little schoolgirls talking about crushes. 
On the topic of crushes, you find yourself stealing short glances at Han whenever he’s near you. You often take in his appearance: his ashy gray hair, his naturally tan skin that reminds you of the summers in Georgia. His smile, gummy and wide, his eyes crinkling into squinty crescents. His laugh, so loud and joyous, it makes your heart swell. You want to make sure he’s always smiling and laughing, you never want to see him sad. You don’t want to admit that you have a crush on the younger male, considering that you’ve really only known him for a couple of hours. But you can’t deny what your heart feels, so maybe you’ll just keep your feelings to yourself until you feel that the time is right. 
“So, how did you feel about being put into the group like this? I’m just a little curious.” Han asks once you both stop nudging each other. You think about his answer for a second before replying.
“At first I was upset. I trained for three years, hoping that I would be put into a group, each and every one of us climbing the ladder to success. I was hoping to debut just like everyone else, having to get to know my group mates and finding out if our dynamics will work or not. I didn’t want to be shoved into a group that was already so close-knit.” you reply, keeping your eyes glued to the rocky street under your shoes. You kick a small rock, watching as it rolls a few short inches in front of you. 
Han hums as he listens to you, taking in your words. He may not understand exactly how you feel, but he understands that being thrown into a group that’s at the peak of its career can be quite scary for one person. At first he was iffy about having a stranger join his found family, but the more he talks to you, the more he wants to get to know you as a person. 
He wants to know everything. Your favorite color, favorite food, favorite animal. Are you a morning or night person? Do you have any hobbies? Do your freckles go past your face, do you have any on your body? Do you have more beauty marks that litter your body? 
Do you whine when someone touches your soft skin?
Han shakes his head in shock. Where in the hell did that come from? He doesn’t know what came over him just now, he’s never really thought about anyone like that before, especially not someone he’s just met. He fights the red hue that creeps up his neck and ears. 
He notices your eyes on him, and he opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it. “Han-ah, your ears are super red. Is it too cold out for you?” you say to him, a slight tease to your voice. 
He slaps his hands over his ears, shaking his head in denial. “No! I’m perfectly fine!” He defends himself with a huff followed by a cute pout. You laugh at him as you notice the bright lights of the corner store come into view. You speed up a bit to catch up with Chan and Jeongin. The three of you enter the little store as Han hangs a bit behind. This guy is going to be the death of me, he thinks to himself as he speeds up to follow you into the store. 
You walk up and down the drink aisle, taking in all the options. You wish you had some money, because there’s a strawberry margarita drink that’s calling your name. You huff and search for Chan. Once you find him, he gives you a confused look.
“Did you not want a drink?” he asks, reaching up to grab a drink for one of the other members. You tilt your head.
“No, I don’t have any money.” you say, lightly scratching your arm due to light nervousness. 
“Don’t worry about it. The company is paying for it.” Chan replies with a cheeky wink, grabbing another drink and placing it in his little shopping basket. He chuckles as you rush off to grab the drink you want. He takes the drink from you as you walk out of the store with Han and Jeongin. He remembers being very iffy about you joining the group, but now that he’s gotten to actually talk to you and he’s heard your story, he finds himself wanting to protect you. Even if he’s not an actual father, it just feels natural to him. Call it a father’s intuition, if you will.
You stand outside the corner store with Han and Jeongin, and you’re showing Jeongin some pictures of your pet hedgehogs, named Sonic and Amy (Amy isn’t even a female hedgehog, but that doesn’t matter to you), the two younger males cooing and fawning over the spiky little creatures. Once you all see Chan stepping out of the store, you turn your phone to face him. 
“Chan-hyung, look at my pets back home!” you say in English, your smooth southern accent thick as you speak. You scroll through the hundreds of pictures you have of Sonic and Amy in your gallery. Chan just chuckles, finding your adoration for the small animals cute. 
“They’re super cute. Do you miss them?” Chan asks as he starts walking back to the house they’re staying in. Somehow the hefty plastic bag gets passed to Han, who dramatically complains about the weight of the bag. Jeongin just laughs, ignoring his hyung’s cries. 
You shake your head at Han before you turn your attention back to the oldest male. “Yeah, they live back with my ma and pa. I wish I coulda taken them with me, but they woulda hated travellin’ all the way here.” you say, stuffing your chilly hands into the pockets of your puffy jacket. 
Han listens to you speak in English, and he picks up how you pronounce the words. He notices that it’s totally different from how Chan and Felix pronounce English words. He’s never heard an accent like yours, it sounds like butter, or the smoothest caramel being drizzled over an icy bowl of ice cream. He wants you to whisper in his ear, so he can pick apart your accent in a more intimate setting. He wants you to say his name, wants to hear you tell him that he’s doing a good job at pleasing you. He tries to rid himself of those thoughts, but it’s impossible when you’re having a pleasant conversation with Chan just a few steps in front of him.
Han feels Jeongin saddle up beside him. He already knows the younger is going to say something totally obvious. 
“You like YN-hyung, don’t you?” He says, the slyest of smiles painting his face as he looks at Han. Han sputters in shock at the younger male’s bizarre accusation. 
“Wha– no way! We just met him today!” Han defends himself, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Jeongin just snorts out a laugh, not believing a word that comes from his hyung’s mouth. 
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, hyung.” Jeongin doesn’t comment on it after that. But now he has some juicy gossip to tell Seungmin once he gets to the house. 
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The four of you finally arrive at the house with the drinks. You step into the house, sighing deeply at the warmth that engulfs you. You slip off your shoes and tug off your jacket. You make your way into the house, following Chan as he goes to the area where the fire pit is. Han follows behind you as he slips on the slippers he was wearing previously. 
The nine of you are sitting around the fire pit, Han is to your left while Felix is at your right. You have a thick blanket draped on your lap, the other ends of the blanket draped over Han and Felix’s laps. You’re nice and cozy in your chair, your sweet drink in your hand as you listen to Changbin tell some story about his childhood. 
He’s yelling about something his sister had done to him back when he was younger. You can tell he’s becoming more drunk, his neck is starting to turn a little red and he’s kind of stumbling over his words. 
Honestly, you’re starting to feel a little tipsy yourself. You’ve never been amazing at holding your alcohol, but you don’t get shit-faced after two drinks like other people. But you can’t deny the light feeling in your bones, the sweet but artificial taste of strawberries lingering on your tongue. 
As you all begin to finish your first drinks, some of the boys retire for the night. The two youngest are the first ones to leave, and Hyunjin follows them not long after. You and the remainder of the boys are all talking and drinking, you’re telling them the story of how your twin sisters locked you outside of the house as a dog chased the three of you down the street. 
“So I trip and fall flat on my face, and the older twin, Baehwi, just ran faster towards our house. The younger twin, Dagum, she ran track at the time, was already at the house and she was holding the door open for Baehwi. I’m laying on the concrete, my nose is gushing blood, and there's a massive dog coming my way,” you say, sitting up in your seat as you retell the story, “I manage to get up and run to the house, but my knees are all scraped up and i’m still stumbling.
“I finally make it to the door and I try to open it, but it’s locked. I was freaking out and banging on the door, crying and bleeding from my nose. The dog is pretty damn close now, and it’s inches away from biting my ass. But my dad came to my rescue, he opened the door and chased the dog off with a broom. Now I’m terrified of big dogs.” You finish your story, bringing your drink to your mouth, tipping the can up, finishing the rest of the sweet liquid. 
“Let’s play truth or dare!” Changbin slurs his words as he nearly falls over in his chair with a strangled shout, making you all laugh. 
You all miss the devious look on Lee Know’s flushed face as his brain plots something. “How about I start us off?” He asks as he sets his empty drink down. He’s got this smile on his face that just screams that he’s up to no good. 
“YN, truth or dare?” 
You turn towards him when you hear him say your name. You’ve never been one to turn down a dare, so you grin at Lee Know. “Dare.” you say with full confidence.
Lee Know grins wider and crosses his arms with his eyebrow cocked. “I dare you to sit on Han’s lap for the rest of the game.” He says, earning a round of gasps and ‘ooh’s’ from everyone else. 
“That’s it? That’s too easy.” you say and get up from your seat, and you plop yourself down on Han’s lap. 
Han absolutely malfunctions. You just sat yourself on his lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You’re seated right on his half-hard dick and you wiggle a little to get comfortable. He bites back a moan as your ass rubs against him. He bites his bottom lip, and his hands automatically wrap around your middle as you finally get comfy. Han knows he’s a little drunk and undoubtedly very horny, because he adjusts his hips and he knows you can feel his dick through his pants and the blanket. 
“You look mighty comfortable, YN-ah,” Lee Know says, his gaze zeroed in on Han and his red-tinted cheeks and ears, “are you comfortable too, Hannie?” he teases.
Han grits his teeth at his hyung and just gives a thumbs up. 
The game continues, each of you doing stupid dares and answering stupid questions. You and Han remain by the fire pit, everyone else retired to bed. You’re still seated on his lap, but you’re facing him now. Your arms are around his neck, your chest flush against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. His hands are placed on your ass, his fingers lightly gripping the meaty flesh. 
You lift your head from his shoulder and you look at him. You take in his features, the shape of his eyes, to his cupid’s bow. You think he’s so handsome, especially like this: red-faced and his hair all messy. You run your hand through his hair as he looks up at you. You exchange smiles before you find yourselves leaning on closer. It’s not much longer until your lips are meeting in the middle. At first the kiss is just an experimental press, until you start to move your lips against Han’s. 
The two of you kiss for a bit until it becomes a full-blown make out session. The two of you are pretty much humping each other in the chair meant for one person. You’re grinding your hips against his, and you can feel his hands roaming your torso under your teal sweater. His hands are cold compared to your warm skin. It makes you shiver. 
You finally pull away from Han, lightly panting as you stare at each other. You both break out into giggles, neither of you believing that you just made out like it was nothing. 
“Why don’t we take this inside? We can use my room,” you offer, your fingers tangling in his ashy gray strands of hair. Han looks up at you, a dumb grin painted on his face. You snort out a laugh, “why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Because you’re just so pretty and hot sitting on my lap and kissing me. It’s driving me crazy.” He says, his eyes closing when he finishes talking. 
You shake your head and remove yourself from his lap. He lets out a whine followed by a pout, his eyes opening once again. This man is definitely not beating the babygirl allegations, you think to yourself as you pull Han up and out of the chair. His body slumps against yours, his head in your neck. You feel him place wet, open mouth kisses on your skin, making your knees a little weak (they’re already weak because of the alcohol, but who cares). 
“Come on, I’m horny and want you inside me like, right now.” You say to Han, and those words alone make him perk up and drag you inside the house. He makes a beeline for your room at the end of the hall. He throws the door open, pushing you inside, gently, and locks it once you’re both inside.
You stumble a little as the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. Han makes quick strides towards you and he connects his lips with yours as he pushes his chest against yours. His hands are on both of your cheeks as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. You move your lips against his, your own tongue gliding against his. You can taste the sweet and semi-bitter essence of the alcohol he was drinking not long ago. 
The two of you keep making out in a different position. Han is hovering on top of you, his lips not leaving yours for a second. His chilly hands are rubbing shapes along your naked chest, your shirt long gone in the corner of the room. Han grinds his hips against you, his hard cock slides against yours through your black sweatpants. 
Han pulls away from the kiss to breathe. He looks down at your face, your eyes half-closed, your lips glossy with his saliva mixed with your own. Your chest is heaving slightly, trying to keep up with Han’s eagerness. You’re dizzy, your head is spinning with lust and intense amounts of need. 
Han tugs off his shirt, tossing the fabric behind him, not caring where it lands. You bring your hands up, gripping his pecs which makes him let out a soft groan. You grin, pinching his skin near his nipples. His mouth falls open, the slight pain from the pinches making him moan softly. You finally pinch his nipples, rolling them between your fingers. You drink in the whines he’s letting out, the sound no different than the sweetest music. 
After playing with his chest for a bit, you both move on to the good stuff. You both rid yourselves of any remaining clothes, and Han flips you onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and lifts them up until your hole is level with his face. You allow yourself to be manhandled by him, the feeling of his hands gripping your flesh tightly. 
“Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good all over,” Han says, his cool breath fanning your hole, causing you to clench a bit, “even here.” You feel his tongue prod at your hole. 
You jerk forward a bit, but Han tugs you right back to him. He holds your hips tight to make sure you don’t get away from him again. He licks at your hole some more, until he slips the tip of his tongue inside you. You whine out, the sound mostly muffled by the pillow under you. 
He works you open with his tongue and fingers until he deems you ready for his fat cock. He’s so hard that it’s becoming painful. His tip is damn near purple, a bead of precome gathering at his slit. He pulls away from your ass, wiping his mouth to rid himself of the slobber. He admires the view in front of him: your head is down, ass up in the air. The flesh of your ass is tinted red from how hard he was gripping onto you. Your hole is slick with his spit, your cock and balls hanging heavy in between your thighs. He can see the precome dripping from your tip, the semi-thick liquid falling on the bed. Your body is shaking as you breathe out. 
Han decides not to use a condom, he’s too drunk to care about using one. He just gets on his knees, lining his hard cock up with your hole. He pushes the tip in first, drinking in the noise you let out. A high pitched whine mixed with a moan. He allows you to adjust to the feeling, waiting for you to give him the green light. 
“Sunige,” you whine out, raising up to look at him over your shoulder, “please, move..” 
Who is he to deny his adorable hyung of that? He would be considered a monster. He slides his entire length inside you, his tip lightly kissing that spot deep inside you. You bite into the pillow under you, drool falling from your mouth. Han scoffs and reaches forward, tugging your hair. He pulls your head up, causing your back to arch. 
“Who told you to hide your moans in the pillow?” he asks, his voice harsh and commanding. It catches you off guard (especially after he just snatched you by your hair..). 
You cry out as he slowly starts to thrust his hips inside you. He still has a nice grip on your hair, your back arched as he rocks into you. “I’m sorry, Sungie.. I won’t do it again.” 
“Damn right you won’t. I’m the one in charge right now.” He growls out and he slams his hips forward and back, causing your body to jerk forward from the amount of force. 
He keeps pounding into your body, and you’ve already come twice. You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to cum too early. You just happen to be more sensitive, which always leads to multiple orgasms on your end. You do feel his thrusts become sloppy, and his breathing picks up. You know he’s close, and you can feel a third orgasm creeping in your bones. 
“Holy shit. You’re just sucking me in, baby.” He says, giving a few more thrusts before he buries himself deep inside you, his warm cum filling you up. 
Your poor arms give out from under you, your upper body collapsing on the bed. You’re panting, trying to come down from such an intense moment. Han remains inside you, a little afraid that if he does pull out, you’ll start dripping all over the bed. He pulls out, quickly bringing his hand to your ass, cupping around your hole just in case anything does fall out. He reaches over to get some tissues and he starts cleaning you up. 
When he realizes that you haven't moved, his semi-drunk brain thinks he killed you. He frantically moves to see if you are indeed still alive, he lets out a breath of relief. You’re alive, snoozing away. He’s amused, you fell asleep so quickly after all of that exertion. 
“Well, sweet dreams, YN-hyung.” He chuckles and makes himself comfortable under the blankets with you. You automatically latch onto him, nuzzling into his warm body, still very much asleep. 
You don’t know what this means for the two of you, but that’s a conversation for sober YN and Han. 
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lilac-5ky · 4 months
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The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)
Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday
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Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)
Word Count: Slightly under 9k.
A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙
Masterlist | Requests | AO3
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“Are we there yet?”
“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.
There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.
“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”
A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.
You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.
We are going to die.
Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.
“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”
“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”
“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”
Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.
Not yours, at least.
“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”
“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.
“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”
“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”
Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.
You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.
But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.
The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.
Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.
The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.
You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.
Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.
“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.
“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”
You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.
“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”
“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”
“I’m cold.”
“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”
“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”
“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.
“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.
Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.
“I thought your eyes were closed!”
“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”
“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.
“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”
You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.
You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.
“Are you mad?”
The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.
“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.
“Re…lieved?”
“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”
“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”
“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”
“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”
He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.
You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”
His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.
“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”
You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.
“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”
“Satoru—”
“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”
By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.
You are relieved.
“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.
“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”
“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”
“Actually…”
You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.
“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”
“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”
You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.
You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.
“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”
“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.
“And?”
“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”
“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”
“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”
His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.
“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.
“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.
“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.
“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.
Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.
“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”
“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”
“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.
“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”
“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.
After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.
“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”
Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.
“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.
“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”
“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”
“Aww!”
“Eww!”
“Gross!”
The reactions vary.
“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.
“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”
“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.
Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.
You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”
“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”
“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.
“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”
“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.
“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”
“Sixteen minutes late—”
The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.
“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”
You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.
“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?
“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”
Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.
“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!
“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”
“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”
“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”
Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”
The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.
Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.
You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.
Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.
In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.
“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”
Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!
“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”
“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”
His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.
“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”
Not true; you all did your part…
Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”
That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.
“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”
Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.
You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.
“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.
“Y-yeah.” You croak.
“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”
“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”
“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”
You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.
“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.
He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.
“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.
“Nice job!”
“It wasn’t my intention!”
Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.
“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.
“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.
“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.
“You never are!”
“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.
You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.
“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.
“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.
“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.
She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”
“How about now?”
Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.
It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.
“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”
You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”
“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.
“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”
“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.
“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”
“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”
A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.
“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.
“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”
A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.
“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”
Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.
“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.
Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.
“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”
He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.
“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”
“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.
“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”
“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.
“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.
Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.
Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”
“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.
“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”
“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”
“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.
It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”
“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.
“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.
“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.
Nothing happens.
“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”
“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.
A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”
“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.
“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.
“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.
“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”
“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.
“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”
“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.
“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”
“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”
“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.
“Satoru!”
“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”
A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.
“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.
Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.
“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”
“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.
Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.
The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.
You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.
You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.
God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.
As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.
You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.
Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.
you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.
“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.
“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”
Horny bastard. Right on the money.
“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”
“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”
The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.
“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.
“These two.”
The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.
“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.
Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.
“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”
Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.
Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.
“Geto Suguru was—”
“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”
“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”
“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”
“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”
“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”
“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”
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“Thank you!”
Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.
Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.
“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.
“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”
“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”
“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”
“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.
“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.
“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.
“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”
He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.
“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”
You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.
“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”
It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.
“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”
“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”
“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”
“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.
“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”
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A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!
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enavstars · 2 months
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can u also give us fic recs? i wanna read your fic but it's long hdhwhsjs
wanna be in the right mindset
so do u have any?
Here are some fics that I really liked because I thought they were interesting. I loved the way the characters are written, most of them are Kai centered, angst (check the tags for any triggers) and short. Also these are some we used as reference for the characterization of the ninja in Eclipse.
(idk how many recs you wanted so I put a lot)
They turn the light on and it's burning up the sky by Sugarglider_s : very short and poetic Kai analisis angst fic. Absolutely love the way it's written and the interpretation of Kai's character.
Hello my old heart by Bemmiecake : this is a long unfinished fic centered around Kai in the timeskip between seasons 3 and 4. I had to add it because it is definitely one of my favourites, this fic has made me emotional multiple times. It's heartbreaking how Kai has to go through his awful coping mechanisms as the Red Shogun and how he ends up finding a sliver of hope in the process. It also features a well built oc!
What gets out comes around by fruitcasket : this one is Cole centric but explores some contradictions of his character mostly with his relationship with Kai, how despite being a kind soul he acts as a bully towards him quite often.
Too familiar by Maplebreeze : Oneshot about Kai realizing him and Lloyd had similar experiences. Basically RG brothers fluff with some hurt.
Alike, alone by fruitcasket : Morro possesses Kai fic but it’s focused on Kai and Morro’s interactions and similarities rather than actions. It does some character analisis and dives into their mentality.
All of the work, none of the money by ADHDplusCartonnmakesCHAOS : Fic about the ninja learning about Kai and Nya’s childhood. There are many fics exploring this theme but this one is my favourite so far, talking about the subtler things like how costly pads are when you're already short on money to eat.
Fight by Maplebreeze : It describes perfectly how Kai would lose himself to violence (as one of his awful coping mechanisms) again and again and again, to distract his heart from all of those close to him he couldn't save (up until Possessed)
Guilt by Cherry_dynamite : On this fic we finally get closure with Lloyd addressing the fact that he did not see Kai's survival guilt back in the slither pit.
Boiling Point by Salty_Pickle_Bones : It is about Kai and the team being wrecked by Nya's death. It shows just how lost Kai has become, how he's going down the alcoholic rabbit hole again.
Off the deep end by Kiss_The_Cook : Set in the first season when Lloyd is a kid living with the ninja. Kai refuses to get close to Lloyd, despite Lloyd admiring him, because he knows he and Lloyd will get attached to each other and Kai thinks it would be very bad for the kid to do so. Brothers fluff (and some angst), I love how Kai’s mentality is portrayed and of course little Lloyd.
Aftermath by Sugarglider_s : Fluff opposite oneshot. Not really related to the rest but I love it and made a comic about it -> link here.
Feel free to recommend any other fic you like. We are especially interested in those that analyze the characterization of the ninja in depth, more specifically any other character besides Kai (pls let us know, especially ones about Jay, we’re struggling with writing him).
Side note: I know there aren’t many Kai and Nya fics so recommend ones focused on them too pls.
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dumbificat · 26 days
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‎INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙
multifandom angst prompt event.
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no matter the person, no matter the place. we will all fade away. that is our ‎inevitable evanescence.
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— RULES ✮⋆˙
— reblog / comment if you’re interested in joining + the character(s) you’ll be writing for (so i know how many people will be joining) ('ω') — you can reblog even if you aren’t joining -> it helps with reach, so please do !!
— work with these prompts how you like ! there are no fandom restrictions. please write for one of the following: character x reader, character x character, character x oc, any of the aforementioned but platonic.(^人^)
— no nsfw, only sfw or suggestive - if you’re unsure if your work is too much, reach out to me before you post (⌒▽⌒)
— when you post your work, please use the tag 「INEVITABLE EVANESCENCE ✮⋆˙」 + @ me ! i’ll be making a masterlist for the published works :D
— when you post, please put which prompt you’ve used - either the word or the whole thing !
— you have until june 2nd to post, but if you need more time or want to withdraw, please let me know as soon as you can ! this is voluntary and just for fun after all ٩(^‿^)۶
— if you have any questions, reach out to my inbox or on discord (also dumbificat) ^_^
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PROMPTS ✮⋆˙
FADE — watching as the light fades from their eyes, muttering soft “no’s” as they weakly reach up to your face, pushing hair behind your ear for the last time.
