#this is a low blow for me rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koqabear · 7 months

Note

Hiii congrats on 2k sol obsessed with everything you write!!!!💓 Could I request revisiting emo boy? Like what their relationship is like after and dates and how sex is like? Maybe beomgyu’s band really blows up and he’s quite busy, how does oc respond to this? And with smut? Tysm!!💝

playlist // beomgyu's encore outfit hehe // cont. of hey emo boy!

“The day of your one-year anniversary with Beomgyu was expected to be spent away from each other— but not if either of you can help it, far too in love to let anything get in the way of you two.”

bassist!beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 6.6K (everyone stfu rn) // genre: band au, opposites attract trope, established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff tbh, MDNI.

warnings: they are in love and it’s fucking GROSS!! barely edited, the two have hella piercings hehe (bg: snake bites, tongue, eyebrow // mc: smiley & nipple piercings) pet names (sweet thing, pretty, etc.) use of the L word bc they are literally obsessed w/ each other.

smut warnings: hard dom! gyu, sub!mc, needy sex sorry 😖, marking, manhandling, dry humping, biting, breast play, possessiveness, unprotected sex, bg picks the mc up, scratching, dacryphilia, dumbification, a lot of kissing lol, degrading, slight praise, fingering, creampie, cum eating…? lmk if i should add anything !

Notes: happy (late) birthday to the fic that’s probably my peak… this story single handedly changed the course of my blog me thinks. thank you to everyone who was just as affected by emo gyu as i was.

Being in a committed relationship with Choi Beomgyu, bassist of Tomorrow x Together and an absolute unattainable heartthrob, was not very easy.

It was at first; with their blossoming career, it was more about the music than their looks. Fans were loyal simply because they liked their sound, their message, the way their concerts were filled with such energy and passion it left their hearts beating with adrenaline after— but of course, it’s hard to not notice the absolute eye candy on stage; low-lidded gazes, dark stage lights that barely highlighted their stunning features, and clothing that was just as alluring and flattering as the rest of them; inevitably, their popularity sky-rocketed, for better and for worse.

Beomgyu was left with more money than he knew what to do with. Most of the time, it was used to spoil you, his pretty girlfriend he brought with him everywhere because he was just too obsessed with you— it made his band members wonder if he simply had attachment issues by how much his world revolved around you. But no, you were just as bad as him; present during rehearsals, always in the studio to cheer them on or give them a second opinion on a new song; it wasn’t long before you ended up befriending the rest of them as well, a tight bond forming simply because of all the things you went through together.

As unfortunate as it was, they weren’t the only ones forced to bear with negative and hateful encounters from the public; while they had their experiences of being mistreated early in their career, you had to deal with immature or creepy fans that had taken a liking to harass you— inboxes on all social media platforms flooded constantly, your number even leaked once as you were forced to buy a new phone all together from how badly you were being spammed— Beomgyu had been quick to lash out and tell them to leave you alone if they didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands.

Overtime, they adjusted to their popularity. Schedules slowly became filled to the brim, their dream now a reality as they spent months on tour— and while you were more than happy and proud of them and their flourishing career, it’d be a lie to say it was all one happy and perfect life.

You hadn’t seen Beomgyu in ages— decades, centuries, eons— in other words, two weeks.

The band had more interviews and performances than you could keep up with; if they weren’t on some random talk show, they were at a photoshoot, getting interviewed for the next issue of a magazine you’d undoubtedly have on your coffee table the day it came out. Promotions, nights at the studio, it all added up— and before you knew it, your one year anniversary began to creep up, and all hopes to celebrate it properly dwindled down in your heart— but, having him here with you today was enough.

You didn’t blame Beomgyu; you weren’t angry or upset, because it was simply something neither of you could control. And though it did suck knowing you wouldn’t be able to spend such a meaningful day together, it felt a little better to know that you weren’t the only one hung up on it.

On the contrary— you think Beomgyu might be handling this worse than you.

“Baby, baby please,” he cries, refusing to let go of you and cuddling closer to you instead, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he cups your face fondly, “pleaaase I know you said I shouldn’t feel bad but please come on tour with us this week, I think I’ll seriously die if you’re not here this time.”

“Gyu, baby, I really shouldn’t—” you say quietly, only to get cut off by his excessive whining and teary eyes. His bottom lip is jutted out in a ridiculous pout, squeezing your cheeks and holding back a smile at the way your lips puff out as a result; you attempt to push him off you, only for him to retaliate by rolling entirely on top of you, a loud squeal escaping you at the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress, his stupid face hovering over yours as he continues to plead you quietly.