「i’m so glad you’re here…」 「of course i am, i promised, didn’t i?」
WITHER — they’ve been in a tough battle, now they limp on the bed. you’ve been treating them with such care but it’s hard to watch as they wither away.
「hang in there, okay?」 「i’ll try. for you, i’ll try.」
WANE — (romantic) after years in a relationship, you can feel their feelings wane. they don’t look, touch or say the same things they used too. will you let them go gently or fight for what once was?
「i’ll see you later. love you.」 「do you? you can’t even say “I” before it. what, are you scared of a letter?」
DISSOLVE — having to leave, not knowing when you’ll next see each other. you share one last hug, pulling away with shuddered breaths. it takes only a moment before their resolve dissolves into a mess of tears.
「please don’t go…」 「you know i have to. if i could, i would. you know that, too.」
VANISH — it’s been days since the accident, you’ve been by their side the entire time. the beeping of the heart monitor is enough to give you strength, but a flatline was quick to make that strength vanish.
「no… no, NO! IT’S NOT FAIR!」
DWINDLE — (hanahaki disease au) your best friend sits at your side, shocked at your state. you seemed fine days ago, how could you get so ill so fast? you contemplate telling them how you feel, ruining your friendship all the while or force them to watch as you dwindle away.
「how did this happen?! please, tell me!」 「i can’t…」
DIM — you notice how their smiles are weaker, dimmer than usual. it’s clear something happened, but you don’t know how to ask. you only hope you can offer comfort, but even that might be too much.
「i can tell you’re hurting. please, talk to me.」 「…」
DECLINE — they’ve been coming home late, not responding to texts. you barely know who they are anymore. your relationship declines, culminating when they send a fatal message:
「stop messaging me, you don’t need to know where i am.」 「so i guess that’s it then?」
DEGRADE — (platonic) they started hanging out with new people, leaving you in the memories of what your friendship used to be. you work up the courage to question the degradation of what you were but that might be the last time you speak.
「leave me alone.」 「you’ve changed. im glad you’re showing your true colours now.」
EVANESCE — they hurt you. more than you could ever imagine. promises were broken, as was your heart. you can’t stop the tears when they began to yell at you.
「what the hell is your problem?!」 「i’m sorry…」 「it’s too late for that now.」
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well? what are you waiting for? join now !! :D
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the-boy-meets-evil · 4 months
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take my hands (we can fall together) | lee chan | pt 3
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(where you and chan are friends, but he's your brother's best friend. and you've always been just a little out of reach. until one season changes everything.) pairing: brother's best friend!chan (dino) x f!reader genre: friends to ??, pining, slow burn | fluff, angst, smut rating: explicit warnings/notes: mentions of unhealthy relationships (reader x boyfriend), mentions of food, mentions of drinking/alcohol, friendsgiving, chan is having a crisis, explicit smut in this part, kissing, body appreciation, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), face sitting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, protected sex (p in v), aftercare, chan is a tease, chan calls reader baby one time, i think that's it but let me know if it's not word count: ~9.2k (full fic is roughly 23.5k) notes on the characters: anyone used as a background character is meant to be an OC, i'm just lazy with coming up with names a/n: SHE'S DONE! i cannot believe that (not me sticking to a timeline). huge thanks to @svthub for hosting this fall collab. check out the full list of fics here. make sure you go back and read parts 1 & 2 for context. this is the last one 😭 (unless i return for a drabble/timestamp). also thank you to my bby indi for creating an amazing banner @classicscreations.
tagging: @christinewithluv @aaniag @dejavernon @tbzhub @bitchlessdino @seungkwansphd
part 2 | masterlist
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Even though he feels a bit weird about it, Chan makes good on his promise to Carla and they reschedule. Instead of going out to a too-loud bar, Chan suggests a favorite restaurant of his. Some place with good food and a better atmosphere. The perfect place to try and get to know his date on a real level. Not only is she beautiful and genuinely interested in him, she’s kind, easy to talk to, and surprisingly funny. The perfect person to finally move onto a healthier, strictly friendly relationship with you.
Everything about the date goes even more smoothly than he expects. Despite how open she is while texting, Chan’s surprised to find how engaged she is in person. It’s like nothing and nobody else exists apart from the two of them. She talks openly about liking him, too, because she says she doesn’t see the point of dancing around things, playing some kind of game. Life is too short not to tell someone how she feels. There’s a warmth in hearing that, like something dormant being awoken. It’s not like his other feelings completely disappear, but it’s nice to have that kind of connection.
At the end of the date, they walk out together and Chan grabs her hand without thinking twice about it. She stops him just outside the restaurant to pull him towards her for a kiss. Maybe it doesn’t make him see stars or anything insane like in the movies, but it’s nice. Her lips are soft against his and seem to just kiss away any worries. It really has been the best date he’s been on in a long time. So much so that he considers coming up for a drink when Carla invites him. There’s just a little something in the back of his mind holding him back and so he politely declines. He reasons it away that he’s got Friendsgiving the next day. It’s been a great date, but he’s definitely not ready to bring Carla to meet his friends. It’s only been one actual date. Even if they have been texting a lot.
Chan is up a little early the next day because he needs to run to the store to get some drinks before making his way to Seokmin’s house. That’s been their go-to place for bigger gatherings like this since he bought it because it’s got the most space. Last he heard, there were fifteen people coming for Friendsgiving. He’s also got to pick up Jay and Vernon on the way there so there aren’t too many cars. Jay should’ve been helping him pick up drinks. But, no. He crashed at Vernon’s. Which isn’t entirely surprising since Vernon’s new game is at the beta-testing stage and Jay’s always been the number one tester. It’s more than mildly concerning to see his two friends smirking when they get in the car, though.
“What?” Chan prompts.
“How was your date last night?” Vernon asks.
“Yeah, are we going to have to set an extra place at the table?” Jay adds on. 
“What are you talking about?” Chan questions.
“You went on a date last night, right?” Jay presses. 
“You know I did,” Chan confirms. “We live together.”
“And you took her to that restaurant we love,” Jay carries on.
“Yeah,” Chan says slowly, drawing the word out.
“Oh, cut him some slack. I guess you were so caught up in the date that you entirely missed that some of our friends were there too,” Vernon says and laughs at Chan’s face. “Yeah Jiyeon texted me laughing about how she tried to get your attention and you didn’t even notice.”
“Oh shit, I’ll have to apologize to her,” Chan says. 
“She was with Mina, Lisa, and my sister too,” Jay adds on. 
“They were all there?” Chan worries. 
“Yeah, I think it was my sister’s idea. A little bit of a girl’s night for whoever was free,” Jay says. “Rude of them not to invite us. But clearly you were busy.”
“So are we going to be seeing her today?” Vernon asks. 
“It was one date,” Chan deflects.
“One date that you kissed and then left with,” Jay adds on. Chan whips his head over to look at his best friend.
“Sorry, Ji had a lot to say about it. You know how she is,” Vernon shrugs. “And Jay wasn’t sharing the game so I had a lot of time to text her.”
“Great,” Chan says. 
“Hey, that’s a compliment! I stayed up playing a game and crashed on a couch, for you,” Jay complains.
The two of them carry on bickering while Chan’s head is a million miles away. Not exactly what he’s prepared for or expecting walking into Seokmin’s house. At least he knows ahead of time. For all the times Jay’s a pain in the ass, which is basically any time he’s breathing, he’s a loyal friend. He might be ribbing Chan for being so oblivious now, but he’s also giving him time to prepare before he walks in because Jiyeon is going to give it way worse. So, Chan takes the rest of the drive to figure out how he’s going to say. 
It’s hard, though, because entirely too much of his brain focuses on the fact that you were there, too. Something Jay kind of glosses over, probably trying to take the focus off. He’s never called Chan on it, but he’s known how his friend feels for a long time. You were there and you saw his whole date. Saw the way he was caught up. Saw the way he left with Carla. Saw the kiss. Saw everything. Because you were with Jiyeon and she would have been doing a live commentary. That’s just who she is. Not in a malicious way, she just hates being ignored. It’s stupid to be caught up on what you thought. He’s moving on. That’s what the date with Carla was supposed to do and he knows he can’t just live in this perpetual state of caring about you. Not when you’re in the middle of putting your heart back together. Not when you haven’t shown any interest. Not when you straight up said Chan was just a friend. 
He’s barely through the door before Jiyeon is harassing him. “So, what, you go on a date with someone you barely know and you just forget we’ve been friends for literal years?”
“Easy, Ji, I didn’t see you,” Chan repeats. 
“Well obviously,” she retorts.
“Did you call my name? Or send me a text to be like hey, over here?” Chan fires back. Fighting fire with fire is the only thing she responds to.
“No, you were too wrapped up in your little date,” Jiyeon answers like it’s obvious.
“Maybe you didn’t really want to get my attention. Maybe you just wanted to bitch today. Maybe you woke up and chose violence,” Chan says, earning an immediate eye roll. 
“Did you just call me a bitch?” Jiyeon asks with faux outrage.
“I said you wanted to bitch, I’d never call you a bitch,” he answers anyway.
“Well, where is she then?” Jiyeon asks as she makes a show of looking behind Chan.
“Carla? She’s not here. Obviously,” Chan says.
“Oooooh do you like her enough to use her name? Not just the girl you’re dating?” Jiyeon teases. 
“I hate you,” Chan utters without any bite.
“I know,” she sing-songs.
Almost involuntarily, Chan’s eyes find their way to you, looking for some kind of reaction to the whole scene. But, you’re sitting with Seokmin, like you aren’t paying attention at all. Like maybe you don’t even care. Which is good, right? Chan wanted you to leave Seungsik so that you could be happy and heal, not so that he could have a chance. Which is exactly what happened. It should be a good thing, seeing you happy. It’s just that he can’t help but feel like you don’t seem as happy as you did the day after leaving Seungsik at his aunt’s house. 
It starts as Chan thinking he’s overreacting. Throughout dinner, it becomes crystal clear that something is off. You stick close to Seokmin and Lisa, don’t even really mingle with people in the same way you do any other time everyone is together. Even with the friends you don’t get to see as often. There’s something a little dull about you, like the dimmer switch isn’t all the way on. And Chan never sees you without a drink in your hand, which is a little odd, too. Almost everyone drinks too much at Friendsgiving and then naps or sobers up before leaving. Drinking is normal. This isn’t that, though. 
The thing that hurts Chan the most is that you hardly speak to him at all. Several times, he tries to start a conversation, only to have you give short answers before excusing yourself to do something else. Or talk to someone else. Or be anywhere that Chan isn’t. That hurts on a much deeper level than any feelings he has or had for you. Over the past two months, it’s felt like you were coming to depend on him more as a genuine friend. Someone that you could turn to or be vulnerable around. More than just another person in a decent sized friend group or your younger brother’s best friend. There were even times when he wondered if he was in your inner circle. Things definitely shifted. But, whatever it was seems to have been short lived. The two of you are further apart than where you started. 
It’s not until Chan is back home at his apartment, leftovers from the meal tucked away in his fridge, and getting ready for bed that he gets answers. He’s not tired and he doesn’t want to go to sleep. All he wants is to get comfortable and watch something mindless. Jay seems to sense that something’s off and doesn’t even give him a hard time. Just lets him go off into his room and shut the door. His phone dinging catches his attention, though. 
You: today ws wierd and i hted it You: i mis m y channie 
The text catches him off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you’re clearly a little drunk, or maybe a little buzzed. You’re not usually such a sloppy texter. But, the much bigger reason is that you called him your Channie. You’ve called him Channie but never yours before. 
Chan: are you drunk? Chan: are you okay? You: ‘m fine You: not drunk Chan: are you home? You: no stayed at seoks Chan: good i’m glad You: do you like me
Chan stares at that message for a good minute like the words will somehow change. Does he like you? Are you asking as a friend or something more? Can he really try to get over you when you’re texting him like this?
Chan: course i do, we’re friends You: that’s not what i mean
Of all the ways the night could have gone, this was not one Chan considered. Things were definitely weird during Friendsgiving. He’s not sure how many people noticed. Jay definitely had, if him giving Chan space when they got home is any indicator. Seokmin probably noticed too, since you’re currently staying there. Before he can answer your text, his phone is going off with an incoming FaceTime. He answers without thinking.
“You answered,” you say like it’s some kind of surprise.
“Of course I did,” Chan breathes out. “What’s wrong?” 
“Do you like me, Chan?” you repeat. It’s so different watching you say it than seeing it typed. He’s trying not to focus on you sitting in bed just like he is. 
“I told you…” Chan starts and you’re shaking your head. 
“I know we’re friends, but do friends do everything you’ve done for me? Do friends go on train rides and apple picking and photoshoots and to pumpkin patches? Do friends spend an entire party not even bothering to talk to anyone else? Do friends support each other the way you’ve supported me?” You’re rambling, Definitely a little drunker than you want to admit, especially with some of your words slurring together.
“I don’t know,” Chan admits. 
You turn back and look straight into the camera. “Why didn’t you even see me last night, Chan?” 
“Well, I guess I was just…” Chan starts.
“What? Distracted? So distracted by your date that you didn’t even see me?” you ask. His heart breaks for how hurt you look. That’s the last thing he wants. 
“I’d already kinda blown her off once, over you, kind of,” Chan admits. Too honest.
“Over me?” you ask. Your eyes are wide like it’s not what you were expecting.
“I was, well I was with her when I saw Seungsik,” Chan says. “I made an excuse and left, but said I’d see her again another time.”
“Oh,” is all you say.
“Yeah, so I didn’t really want to do that to her again. She doesn’t deserve that,” Chan says quietly. 
“What about what I deserve?” you wonder.
“You know I think you deserve the entire world,” Chan insists. 
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth like you’re at war with yourself over something. “Do you think you could love her?” 
Before Chan can answer, he hears a door open and watches you turn to the side. Somewhere in the room, he hears Seokmin.
“I thought we said no drunk texting or calling or anything?” Seokmin reminds you, sounding very sober. 
“I thought you meant Seungsik,” you shrug, unashamed. Seokmin comes into the frame and sees Chan.
“Oh, hey, Chan,” Seokmin says, smile not quite as bright as Chan is used to. It’s clear that Seokmin didn’t just mean your ex.
“Hey, Seok,” Chan answers.
“I’m gonna take this and put her to bed,” Seokmin says.
“Good idea,” Chan agrees. 
Seokmin turns the camera to you. “Say goodnight to Chan.”
“Night Channie,” you call out.
“Night,” Chan answers. 
“Goodnight, Chan,” Seokmin says.
“Wait,” Chan says and watches as Seokmin’s face turns to him. “Delete the last few texts in our thread. That’s probably a better conversation to have when we’re both sober.”
Seokmin’s face relaxes and he nods, like he understands more than Chan does at the moment. Maybe he does. The entire conversation is weird and it’s leaving Chan with way more questions than answers. Why are you so curious about his feelings now? Why do his feelings for Carla matter to you? Why are you drinking like that? Did something happen with Seungsik? Are you finally processing and this is part of the grief? Why does it hurt to feel like an outsider to it all again?
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The next time Chan sees you, there’s no mention of the brief FaceTime call or the texts. Things with you are somewhere between the total comfort of the party at his aunt’s house and how you were before all the Fall activities. It’s this weird limbo that he doesn’t really know how to process. It seems like nobody else really knows how to process it, either, and unfortunately, some of them are picking up on it. 
Then, there’s the issue of Carla. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but Chan also isn’t sure how he feels. On one hand, he really does think it’s best to just move on from his feelings for you because it’s all just been too much. On the other hand, it feels dishonest to keep going out with Carla when his head isn’t totally in it. But, she really is kind and she seems to understand some of his hesitation and even suggests that they do something a little more lowkey, like lunch during the work day, and that seems fine, right? Everyone has to eat lunch.
Wrong. 
Well, not about the lunch part. She picks a place that’s close by where they work, since they don’t work far apart, and Chan appreciates the slightly longer lunch. It’s a welcome break in his day and the perfect way to end the week. Carla is sweet, doesn’t push him to talk about anything he’s not ready to, though she can obviously tell there’s something. There’s a subtlety to the way she lets him know that he can talk to her about anything, no matter how awkward. And a grace when he says that he’s just not ready. She keeps all the conversation light, easy. There’s even something about it that feels a little more friendly than like a date. It’s really just an incredibly pleasant lunch.
And then comes the text. The text from you. Why on Earth did you need to send Chan a text saying you heard he went on a lunch date with the same girl from the other day? Why did you need to say that you hoped he had a good time? Why did it matter if he was spending time with someone else? It’s just kind of confusing because you’re definitely friends, but not the kind of friends that text like this. Not when it’s the first text you’ve sent to Chan since the ones he asked Seokmin to delete for you. 
So he doesn’t answer, doesn’t really know what to say. Instead he tries to make plans with Vernon to go for drinks after work. But, Vernon has other plans and Chan settles on just asking Jay. Although Jay is truly his best friend, he’s not Chan’s first choice when it’s you on his mind. Chan’s feelings for you, whatever they are, aren’t a secret to Jay, even if they’ve never talked about them. If he’s going drinking now, though, it might be too hard to keep avoiding talking about whatever he’s thinking. 
It seems initially like Jay might let Chan get away with just wanting to drink. They talk about work, about the holidays coming up, about upcoming plans. Jay mentions the big family Thanksgiving, which they’ll both be at. Chan talks about how he already feels behind on holiday shopping. They both talk about how crazy it is that Vernon’s so close to finishing one of his games. It’s just normal roommate shit. Much like lunch with Carla, everything is light and unserious. At least through the first drink. Everything changes when the bartender sets the second drink down in front of them. 
“We’ve gotta talk about it, man,” Jay finally says. 
“Talk about what?” Chan feigns ignorance.
“Whatever your feelings for my sister are,” Jay presses on, unwilling to let his best friend continue to ignore a problem. 
“Is this where you tell me that she’s fresh out of a relationship and give me some sort of speech about protecting her?” Chan asks.
“No,” Jay says simply. “She’s an adult and I’d never tell her who to date as long as she’s happy. Besides, you’re friends with her too.” 
“I really don’t know if we’re friends right now, things are weird,” Chan admits.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Jay says with a bit of a snort. 
“I went out to lunch with Carla today and then I got a text from her saying she’d heard about my lunch and hoped it was good. What am I supposed to do with that?” Chan asks, louder than he meant to.
“I don’t know,” Jay admits. “I don’t think she knows, to be honest.” 
“What do you mean?” Chan asks.
“Well, I’ll admit that I told her that you went to lunch with Carla because she’s been really weird about you since she broke it off with Seungsik. Probably before that, honestly, but it’s definitely been weird since then. I know she went to your aunt’s house the day after you told her and she confronted that asshole,” Jay says.
“Yeah, my aunt was thrilled,” Chan remembers.
“So was my sister, she said it’s one of the best times she’s had in awhile,” Jay shares.
“What did she say to you when you told her I was out to lunch?” Chan wonders.
“She just said oh good for him,” Jay says, “which I assumed meant she didn’t want me to know what she was thinking so I wouldn’t have to lie to you. I figured she was going to text you, too. Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” Chan brushes off. 
“Do you like her? Like actually like her?” Jay asks. 
“I don’t…I’m not sure, honestly,” Chan admits. 
“You were sure, though,” Jay presses. “I could see it in the way you looked at her. I remember thinking anyone would be lucky to have someone look at them that way.” 
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t that subtle to anyone but her,” Chan jokes. 
“I think even she stopped being oblivious,” Jay laughs. “So what changed?” 
“I don’t know,” Chan shares. “I guess, I don’t know, it just felt like it’s been all this time and I was doing all these things with her when Seungsik didn’t want to. And I had this moment where I thought I could do things like that with her the rest of my life and be happy. But, then we were talking about him after I saw him out and she said something about how he always thought I liked her but she brushed it off. So I just kinda realized I needed to move on.” 
“Can you do that if she never knew for sure how you felt?” Jay asks. “Is it fair to either of you?”
“Is it fair to her when she’s only just gotten out of a relationship?” Chan challenges. 
“Like I said, Chan, she’s an adult. Just telling her that you have feelings for her isn’t the same as expecting her to jump right into something new,” Jay reasons. “If you love her, like I think you do, then she deserves to know that she isn’t crazy. Even if nothing happens. The only way to move forward is by being honest.”
“Love her…wait, why would she think she’s crazy?” Chan worries. 
“Because you’ve been weird too, bro. It isn’t just her,” Jay laughs. “She is going to absolutely kill me for this, but she remembers texting you and then FaceTiming you after Friendsgiving. She knows you asked Seokmin to delete the chat and dodged her question about how you felt. So, I think she thinks that she imagined you liking her.” 
“Shit,” Chan breathes out. “I was just trying to do what I thought was best.”
“I know that, but I’m not sure she does,” Jay shares. 
“Fuck it, I need shots,” Chan declares. 
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He’s definitely not sober when he shows up at your apartment a few hours later. Despite Jay’s insistence that they eat something, he’s still very buzzed, bordering on the world having some blurry edges. Although Jay insisted this could wait until tomorrow, he’s still here at your doorstep. Doesn’t even look back at the Uber after he gets out. His fingers dance over the keypad to the building on autopilot because he’s been there enough times before. There’s no thought about if you’re home or what time it is. No thoughts about if you have company. All he can think is that he’s sick of this weird limbo. 
You answer the door with your hair piled on top of your head, oversized t-shirt hanging off your frame, and a look of complete surprise on your face. Whatever you see on Chan’s face makes you step aside and let him in without a word. It’s not until he feels the couch dip as you sit next to him that he really meets your eyes.
“What are you doing here, Chan?” you ask. 
“I’m sorry,” Chan whispers.
“For what?” you prompt.
“For so many things,” Chan answers. “For Seungsik, for not being a better friend, for not seeing you that night at the restaurant, for telling Seokmin to delete your texts, for not giving you a straight answer, for going on dates with someone. But mostly for falling for you when it’s the worst possible timing.”
“You’re drunk,” you say after a moment.
“A little, maybe, but that doesn’t make any of it less true,” Chan argues. 
“I want to hear all of this from you in the morning, when you’re sober,” you say. 
“Please, I don’t know if…” Chan starts.
“Come on, Channie, let’s get you to bed and we can talk in the morning,” you say. 
You stand and reach a hand to him. He’s not sure if it’s the thought behind the gesture or hearing you say Channie, but he takes your hand without questioning it. Before he knows it, he’s tucked into bed and his eyes are closing. It may be the most comfortable bed he’s ever slept in. 
The next morning, sun through the cracks in the blinds wakes Chan up and it takes him more than a moment to remember where he is. It’s only when he looks around and sees your familiar decorations everywhere that it dawns on him. Not only is he in your apartment, he’s in your bedroom. He slept in your bed last night. Somehow that realization has him feeling even worse than the slight hangover. Since life is really unfair, you walk in a minute later, looking far better than anyone should in the morning. You hand over a cup of coffee. Fighting his embarrassment, Chan sits up so he can accept it and take a sip. Of course it’s perfect. It feels like the reverse of the morning after the Halloween party.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Terrible,” Chan admits ambiguously. 
“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for drinking so much. Jay said he wasn’t sure where you were putting it,” you chuckle out. You pick up your own coffee mug to take a sip.
“When did you talk to Jay?” Chan wonders.
“He was blowing up your phone and I don’t know your password so I figured he was worried about you. I texted him to say you were here and passed out and you’d text him today,” you answer. “He didn’t seem concerned once I said you were here.” 
“Yeah, well it’s not really the hangover that’s making me feel terrible,” Chan mumbles and you raise an eyebrow at him. 
“I hope I’m not making you feel terrible,” you throw out.
“No, I’m just embarrassed, really,” Chan says. 
“You don’t need to be,” you assure him, voice gentle. 
“I am so sorry for telling Seokmin to delete those messages, I thought it was the right thing to do,” Chan begins. 
“It’s fine. I’m not surprised my darling brother told you about that, though,” you say. 
“It’s not fine. I just, I don’t know, I didn’t really know what was going on and it felt a little overwhelming,” Chan says. 
“Yeah I can see that. To be fair, I’m not really sure what I was even trying to accomplish that night,” you say quietly.
“Can I try to say the things I wanted to say last night?” Chan asks. “Jay actually helped me realize some things.”
“He’s got his moments,” you laugh. “And yeah, I think I’d like to hear what you wanted to say, now that it’s morning and you’re sober.” 
“I could repeat what I said, but it really comes down to this. I like you. A lot, way more than I should and I know that it’s, like, the worst timing in the world because of Seungsik and the break up,” Chan rushes out. “I know it’s probably not fair to you to tell you now, but Jay also pointed out that I can’t really try to move on when I haven’t told you how I feel. I just, I got kinda freaked out to tell you when you said the thing about your ex thinking I liked you, but you brushing it off.” 
“Chan,” you try to interrupt.
“And, fuck, I was trying so hard to date someone and get my mind off you that I didn’t even think about it,” Chan carries on. “But the reality is that all the things we did all season long have been some of the best times of my life. I’m sorry, I know that I’m rambling.”
“Can I speak now?” you ask and Chan’s cheeks burn red. 
“Sorry,” Chan whispers.
“I like you, too,” you admit. “I’m not really sure when it happened. Maybe somewhere along the way of you just constantly being there.”
“Yeah, we’ve spent a lot of time together the last like two months,” Chan agrees. “Wait, did you say you like me, too?”
“I did and, like, we have definitely spent a lot of time together doing all the things I love to do, which maybe helped me realize, but I think it’s been there a lot longer. All this did was make me realize how you’ve been there for me for years and I didn’t see that it was more than just a friendly thing,” you say. “You probably don’t remember but back in college, that idiot broke my heart and you and Jay spent the whole weekend cheering me up. I get why Jay did it, he’s my brother, but you didn’t have to.”
“Of course I remember, that’s when I realized I had a crush on you,” Chan says softly. 
“Chan, that was like 6 years ago,” you say, nearly choking. 
“Pushing seven,” Chan admits.
“You’ve liked me all that time and I didn’t realize?” you wonder.
“Maybe not all that time, it’s not like I haven’t dated,” Chan points out. 
“Oh yes, because you’ve dated such winners,” you scoff. 
“Are you, were you jealous?” Chan teases. “You started acting weird when I went on the date with Carla and didn’t notice you or our friends.”
“I wasn’t acting weird,” you protest. 
“Yes you were, even Jay said so,” Chan counters.
“Oh whatever, you’ve liked me for seven years,” you tease with a roll of your eyes. 
“And you’ve probably liked me just as long but you’re stubborn,” Chan says.
He’s not sure where the confidence comes from now, but hearing that you like him too just makes it feel lighter. Even though there’s no telling what happens from here, it feels good to have it all out in the open. You’ve both abandoned your coffees at this point and are just sitting on the bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 
“I am not stubborn,” you protest. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must be thinking of someone else,” Chan teases. 
“Must be,” you agree.
“Hey,” Chan says, more serious. “I don’t know what happens next and I know you just got out of a relationship, so there’s no pressure or…”
Chan can’t finish what he’s saying when you press your lips to his. It takes him several seconds to get over the shock, though. It doesn’t matter that you admitted to liking him, too. That’s still a big step to go from that to kissing. You’re pulling away when his brain finally connects and he kisses you back. Makes him pull you back into him so that he doesn’t miss another second of the way your lips feel against his. Makes him dig his fingers into your hips when he pulls you on top of him. You pull away to gasp and catch your breath. Let yourself get situated with a knee pressed into the mattress on either side of him. All you can do is just look at him, pupils a little blown and chest rising with each breath. Loosening his grip on you, he looks down and watches his hands slide over your thighs and back up to your hips. When he looks back at you, he finds you’re watching the movement. 
“You don’t have to be so careful, Chan, I’m not that fragile,” you utter.
“I know you’re not,” he confirms. “But, are you sure?”
“About this?” you ask and he nods. “The most sure I’ve been about anything in a long time.”
He’s about to ask you again but you just shake your head before leaning in to kiss him. You’re giving him confirmation and permission all at once. Confirmation that you want this and permission to not treat you so gently. It’s all he needs to start running his hands up across your hips and then under your shirt and up your back. Your hands move from the sides of his face to fling your arms around his neck when he presses you tighter against his body. Kissing you isn’t anything like he imagined. It’s not soft and tender. It’s a little desperate and needy, but still completely full of affection. As if testing what you said about not needing to be careful, he nips at your lower lip. The light moan shoots straight to his dick and his hands travel back down your back to your hips. Gripping you tight but also making you slightly rock against him. 
It’s not enough contact, though. Now that he’s got you like this, he just wants more. It’s almost too much when he pulls your t-shirt off and he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra. Maybe this was in your plan all along. Chan pulls back and plants a light kiss on your lips, currently pouting and a little puffy from the kisses. When he kisses across your jaw and down to your neck, you arch into it. He wants to savor this, to take his time taking you apart. Wants to coax every noise out of you. Wants to be the reason you’re completely ruined. Doesn’t know that he’s already well on the way there. 
He kisses across the top of your chest, from one collarbone to the other and you let out a small please. Probably that you need more. That’s definitely going to take time, though. When he places a feather light kiss between your breasts, you whimper again, rock your hips forward over him again. It’s everything he can do to not get too turned on too fast. It doesn’t matter if you have a million more times after this. This is the first time and he wants to savor it. Slowly, he moves his lips over to one of your breasts, flicks his tongue across your nipple a couple of times. Nips a mark into your sensitive skin and laves his tongue over to soothe the sting. Your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair that’s longer than you remember it being before. Even if you won’t admit it, he can tell you like it by the way your hands keep finding it. 
As he kisses his way back up to your lips, he moves you a little further back on his lap. Misses the confusion cross your face. But, he’s got a plan. Once he’s kissing you again, one hand slides down your inner thigh and plays with the edge of your shorts. You squirm when you realize just what he’s doing. He can’t fight the groan when he realizes you don’t have any underwear on under your shorts, either. Jesus. He has to pull back for a steadying breath. This is about you and making you feel good. He can’t get too turned on too fast. His lips find yours again and his thumb runs along your slit, inside your shorts. Collects the wetness already between your legs. You try to pull away from the kiss to moan and he uses his free hand to anchor you to him. Lightly, he spreads your lips apart so that his thumb can brush over your clit. That’s when he finally let’s you pull back. 
“Fuck,” you utter immediately.
“Is this still okay?” Chan whispers against your skin before kissing the spot just below your ear. 
“Yes,” you hiss out as his thumb continues to caress your clit. 
“You can stop it if you want,” he tells you. 
“I will kill you if you stop,” you threaten, lust heavy in your tone. 
“Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he teases.
“Stop being such a - fuck,” you gasp out when Chan slides a finger inside you. 
“Such a what?” he prompts. 
“A tease,” you finish. “Please, Channie, you’re moving so slow.” 
Instead of answering right away, he leans in to kiss you again. Captures your moans, but doesn’t increase the slow, almost lazy speed that his finger enters you. “You in a hurry?” 
“No,” you whine, “but I need more. Please. Please just give me a little more.”
The way words fall out of your mouth, begging him to carry on, makes his dick twitch. He’s thankful you don’t seem to notice because he likes having the control like this. Likes watching you squirm on top of him and knowing it’s all for him. Gives you at least a little of what you want when he slides a second finger in. Doesn’t tell you that it’s still just warming you up for something more. Something he’s been thinking about for weeks. 
“I want to feel you, please,” you beg when Chan pulls his lips away from yours again. 
“Not yet,” he tells you.
“Why?” you whine out.
“I want to taste you first,” Chan says, fingers stilled inside of you, but thumb still lightly circling your clit. 
“Can’t we just…” you start.
“Are you gonna make me beg, baby?” Chan wonders. Your eyes widen at that, both out of surprise and desire. “I will, I have all the time in the world.” 
“N-no, you don’t need to,” you stutter out. “How do you…”
“I want you to sit on my face,” he says simply.
“What?” you nearly gasp.
“I want you to sit on my face,” he repeats. “Just straddle my face and let me show you how good I can be for you.” 
“I’ve, um, well I’ve never…” you start, turning a little shy. 
Chan takes his free hand and tilts your chin up, so gentle that he doesn’t realize the act almost breaks you. “Never had someone eat you out like that?” 
You shake your head. “I, um, haven’t actually been eaten out much.” 
“Can I admit something too, then?” he asks, wanting to make you comfortable. You nod. “I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to be under you since you got on my shoulders at the orchard and your thighs squeezed my face.”
It’s clear that’s not what you’re expecting. It’s something so honest that it’s all you can focus on. Where Chan would usually feel too exposed, he only feels comfortable with you. Like he can expose everything about him and he’ll still be safe with you. He wants you to feel that too. Doesn’t realize that you’ve never had someone take their time with you like this. 
“Well it was kinda hot, the way you picked me up like that,” you finally admit. 
“So trust me again, I won’t let you fall,” he urges. 
You mumble something under your breath that sounds suspiciously like too late. He’s trying not to focus too much on that, too much on what happens after this. All he wants is this moment to last forever. To be able to show you just how much he cares for you.
“So how do we…” you start.
“Here, get up for a second,” he directs you, gently moving you off his lap. 
In one quick motion, he pulls his shirt off and watches the way your eyes drink him in. His muscles contract as you reach out to run a hand along his stomach. Doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath and waiting for your verdict.
“Fuck me, you’re hot. I’ve seen you swimming, have you always looked like this?” you say, sounding annoyed and making him laugh. 
“Let’s get you out of these,” Chan says instead of answering and helps you pull off your shorts. 
He leans back and makes sure that he’s comfortable. Then, he directs you to straddle his face. Urges you to trust him, Promises you that you’re not going to hurt him. Reminds you that this is about you, but it’s about him, too. He’s wondered what it would feel like to have your thighs boxing his head in. To be so caught up in you. Just as you’re about to protest, he licks a strip up your core and you gasp. He continues to run his tongue up your entrance, sliding his tongue deeper into you as he goes. You start to squirm almost immediately and he reaches up to anchor your legs on either side of his head. 
It’s honestly far better than Chan was imagining. The noises coming from you were only encouraging him to keep going. Not that he really needed any encouragement. He could drown between your legs and be the happiest he’d ever been. It was unthinkable that nobody wanted to take care of you like this before. Your arousal coated his tongue as he pressed it deeper inside you between his licks. His nose bumped against your clit and he had to grip you harder again to keep you from arching off his mouth. As if sensing that he needed you closer, you leaned forward, gripping onto the headboard. He squeezed your legs and fucked his tongue faster into your pussy. 
“Chan, fuck, oh my god, your tongue, I just - fuck,” you curse out. 
He’s good with his tongue, he knows that. Knows he’s good at a lot of things. This is different, though. Every noise sounds so much better, every body spasm is that much more rewarding, every curse sounds perfect. It’s not until your body starts quivering hard that he realizes he’s never wanted to make someone come on his tongue more than this. You must be close because you start to get more incoherent, start to try and pull yourself off him. Instead, Chan holds onto you harder.
“Please, I’m gonna come,” you whine. 
Chan pulls away from your pussy just long enough to utter a single phrase. “Then, come for me.” 
And then he’s back to burying his tongue inside you, licking faster, reaching a hand around your leg to circle your clit with his thumb again. It’s nothing but a string of curses that you utter. Clench your walls around his tongue. There’s nothing hotter than how fully you trust him as you let go, coming on his face. He times the strokes of his tongue to guide you through the high before helping you off of his face so that you can lie back on the bed and catch your breath. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, fully aware that he hasn’t gotten it all, and repositions to lay next to you on his side. Your eyes are closed and he can’t help but brush a piece of stray hair off your face. The tenderness at odds with the previous moments. 
“Whoa,” you finally say when you open your eyes to look at him. 
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“That was…fuck, that was good,” you admit. “I don’t want to give you a big head or anything but damn.” 
“It’s a bit late for that,” Chan jokes. “I could feel how much you enjoyed it.”
You swat at him. “Fuck off.” 
He catches your hand and presses a light kiss to your knuckles. “Not before I fuck you.”
The contrast between the kiss and the statement nearly gives you whiplash. It’s plain on your face that you’re wondering where this version of him came from. 
“Unless you changed your mind or you’re too tired,” he offers. “I just remember you saying you wanted to feel me.”
“Oh no, I definitely still want that. I seem to remember you promising to show me how good you could be for me,” you say, regaining the confidence. 
“My pleasure,” he says and gets up from the bed. 
You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he pulls his briefs and shorts down in one motion, dick springing free. There’s a satisfaction to watching the way you take in the sight of him fully naked. He’s confident in his size, definitely confident he can make you feel good, but it’s still nice to see the way your eyes go big. Nice to see the way you swallow while watching his hand move lazy along his shaft. 
“Condoms?” he asks.
“That drawer,” you indicate. 
He reaches in to get one and rips the package with his teeth. He’s watching you as he slides the latex over his dick. Watching for any signs of second thoughts. There aren’t any, but he wants to check anyway.
“You’re still sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” you confirm, meeting his eyes. “And if something changes, I’ll stop you.”
“Good, because I still wanna make you come at least two more times before I do,” he tells you.
You shudder. “You sure you can do that?” 
“Positive,” he says with a smile that’s entirely too confident. 
Except he knows he can deliver. Knows that he can show you just how good he can be. Knows that he can make you feel amazing. He directs you to lay back on the bed and spreads your legs. Instead of sliding right in, he uses a finger to make sure you’re still ready for him. To make sure he’s not rushing it. You squirm against his finger and he can tell you’re getting impatient again. But, he wasn’t kidding. He’s going to take his time with you. 
You’re still so sensitive that he brings you almost to the edge just with his fingers. Delights in the way you arch into him. In the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer. In the way your fingers dig into the sheets at first before you grip one of his arms. Before you leave scratch marks along that same arm. Before you’re begging him just to let you feel him inside of you. It’s enough to finally make him give into your begging. He lines himself up at your entrance and presses his dick in slowly. Much slower than his finger was pumping into you. He wants to let you adjust to the stretch, though. Your hands make their way to his back and your fingers run down his muscles there. Gently at first, like you’re just exploring his body. When your fingers run down his back again, this time scratching along the way, he buries himself in you and pulls back to snap once, quick. The resulting gasp is music to his ears. 
He sets a varying pace. Mixing slow with fast. Shallow pumps with deep ones. Tries to find out just what you like the best and what pulls the best sounds out of you. He leans back so he can throw one of your legs over his shoulder and hit a different angle. That seems to be the one you enjoy the most and it’s only moments before you’re coming undone around him again. He pulls out when you start to clench around him because he’s not sure that he’s strong enough to hold back through that. And he really does want to make you come more before he does. 
It carries on like that, Chan constantly changing your positions, doing more than his fair share of the work, studying every inch of your body. It’s clear that your brain is going a little mushy and that you’re insanely overstimulated. In the end, he makes you come two more times, in addition to the two previous orgasms, before he finally lets go. It’s honestly the best release he’s ever experienced. The best high and the best sex. Everything feels magnified and also like the most natural thing in the world. He finds it’s really easy to figure out the things you like and they seem to line up with things he enjoys as well. 
He lies back on the bed and you curl into him after you take a minute to recover. Actually tuck yourself right into his side and nestle in with his arm underneath your neck. He wouldn’t ever move if he didn’t have to. But, you both definitely need to get cleaned up. 
“Where are you going?” you ask when he starts to move. Your eyes look a little worried. That kind of breaks his heart because why do you look so nervous?
He leans back onto the bed and presses the softest, most gentle kiss he’s ever given anyone on your forehead. “To get a towel to clean up a bit. And I was gonna start a bath for you, I know your tub is crazy nice.”
“A bath actually sounds really amazing,” you admit.
“Just stay here then and let me take care of you,” he insists. 
You nod and lay back onto the bed, closing your eyes and smiling. It makes his heart swell at the level of comfort you seem to feel. He also knows that you and him need to talk, to figure out what’s going on and where this is heading. Knows that he’s already in way deeper than he should be. But, all he focuses on now is cleaning himself up a bit. It’s a little hard to do, so he just hops in the shower to rinse off as quickly as possible. Once he’s done with that, he focuses on getting the bath running for you. 
When he feels like the temperature is right, that the bath bomb has dissolved enough, and that it’s all completely perfect for you, he walks back into the bedroom. He expects to find you asleep. Instead, you’re sitting up with some fresh clothes next to you. 
“I heard you in the shower,” you say and offer him the clothes when you get up. You wince just slightly. 
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. 
“I’m not,” you disagree. Chan helps you to the bathtub and helps you in. He blushes a little when you return the favor and kiss him softly on the lips. He turns around when your voice stops him. “Where are you going?”
“I was going to let you enjoy the bath,” he answers.
“I’d like it better if you stayed here,” you admit and his heart feels like it really will explode. 
“Let me just put on some clothes,” he requests.
“You could also just get in with me,” you offer. “Not in a sexual way, just in a closeness way.”
How can he argue with that, really? Your tub is plenty big enough, a sticking point for you even if the rest of the apartment was on the smaller size. The main bathroom was massive, comparatively. So he gets in carefully across from you and settles into the water. It does actually feel really nice. His eyes fall on you moving gingerly to wash yourself off. 
“C’mere,” he says, “turn around.” 
You do as he asks and settle in between his legs, with your back leaning against his chest. He picks up your loofah and takes over rubbing it carefully across your skin. You relax further against him almost immediately, which he takes as a good sign that he’s doing something right. There’s a lot he’s done or tried, but this is new territory for him. And he wants to be good at it, too. 
Once he’s finished cleaning you off, the two of you just stay like that, you leaning against his chest. It’s a comfortable silence that neither of you feels the need to break. It’s not until the water starts to feel cold that you both admit you need to get out. This time, you actually let Chan put his clothes on and you put something comfortable on as well. He helps you pull the sheets off the bed to throw them in the wash. 
The two of you check your phones when you plop down onto the living room couch and Chan grimaces. He’s got a whole bunch of texts and missed calls from Jay. Some are from last night, like you said, but some are from today, too. He shows them to you and you show him a string of notifications that look similar. 
“Time to break the bubble?” Chan asks. 
“At least for long enough that he stops having a heart attack,” you agree. 
So, Chan dials and isn’t surprised when Jay picks up on the second ring.
“What the fuck, Chan, where are you? And why isn’t my sister answering either?” Jay asks instead of a hello.
“Uh, you’re on speaker,” Chan answers. 
“Hey,” you chime in.
“You’re still over there?” Jay asks incredulously. “How much could you possibly have to talk about?” 
“Worried I’m going to steal your best friend?” you tease.
“Or are you worried I’m going to steal your sister?” Chan asks and you laugh.
“No, you’re better than literally any person she’s dated ever. By a lot,” Jay acknowledges. 
“Oh my god, you really are just missing your best friend,” you groan. 
“And my roommate, he’s my roommate too,” Jay protests.
“We have things to talk about,” you say.
“How much do you have to talk about?” Jay wonders. “He likes you, you obviously like him. What else do you need to know?” 
“That’s between us,” you say as Chan starts to talk.
“We also didn’t talk last night because I was drunk,” he adds.
“Yeah and it’s late afternoon now, so what have you been…oh my god, that’s fucking gross, that’s my sister,” Jay sputters out.
“I didn’t even say anything!” Chan protests. 
“You didn’t have to. We’re roommates, remember?” Jay answers.
“If you miss me, just say that and go,” Chan teases.
“I do miss you, I made Vernon come over earlier and it’s not the same,” Jay says.
“Hey,” they hear Vernon say in the background.
“I think I hate this already,” you say and scrunch your face.
“Sick of him already?” Jay jokes.
“No, I don’t like you liking someone I’m dating,” you disagree. 
“Dating?” Jay and Chan ask at the same time.
“Oh, well, I just figured…” you start.
“I’m hanging up on you, bro, we have things to talk about,” Chan says. 
“Fine, but just be good to her, she deserves that,” Jay says.
“Yeah, she does,” Chan agrees, eyes on you. 
He hangs up the phone and just looks at you, unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to start figuring out what this is. You just got out of something that was really unhealthy and he’s not trying to rush you into something new or risk it being unhealthy because you didn’t heal. Couldn’t stand to be a rebound. He’s never thought this far.
“I didn’t meant to assume, I just…” you start.
“Of course I want to date you. It’s just, you just got out of a relationship and I want to give you time to get over that,” he says.
“I think I’ve been over it since the train ride, to be honest,” you say. “Maybe it took me a while to realize. But you showed me, time and time again, what it means to show up for someone you love.”
“I love you, too,” Chan says softly.
“So we figure it out together?” you ask, so hopeful.
Chan leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “Yeah, we figure it out together.”
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i'm sad this is over, but it was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did. and there's a very real chance i'll return to this with future timestamps/drabbles. but who knows when because of who i am as a person!
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angelltheninth · 1 year
Note
Hello!!! I was wondering what would you think Cyno would be like with a Fem S/o that has a Sir kink? (Nsfw hcs please!!) or if you aren’t comfortable with the sir kink Then general Cyno nsfw hcs instead?
Have a lovely year btw!