“Pleaaseee?” he whines, pressing his flat palms against your cheeks and getting your lips to puff out again; he ignores your half-hearted protests for him to get the fuck off, choosing to punctuate his every word with a kiss instead, his piercings a sharp contrast to his plump lips that crash against you with every word.

“Please?” kiss. “Won’t you,” kiss. “come with us?” another kiss.

“Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—”

He’s practically suffocating you at this point, refusing to pull away and mumbling the words against your lips, laughs breaking between the two of you as you yell at him to get off, that you can barely breathe with him on top of you; you’re pushing at his shoulders weakly as he continues to tease you, your unabashed laugh contagious as he quickly finds himself smiling as well— he only pulls away once he hears you yell a loud fuck, okay! Hovering over you with bright eyes and a wide grin.

His arms snake around your waist before he’s rolling over, successfully switching so that you’re the one on top of him— he ignores the loud and exaggerated sigh of relief you let out.

“It won’t make much of a difference though,” you say quietly, hiding in the crook of his neck as you confess your doubts, “You’ll be too busy and exhausted the whole day, I really don’t want me to be added to your list of concerns.”

You went on tour with him, once— but you learned it was better off to not be anywhere backstage with him during those times, the boy too concerned and constantly doting on you to remain focused; any mistakes he made hitting much harder, a subconscious pressure to be perfect and give his all only trifolded by your presence.

“What? No,” he says immediately, sitting back on his elbows and causing you to look up at him in response; his brows are furrowed and he seems a bit baffled by your comment, shaking his head adamantly to emphasize his point, “I like having you there. I know you like being there, I want you there— I wouldn’t be asking you to come with me if I thought you were a burden.”

He managed to pull out the exact words you were trying to skirt around— your face heats up at his reassurance, much too intimidated by the intensity of his gaze as you bury your face into his chest instead; his chest bounces from the laugh he lets out, flopping onto his back once more and hugging you close, bodies pressed flush against each other and one of his legs thrown around your waist in a childish attempt to pull you even closer.

“Plus, don’t you wanna visit Europe with me?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he feels you nod shyly; he knows just how much you enjoy the travel aspect to his career, constantly asking for pictures or to facetime while he’s gone, “I wanna show you all my favorite spots this time, and not through some glitchy facetime— I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, hitting his chest weakly as he simply laughs at you softly, “you’re so corny.”

“You love it,” he coos, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, biting back a smile at the way he can feel your breath even out— you remain silent. Partly because you’re falling asleep from his touch, and partly because he’s right.

⤬⤬⤬

Europe is breathtaking— you’ve never been so grateful for Beomgyu’s stubborn, persistent mind.

The tour has gone as perfect as always, spending a few days at their shows before you simply resigned to stay at the hotel instead; after seeing that Beomgyu was so distracted trying to look for you during a show that he missed his cue (and played the notes wrong to another song) you found it better to wait for him and see him after instead— ready to help him wind down and relax after another energetic, adrenaline-inducing show.

Most nights consisted of you practically carrying him to the bathtub; cooing soft reassurance as he whined about how tired and sore he felt, shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp and tense shoulders— most of the time, he’d fall asleep then and there, and it’d be another hassle to wake him up and get him out. You’d lure him out of the tub and wait for him to change into your matching pajamas— hello kitty ones, his idea, not yours— and greet him in the bed with a warm embrace and lips that peppered kisses all over his face.

It was during these moments you found humor in the contrast of his stage persona to his true self; from his usual attire, chokers and ripped clothes, wardrobe consisting of black and multiple piercings that decorated his ears and face, your thumb brushing over his newest eyebrow piercing fondly— versus the man that slept soundly in your arms now, long hair tied back and cute pink barrettes clipping back his bangs, donned in hot pink fuzzy pajamas— and you’re sure that if his band members saw him like this, they’d never stop teasing him.

You didn’t have to wait long to confirm that thought; Beomgyu didn’t bother changing as he met up with the others in Yeonjun’s room for breakfast the next morning, tugging you along and remaining unfazed at the way his band members burst out laughing the moment he entered the room— you felt a bit bad at the way you found yourself laughing as well, even more so because you’re the only reason he’s found himself dressed like this. (But again, he was the one who bought these clothes in the first place.)