Sir kink is perfectly fine! I already wrote it for Nanami Kento from JJK and that fic is one of my fav JJK ones I've ever written. So I have no problem writing it for Cyno.
Pairing: Cyno x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, sir kink, cum marking, begging
A/N: Cyno jumped to my top 5 male characters over the last few weeks.
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Cyno was balls deep inside of you, his hands slowly caressing your body as you squirmed in pleasure
Your head was already fuzzy, your self control gone as you called, no screamed for him to give you a creampie
That wasn't what made him pause, you'd asked that many times
No what made him stop and look at you was the fact that you called him 'sir' at the end of it
He tried to hold back a little laugh but he couldn't, not when you looked so cute, so flustered that you let that word slip out
He didn't mind at all judging by the way he smirked at you
He backed away, his hand stroking his cock as he ordered you to bend your legs over your head, present yourself to him properly
A shiver rushed through your body as you hooked your hands under your knees and lifted them up
Not wanting to feel empty for too long you pushed two fingers inside your cunt, feeling yourself clamping down on them instantly
Cyno wanted to hear it again, he wanted you to beg, to call him sir again, to beg for his dick and his cum
Realizing he was playing into it too, that he was clearly getting off on the power play as well, that you were the one who made him realize he has that kink was a huge boost in confidence
After that you started calling him sir during sex and on the regular
It was funny to see him slowly lose him composure little by little through the day, his lust building up until he could have you all to himself later that night
He loves making you beg to mark you with his teeth and his cum
If you have enough courage to call him sir, to whisper it into his ear through the day then you can take whatever punishment he decides to give
What he loves seeing most of all is you asking for him to come again, even after you're covered in his cum from your mouth to your cunt
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archivalofsins · 1 month
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You know when I started watching Milgram due to Star. I didn't really think I'd like any of the characters in it.
I was super suspicious of everyone even only knowing the bare minimum. My first instinct isn't to trust people generally regardless of their age. Ultimately, like when I started out, I would have found certain people innocent, but it was mostly due to surface level observations or not knowing enough about them.
I'm kind of happy to have reached the point that i can go I actually wouldn't find any of these people innocent. I actually don't think forgiveness can fix any of them in the same way I wouldn't think it would immediately fix a real person.
Looking at it from the standpoint of an apology and forgiveness can't fix this. Gives me the opportunity to examine how much weight an apology and being forgiven has to me. It allows me to interrogate who an apology and forgiveness is for in general.
My belief is that forgiveness is given as closure for the one who has been offended or hurt. It's ending the pain for them not the one being pardoned.
It won't change how the person who committed the transgression feels about it. Regardless of if the people they committed these acts towards or society at large forgives them.
"I’m still guilty even if the morning comes."/ "I need to be tagged as RED."
Forgiveness isn't something that can be given by the one the offense wasn't towards. An apology can't be received by people who were never offended/hurt to begin with.
It can only reach someone's ears once they know what the offending party did wrong.
"“I’m sorry” won’t reach anyone. I hope it will someday."/ "Hey, what if- If I am a bad girl? Don’t hate me."
Yet people finding out lessens the offenders' chances of being forgiven. Because whoever discovers what happened won't view the offender as a victim anymore.
"You don’t even know yet, and yet."
It's not something most want to receive from people who know nothing about them.
"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer."/ "So off the mark, what’s it to you? It’s just absurd. Like really, who do you think you are?"
It's not something that anyone other than the person it's given to can accept and if they don't want it for themselves they're less likely to want it for others.
"Feeling magnanimous? INNOCENT? I’m so not that."-"Just choose the only choice, GUILTY. Say that sympathy is useless. Hate evil as the evil that it is."
Magnanimous Kids Definition 2 Being generous and forgiving.
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Sympathy Kids Definition 2 a: the readiness to think or feel alike that makes for a common bond b: readiness to favor or support
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It's something people don't have to accept or give once an offense has occurred.
"It’s a tie after saying sorry? What are you hoping for?"
"Even I can say "I'm sorry". Even I have hope."/ "You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already. Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?" "Shall we replace the poor soul, and the miserable delusion- “I didn’t mean to offend”, “I won’t do it again” How many wins in a row?"/"I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it. Give me the next target."
It's something that some people can't move on without.
"I won’t stop until you say “sorry”."/ "Tears aren’t enough, no way no how it’s going to end. It’s so hot, so hard to breath, there’s no solace for my heart."
People don't even have to accept when they're not forgiven or their apologies aren't accepted. Others have every right to think that someone is making a big deal out of nothing. That what they did was actually a really small thing and nothing serious.
"I just got a little greedy."-"Is this selfish? This isn’t too much is it?"
"Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade." "Why, hey why, I’m nowhere to be found? So I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me even though I’m right."
"So it’s wrong? Oh shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right?"-"Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down."
There's no guarantee that even if you tell someone that what they did was wrong that they'll accept it or that the information will even be news to them.
"Giving you love to the point of pulling you down. It’s just because I still get worried, please forgive me."/"Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin. My love, it scored an own goal, destroyed my love and me with its weight. Tell me, oh tell me why, can’t I just do it right?"
"My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care!"/ "What you trampled is my, “This is how to be in love with you”."
There's something so incredibly human with how all the characters engage with the concept of apologizing or being forgiven. Something that makes them all much more endearing and relatable to me. At the beginning of Milgram I really didn't care for any of the characters here. I thought they were all pretty bad people and were mostly forgiving them based off of personal and surface level judgments.
In the very beginning though I was just uninvolved. I'm the sort that likes minding my business until I have enough information. So, I only voted on Amane trial one. This trial is the first one I've actually participated in voting fully in. It's incredibly easy to get caught up in others pace and the stories they tell about themselves.
Especially under a time crunch. I can't say if I like the characters and my opinion is subject to change next trial but I've very much enjoyed getting to know more about them over the course of Milgram. Along with greatly appreciating how realistically they're all written.
I guess if like was quantified by how willing you would be to be in the same room as a person then I like them all a lot more than when I got into this. They seem decent and on a more fun note incredibly unpredictable. Something that will make trial three very fun.
Hopefully Milgram gets more and more people to interrogate the concepts of apologies and forgiveness. I wonder if trial three will make people question if one really needs to be sorry to be forgiven. Plus considering how the number four is viewed overseas it is kind of funny trial two is ending right before the fourth anniversary of the series. So the intermission will be taking place during that.
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Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire
○ fandom: fantasy high
○ main pairing: fabriz (fabian x riz)
○ characters: fabian | riz
○ genre/warnings: fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort
○ tags: Snowed In | Pining | Sharing a Bed | Post-Campaign 01 Season 02: Fantasy High Sophomore Year (Dimension 20) | Fabian Aramais Seacaster-centric | because Riz is out of commission for a lot of this | Fabian goes through the ringer baby! | Mentioned The Bad Kids (Dimension 20) | Fabian's Fire Elemental | In before Junior Year!
○ word count: 7,454
→ summary: Lost in a blizzard and separated from the rest of the party, Fabian does his best to keep Riz safe while trudging through snowbanks until he happens upon a lonely cottage...
○ note: y'all this was supposed to be short. I hope you enjoy it though!
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White.
That’s all Fabian could see.
For miles and miles, all around, as he trudged through banks of snow across the mountainside despite the fall of night. In his mind, thoughts raced about, weaving in and out of the forefront of it like waves lapping at a shore.
Most were complaints and grievances over the chill seeping into his bones. The pieces of snow sneaked into his boots when one slipped deeper than expected into the heaps of snow. There was one thought that never left, though. That he kept repeating endlessly, like a broken record.
A prayer.
One to any deity that would listen.
To Cassandra.
To Helio or Sol.
Anyone.
A desperate plea for a sign, no matter how slight, that he was heading the right way.
He’d been sure of it back when he and Riz had first escaped the abyssal cultists’ sanctum. Stumbling out of a secret passage and into the harsh cold of an unforeseen blizzard, they’d only had seconds to decide before they either froze or got caught.
As thunderous, frosty winds buffeted their bodies and bellowed in their ears, they bickered about their next move. Seeing as splitting up hadn’t been the Bad Kids’ plan going in. But, then again, when had any of their plans ever gone off without a hitch? At least they’d had enough shrewdness to set a rendezvous point at The Last Boulder Inn in the Dwarven village they’d set out from last.
“We didn’t account for not being able to get to the rendezvous point, did we?” Riz yelled over the wind, clutching the artifact they’d stolen (An ancient tome of some kind, don’t ask him.) close to his chest, shielding it from the blizzard the best he could.
Faint shouts began to stir from the tunnel behind them, interrupting any quip Fabian could’ve shot back. Barkings of orders in Infernal—no, he’s heard The Hangman and Gorthalax speak it too many times—in Abyssal. And they were growing louder and louder despite the wind doing its best to drown them out. The cultists. Both of their eyes widened as they looked at the closed secret door, back at each other, and then all around.
Fabian soon realized that even at his height he couldn’t find any substantial path. So, he turned to Riz and said, “Get on my shoulders, see if you can spot a path or a-a cave or, or, or something!”
Passing off the tome to him, Riz scaled Fabian with practiced ease. Only thrown off slightly by the force of the winds, but he got up there nonetheless. The cultists’ cries of anger grew in volume in the panicked yet empty moments of searching.
“There!” Riz shouted from above, sticking out a gloved hand toward something Fabian couldn’t see. “There’s a cabin about a mile, maybe two away from here. We can make it. I know we can.”
“Well, you’re not making it anywhere. Take this,” Fabian shoved the tome back into Riz’s arms before he dropped to one knee. Slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. Zipping it open, he presented the open compartment to Riz. “And get in.”
Riz’s eyes went wide. “But—”
“In this sort of weather, the safest place for you and that book to be is in my backpack.” He said, desperation tinging what authority he tried to have in this moment. “The Ball, your tiny legs aren’t going to be able to keep up with me. Not in snow this deep and gales this strong. Get. In.”
Riz stared at the bag with a scowl before he let out a hiss and shoved his briefcase in the bag before getting in himself. “You’re heading due east, okay? Due. East. With all the ridges and slopes, it’s gonna feel like you’re going the wrong way but I promise you aren’t.” And a second before Fabian zipped it up after him, Riz poked his head out and said, “Oh, and remember—”
“Three pats on my bag if I’m going to open it because if I don’t you’ll shoot me.”
Riz grinned wide, his eyes sparkling. “Best Friends.”
“That’s quite enough out of you.” With a pointed zip of his bag, Fabian hauled his backpack onto his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he took a glance at Riz’s compass, due northeast, before setting off.
That must’ve been an hour ago.
Maybe longer.
He’d lost sensation in his nose, ears, and cheeks about fifteen minutes in, which was a blessing in some ways. No longer having to endure how the blizzard’s winds whipped and lashed against them. Such strong gusts that a stray thought settled in the back of Fabian’s mind of clothes torn by icy currents and boots rent by frozen snow.
About twenty minutes in, his fingers had gone numb as well, even with his gloved hands. More of a bane than the others, he’d been shaking so badly that, at some point, he’d dropped Riz’s compass. But he couldn’t stop to look for it. He couldn’t stop at all. Because if he did, he wouldn’t start again and if he didn’t start moving again…
Well, best not to think too hard about it. All he had to do was keep moving in the direction Riz had told him to. He’d said there was a cabin, so there must be a cabin. Fabian just has to make it there.
So, he kept trudging. One step after another. Through the mountainside, half frozen, enduring Constitution saving throw after saving throw. Making each one by the skin of his teeth. He crossed his fingers that Riz was as successful as he, though he didn’t know many Rogues with high Constitution scores.
At that thought, he faltered in his strenuous stride. In the crook of two hills whose sides rose well above his head, blocking his vision from anything but the bright grey sky. He stopped. Yelling was a pointless thing to do in a blizzard as severe as this one turned out to be, but Fabian had no other choice. He wouldn’t risk slinging his bag off of his shoulder and opening it up.
One, because he’s semi-convinced that his backpack has frozen to his thick jacket and he couldn’t take it off even if he wanted to. And two, exposing Riz to this cold would certainly finish him off if the failed saving throws hadn’t.
Yelling it was then.
“The Ball?”
No response. He didn’t yell as loud as he could’ve. So, Fabian tried again.
“The Ball!”
The howling wind swirling around him seemed oh so much fiercer and vociferous in the absence of a response. Even faster than it had been beating already, Fabian’s heart picked up speed.
“Riz!” Fabian shouted behind him, his voice shaking. “Riz, talk to me!”
A beat of silence, of stillness. Not that of a calming lake or the morning after winter’s first snow but the silence and stillness of a long-dead corpse. Another beat. And another. It’s only when fear spiked in Fabian’s heart and he jolted his backpack around, trying to get it off, that Riz’s voice reached his ears. Barely making it over the wind.
“I’m fine,” Came Riz’s voice, muffled and weak. Fabian could almost cry at the sound of it. “Just keep going, I’m… fine. We’re almost there, right?”
“Of course, we are.” He lied, his proud voice ringing out into the night because what else could he have said? ‘No, he’s starting to think he’s been walking in circles and that they’re going to freeze to death in the Mountains of Chaos’. Don’t be stupid. “I can see the cottage now. We’ll be out of the cold in no time at all.”
“Told ya. K-knew you could do it.”
Oh.
An epiphany struck him like a well-packed snowball to the face.
He’d thought that if he stopped in all this frost and fury he’d never get himself moving again. But after that, how could he have ever not started moving again?
Gazing up the snowy hill before him, the steepest he’d encountered yet, he resettled Riz on his back, took a deep breath of sharp, frigid air, and set off once more.
Reinvigorated by Riz’s conviction in him, Fabian began climbing up the side of the icy hill. He caught himself several times, seconds before he slipped and fell. Wondering if this is what Kristen meant about all that “As Above, So Below” Cleric business. How her faith, even as a single mortal, was enough to revitalize an entire deity. Simply because she wholeheartedly, unshakably believed in them.
Cresting the hill’s peak, he found not only a plateauing terrain and a sparse grove of evergreens but also a dark, ramshackle, old cottage. As he took in the sight of a sanctuary, Fabian knew he would never underestimate the power of belief. Or perhaps he’d never underestimate the power of Riz Gukgak.
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It took three good shoves to burst through the cottage’s frozen door and another to get to shut it again.
Slumped with his shoulder still pressed to the door, Fabian’s laboured pants echoed out in the quiet of the stone cottage. The howls and groans of the blizzard still rang in his ears despite how muted they sounded now. As he inhaled and exhaled ever-shaky breaths, his eyes scanned the place.
Dusty.
Everything in the cottage was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. In the center of the wall to his left was a sizable fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in forever. A frightful-looking bed sat in the far corner. Made up of only a thin mattress, a threadbare blanket and a pillow. Which only left the tiny kitchen beside him on his right that spiders had long since colonized. Oh, and a crotchety chair that sat lonely at a rickety table next to it.
Whoever had lived here, had lived alone. But they didn’t anymore, live here that is. Not for many months, probably.
No pissed-off homeowners to run into then. A small blessing.
Alright. No rest for the wicked.
Pushing off of the door with a wince at his aching muscles, Fabian stalked toward the center of the cottage near the fireplace. Beginning the process of detaching his backpack from his back. As gently as he could, he placed his bag down next to the unlit hearth and collapsed into a heap beside it.
Giving the side of the bag the three pats required to signal safety to Riz, he buried his numb face in his numb hands and groaned.
“Ugh, remind me to never go mountaineering again, The Ball. Never again. I swear I had a more pleasurable time trekking through a literal Nightmare Forest than I just did through all that fucking snow. This book better be worth it or I solemnly swear to throw Adaine and her high Arcana checks off the nearest cliff. You hear me, The Ball! Off a very steep, very snowy cliff! Like to see her Portents save her from that. Ha-ha!”
The beat of silence that came after Fabian’s little rant stretched on for far longer than he thought it would. The acute quiet, well, disquieted him. Made his stomach churn and chest tighten. He had good reason to be anxious right now. They’d almost frozen to death in a blizzard and got separated from their friends. Oh, if the rest of the Bad Kids were here, perhaps this wouldn’t feel so bad.
“Do you think she and the others made it out alright? I mean, I have no doubt that Gorgug had those weird cultists handled with his axe and Kristen has all her anti-evil Cleric spells but… Adaine or Fig would’ve messaged one of us if something went really wrong, right? Of course. Of course, they would’ve. So if they haven’t that means they’re fine. Hopefully, all this blizzard shit will let up in the morning and we’ll all make it to that inn in one piece. If not…well, if not…”
Another beat of silence.
“The Ball? Isn’t this where you chime in with one of your numerous and lengthy backup plans?”
Fabian turned around and peered at his now unsettlingly still backpack. He called out again, “Riz?”
Crawling over to it, already flinching away just in case a stray bullet flew out, he hesitantly zipped his backpack open.
Fabian gasped.
Riz’s body trembled as his tail curled up around the tome. His eyes were closed tight while one hand gripped his gun, his fingers having long turned blue. Almost every inch of his visible soft green skin was tinged an icy blue, including his tightly wound tail. He’d failed nearly every Constitution saving throw, taking on exhaustion fivefold.
Worse yet, he’s still making them.
One more failure and he’d—
Fabian bolted to his feet, his heart racing once more.
How should he fix this? What could he do? He wasn’t a high enough level Bard yet to be able to cast Greater Restoration and even if he was, he could only feasibly remove a single level of exhaustion. If he couldn’t remove them… then the only thing to do was prevent Riz from getting his sixth and final level.
Steeling himself with a breath and a look at a freezing Riz, who always believed in him so fiercely, Fabian was prepared to do anything and everything to save him.
Quicker than he thought he could with sensationless fingers, he unbuttoned and ripped off his thick, fur jacket. Uncovering his battle sheet. Thanks to the carefully wrapped Elven silk, heated by his inner fire elemental, he’d been making all those Con saving throws with advantage. Riz needed it much more than he did right now.
Ignoring how the chill of the cottage raised goosebumps on his exposed arms and caused shivers down his spine, Fabian got to work. Scooping Riz out of the backpack and into his arms, he felt like a block of ice. And once Fabian pulled him closer, the soft chattering of teeth reached his ears. He didn’t have much time till the next saving throw arrived.
A precious moment or two was spent prying the thick tome and arquebus out of Riz’s hands. Fabian’s voice softened to a croon as he did, “Come on, Riz. I promise nothing bad will happen to them if you let go. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”
Eventually, thankfully, Riz’s grip loosened enough to slip the two items out of it. Setting them aside, Fabian got to work unsheathing his Sword of Shadows and swathing Riz in his battle sheet. The motions had a strange familiarity to them.
Bringing him back to a moment of relief within a lengthy battle as rain poured down on them and he held an unconscious Riz in his arms. Just as he’s doing now. His face had been more relaxed back then, instead being tensed and scrunched up in distress. Though, as he finished wrapping him up, Riz’s furrowed eyebrows and curled lips eased as the sheet’s warmth sank into him.
Fabian had almost lost him that day too. Only time would tell if they’d be as fortunate as they were that day to cheat death once more. But, watching Riz sigh and nuzzle into the fabric of the sheet, his boyish charm making a heartening return to his face, their chances looked promising.
Now that he had a warming Riz in his arms, Fabian almost placed him back on the ground. Ready to get to work on a fire when a stray memory of one of Sandra Lynn’s survival lectures stopped him. Something about never sleeping on cold, bare ground. Glancing down at the grungy, creaky floorboards, his nose wrinkled. Yeah, no, he wouldn’t want to rest his sheet down there, let alone Riz.
With a bit of maneuvering, Fabian managed to keep Riz in his arms as he nudged their stuff away from the front of the fireplace and he dragged the ragged mattress from the bed to place it there instead. Giving the old thing a couple of hits to get the dust off of them. He only succeeded in sending whatever foul substance blanketing it into the air.
One coughing fit later, he laid Riz down on the mattress, resting his head on the worn pillow and covering him in the blanket. Which in practice seemed to be just the suggestion of one and provided almost no actual warmth.
Well, it’s the thought that counts.
Nodding once at the sight, he rose to his feet and set out to start a fire in the hearth. Or rather, convince his inner fire elemental to light some logs ablaze. Whatever you wanted to call it, it’s about to get real warm in here real quick. Rubbing his hands together with a tiny smirk, he glanced around the fireplace for logs to burn.
Strange.
There don’t appear to be any logs stacked near the fireplace’s rack. None under the bed. Or resting against the sides of the web-bedecked kitchen counters.
There don’t seem to be any logs… anywhere in the cottage.
Right, nobody has lived here for a long time.
No person. No logs. No fire.
Cool, cool, cool.
That’s fine.
Fabian just needs to… to…
To…
By the Seven Winds and Jane Wren’s blade, this is hopeless.
Look, Fabian has never ever claimed to be the Smart Bad Kid. Adaine and The Ball had that on lock! Not the wisest either, Kristen and, surprisingly, Gorgug could take that medal. And hell! Fig had enough wit and cleverness to sink a galleon.
Figuring stuff out, remembering and recalling information, none of that was Fabian’s job. His job was to deal stupid amounts of damage, prance about with his sheet dealing out bardics and imposing disadvantage when needed, and, finally, to look hot.
That’s about it.
His Intelligence and Wisdom checks have rarely gone well and even when they did, even when he oh so desperately wanted to be the smart one, he could never beat out his friends’ rolls. And, ultimately, he’s fine with it because that’s not his job.
But right now, it is.
And worse, he needs to be good at it.
So, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to come up with a solution for his crisis.
There’s no firewood in the cottage. He needs to find some or else Riz will freeze to death. Where does one get firewood? If they were back in Solace, he’d assume that there was a hardware store, one that the Thistlesprings surely patronaged, that sold the stuff. But they’re deep in the Mountains of Chaos and the closest town is too far away to go just for firewood. The previous owner must’ve gotten it themself, which means that… that…
Wait.
A shed!
When he had booked it over to the cottage, he hadn’t paid it any mind, but there had been another structure attached to it. Surely, if the previous owner had to have cut down the trees themself, they would have needed somewhere to put all that lumber! Yes, yes, that’s it!
Throwing on his thick coat and his gloves, he checked on Riz one last time before venturing back into the blizzard. He wasn’t quite the ice block he’d been before, but he was still much too cold for his liking. Ruffling Riz’s wild mane of waves and tucking him a little tighter in the sheet, Fabian went to search for firewood.
As he stepped out, all at once, every ounce of cold he’d shaken off once he stumbled into the cottage returned. Tenfold even, now that he didn’t have his battle sheet to keep him warm. It was like walking straight into a brick wall of frost and harsh winds. None of that discouraged him, though.
Raising a hand to block what little he could of the storm from his face, he trudged through the compounding snow. A gloved hand followed the rough stone exterior walls around the length of the cottage. Until he turned the corner and saw it. The shed wasn’t that big, which is likely why he discredited it at first glance, but it was plenty big enough to hold lumber.
Like the cottage’s front door, it took a few good jerks to yank one of the shed’s double doors open and shut, but only halfway. It would have to do, he wasn’t planning on staying long. Wrapping his arms around himself to preserve what little warmth he had left, Fabian hummed an old sea shanty as he did a once-over of the shed.
Good news: Amongst the lingering dirt and dust, sat bags of kindling and heaps of hefty logs were stacked on a sturdy, metal rack. More than enough for the night they’d be spending here.
Bad news: None of the logs lined up along the wall had been chopped small enough to fit in the fireplace. Fabian didn’t know a lot about survival tactics but all the logs he’d ever seen used in fireplaces were chopped into quarters or eighths. Not one big log.
Promising news: There’s a perfectly good axe nearby to chop those logs into the smaller pieces he needed.
Horrifying news: It’s clutched in the hands of a corpse.
Collapsed in a corner of the shed was what he could only assume was the cottage’s previous owner.
Almost jumping out of his skin, Fabian’s scream went muffled by the raging blizzard as he leapt a foot into the air at the sight. It was too cold for there to be a smell coming from it, but he covered his face anyway. Pressed up against the wall opposite it, he stilled. Controlling his panicked breaths the best he could. He’d dealt with the undead too many times not to have a healthy suspicion of “dead” bodies.
When it’d become apparent that no one was rolling for initiative, his shoulders relaxed. Pushing off of the wall, he crept over to the body. It’d been lying on the ground, curled up around the axe, next to a chopping block. Frozen despite the thick coat wrapped around them.
Riz would’ve probably inched closer to reveal the body’s face currently covered by a large hood, but Fabian couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he focused on the axe, careful to avoid touching the corpse as he took hold of the handle. Try as he might, his mild tugs weren’t enough to wrench it from the body.
Deep sigh.
His grip on the axe tightened. Already wincing at the act of disrespecting the dead. Counting down from ten, when he reached one he yanked the axe free. The sickening crunch of frozen bones breaking that sounded out into the quiet of the shed would haunt him for years.
Turning away from the body, Fabian dragged the axe behind him as he shuffled over to the rack for a bunch of logs. Settling one on the chopping block with a steading breath. Adjusting his hold on the throat and shoulder of the axe, he mimicked the stance he’d seen Gorgug take thousands of times now.
Drawing on every ounce of his strength, he heaved the axe up, his eyes never leaving the center of the log, and brought it down. Splitting the log in two.
The repetitive motions were soothing. In their own way. Even as his muscles began to ache and scream for a break. And even as the chill of the Mountains drained his energy. His mind found comfort in the raising and falling of the axe’s blade and the splitting of wood. It was like trudging through the snow. He didn’t know how far he had to walk; he didn’t know how many logs he’d have to chop. But he kept going anyway.
Fabian’s rhythm finally halted once the axe’s blade sunk so deep into the block that pure momentum wasn’t enough for him to be able to lift it again. Everything he’d been ignoring in favour of chopping hit him all at once. The sting of overworked muscles. The stiffness of his frame. The level of exhaustion.
Crumpling around the axe and onto the chopping block, a stray thought of falling asleep sounded like such a brilliant idea. Right here. Right now. He’d bring the firewood in afterwards. Just for a few minutes. Fabian’s heavy eyelids threatened to shut and stay that way for longer than he’d like. But not before his eyes landed on the corpse. Frozen to death in a crumpled pile in a shed in the middle of nowhere.
No.
That’s not how he’s going to go.
And besides, there’s a freezing Goblin inside who needs him.
Gritting his teeth, ignoring soreness and shaking limbs, Fabian brought himself to his feet. It took a good, solid minute but he eventually got there. Leaning heavily on the upright axe handle, he took a moment to take in just how many logs he’d chopped. The floor of the shed was absolutely covered in them. His eyes widened.
Okay, he’d kind of, maybe overdid it. By a lot.
Holy shit this is so much firewood.
Sheepish, Fabian gathered as much as could in the old, leather firewood carrier, along with a bundle of kindling,. Putting the rest up on the rack before heading back to the cottage.
With a noisy thump, he plopped the carrier and himself down next to the hearth. Unable to ignore how Riz didn’t flinch at its suddenness and volume. He got right to work.
Fabian could feel the palpable judgement from all the rangers and druids he knew as he built the fire. Deciding on something akin to a Jenga tower with the kindling on top. Sitting back, he stared at the logs. A deep frown on his face as he weighed the pros and cons of starting over again before shrugging and summoning his fire elemental.
After that fateful Spring Break, he and his elemental, whom he’d named Nar, had become quite the magical guinea pig for all of the Wizards he knew. Unable to stand the arcane anomaly laid before their inquisitive (read: nosy) minds.
Between Adaine, Aelwen, Ayda, and Zayne, they’d come to a peculiar arcane conclusion. You see, when he’d kissed Nar in Fallinel and swallowed that mote of fire, he’d become a material component of sorts.
Apparently, motes of elemental energy are usually only placed in expensive jewels. Thus becoming an Elemental Gem capable of casting Conjure Elemental. Which would make him the Half-Elven version of it, except better since the Gems are only one use. Or something like that. Fabian had only ever understood that much of their arcane babbling before zoning out.
To him, the academic reasons behind the source of his bardic power never mattered. Much to his Wizard friends’ exasperation. No, what mattered was how he felt and wanted other people to feel, and from there, his magic flowed into the world.
Knowing how freaked out Kalina made Kristen, he’d wanted her to feel every bit the hero she was when he cast Heroism on her. Whenever he cast Faerie Fire, it focused on his want, his need, to see what could potentially harm his friends. Fig had even once described his bardic inspirations as a surging seaside campfire after being shipwrecked. Hopeful and heartening in the face of overwhelming odds. While hers were more like a galvanizing jolt of pure hell-fiery rock n’ roll.
Whenever his Wizard friends had wanted him to conjure his elemental, he always went back to the moment when he summoned it forth for the first time. A time when he wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and keep them safe. More specifically, keeping Riz safe.
This must be why when he tried to summon it, wanting nothing more than to protect his best friend from the cold, Nar appeared quicker than it ever had.
In a rush of flames erupting from his sheet, Nar sprung to life in its sleek Elven shape of roiling flames. Immediately, it curled around Riz’s unconscious form. Adjusting the sheet around him before cupping his face and kissing his forehead.
A small spark of jealousy flared in Fabian’s chest as he rolled his eyes at his elemental’s cooing and doting.
Audibly clearing his throat so that Nar would pay attention to him, he gave a pointed nod at the fireplace. “Alright. If you’re quite finished with your little love fest over there, you have a job to do.”
Crossing its arms, Nar reluctantly left Riz’s side, not before one of their slender hands gave his curls one last ruffle. Without another word from Fabian, it dove into the hearth’s opening. Encompassing the stack of firewood and setting them ablaze. A tidal wave of heat crashed over him, almost to the point of pain against his icy, numb face.
Nar flowed out of the swelling fire to come to stand in front of Fabian, looking quite satisfied with itself. Rolling his eyes, Fabian gave it an obligatory round of claps, to which it did a ballerina’s curtsy before disappearing into his battlesheet.
Just as Fabian shook his head with a fond smile on his lips at his elemental’s dramatics, wondering where in Spyre it could’ve gotten that from, a small sigh pricked up his ears.
Whipping around just in time to watch as Riz sluggishly woke up. His eyelids opened to reveal golden gems, usually keen and hyperacute, now left hazy and weary by his levels of exhaustion. Yet they opened all the same.
“Riz!” Fabian’s heart leapt in his chest as he pulled the mattress closer to him and the fireplace.
“F’bian?” Riz murmured, looking like he was caught between wanting to curl up into the sheet further and sitting up to talk to him.
With a gentle hand placed on the center of Riz’s chest, Fabian guided him back to lying down. Maneuvering himself to sit behind the mattress and slightly above Riz. As not to force him to strain as they spoke.
Brushing a rebellious curl out of Riz’s sleepy face, Fabian said, “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?��
Riz heaved a shaky sigh, and Fabian’s heart skipped a beat as Riz leaned into the hand that’d lingered near his face. “Tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”
“And I’ve seen you not sleep for a month.”
Riz smiled at that memory. “Hehe, yeah, gotta be a record right?”
Yeah, Fabian’s memory of that whole ordeal was less fond.
It’d been over the summer last year, and Riz had gone into “deep cover” again. Only for Fabian to find him perched like a gargoyle underneath the Marigold Docks running on zero sleep and heaps of coffee.
Apparently, he’d been tailing someone for his Dad, official upper planes business. Fabian had hardly cared about the reasons Riz had blustered about when caught, he’d instead immediately cast Sleep at his highest spell slot. Making a Dex save directly after to catch Riz’s unconscious form before he fell into the river.
Riz had woken up hours later in Fabian’s bed more than unimpressed, but Fabian ignored his glares and grumbles. Only mentioning that his dad might prefer that Riz didn’t work himself to an early death, and his mother more so. That shut him up enough to eat the soup Cathilda had made him.
Hmm.
Fabian pursed his lips, still deep in thought. “Are you hungry, perchance?”
“Yeah, I could eat,” Riz answered, furrowing his brow as he sensed they got off-topic somehow. They widened a second later as he bolted upright. “Wait, the tome! Did it make it? Is it ruined?”
“The tome is fine, The Ball. Look see,” Fabian said, reaching over to where he discarded the thick, leather-bound book and presenting it to Riz. “You kept it perfectly safe.”
“Good, good, good,” He said as his body relaxed at the sight of the tome. As he laid back down, his eyes grew heavy and his voice drowsy as he said one last time, “Good.”
By the gods, Riz was adorable when he was tired. With a small smile on his lips, Fabian brushed a few of Riz’s curls from his face and readjusted the battle sheet upwards. “Don’t worry, you focus on resting up and I’ll—” He looked out into the desolate cottage, frowning. “—Find us something to eat.”
Scanning his eyes over the interior of the cottage again, Fabian couldn’t help the grimace that took over his face. Nothing to find but dust and dirt. And heading outside to hunt for food (something he’s never done in his life) definitely wasn’t an option. Oh, this night just wouldn’t end!
An ever-growing sense of fatigue settled over him and a huge yawn escaped his lips. He was just so tired. And his bones ached and muscles screamed at him every time he moved. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. Just one more thing to do. Find food and then sleep. That’s it. Just find some food.
The first place Fabian looked was in his backpack. Mainly because it meant that he didn’t have to stand back up just yet but also because there could be a couple portions of rations that he hadn’t eaten yet.
Rifling through it, all he managed to find was a bag of loose nuts and berries. Fig had gathered them a couple days ago and tried to figure out how to cast Goodberry. Though she never figured it out (no matter how many times she used the words and movements they’d seen her mother use), they were still berries. And nuts! And thus, food! Sure, they’re still a far cry from anything substantial, but discovering them gave Fabian a much-needed boost in energy.
No longer so hopeless and weary, he gave the cottage a more thorough look through. Opening up creaking, dusty cabinets and cupboards and looking under tables and benches. Until he realized one of the heavier sacks he tossed aside left a trail of scattered oats across the floor.
Oats!
Fabian dropped to his knees, his heart racing and breath bottled up in his chest and lifted the sack upright. Steadying it before he ripped its top seam open. Revealing an entire, large bag of thick rolled oats. Still hesitant, Fabian dipped a hand into the grain and lifted a scoop of it to his nose before letting it fall back into the sack through his fingers. It didn’t smell off. Didn’t look it either. No mould or rot of any kind. There was no way for him to be one hundred percent sure, but he was willing to take the chance.
Now, he isn’t about to act like he’s Spyre’s greatest chef, but he has watched Cathilda make him porridge enough times to know that even he can’t fuck up making oatmeal…. He’s pretty sure he can’t fuck it up…. He has burned water before….
Riz might be fucked.
But it’s worth a shot!
After grabbing a cast-iron cooking pot from beside the fireplace, Fabian ventured back outside into the blizzard to fill the pot with untouched snow. He brought it back inside and hung it on the hook above the livid, scarlet flames. Letting the snow melt and boil as he grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen and dragged the sack of oats closer to the fireplace.
Between Riz’s soft snores and the crackling of lit hearth, this moment was strangely peaceful and almost domestic. Safe from the raging snowstorm outside, Fabian sat next to Riz on the mattress. Wiping off the dust from the wooden spoon with his jacket. His gaze shifted from Riz to the pot to the spoon and back again.
Until the snow, now water, began to bubble and boil. Fabian then took the pot off of the hook over the fire and placed it on another away from it but still close enough to keep the water warm. Next, he carefully scooped out handfuls of oats and dropped them into the boiling water. Watching as they began to soften and thicken and cling to the spoon as he stirred. Slowly but surely, it became porridge before his eyes.
Click.
Fabian was startled out of his cooking reverie by the sound of a camera shutter behind him. He whipped around to see Riz, his cheeks still rosy and eyes filled with sleep, holding his crystal up and staring back at him with a lazy grin.
“The Ball!” Fabian said with a gasp. “You can’t take photos of man without telling him!”
Smug as can be, Riz grinned and said, “I just did.”
“You’re supposed to be resting!”
“I was.” He said defiantly before the photo he took on his crystal caught his attention again and his face and voice softened. “It’s just… you looked so content. And none of our friends will believe you cooked anything without photo evidence, so…”
“Alright, fine. But sit tight, it’s almost done.” Fabian peered over the lip of the cooking pot at the bubbling porridge within. His brow arched and lips pursed. “I think.”
Creeping forward until he reached Fabian’s side, Riz took a deep breath as he peered over the pot as well. “Smells good.”
“That’s promising.” Fabian said, following suit. The nutty and slightly sweet aroma filled his nose in short order. Hmm, yes. That does smell rather good. Chalk up another win for Fabian tonight. Stirring the pot with a little more pomp and self-satisfaction, Fabian went on, “I do have to admit that it’s going to be rather plain. All I have to add are some of the berries Fig found a couple days ago.”
“Oh! Wait,” Riz scurried over to the nigh-forgotten backpack and pulled his briefcase out of it. Clicking it open, he stuck an arm into the case and began to rummage through the infinite space within. “Remember the nice couple back near the base of the mountain?”
“You mean the throuple with the freaky ravens?”
“Yes, them. If I’m remembering correctly they kept a hive of bees and gave us—” He pulled out a glass container of something bright and golden and lifted it high in the air. “—Ah ha! Gave us some honey for the road!”
“Huzzah!” Fabian cried, throwing one of his arms up in the air with a little more flourish. “Here, come add it to the pot.”
Still wrapped in the battle sheet, Riz scampered over with the vial of honey. Uncorking it with his teeth, he poured the viscous, golden liquid into the steaming pot of thick oatmeal while Fabian mixed them together. The two of them breathed in the smell of oatmeal now with the added slightly floral smell of the honey and looked at each other with warm smiles. Perfect.
“Brillant as ever the Ball.” Fabian said as he picked up the pouch filled with boysenberries and walnuts and delicately sprinkled them on top of the oatmeal.
Riz shrugged and said with a wry smirk, “Well, I try.”
Huddled together on the mattress with the cooking pot between them, the two of them took turns eating spoonfuls of their dinner. Filling their stomachs with much-needed warmth and sustenance. Between the mouthfuls, they idly talked in hushed tones. Riz flipped through the tome that they stole. Explaining its relevance to their current adventure and theorizing what their plan should be in the morning to Fabian. Who was still only half listening.
Too wrapped up in gazing at how the fireplace’s flickering flames danced in Riz’s amber eyes and softened some of his harsh yet handsome features. Sue him. His best friend was cute. Not that Fabian could ever work up the courage to tell him to his face. He was still a coward in that regard. Far too afraid and confused to ruin what he and Riz have with all these pesky, lovey-dovey feelings. No, he was content to just watch. To keep safe. For now and forever.
Before long, the cooking pot was empty, only the sticky remnants of the oatmeal left clung to the pot’s insides, and their bellies were full. As Riz yawned, large and cat-like, Fabian moved to take the cooking pot and head back outside to fill it with more snow. Planning on washing it out with the boiled snow in the morning for their breakfast. Which, now that he thinks about it, will be a lot less tasty than their dinner. Thanks to them using up all their natural sweeteners.
Hmm.
Well, that was a problem for morning Fabian.
This Fabian was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to fall dead asleep. And he wasn’t the only one.
Once he got back in and hung the pot over the fire, when he went to say something to Riz, Fabian found him curled up on the mattress, passed out. Snoring the night away. Fabian smiled at the sight and gave a nod, more to himself than anything. Quest completed successfully. Time for bed.
As quietly as he could, Fabian brought one of the old wooden chairs over and placed it as close to the fire as he could get it. Settling himself down on it, he tried his best to get comfortable but eventually gave up and simply tried to get some sleep. Nodding off moments later to the sound of Riz’s snores and the glow of the firelight.
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“Fabian?”
Maybe a couple hours later, Fabian awoke.
Groggy and half-asleep, he pried his eyes open to find a concerned, shivering Riz in front of him and a low burning fire to his side. And though it took his mind a moment to fire back up, Fabian jumped to his feet and rushed to the fireplace.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Clumsily reaching and fumbling for another log before tossing it into the hearth. “Sorry, The Ball. Just one moment.” Fabian said as he reached for the fire poker and started jabbing it into the log. Hazily wondering if he could give a fire bardic inspiration to last longer. He waved a hand at Riz. “Go back to bed, I’ve got it.”
But Riz didn’t move.
He stood there, bathed in the fiery orange glow of the hearth and asked, “Why were you sleeping on the chair?”
A beat.
“Where else I am supposed to sleep?” He answered with another question. Something he knew Riz hated unless he was the one doing it. Riz tilted his head to the side and he scrunched up his face before he took a pointed look at the mattress and then back to him. Fabian smiled queasily. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because, I—” Fabian gulped. “—I’d take up a lot of space. On the matress that is.”
“I woudn’t mind,” Riz said quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth. “Goblins sleep in piles for warmth, even the ones that live up here in the cold. So…”
“Is that right?” Fabian asked. Riz nodded. Well… if he was fine with it. “Okay then.”
Timidly, Fabian followed Riz back to the mattress. Though he hesitated as he watched Riz get back under the battle sheet and the threadbare blanket.
Furrowing his brows, Riz reached out with his claws and gave his arm a tug. With his eight strength, it didn’t do much but urge Fabian forward. “We don’t have all night. Get in.”
“Alright, alright. Bossy much?” Fabian whined though he hurried to follow Riz’s orders. Slipping under the blanket and battle sheet, he had to stifle a groan as the magical heat of Nar sunk into his skin.
Almost instantly, Riz settled close to him, to his chest. Resting his head underneath Fabian’s chin before curling up into a ball, his tail winding around one of his legs. Without even thinking, Fabian wrapped his arms around him and tucked him deeper into the embrace, hiking up his knees to curl around him. It all felt so right. Like pieces of a puzzle slotting together. Perfect and satisfying. As if this was meant to be.
Finally at peace, Fabian basked in how correct this all felt. In the quiet of the cottage, the freezing wind still howling all around them, he’d never felt as untouchable as he did now. And looking down at Riz, an almost serene expression on his sleeping face, Fabian hoped he felt that way too.
One last thing, before he drifted off to sleep as well, Fabain kissed the top of Riz’s head and squeezed him a little tighter. Slipping off into unconsciousness, he only half noticed Riz squirming a bit in his hold before he felt a brush of lips on his jawline, heard a whispered, “Thanks, Fabes.”, and had one last thought.
Huh. Maybe someone heard his prayers after all.
And then,
Black.
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Thank you so much for reading! This is my first d20 fic and though i know the fabriz fandom is quite small now, i look forward to enjoying Junior Year with all of you. Don't be a stranger! I'd love to hear what you think and if you have any requests, i'd be open to hearing and possibly writing them! Thanks again!
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41kyu · 1 year
Text
drunk in love ♡
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scara x gn!reader
fic is abt: fluff, modern au, bestfriends to lovers, college setting, you drunkingly confess to scara abt ur feelings lol! scara drives u home and lets u stay in his place :3
tags: mentions of alcohol, drinking, slight cursing
mentioned character/s: venti, childe, kazuha
notes: RUSHED ASS FIC
im sorry if the random colors for the character’s dialogues look ugly i swear im just trying to let the reader recognize whos speaking
also idk how to write the charas theyre just charas i hc would be friends wd scara plz im sorry if theyre ooc
“One more please!” You shouted, asking for another bottle of the alcohol your whole group is drinking. You were the person who was least expected to be into alcohol, but surprise, you looked as if you were so into it.
“Enjoyed drinking huh?” Venti’s face forms a smirk, “And you said you don’t drink.”
“Well—maybe I lied!”
“Don’t drink too much, [Reader].” Scaramouche glares at you.
“What? Allow your best friend to enjoy, Scara. Don’t ruin the fun just because you don’t drink.” The drunkness in Tartaglia’s voice can be noticed so obviously.
(Sighing) “Whatever makes you happy, you ginger head.”
Venti offered you a drink, but instead of the one you wanted, he gave you something else. His thought was that he wanted you to try one that he likes, so you agreed. But Scaramouche wasn’t.
“Are you sure you are to be trusted?” Scaramouche’s face forms a suspicious expression, “The drink has 21% alcohol in it.”
“It wont be bad, Scara. Trust me!”
And so, you drank a glass of alcohol and coughed. The drink they gave hit you somehow, you started to feel dizzy. You knew you needed to go to the restroom since you were about to throw up.
Scaramouche followed you and waited for you outside the restroom. He was obviously worried; he kept telling you to stop but you didn’t. He began scolding you from outside, telling you how stupid you are for not listening, hence, you ended up in this state.
“How many times have I told you?”
“Shut the fuck up! It’s not like I died or anything!” You closed the restroom door and pouted at him.
“Let’s go home.” Scaramouche grabs your hand and walks back to your table to take your belongings.
“Scara! Let me go!!!” You yelled, and yelled, almost as if you’re throwing a tantrum.
“No, you literally just threw up.” Scaramouche looks at you, while gripping your hand tightly.
“What’s up with the two of you?” Kazuha questions.
“[Reader]’s feeling unwell. Need to bring them home.”
“Awww, did the drink I give hit them hard?” Venti’s face form a smirk.
“Shut up, Venti. Look what you did to them.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.
The two of you were walking towards your car at the parking lot while Scaramouche still holding your hand. He didn’t feel like letting you go until you two reached your car.
“Why are you so damn worried?” You question him.
“Is this a question out of your pure drunkness?”
“I’m not drunk!”
“You obviously are.”
“Well, if you want my answer. You’re my best friend, of course I’d be concerned.” Scaramouche looked at you as your face formed a frustrated expression.
“Best friend?”
“But what if I love you, Kuni?”
“..Kuni? You never used that name on me…”
“Wait, you.. what?”
Scaramouche froze there on the spot, “You’re kidding, aren’t you? You’re… drunk.. after all…”
“What?”
“I mean, best friends love each other platonically.”
“No, I meant it in a way like this.”
Unhesitantly, you grabbed Scaramouche’s face with your hands and pulled him close to you. His face was bright red, your eyes were closed the whole time; slowly your lips formed a smile, his hands held your waist.
Scaramouche slowly pulled away but then you embraced him to a hug again, gripping his shirt as if you didn’t want to let go. He patted your head as you mumbled, “Don’t leave me, Kuni…”
“You’re tired. I need to bring you home.”
“Mmmmm…?”
Scaramouche slowly dragged you inside the car and made sure you were in a comfortable position. Your eyes were about to close soon enough and slept throughout the whole trip. Scaramouche checks on you every few minutes while he was driving, making sure you were okay.
He smiled as he glanced at you at your deep slumber, whispering, “Maybe I do love you too.”
[ BONUS ]
(Morning, 10:00am)
“Good morning, [Reader].” Scaramouche opens the bedroom door.
“Why am I at your house? What the fuck happend last night?”
“Um, I don’t know? Ask yourself. You confessed to me.” Scaramouche closes the door and leans on it while his arms were crossed.
“Are you.. fucking serious? Bitch? What did I say?!”
“Let’s say it was a lot.” Scaramouche smirks, walking near the bedside table, sitting beside you.
“W-what?!!! Tell me! I’m getting nervous!” You stutter in a panic. You definitely fucked up; you didn’t want your ‘best friend’ to find out about what you felt for him.
“It was hilarious. You kept saying ‘I love you’ to me, hugged me, and…”
“You also kissed me—no hesitation. It was so out of the blue.”
“Uh.. You’re kidding right?” Your face heats up.
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“I-I swear—it was all…”
Scaramouche’s eyes furrow, he leans towards your face and mumbles, “Are you sure it was all a joke? Because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.”
Once again, your face heats up, even worse, “Huh…?!”
“You… fucking idiot! Get out!”
an: hi im SO sorry for being ia i was too tired to write hadjshdjsj
i miss him (scara)
sorry if this is terrible and that my vocabulary is ass
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ladykailitha · 1 year
Text
Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town Part 2
Just remember that 20 slots for tagging is the max.
Part 1
*
The next day Steve had barely been up for a twenty minutes when there was a knock on the door.
He opened it to reveal a very nervous Will on the other side.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Will said with a sigh of relief. “I was worried I came over too early.”
Steve laughed. “Can’t get rid of the early wake up call from sports. Come on in. You have breakfast yet?”
Will shook his head.
“I was about to make some scrambled eggs. You want any?”
“Sure,” Will said with a furrowed brow. “You don’t have to.”
Steve smiled. “I know.”
He made them some scrambled eggs and poured them both a glass of milk.
“Where did you learn to cook like that?” Will asked.
“PBS,” Steve said.
Will raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously?”
Steve shrugged. “I didn’t have anyone to teach me and my parents weren’t around.”
“I would have that thought that with all the money, you would be ordering take out and fast food all the time,” Will said with a half shrug. “I would have.”
Steve smiled tightly. “I probably would have, too. But that much junk food and shit makes for a shit poor athlete and I was in three sports.”
“Three?” Will asked. “I knew about the basketball and swimming, but what’s the third?”
“Baseball,” Steve said. “All of the seasons lined up so I could be in one right after the other until almost the end of the school year. Kept me busy until I was old enough to take care of myself.”
“Wow,” Will said. “Your parents really didn’t like you, did they?”
“Nope!” Steve scoffed. “I’ll be right back with my art stuff.”
When he came back downstairs Will was waiting for him in the front room. He had two sketch pads both have finished.
“I only took a couple of art classes in high school to fill out my electives. So like I said they aren’t anything special.”
He handed them to Will.
Will took them from him and began flipping through. “A lot of static poses, but not bad. You’ve got the basics down and you can tell they’re all different characters.”
Steve blushed. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, really,” Will said, coming up to sit next to him. “Here let me show you what I mean.”
And he did, after he was done, Steve was feeling better about his art.
Will picked up the other drawing pad and a slip of folded paper fluttered to the ground. He frowned as he opened it. Inside was a very good likeness of Eddie.
“Wow,” Will whispered. “That’s really good.”
Steve frowned and then looked over Will’s shoulder. He resisted the urge to snatch the drawing from his hands.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Steve muttered.
“Why?” Will asked, confused. “It’s the best thing I’ve seen so far.”
Steve brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “It’s only good, because if you draw the same thing over and over again, you can’t help but improve.”
Will looked down at the drawing of Eddie again. “How many times have you drawn him?”
“I have seven drawing notebooks, and those are the only two that aren’t filled with drawings of Eddie Munson.” Steve buried his head into his knees.
“Do you like boys, Steve?” Will asked gently.
Steve lifted his head slowly. “I think I like both.”
“Wow,” Will muttered. “It is true what they say.”
“What do they say?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.
“That like attracts like,” Will said. “That in a small town all the weirdos and queers flock together even subconsciously because they can sense it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t a little strange, that you’re bisexual, me, Eddie, and Robin are gay, and that likely others in the group are some variation on that theme?”
Steve looked at Will for a moment. “Oh.”
He felt this weight lifted off his chest. And then it really hit him.
“Eddie’s gay?!”
Will laughed. “I was wondering when you were going to pick up on that.”
“Oh that makes perfect sense,” Steve said with a laugh. “I thought he was teasing me. Turns out he was flirting with me.” He just started laughing and couldn’t stop.
Will started laughing too. “You really have to stop using your head as a shield man if it made you this slow.”
Steve shook his head. “Tell that to the rest of the world, man. Because I don’t like doing it anymore than you like see it.”
“I was never going to be the normal one,” Will said, “even before the Upside Down and the bullying. But it’s nice to meet other people like me and not feel alone. Because yeah, my mom and Jonathan are always going to have my back they’ll never understand. Not fully. So it’s nice that I know that there are people I can go to, people who are like me.”
Steve wrapped his arms around him. “I’m glad I got to be one of those people, Will.”
“Me, too,” Mike said with a watery chuckle. “Because it’s gonna piss Mike off so much.”
Steve looked at him, wide eyed. “Am I hearing that right? Will Byers isn’t defending Mike Wheeler? I think I might need that hearing aid after all.”
Will chuckled. “Eddie pointed out that I can disagree him from time to time. I don’t have to stick up for him when he’s being a little shit, because it just encourages him to continue his bad behavior.”
“Sounds about right,” Steve said, sitting back. “You fight with friends and lovers. That’s just what happens. It only becomes a problem when you fight about the little stuff as well as the big stuff. And if you’re fighting over every big thing than man, find someone who likes you. Because they really don’t.”
“Is that what happened to you and Nancy?” Will asked.
Steve pursed his lips. “I don’t know what happened between me and Nancy. Was it the Upside Down? Was it not being right for each other? Was both? Neither? I just...just don’t know.”
“I heard that she couldn’t even say she loved you,” Will murmured.
“Where did you hear that?” Steve asked, rounding on him.
“I eavesdropped on Nancy and Jonathan after the fight,” Will admitted.
Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Really? What else did she say?”
Will looked at him. “I don’t think you want to know man.”
Steve looked at him for a second. “No, no. You’re right.”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door and they turned to each other.
“You expecting anyone else today?” Will asked.
Steve shook his head and got up to answer the door.
He opened the door and was surprised to see Eddie standing there looking a bit sheepish.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Eddie said.
Steve laughed. “Early riser me. Come on in, I was just showing Will some of my drawings.”
Eddie perked up. “You draw? Lemme see!”
Steve prayed that Will was fast enough to hide the drawing of Eddie before the man himself came bounding through the hallway.
“Eddie!” Will greeted cheerfully, standing up to hug the older man.
“How come you got to see a Steve Harrington original before me?” Eddie teased. “Kidding, kidding. I know you draw too.”
Steve come up from behind them. “We all draw, right? Eddie’s little cartoons, Will’s epic masterpieces and my little hobby.”
“Oooh!” Eddie said bouncing. “We should form an art group.”
Steve laughed. “For some so anti-establishment, you sure like clubs.”
Eddie frowned. “You don’t have to.”
Steve ruffled his hair. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I just think you’re weird. In the best way possible.”
Eddie’s expression went from confusion, to mollified, to embarrassed. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to think you’ve got a crush, Harrington.”
Will and Steve looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“What?” Eddie asked.
Steve ran his hand down Eddie’s arm. “I’ll you about it later. But come see my art work.”
Eddie flopped on the floor and began rifling through the notebooks.
He stopped at one and cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know you liked ‘Labyrinth’, Steve.”
Steve and Will leaned over to see which picture he was talking about. It was one of the ones that Steve had actually colored. And it was of the ballroom scene clothes.
“Doesn’t look much like David Bowie, though,” Will admitted.
Steve bit down on his lip.
“And I thought his hair was blond in the movie,” Eddie said. “This is brown.”
Steve began actively chewing on his lip.
They both looked up at him for an explanation.
Steve scratched his cheek and pushed his hair back. He sighed and closed his eyes.
Will and Eddie shared a look.
“Why don’t you want to tell us?” Will asked.
Steve tilted his head back, rolling his eyes. “Oh god. Fine. Turn the page. Maybe that will clue you in.”
Eddie and Will frowned but did as he asked. There in a male version of Sarah’s ballgown was Steve.
Eddie looked up at him wide-eyed and then back to the other page.
Will caught an faster than Eddie did. “Oh shit.” He glanced at Eddie and then back at Steve.
Eddie caught the panicked look on Steve’s face and then back down at the drawing pad.
“It’s me.”
“This was back before...” Steve waved his hand, “before.” Will and Eddie nodded. Before Eddie fell into Steve’s life. Back when he was just the kid’s DM. “Robin wanted to watch it. And it struck a cord with me you know. I felt like you’d stolen the kids from me. I had to go through so much to get them  to like me and you just waltzed right in and were instantly adored. So you became my goblin king.”
“And the fact that it’s a love story...” Eddie asked.
“It’s not though,” Steve said with a frown. “He’s obsessed with her sure. But if he loved her he wouldn’t have hurt her. Would have...I don’t know.” Steve threw his arms in the air. “I think the message is that you aren’t beholden to someone because they say they love you. You are your own person. If you want to love them back, if you can love them back, that’s okay. But it’s not on you to cater to those feelings. It’s in his speech at the end. About her doing everything he tells her and he’ll be her slave? Love doesn’t work like that. Or at least it shouldn’t.”
Eddie blinked. “Wow. You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”
Will was staring up at Steve with new appreciation.
“You caught me, I’m a romantic at heart,” Steve said with a heavy sigh. “I guess I always will be.”
“Do you have other pictures like this?” Eddie asked holding up the notebook. “Where you draw your friends as movie characters?”
Steve shook his head. “Not really. It was just something I felt in the moment.”  He pointed at Will. “That’s more Will’s thing than mine.”
Eddie turned to Will. “You’ve drawn the party members as characters before?”
Will blushed. “Sometimes. Mainly it’s Mike.”
“Ah.” He moved to stand back up when he saw something sticking out of the cushions of the sofa.
Steve watched in slow motion as Eddie pulled out the paper and unfold it. He watched as Eddie gasped, covering his mouth with his hand as the other hand began to shake.
“Eddie?” Steve asked, his voice higher with worry.
“I’ve never seen myself drawn like that before,” he whispered.
“Like what?” Will asked, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Eddie ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the drawing. “Like I matter to someone.”
He looked up at Steve. “When did you draw this?”
Steve’s heart was racing in his chest as he fought to get the words out. “Remember that night when I came early to pick up the kids. The night you guys finally convinced me to play?”
Eddie nodded. “Can I keep it?”
Steve could feel the weight being lifted from his chest. “Yeah, sure.”
“Hey, Eddie,” Will said, trying to break the tension, “why are you here? I mean it’s been fun, but you can’t have come over for Steve’s art, because you didn’t know he drew until today.”
Eddie looked between Steve and Will in confusion a moment as they waited for his answer. “Oh! Right, I had an idea for your character and wanted to talk to you about it. But I got so excited that I just drove over here without thinking.”
Steve laughed and even Will smiled and shook his head.
“So let’s hear it, then,” Steve said.
And soon the air was filled with discussions of the campaign.
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Tag List: @itsfreakingbats @marvelousforlife
242 notes · View notes
up-in-space-reading · 10 months
Text
The End of the World and Everything After
pairing: Matt x F Reader
word count: 6,345
warnings/tags: angst, grief, hurt, fluff, comfort, established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, swearing, domestic fluff, dad!Matt, the blip/the snap, mentions of alcohol, allusions to sex (nothing graphic). no use of y/n.
read on ao3
masterlist
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Story Summary: Half of the universe is turned into dust because of Thanos. You and Matt were left behind to pick up the pieces of yourselves and try to learn how to live without the most important people in your lives.
a/n: This fic was born from me babysitting, listening to 90s top hits for two weeks straight, and way too many conversations with my partner about what our fave characters did during the blip. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy <3
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The whole world stopped that day. The entire universe stood still. It was unbelievably quiet everywhere, a silence settling down on the surface that wouldn’t lift anytime soon.
On an average Tuesday afternoon, half of the earth disappeared in minutes. Leaving behind the other half to cope with the losses and clean up the mess left behind.
No one was sure what the Avengers did or didn’t do, all everyone knew was that five minutes after someone had snapped their fingers half of their loved ones were no longer around.
Not dead, just dust.
Matt had taken losing Karen and Foggy hard. He spent months taking out his anger on anything he could hit and kick. Bruised and bloody fists a harsh reminder that he is alive, and they aren’t. The streets and the punching bag in the gym got hit with his rage, and you got hit with his sadness. There was no denying you felt it too, you were just as much of a mess you just didn’t have the physical outlet he did.
He started training you in the old dusty ring at Fogwells a few months after, hitting the bag and sparring until neither of you could handle it anymore and the tears began falling again, collapsing into each other’s arms for a while. You’d then walk home, arm in arm on the quiet streets of the Kitchen, Matt would listen to the people left and you’d stare at the empty buildings.
It was a similar routine for a year but getting easier to handle with every passing week. A smile here and there when you would land a punch, a giggle when he’d grab you around the waist in just the right spot to tickle you.
Slowly, you were getting yourselves back. Not your old selves, but a new version, versions that lived with the pain and held onto the small glimpses of hope. Versions of yourselves that settled into a calm and quiet routine. You got to a place where you could talk about them with a bittersweet tone instead of not being able to speak through the tears. And in the strangest turn of events, connections were made.
It was Jessica who had reached out first. You had been so surprised you read the text on Matt’s phone yourself multiple times. Her and Luke had figured things out, they even had a kid a few months before the blip. But they were getting lonely, and once Luke has realised who was left he figured you and Matt were getting lonely too.
Halfway through that first year you quit your job, began working with Matt in the office doing the admin and office managerial tasks. He didn’t have many clients, but people were still having issues during this time. At some point everyone decided the world had to keep turning, people needed money to stay in their homes or downsize and businesses still needed to run. The city kept going, it just felt smaller and emptier now.
You packed away Karen and Foggy’s things, in storage boxes. Matt asked why you didn’t get rid of them completely and you didn’t have an answer, maybe a small part of you hoped they’d come back one day. Maybe you just didn’t have the heart to get rid of it all yet. The door to Foggy’s office staying almost permanently shut, windows dark.
So, you sat at the desk in the main foyer of the office, answering emails and doing any research Matt needed done. Matt went over files and case notes in his office, listening to you hum along to the music playing quietly through a speaker in the corner of the room. It was a little over a year since it had happened.
It was a warm day, sunlight pouring through the dirty office windows making the space look happier than it ought to be. You were busy typing an email response to organise an appointment with a client when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in” You said loud enough so the person could hear, not looking up from your computer screen.
Luke opened the door with one hand, holding Dani and a bag of food in the other. Dani had her arms wrapped around as much of Luke’s neck as she could reach and was babbling in her fathers ear while he hummed in response.
“Hi Luke, hi Dani” You smiled wide at the two of them.
You were always happy to see Dani, convinced she was one of the cutest kids you’d ever seen. Looks like her fathers and a temper like her mothers (only if you didn’t give in to her ice cream demands).
“Hey, how you guys doing? We bought you both some lunch if you haven’t already had some” He took the bag of food in his free hand and held it up for emphasis.
“No, we haven’t eaten yet, thank you so much.” You stomach grumbling as you stood up and accepted the bag happily, peering at the contents inside “Can’t believe the mayor of New York is doing a lunch run while also looking after his little one”
At the mention of Dani you look at her and scrunch up your nose and smile, she smiled in return before quickly hiding her face in Luke’s shoulder. Luke laughed.
“If I’m behind that desk for too long I’ll lose my mind, besides, needed to ask Matt a few things and figured it was a good excuse to get out”
You laughed in response, it was a new feeling, laughing at things regularly and feeling a semblance of normal. It was something none of you had been used to in a long while, but it did feel good, you almost felt relieved that the worst was over even though the worst was technically still ongoing.
“If there’s enough here for all of us I’ll get a table and some chairs set up so we can eat together, you go chat with Matt, Dani and I will hang out for a bit”
Luke passed Dani over to you before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and going into Matt’s office. You went about dragging out the fold out table and chairs from the unused conference room, Dani in one arm and dragging furniture with the other. Eventually you put her down on the floor next to the small basket of toys you’d acquired for her so you could finish setting up the table and chairs and place the food out on the table.
Once done, you knocked on the door of Matt’s office and poked your head in telling the two boys that food was ready. The four of you sat down around the small square table, Dani on Luke’s lap trying her absolute hardest to stab things with a chopstick.
You small talk about your days and what everyone has been up to recently, its mostly the same as usual and at some point Matt and Luke continue talking shop so you start entertaining Dani with funny faces and peek-a-boo.
It was a nice day, you finished work an hour before Matt and were able to cook something nice for dinner by the time he got home.
Later that night you and Matt were sat on the couch, both reading a book quietly. He had decided to not go on patrol that night, it had made you wonder at first, but you weren’t going to complain at the chance for quality time. The two of you were sat on the couch, you were leaning against the arm rest with your legs stretched out on Matt’s lap, his feet were resting on the coffee table and you’d both been wearing your pyjamas since arriving home after work. A record playing on the turntable in the corner of the room, Matt had picked tonight.
At a point in the evening when the sun was down and the moon making its home in the sky for the night Matt put his book down on the side table, running his hands up and down your shins. After a few minutes and once you’d finished your page you closed your book and put it down, looking up at him to see he was already facing you, a lazy smile on his face.
“What’s up, handsome?” You teased reaching one of your hands down, meeting one of his at your knee.
“Nothing much, beautiful” He teased back.
You sit in silence for a few moments, taking in all his features and how they seem to have aged so much just in the past year and you assumed you looked the same. But he was still beautiful, pensive and unfocused brown eyes staring while his other senses take in everything. The stubble lingering on his jaw that you had always preferred over him being clean shaven.
“You’re staring” He pulled you out of your thoughts.
“If you could see your reflection then you’d understand why” You giggled.
“Can I ask you something?” He asked tentatively.
“Of course”
You leaned your head sideways to rest on the back of the couch, still looking at him as he seemed hesitant with his question. Had this been six months ago your mind would have run wild with possibilities, anxiety having already decided the worst outcome was definitely going to happen. But this time, your instincts weren’t screaming and your mind was clear, it should’ve scared you but instead your heart stayed steady. The worst had already happened, anything since couldn’t compare.
“I love you, so much. The past year has been…” He looks away, blinking hard a few times before turning to face you again “probably one of the worst ever, we were- are dealing with something so unprecedented. But we’ve made it this far and it has me convinced we’ll make it through anything” You both let out a short laugh.
“I feel like I’m getting off track, sorry” He laughed nervously this time, at this point you could see he was fiddling with something in his pocket with his free hand.
“That’s okay, keep going” You smiled and squeezed his hand, trying to calm your heartbeat as your mind jumped to conclusions hoping against everything they were the right ones.
“Anyway, if it weren’t for you I don’t know what I would’ve done or where I would be now. You’re the most amazing, kind, funny and caring person I’ve ever met.” Tears were welling up in his eyes, matching the ones that had been brimming in yours threatening to spill “I-I can’t live without you, so would you marry me?”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a silver ring. It was beautiful, two small bands winding around one other creating an infinite spiral, decorated with small diamonds embedded in the bands. It was the perfect ring for you, he knew you weren’t a fan of big jewellery and a big diamond wouldn’t match your style.
“Oh my god Matt… yes I will, of course I will” The tears had now begun to fall now and there was no way you were going to be able to stop them.
He held your shaking left hand steady as he slid the ring on your finger, and you looked at it for a few moments before sliding closer to Matt to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. He returned the favour, hands going to your waist to hold you close and steady. When you pulled back for air you could see he was also crying.
After a few moments of catching your breath, you spoke up again.
“What about K-“
“I know, I thought about it. They would hate that we stopped living just because they’re gone, and if we get to see them again one day I want to be able to tell them the things we’ve done together”
“Okay, if you’re sure” You put your forehead against his.
“Sure as I’ve been about anything”
The two of you chose a date a few weeks later to go to the courthouse and make it official, with Luke, Jess, and Dani in tow. You and Jess went out to get a dress, she insisted she was only there to tell you which ones were ugly so you’d know what to avoid. The dress you chose was simple, not a wedding dress by definition but it was white and it suited you. Jess had even said you looked nice in it, which coming from her she may as well have called you Aphrodite.
You filled out and signed papers, quickly kissed, and by that evening the five of you were sitting in yours and Matt’s apartment a few drinks in laughing over nothing. Music from the turntable and Dani’s babbling as she played on the floor creating background noise, and for the first time in a long time the city doesn’t feel too big or too quiet.
It was a perfect night to end a perfect day.
Throwing up into the toilet isn’t how you had anticipated you’d start your Saturday morning, Matt still in pyjama pants and no shirt holding your hair back as your body convulsed. He rubbed your back soothingly until you’d finished, and once you were sure you were done, he held you on the bathroom floor as you caught your breath.
A year and a half since half the universe disappeared, a few months since you and Matt had gotten married.
“Oh god” You gasped, looking at the results of the test later that day.
“Well..” Matt trailed off.
You were both processing the results in silence for a little while, you weren’t sure if it were seconds or hours that passed.
“Quarters” Matt whispered.
At first it confused you until you racked your brain, did some rough maths and suddenly it made sense.
“Quarters” You whispered back in shock.
“This should be incredibly unfair to you but I actually think it’s the opposite and incredibly unfair to me” You giggled while pouring a shot of whiskey into the cup in the middle of the table.
“Mrs Murdock attacks her husband once again, will the torment ever end” Matt pretended to fret to someone else who wasn’t in the room before laughing.
“Mr Murdock is going the right way to sleeping on the couch if he continues to pretend he will be bad at this game”
Matt walked to the dining table, carrying freshly washed quarters in a towel, drying them as he walked. He had insisted on washing the coins before playing, they smelled so strong he could taste them and it made him feel ill.
“I’m going to cheat” You said matter of factly.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t marry you because you’re a fair player” You both laughed hard.
You had begun playing games every so often, going out drinking less meant you and Matt had time to fill and you were determined to not have him fill the time with Daredevil. An argument six months after the blip which left you both emotionally raw had already gone over that issue. He was doing worlds better now, not relying on Daredevil as much to cope and you were proud.
When Matt was satisfied that the coins were as clean as he could get them and dry enough, the game commenced. You immediately regretted it, wishing you had chosen a card game instead. He was landing every single one, you were lucky to get one in four. After a little while you stood up to get some water and wobbled on your feet, deciding that you had to stack the odds in your favour somehow so you wouldn’t get blackout while Matt stayed lightly buzzed.
“Need help getting to the fridge?” He teased, leaning back in his chair.
“I am perfectly fine walking a few steps to the fridge” You insisted, but you were definitely trying harder than usual to take balanced and even steps.
Once you had acquired a bottle of water, you returned to the table and picked up a coin for your next shot. Unsurprisingly you miss the glass, but before Matt can pick up a coin of his own you take one off the table as quick as possible and take another shot. This one makes it into the glass and you throw your arms up in victory while Matt throws his head back laughing.
“Drink up Matthew!” You cheered.
From that point on Matt let you keep trying until you got the coin in the glass before taking his turn. At some point in the evening when your cheeks were hurting from laughter and your mouth was sticky with the taste of alcohol you called it a night, advising Matt that you two had shared enough of the bottle for a single evening.
You stumbled through the living room and into the bedroom together, feeling grateful that you from a few hours ago decided to put her pyjamas on before starting the game. You were warm and happy all over, but it wasn’t until Matt took his shirt off that your heart began to race and heat spread through your body.
“Hmm”
The noise had accidentally slipped from your lips, you hadn’t meant for it to come out but it was too late, Matt had already heard it and was taking in the rest of your body’s reaction.
“Oh” He responded quietly while smirking.
“And you’re sure you want to do this?” You asked nervously from the other end of the couch.
“Sure as I’ve been about anything, only if you’re sure too” He placed a hand on your knee.
“Yeah, I’m sure”
You let out a deep breath, taking it all in and already thinking ahead. A feeling settled in your chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety. You both had a daunting future ahead of you but you were sure it would be worth it, and there was no one you’d rather do it with than Matt.
Luke was elated for the both of you, and Jess pretended to not be as happy also but had a hard time hiding it, a rare smile gracing her face for just a moment when you had told them the news. You often texted Jess with a million different questions and whilst reluctant to answer she still helped more than you’d ever be able to thank her for. When you found out the gender Luke brought over a few bags of Dani’s old stuff that she had grown out of and you couldn’t be more grateful.
“Your daughter is fuckin’ huge, can you help me with my shoes please” You yelled across the apartment to Matt.
“As soon as she’s an issue it’s my daughter, huh?” He teased as he walked over to where you were on the couch, his tie still undone.
Matt knelt on the floor in front of you and helped with putting your socks and shoes on, you hadn’t been able to reach your feet for a while now so he was used to it and he never minded helping in any way he could. You were the one doing the hard work after all, who was he to complain about having to help with a pair of shoes every now and then.
Once he was done with your shoes he placed a kiss onto your belly and then your forehead. He finished doing up his tie and you both headed out to work for the day. It was a brisk morning as you walked to the office, arm in arm as per usual. You had to stop once to catch your breath and Matt sat with you on the bench, hand on your knee in comfortable silence.
After you had gotten to the office and up until lunch you had felt minor pains but nothing to be concerned about. It wasn’t until about 2pm that they got worse and you grew worried, but you still hadn’t caught Matt’s attention until a bad one hit you suddenly causing you to hiss through your teeth and clench your fists.
He got up from his desk and rushed to the doorway of his office.
“Are you okay?” He asked concerned.
“Uh-“ You thought about it for a few moments “Not really”
You knew Matt would be annoyed if you downplayed how you felt, he had been all over since you found out you were pregnant making sure you weren’t having any pains that were out of place and making you be almost too careful. Fortunately, you’d read about these pains, and you now had the task of quickly mentally preparing yourself for the coming hours.
“I’ll call Luke” Matt was ready for action immediately, pulling out his phone and finding Luke’s contact immediately.
Taxis were harder to come by after the blip and it was a jarring change for New York. The only person you and Matt knew who did drive was Luke, so he was always the go to if you needed a ride for a bit of a distance; and he had offered to call him anytime for the baby. Luke was outside the office not 10 minutes later ready to take the two of you to the hospital.
Matt would do anything for her, he had decided that the moment he got to hold her for the first time. She was his everything, two people in the world he would do anything for.
While you were sleeping that night, exhausted after all the effort that afternoon, he held her in his arms. Sat on the uncomfortable hospital couch he felt her warmth against his chest and listened to her tiny heartbeat. She was perfect, and he cried as he stroked her soft cheek with his finger.
His girls were everything to him. Two years ago his world collapsed and he thought he could never be happy again, he’d never be lucky enough to laugh or smile. But despite the many difficulties the day offered, he was content.
If he ever got to see Foggy and Karen again, he couldn’t wait to tell them everything.
You told him she was still mostly bald but there were whisps of dark hair covering her head, you joked she wasn’t done cooking enough to tell who she looked more like yet. Luke drove the three of you home two days later, not lingering too long so you could get settled.
Sleepless nights were tough on both of you, Matt didn’t get enough sleep as it was and now with a crying baby it was worse. But eventually you figured out a routine, and after two months of stumbling and sleepless nights the two of you found a way.
Saturday afternoon and you were finally getting around to doing the laundry you’d been putting off for two weeks, Mia propped up by some pillows at the head of your bed and unfolded clothes covering the foot of the bed. She was holding a toy in her hand that she would occasionally decide to chew on or wave around while music played in the background.
“Your father hates when I sing this one, rolls his eyes and everything, can you believe him?” You told Mia as you swayed your hips to the music while folding t-shirts.
She made a quiet cooing noise and you couldn’t help but smile. A few minutes passes of you humming and Mia watching you, content in between feeds and naps.
“Oh my god yes! Mia baby this is important stuff I expect you to remember this one” You said as the next song begun, one of your personal favourites.
The swaying hips very soon escalated into dancing around the bedroom as you folded clothes, Mia smiling at your antics only encouraging you further. You were getting lost in the music, and though you didn’t know it Matt was smiling from where he was washing dishes in the kitchen, attention focused completely on you in the other room.
Near the end of the song Mia waved her arms around a little, and you didn’t care if she was copying you or just doing her thing but it made you laugh anyway.
“That’s it baby, get into it!”
It wasn’t often you had the opportunity to sneak up on Matt, ears hearing you approaching from more than a block away, always making sure you’re safe. But every now and then you had a rare opportunity to, and it was always a gem to catch Matt off guard.
Today you had gone grocery shopping while Matt stayed home with Mia. You had returned from shopping, hearing Matt’s voice on the other side of the apartment door made you stop for a moment. You stood by the door, ear close to the gap trying to listen to what he was saying.
“Now it isn’t so bad, see? If I had known this is what you wanted in the first place we could’ve avoided a lot of stress, sweetheart”
A warmth blooms in your chest as a smile graces your face, a few moments of silence pass before you hear him speak again.
“Ah here we go, you like this one. You gotta learn to tell me this stuff, your mother says communication is important, y’know” He chuckled to himself.
Finally, you unlock the door and go into the apartment. Upon walking into the living area you find Mia lying on her tummy on the play mat, surrounded by toys within arm’s reach, and Matt lying on his stomach on the floor, chin resting on his arms facing Mia.
He greeted you the moment you walked in and you greeted back while putting the bags of groceries on the counter. You shrugged your jacket and shoes off and walked over to Matt and Mia, lying down right next to Matt, mirroring his position and facing Mia.
“Didn’t realise we all needed tummy time” You laughed, giving Matt a kiss on the cheek before leaning forward to kiss Mia on the forehead.
“This was what made her happy, who am I to argue” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re a sucker” You nudged him with your elbow.
“I might be” He laughed and hung his head.
Mia’s first birthday involved too much ice cream and cake, but Dani had insisted that after all the time she’d spent playing with Mia that she wanted ice cream and you didn’t have the heart to say no. She loved ripping the wrapping paper off of her gifts more than she liked the actual gifts, you made a note of that for when Christmas came around.
As she grew a whole corner of the office became a play area for her, and occasionally Dani. At first it was one corner, but as soon as she began walking unaided the whole office was hers to play in as far as she was concerned. Matt would often step on toys left lying around his office, muttering to himself in annoyance while putting it away. The conference room had become the nap room, and Mia enjoyed the walk between the office and home.
She often wanted to sit on yours or Matt’s lap while you worked, eager to bang on the computer keyboards and scribble on notepads. You caved and bought an old keyboard for her to play with, it meant she stayed off your lap a little longer, but not Matt’s.
Mia was a daddy’s girl through and through, and Matt would do anything for his little girl. His ears were always tuned in to the sound of ‘dada’ and always telling her she was perfect. You would often hear them having ‘conversations’ on his office, him telling her a story and she would babble back happily.
It was 1:30pm, you had put all work on hold to deal with Mia who refused to nap and was letting everyone else deal with the consequences. Matt was getting frustrated; she would cling to her dad when upset but he had work to do, and the crying child on the floor under his desk didn’t help with productivity. You were getting annoyed that she wasn’t being receptive to anything you did to calm her down and eventually gave up, bordering on tears yourself.
Despite the feelings of guilt Matt made you sit on the couch with him in his office and just leave Mia, she would cry herself tired. He reassured you that you weren’t a bad mother for letting it happen, and if she kept going then he would handle it. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, trying to relax even with the sound of crying filling the room. Matt rubbed your arm soothingly and sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.
The two of you hadn’t felt like this since the sleepless nights when Mia was a newborn, you’d gotten used to her good sleep schedule and generally good behaviour. Jess laughed that the ‘terrible twos’ was approaching, and you refused to believe your baby girl could be anything remotely near terrible. That was until today, when she wouldn’t nap and you were quickly running out of patience.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you came back to reality, thinking you had tuned out the crying you opened your eyes and took stock of the room around you. You lifted your head and looked at Matt who had a small smile on his face, looking relieved. It was then you clocked how quiet the room was.
“Is she-?” You whispered.
“Yep” He sighed in relief.
You got up from the couch and made your way over to the desk, crouching to peer underneath. Mia was curled up under Matt’s desk, dark hair pointing in all directions and cheeks still red from her meltdown. Other than the wet tears under her eyes she looked as peaceful as ever, and you felt the tension leave your shoulders.
Matt had gotten up and retrieved a blanket from the conference-slash-nap room to put over her. He joined you where you were crouched and carefully covered Mia with the blanket, then standing up and collecting his files. He sat on the couch and continued his work, while you went to make a cup of coffee, both of you pleased you could finally get some work done before going home for the day.
“I do it!”
“Okay okay, you can do it” Matt laughed as Mia tried to stir the pasta sauce by herself.
He had always preferred cooking when he had company to do it with, the two of you had loved cooking together since you first met. You weren’t chefs but Matt knew what tasted good and you had a knack for portioning pasta perfectly every time (Matt joked that it was your heightened sense). Now that Mia had come along, he had someone else to cook with who was always attached to his hip.
She attempted to stir the sauce, it being too thick for her small arms to handle and Matt sneakily helping her. Once a few stirs were done she clapped her hands and Matt gave her endless praises and cheek kisses, you couldn’t help but smile at them.
You had tried to feed her a mouthful, but she outright refused and said she could do it herself. It was at this point you realised she’d inherited Matt’s sense of independence, wanting to do everything on her own without any help. Trying to stop yourself from helping her when she was getting half the pasta sauce down her shirt was tough, and Matt’s giggles weren’t helping.
“Your daughter is becoming like you” You said to Matt while you both cleaned up after Mia had gone down to sleep for the night.
“Again with the my daughter, you had a hand in making her too y’know” He smiled, amused.
“She’s becoming stubborn, and refuses help. It’s sounding all too familiar, won’t be long until you’re teaching her how to throw a proper punch” You joke, rolling your eyes.
Matt walks up to you and puts his hands on your waist, pulling you close and kissing you with a smile on his face, and you can’t help but kiss back. Still giving you butterflies after all these years.
“You don’t have to worry about her, the way she plays with Dani, she’s inherited your kindness and empathy. Besides, I’m a good father so I won’t teach her how to throw a punch until she’s at least 5” He laughed again at this own joke while you just groaned and rolled your eyes.
Once his laughter has died down you kiss him on the cheek and begin walking towards the bathroom to have a shower.
“You’re lucky I love you, Mr Murdock”
“Very lucky indeed”
He quickly catches up to you and sweeps you off your feet, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom while you can’t help but giggle.
“Daddy!”
“Good morning sweetheart!”
Mia runs through the lounge room to the kitchen where Matt was getting her lunch ready. He takes a few steps forward to meet her and scoop her up in his arms when they meet. She wraps her arms around his neck while he holds her in a tight hug.
“Tell me what your outfit is today” He continues to hold her with one arm while getting food together with the other hand.
“Got a dress and boots”
“What colour are they?”
“Pink and blue, and pink!”
“As beautiful as always” He kisses her on the cheek before placing her back on the floor to run around the apartment for a little bit.
You walk into the kitchen to make coffee for you and Matt, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick good morning. The two of you start a discussion about the cases you’re currently working on and when the next court date is.
As you leave the apartment the glint of Matt’s red glasses on the shelf catches your eye, he hadn’t worn them in years. Right after the snap he was in such an awful place that wearing his glasses out was the least of his concerns, and it became a bit of a habit. Then when Mia came along, he didn’t want her remembering how he looked only with his glasses on, losing any reason to wear them daily.
On the walk from the apartment to the office Mia walks between the two of you, holding a hand each and skipping. Every few steps you and Matt lift her up by the arms and swing her, making her laugh loudly. Her laugh echoes down the otherwise quiet street, and you think you see someone on the other side of the street smile at the sound.
Halfway through the walk Mia begs to get on Matt’s shoulders and he can’t say no to his little girl, you mutter about how he’s a softie and he pretends to not hear you but reveals himself by rolling his eyes.
“Since its Friday did you wanna finish up early and head to the park for the afternoon?” You ask Matt, nearing the office.
“Yes park!” Mia cheered from her place up on Matt’s shoulders, her arms wrapped around his head, hands meeting on his forehead.
“Park sounds good” He turned his head towards you and smiled.
You reach the office building and Matt lifts Mia off of his shoulders, you begin making your way up the stairs, searching your bag for the keys to the office. Matt and Mia hung behind because Mia insisted Matt help her jump up every step.
Once the two of them had finally reached the office, Matt went to his desk as Mia tipped out her box of toys onto the floor and began rummaging through them all looking for something she wanted. You sat at the reception desk and opened your laptop, checking emails like any other day.
Today was a quiet day, not many emails and even fewer calls. It was mostly a day of research and helping Matt prepare for a court date the following week. Mia would interrupt to show you her drawings and you all took a break for lunch.
Mid-afternoon when the both of you were satisfied with how much work you’d gotten done that day began packing up the office, putting away files and leaving to-do lists for Monday. Matt walked out of his office and stood next to your desk, Mia was on the floor slowly putting her toys back into the box.
Suddenly, Matt started breathing heavily and bent over, having to hold onto the desk for support as if he’d just been hit in the gut. His eyes were wide and you were immediately concerned – you couldn’t lose him too.
“Matt, are you alright? What’s wrong?” You asked concerned, a hand on his arm and one on shoulder.
He turned his head towards you and the look on his face was worrying, a mix of horror and confusion. It made your blood go cold; the last time he looked like that the whole world came crashing down.
“Something’s happened” He breathed out, putting a hand on your arm and squeezing tight.
“Are you okay, dada?” Mia asked from her spot on the floor, confusion all over her face.
It was then you heard it, you heard everything; people yelling and screaming, cars honking, and sirens going off. Your legs almost gave way, your heart thundering in your ears and breathing becoming difficult as you try to comprehend what was happening.
Another breath left your lips, you squeezed your eyes shut and when you opened them there was another person in the room. Time seemed to stop, all the noises outside seemed to quiet as you took in the face of the person standing in front of you. Your voice had been ripped from you with the breath you had been holding, Matt was the one to speak first.
“Foggy?”
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a/n: Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know if you did <3 I could probably add some extra scenes in (or even write Karen and Foggy's return) so if you'd like to read more let me know and I might think about writing some more :) P.S: the 'important song' referenced about halfway through is Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer bc I LOVE that song.
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trans-luis-serra · 5 months
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OK GOOOOOOOO READ THIS POST FIRST I WAS TRYING TO REBLOG IT BUT TUMBLR WOULDNY LET ME ADD ANY MORE PHOTOS OR TAG ANYMORE PEOPLE CUZ IM USING THIS POST AS A JUMPING OFF POINT!!!!!!! GO FOLLOW @theprestigegirly AND @cloverisnonexistantbro !!!!!!!!!
I had @void-detective ask me a few days ago if the ornaments on Luis’ jacket had any particular meaning and as with everything I fell down,,,,,, one hell of a rabbit hole HDNWHWNEHDNX
So, first off; I couldn’t find any super definitive answer to what was on his jacket but I have some pretty good theories!!!!!!!
@vespereargentum and their friend on Twitter helped point out to me that the floral designs are really reminiscent of old Spanish Renaissance furniture and like yeah!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean look at it!!!!!!!!
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These photos aren’t very good but you get the gist!!!!!!!
Why would Capcom put visual designs from FURNIATURE onto clothing I have no clue, but considering the fact that almost every single detail of Luis’ character down to the damn rings are extremely purposeful I’m sure we could pick up some pieces!!!!!
It also kinda makes sense, like,,, character wise too y’know- Valdelobos was a glorified Catholic cult and obviously they kept a very old-fashioned mindset so visuals-wise it makes sense!!!!!
@ 11cool also pointed out that his jacket has a lot of similar motifs to Matadors and Traje De Luces which they have their own post you can check out if you wanna!!!!!!!! Ofc there brings up the whole issue of y’know, Bad spanish stereotypes and bullfighting etc etc but this whole post is just throwing stuff at the wall in complete honesty!!!!!
And like the og post and @cloverisnonexistantbro said there’s a not for none Chance that the designers were trying to play into abstract windmill motifs would would be super cool!!!!!
@theprestigegirly and @kaychen666 were also kind enough to point out that the flowers on his jacket kinda look like poppies!!!!!!
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And I think most people already know that poppies are a pretty common symbol for death (especially after war which I’ll touch on in a second) which. Y’know. Would be just SUCH A FUN AND SILLY DETAIL if true HAHDHENDHSJ
And like the og already has put so eloquently there are just,,,,,, S O many lil design elements of Luis’ that are so perfectly purposeful,,,;,,,… down to the fact that Luis has a gun from WWI (Realistically probably passed down from hsi grandfather, who would have probably had to have lived through Spanish civil wars (yayyyyy we love generational trauma yippeee another thing to add onto Luis amirite /lh)) and down to the fricken rings he wears and what fingers he wears them on!!!!!! (One of the rings for instance is of the Virgin Mary and it’s supposedly said that wearing a ring on the fingers Luis does symbolises leadership and compassion etc etc etc Yknow ring logic HDBEHEBXHX)
So like idk!!!!!!!! If anyone who actually has knowledge of Spanish culture wants to chip in PLEASE PLEASE DO!!!!!!! I’m the whitest Mf on planet earth there’s only so much justice I can give Luis BSNDHENDJSNSJ
Tl;dr: until Capcom or somebody whose more of a professional in this field outright explains what little design details like that mean for certain I’m just throwing stuff at the wall and letting people see it HDHEHEJEID
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ijustwant2write · 1 year
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A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)-(Part 5/?)
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(GIF credit to @inglourious-imagines​)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace-blog @yelenas-lova @rockbumlowlavxnder @s-unflowxr @appledressing @xceafh @seppys-return-to-madness @ellesmythe @too-many-fandoms-and-what-abt-it @nycbaby21 @teenagedirtbag087 @scorpiomindfuck​
Summary: As (Y/N) and Benedict’s relationship starts to develop, Lord Belby starts his plan to get the girl he wants.
Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Bridgerton Family x Reader (platonic)
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
(Y/L/N)=Your last name
Warnings: Forwardness (?), but mostly a LOT of fluff
                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Bridgerton's cheered as (Y/N) scored a strike as they bowled. She gratefully smiled at them, thankful that she wasn't making a fool of herself.
"Are you a sportswoman Miss (Y/N)?" Anthony asked in disbelief."We are only three turns in and that is your third strike!"
"My father used to play this all the time with me when I was a little girl. It's also his favourite game because he always wins. Or used to that is."
They laughed. Benedict's loving smile hadn't left his face since they linked arms. Although his family made him nervous, in case they said something outlandish, he loved that everyone was getting on. It was as if he and (Y/N) were already married.
Oh, marriage.
Of course the thought had crossed his mind. He wouldn't pursue the lady if he didn't see that kind of future together. But it still shocked him that the thought came to him so casually.
Anthony was next to bowl, he was desperate to also earn a strike. Not only because a lady was beating him, but he couldn't believe how poorly he was doing. Everyone watched in anticipation as the eldest took his turn, hitting nine pins, the last one wobbling teasingly. Holding his breath, Anthony groaned when it didn't fall over.
"Perhaps Lady (Y/N) should be giving you tips brother." Daphne giggled.
"Perhaps she should. Though I don't suppose you've ever played Pall-mall?"
"Only a couple of times. Why, is that your area of expertise?"
"Do not get him started." Benedict mumbled.
Anthony ignored him."I am a humble man, though I do seem to win every time."
"Because you threaten us otherwise." Daphne smirked.
"My siblings jest."
"Well, perhaps I should give this Pall-mall game another go, it would be delightful to beat you at your own game Viscount Bridgerton."
The siblings were all laughing under their breath. (Y/N) worried for a second that she had gone too far, until she saw Anthony smirking at her. It was easy to banter with the Bridgertons, she felt so comfortable with them.
"Where's Eloise?" Gregory asked, looking around.
"I thought she was sat over there, reading a book." Colin said.
"She didn't even have a book with her."
"That makes a change."
"Can she not do as she's told for one day?" Anthony sighed."I apologise for my sister, Lady (Y/N)."
"There's no need to apologise. I'm sure she's content wherever she is."
Eloise sat on a stone bench away from the party, scribbling in her small, conceivable notebook. Lady Whistledown was still out there, writing away just as she was. Whenever she thought she found something to get her closer to the answer, Eloise found herself ten steps back.
"You're fond of that notebook, aren't you?" Lord Belby startled her.
"Uh, pardon me my Lord, I-"
"Not used to talking to men I see?"
"Do you always converse by asking questions?"
He chuckled, taking a seat next to her. Eloise shuffled away, not being subtle about it.
"Eloise Bridgerton, it doesn't surprise me to see you out here alone."
"Have you been spying on me?"
"You're the talk of the ton, Eloise."
"Am I?"
"Of course. With a fiery personality such as yours, how could anyone ignore it?"
"I really must go Lord Belby, it is inappropriate that we are alone." she abruptly stood.
"I don't think you're one to play by the rules."
Eloise halted."I am not. But I also will not be the centre of idle gossip amongst this infuriating ton. Good day my lord."
She swiftly turned again, her pace quick as she tried to get away from Belby. They couldn't be seen together, it was one of the top rules in society. Eloise had already caused her mother enough stress, she wouldn't add this. Glancing back, she saw Lord Belby still sat, gazing at her with a cocky smile. Something about him made her writhe, he was uncomfortable to be around, you knew he was going to do or say something that you wouldn't like.
Belby kept a calm demeanour, cursing on the inside. He thought she would be a somewhat easier target. Not a lot of men went after her, Belby believed she would be swooned by him. Although frustrated, Belby held his composure as he thought of another plan. It was going to be more difficult than he thought.
Meanwhile, Lady Danbury was up to her matchmaking antics. Well, she had no need to make the match, that part was already done for her. However, she saw how the newest couple were antsy, they wished for more time together. Needing to abide by the laws of society, Lady Danbury took Violet and Lady (Y/L/N) aside, suggesting they chaperone the couple away from the guests. The mothers were on board straight away, smiling mischievously as they approached (Y/N) and Benedict.
"They definitely don't look as if they are up to something." Benedict whispered to (Y/N), following where he was looking.
"We better stay as a team then." she replied, her grip slightly tightening on his elbow.
"We were about to take a walk around my new extention of the garden. Care to join us?" Lady Danbury casually asked.
Benedict and (Y/N) knew that this was all part of some plan, but agreed anyway. To their surprise, they followed behind the women, thinking that they would want to spy on them. Neither of them complained, feeling relieved as the guests thinned out, walker slower on purpose as to distance themselves from the others.
"This is nice." (Y/N) cringed at her wording.
Benedict grinned down at her."It is. I hope this isn't too brash (Y/N), but I have been wishing for more time together everyday."
"That is nowhere near harsh Benedict, seeing as we were alone only the last time we saw each other."
"That is true. And I would take that risk again."
"Would you?"
"Yes. Would you not?"
"Oh, I would." (Y/N) was blushing.
Benedict could see she felt cheeky by saying the truth. He liked this side of her, it was fun, honest.
"I would enjoy your company in my home. Would you and your parents care to join us for dinner one evening?"
"Of course! Mother will be thrilled!"
"And your father?"
(Y/N) hesitated."He has been strange these last few days. I'm not sure what is wrong with him. But he does favour you Benedict, do not worry."
"And you are sure of this?"
"Yes! How could he not?"
"You charm me Lady (Y/N)."
"Good, my plan is working then."
Eloise decided against telling her family of the occurrence with Lord Belby. It would only cause disruption, especially from her brothers. No harm came of it and no one saw them. The sun was setting, signalling the end of Lady Danbury's event. Families began leaving, slowly trickling away, each thanking their hostess. The Bridgertons and (Y/L/N)'s made their way out of Lady Danbury' s home together, chatting away until they found themselves outside the home.
"Lord (Y/L/N), my family would love to extend an invitation for dinner at our home." Anthony asked.
"Oh marvelous!" he joyfully replied."Yes, we would gladly accept."
"I shall have the details sent to you. It has been a pleasure to speak with you again."
Formalities were shared as everyone said their goodbyes, heading to their carriages. Benedict made sure he and (Y/N) were the last to leave.
"I await your visit." he said.
"With much anticipation." (Y/N) replied.
If no one was looking, she could have kissed him there and then. Of course, she didn't actually have the confidence to do so, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Benedict hesitantly left, keeping an eye on (Y/N) as she made her way to her carriage. He watched as she climbed in before getting in himself.
"You are truly smitten Benedict." Daphne teased as they set off.
In (Y/N)'s carriage, the tone was slightly different.
"Darling, where's Lord Belby?" (Y/N)'s mother asked.
"He will no longer reside with us."
"Why not?"
"He is not the respectable gentleman I thought him to be. I don't want him anywhere near our daughter either."
"I always had a suspicion about him, he was far too confident."
"The servants will start packing his belongings as soon as we step foot in our home. I am sorry I let a man like that near my girls."
"Oh darling," Lady (Y/L/N) put her hand on his,"do not apologise. You are doing the right thing now."
"We just need to look to the future now. We have a dinner to attend to in a few days, and we must be ready."
"You make it sound like a military operation." (Y/N) joked.
"And I have the best soldiers with me."
Violet was ecstatic to have the (Y/L/N)'s for dinner, things were moving swiftly. However, she was a nightmare for her children as she tried to quickly plan the evening. What food would they serve? What entertainment could they provide? Would her children behave as they should?
"Benedict, how could you not ask her what her favourite dessert is? You knew we were going to ask them for dinner." Violet stressed.
"It wasn't exactly the first question I thought to ask mother." Benedict defended himself.
"I'm sorry dear, I just want everything to go well."
They had been walking the halls of their house when he stopped her.
"It will. The (Y/L/N) are not a snobbish family, they are grateful and respectful. Even if (Y/N) hated something she would still be polite as to not hurt anyone's feelings. Please mama, just calm down."
Violet smiled."You really like this girl, don't you?"
Benedict nodded, cheeks tinting red slightly, but he wasn't embarrassed to talk about his feelings. It was still young love after all.
"I really like her too, Benedict."
"You definitely approve?"
"I have approved from day one. And I think Anthony has taken a liking to her too. He didn't stop talking about his defeat in bowls yesterday."
"That makes me very happy. I would never bring someone into the family who did not get along with everyone."
"She is going to be very lucky to have you Benedict. I'm so happy for you."
Violet pulled him in for a hug, wishing he was a little boy again so she could pick him up. Almost all of her children were grown, her boys were certainly men and much taller than her; she had to squeeze extra tight to ensure it felt like a proper hug.
"I shan't pester you any longer."
Benedict slowly loosened his grip."How about I help you finish the menu for the dinner?"
Violet grinned, holding onto his hand as they headed to the kitchen. It was all going to work out.
(Y/N) checked over herself in the mirror for the fifth time, checking she had all of her accessories and not a hair was out of place. She was questioning her outfit. Was it the right dress? It was beautiful, maybe too much? So many flaws screamed at her. She knew the only reason she was nervous was because it was a more intimate affair, both families stuck at the dinner table, having to make conversation that flowed for the evening. They couldn't rely on other families in case there was nothing to talk about. Oh God, would her and Benedict run out of things to say to each other?
"(Y/N), we must make haste." her mother cheerily called.
Sighing, (Y/N) hoped her worries would fade away. Everything was headed in the right direction, so why was she worrying? This is what she wanted. She didn't want anything to ruin it. What that could be, she didn't know. Dismissing her thoughts, (Y/N) hurried to meet her parents in the foyer, excitement rising as she thought about Benedict.
It had been so much more peaceful in the house since Belby had left. There was an air of tension he brought, but you didn't realise it until he left. All of his things were gone, he had left in such a huff, it was hard for (Y/N) not to laugh.
The Bridgerton House was beautiful. It suited them, it was obviously majestic yet humble. It helped that it wasn't garnished with hideous and outrageous decor like some homes. The Bridgertons waited in their own foyer, hearing the carriage pull up.
"Right, best behaviour everyone. This is a potential future Bridgerton." Violet instructed.
"Mama-" Benedict rolled his eyes, but straightened up as the door opened.
"Lord and Lady (Y/L/N) and Lady (Y/N)." the doorman announced.
Benedict almost lost his breath. (Y/N) was dazzling. Her dress was sparkling under the lights, the catching reflections hitting her skin, somehow her eyes were more captivating than usual. Even when her parents approached the family to greet them, his eyes never left (Y/N), mouth slightly open in awe.
Once everyone had exchanged their kind words, they headed to the dining room, Benedict and (Y/N) trailing behind, arms linked.
"Are you alright Benedict?" (Y/N) asked.
"You look stunning."
"Oh, Benedict-"
"Sorry, I do not mean to be forward. It is true though. I cannot fathom how you become more beautiful everytime I see you."
(Y/N) was quite flustered."You flatter me too much."
"It's not enough I'm afraid. You shall have to endure many more compliments from me."
"No one has ever been so sweet to me."
"And I intend to shower you with all the affection you deserve."
"I am sorry that I am no so talented at complimenting you."
"There is no need."
(Y/N) wished they hadn't made it to the dining room so quickly. Benedict directed her to her seat, pushing in her chair as she sat and taking his place beside her. He grimaced slightly when he saw Eloise on the other side to her, wishing it was Daphne instead. He knew they got along, but Eloise was getting more comfortable with (Y/N), meaning she could blurt out anything.
"Isn't this lovely?" Violet happily chirped.
"Thank you for welcoming us into your beautiful home Lady Bridgerton. We were most gracious to receive an invitation." Lord (Y/L/N) said."And it is wonderful to meet the rest of the Bridgerton's I have heard so much about."
"All good things I hope." Anthony (mostly) joked.
"Oh of course!" Lady (Y/L/N) smiled."Eloise, I hear that you are on the hunt for Lady Whistledown."
The table went silent. Eloise knew her mama would not want this to be the topic of conversation, especially since they had been here for all of five minutes. But she had also been told to entertain their guests, why not amuse them?
She had a smug smile as she spoke."Yes. I believe she is among us in the Ton."
"Really? Any ideas whom it could be?"
"Well, yes and no. I do not have the sufficient amount of evidence to pinpoint anyone in particular. Lady Whistledown is very smart, she knows how to cover her tracks."
"Or he is." Gregory teased.
"It is definitely a woman, a man could not write in the way that she does."
"Perhaps it is a man and a woman?" Benedict suggested. All heads turned to him, waiting for an explanation."Well, I mean, the papers sell well, she must be earning a lot of money. Perhaps a man thought of a business opportunity to sell gossip and no one suspects a woman in the first place. Also, it is much easier for women to overhear gossip."
Everyone thought about it for a moment. It was a good theory. Eloise scoffed.
"Although I admire the thought behind it, I still think it is one lone woman writing these articles."
"That's because you want it to be a woman."
"But in answer to your question, Lady (Y/L/N), I will still be conducting my investigations for a little longer."
"It's all very scandalous isn't it?"
(Y/N) quietly giggled at her mother. She got so excited over things not deemed proper in high society. The appetisers were soon brought out, ending the conversation much to Violet's relief. Everyone started their own conversations with one another as they ate.
"I am sorry about my mother, Eloise." (Y/N) said."She loves Lady Whistledown, like all mothers do. She was very excited when I was mentioned in the paper."
"I just don't think it's right. She's allowed to overhear gossip and spread it around the Ton, yet no repercussions come to her. Even the Queen can't do anything, this woman is impossible to find."
"You'll be able to figure it out. It might take a little longer than you like. You finally have a worthy opponent."
Eloise smiled.“Yes, it appears I have.”
“(Y/N),” Benedict stirred her away attention away from his sister,“um...”
Now he didn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to talk to (Y/N), but he had panicked, thinking Eloise may say something regrettable. 
“Are you alright Benedict?”
“Yes, I...I was just going to ask how you were finding the food?”
“Oh, it’s lovely, thank you.”
“I hope my family aren’t too much.”
“Of course they aren’t. What gave you that silly idea?”
“I mean, sometimes we can be a little-”
“Benedict, you are by far the loveliest family I have ever met, and I am not trying to butter you up. I mean it. I;m very happy spending time with you and your family.”
What she really wanted to say was how lucky she would feel being a part of this family, but (Y/N) thought that might be too much. The pair shared a sweet smile, going back to their food until the doors opened.
“We’re not qiute ready for our mains yet.” Violet said to the butler.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Violet turned in her seat at the unfamilar voice, frowning when she saw Lord Belby dwaggering into the room. He looked extremely smug.
“I just hate missing out on dinner parties.”
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Note
Omg I’m so happy you replied!! I definitely have more questions.
1. What Cillian character do you like writing about the most and why?
2. What story from your master list are you most proud of?
3. Do you personally have any fic recommendations/ must reads? Other sites included.
4. What gets you inspired to write? Following that question have you ever abandoned a fic?
5. What do you think made you a better writer? If you have any doubts about your work, how do you get past it enough to continue?
6. Is there a Cillian character that you just don’t like, or aren’t interested in watching/ writing about? (Sorry if that’s a loaded question)
omg thank u so much for this!!! i srsly love interacting w u guys, tysm for the thought provoking questions😄🙌
i think i like writing most about robert fischer:) ik it probably doesnt translate considering ive written most for jonathan crane but robert fischer is just such a little sweetheart to me,,, and can go both ways in being a sassy dom douchebag or being a sobbing daddy issues sub darling LOLLL i just think he has a lot of duality to delve into and develop (which ive definitely not done so far☠️) and it helps that his characterization in inception was also very surface level— i have a lot of wiggle room y’know??
i think im most proud of “dine & dash” which im aware probably no-one has read, but getting chris o’doyle’s sassy little dialogue down was like taming a wild beast,,, otherwise, considering my more well-known work, i rly liked writing “honey, i’m home”. i go crazy for the unhinged readers (if u couldnt alrdy tell lmaooo) and seeing jackson get messed with like that was a real treat.
i seriously just recommend anything by @mypoisonedvine,,, they’re literally genius & are the reason i started writing for cillian:)!! other mentions include kitten fics by @pictureinme and, a personal fave, @floralcyanidee’s jackson rippner mile-high club fic!!! these writers are all incredibly talented and im just blown away at their work every single time🫶
my thirst is such a big motivator for writing LMAO😭i wrote “guinea pig” ‘cus i wanted to absolute wreckkk jonathan crane and have him be a sub, and i got a 6.8k words long fic out of said thirst! music & book quotes motivate me a lot too— i spend sm time digging thru my pinterest for a good quote for the beginning of my fic its actually insane☠️and yes,,, im ashamed to say ive abandoned fics numerous times,,, but thats because they were series’, not oneshots. i get bored of series’ pretty quickly, ‘cause i feel kind of trapped by the initial dynamic or mood set in the first chapter. with oneshots, its like writing one long chapter of this trope and this kink or whatever and then its done, and i dont have to exhaust myself going back to tropes or kinks or storylines ive already done.
i think reading made me a better writer. expanding my vocabulary through the words of others was a biggie; seeing something be described in a certain way in someones story had me thinking of out-of-the-box ways to describe another thing (that doesn’t make much sense but lets pretend it does😭). i have many, many doubts about my work, like constantly, but i usually just suck it up. i sound like an attention whore but seeing the reposts & comments & tags on my other work reminds me people like what i’ve written before and certain people will enjoy what ive written now, so i should just finish my work for them. i also take like 100 years rereading my stuff until i think its good enough lmao,,,
ive kinda watched his whole roster of films (atleast ones i could actually find on the internet and not gone missing as a lost piece of media lmao) and i could probably write for any cillian character given i had a good idea and proper motivation. writing for certain characters is definitely harder for me to do though, so its likely i wont write for them/will take a long time to do so. an example is lenny miller— anna was such an insufferable movie to me, and lenny’s screentime wasn’t long at all, atleast not long enough for me to properly grasp his character. he just felt like a horny hardass fbi goof the whole time i could not take his 5’7 ass seriously😭cillian is smexy as hell in anna tho, so we’ll see😈another would probably be robert capa from sunshine,,, hes beautiful and deliciously musty in that but the whole spaceship setting kinda freaks me out (considering i know 0 zilch nada about space, spaceships, or anything of the sort, so it’d definitely be inaccurate). an au with him id definitely do, though! (with that hair of his my mind is already forming a 90s band au, guitarist!capa x singer!reader story…)
again thank u so much for these questions!! i feel like i rarely get to chat to u guys so this was well appreciated😄🫶thank you so much for reading, for sending these questions in, and for being an overall sweetheart, anon!
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thatdemonbish · 8 months
Text
Dog Days
Formula 1 shifters-au!
Part 2
Summary: Lando is bored and will happily make it everyone’s problem
Pairings: none
Characters: Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr, Charles Leclerc, mentioned Zak Brown and Oscar Piastri, minor unnamed characters
Warnings: none
Tags: fluff, drabble, animal shifters, not beta read
Notes: this is gonna be more of a series of drabbles than one cohesive fic, asks and requests are Very welcome, reblog but DON’T repost even with credit, i’m still hella new to posting on tumblr so any advice/tips/suggestions are appreciated!
Words: 981
(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧゚・: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)
Lando is happy to be a shifter. He feels lucky that he is an animal that wouldn’t be out of place around so many people all the time, even luckier that he’s small(though he only sees that as a blessing on occasion).
Zak found out by pure chance what he was in the early days of Lando joining the team and has helped him keep his secret even with Netflix filming their damn-near every move.
It turns out that Lando isn’t actually that good at being subtle. As far as all but a handful of individuals know, the McLaren racing team got a puppy in 2019 around the time Drive to Survive started production. A wire haired jack russell that seems like it won’t be growing past teen-sized.
Oscar is the first teammate Lando has had since joining Formula 1 that wasn’t a shifter as well. They never let him forget how much easier he had it by being just a cute, little dog while they were animals you’d rarely even see in a zoo.
Dog-Lando goes by the very affectionate name of Rat and even when spotted wandering around he is safely marked by a McLaren bandana.
Some fans are suspicious about how Rat and Lando have never been seen in the same room, but since the existence of shifters is still a fairytale to many, the theories aren’t of much concern.
Currently, Rat is trotting through the paddock to find some fun.
He spots the Ferrari drivers standing in front of their motorhome, apparently doing a game or whatever for PR but Lando couldn’t care less about what they were doing — so long as he was still able to get the attention he craved.
Lando begins to run(damn his little legs) while yapping to alert them he was on his way.
Everyone in the small congregation and vicinity turned to him with either a grin or perplexed scowl.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an adorable interruption,” the hostess eagerly calls out, crouching for Lando to greet her.
He jumps for everyone in turn but treats her to an eager spin, to which he receives a delighted “aww” before petting him.
When Lando looks up to the Ferrari drivers he’s met with two unserious glares. 
It took quite a bit of insistent hopping and obnoxious baying but Carlos eventually conceded. Scooping one hand under Lando’s belly and holding him against his chest.
Despite both other shifters refusing to acknowledge Lando any further, he refuses to be ignored. Lando licks at what he can reach of Carlos’s jaw until the spaniard gets fed up and shoves him to Charles while using the bottom of his shirt to wipe the slobber off.
Charles holds him much more securely and idly scratches Lando’s chin to satiate the small beast.
Lando, content, closes his eyes and fully sinks into the sensation.
They snap back open when the petting stops.
Tuning in to his surroundings again, Lando realizes that the conversation has shifted to be about him.
“Yes, he is McLaren’s dog, but he is clearly not shy,” Charles answers with a light chuckle. “I believe he is around Ferrari so much because he misses Carlos.”
Carlos rolls his eyes dramatically. “Well I certainly don’t miss the little rat that gets away with everything,” he pointedly adds while waggling a finger at Lando, as though scolding him.
Lando snaps at the offending appendage and barks in frustration when it’s pulled away too fast for him to catch.
“See!” Carlos exclaims. “He just tried to bite me for the millionth time! A monster, he is.”
“You provoked him, Carlos,” Charles defends.
“How dare you side with the enemy over your own teammate.”
“Wow. Very dramatic.”
“Alright boys,” the hostess interjects, “I think that’s enough bickering for now.”
Lando is bored again. He isn’t getting attention or entertainment from these people anymore. He looks around the paddock for something else to do.
He could find something to chase, he could tug at the pant legs of people who clearly don’t have time to play, he could track a random scent, he could- oh! One Daniel Ricciardo is spotted.
Lando squirms until Charles gets the hint and puts him down. He immediately sprints after Daniel, yapping wildly.
Danny notices and shrieks. Running away in faux-terror. Not too fast, though, to still give Lando a chance of catching him.
He eventually does get a grip on Daniel’s trousers and tugs, causing him to fall to the ground in defeat. Lando stands proudly atop the Australian’s chest, yelping victoriously.
When Daniel gently pushes him off Lando rolls onto his back and wriggles around a bit in play. Danny acknowledges this by patting Lando’s belly before standing up. Lando righting himself as well.
Despite having done several laps around the paddock, all daily workouts, given just about all his toys a go, and now having chased Daniel quite a distance, Lando still doesn’t feel ready to just sit down yet.
To express this to his friend, Lando barks and bounces like it’s keeping him alive.
With a sigh and an, “Alright, alright,” Daniel, due to having no better alternative available, takes off his already roughed-up cap to chuck it ahead on their trek for the Redbull motorhome.
Lando fetches it obediently.
Unfortunately, Danny has more important things to do today than busy his former teammate any further. He walks right into the motorhome without even a wave goodbye.
“You traitor!” Lando wishes he could scream through the door. Instead he just stands with his paws against the glass, howling for a few minutes. 
His mood is thoroughly soured now. 
At least the McLaren doors are automatic and his private room has a lever handle so he can get around on his own.
Lando shuts the door behind himself, scratches off the bandana, shifts, dresses, and resigns to independent entertainment.
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