“Happy anniversary, you two,” Yeonjun muses, smiling at the way you’re the only one who seems to process that, chirping out a cheery thank you! as you proceed to drag Beomgyu to the couch, “I feel bad that we have a concert today, ___. As vomit-inducing as it is seeing you two, you do deserve to spend the day together.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, brushing his teasing comment off and holding back a smile at the way Beomgyu is still struggling to gain consciousness, more tired than you thought as he simply stares at his waffles for a moment before finally digging in, “at least he’s spending the day doing something he loves.”

“Gross,” Hueningkai says, scrunching his nose playfully before laughing at the glare you send him, “you two are so mushy, it’s painful.”

The rest of the day leading up to the concert is spent peacefully; once Beomgyu has gained enough coherence to fight back against the member’s jabs, he’s pulling you away to show you new sights and stores he discovered from his previous visits, spoiling you beyond belief and buying anything you look at for a second too long; you end up with more bags than you know what to do with, and Beomgyu refuses to let you carry a single one as he proceeds to take you one of his go-to restaurants, as he told you; saying he’s been wanting to bring you here since the moment he found it, smiling brightly when he sees you enjoying the food as much as he did.

To say he’s reluctant to leave you to go to the concert venue is an understatement; you think he might start crying at any given moment as he stares at you with shining eyes, unable to let go of your hand as he stands by the door of the hotel room— not quite ready to leave yet, but knowing that he must eventually as he chooses to bring you in for another slow, loving kiss instead.

“Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?” he asks you, trying to hide the sadness in his voice and failing miserably.

“And make you fuck up your setlist? I don’t think so,” you try to joke, only to panic slightly at the way his eyes gloss over; your hand immediately jumps up to cup his face, laughing softly at his expression as he simply pouts at you ridiculously.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you lean over to his ear, voice dropping to nothing but a whisper as you let your lips brush against his ear, “I’ll have a nice surprise for you tonight, so you better give your best show out there, okay?”

The low lilt of your voice is enough to have him perking up immediately; mouth parted slightly as he stares at you, unsure of what else to do but nod pathetically, knowing he won’t be able to control himself if he thinks about what you might have in store for too long.

With one last chaste kiss, he’s leaving— and only because Soobin was pounding at the door, telling him they’d be late if he didn’t go out this instant— you think he might start crying as he gives you one last pouty glance, waving to you sadly before he slips out the door.

You’re left alone, the room suddenly much lonelier and quieter than it was a few seconds ago— and you laugh, checking the time and running to your suitcase to get your makeup and outfit for tonight.

A revealing shirt, a mini-skirt that’s a bit alarmingly short— you’re pulling out a sparkling, pink outfit like it’s nothing, throwing it all on and doing your makeup as you check the time absentmindedly; your phone lights up while you’re in the middle of doing so, and a notification reads that the staff are waiting for you outside to take you to the venue once you’re ready.

Beomgyu loves performing knowing you’re in the audience more than anything; it’s something he’s made blatant to you, knowing that despite his mistakes, despite his small distractions, his energy always goes out the roof the moment he spots you there. So you knew how distraught Beomgyu would be to hear that you’re not going to the show tonight despite being able to, but the thought of surprising him is much more enticing than you’d like to admit.

With one last check of your appearance in the mirror, you grab a jacket before you go; Beomgyu’s favorite oversized zip-up, the clothing item a stark contrast to the rest of your feminine and bright attire— and you smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder before you’re off to the hotel lobby, where the staff are waiting and ready to escort you safely.

The venue is almost full by the time you get there; you’re escorted straight to your barricade seats front and center, smiling shyly and waving at fans that seem to recognize you; your face feels hot and you walk faster at the way they get excited at the sight of you, not used to the fame that comes with being Beomgyu’s girlfriend— hell, you really don’t know how Beomgyu does it.

You’re more than relieved once the concert begins, any attention that still lingered on you immediately getting stolen by the boys that appeared on stage; you winced slightly at the loud screams all around you, unable to help the way you eventually joined in— morphing into another fan in the crowd, the venue much too dark for any of the boys to recognize you just yet.

They looked stunning in their concert outfits; the professional, matching and dark outfits tailored perfectly to each member, intricate with chains and rosaries and pretty layers. Your eyes widen as you watch Beomgyu walk to his position, taking note of his hair that has now been dyed back to black— you hadn’t realized how long it’d gotten until now, the layers framing his face and falling into his eyes as he goes to push back his bangs with a delicate hand.

There are no introductions tonight— the music begins immediately, loud and abrasive and making the crowd jump along excitedly, screaming the lyrics and reaching out to try and get one of the members to pay attention to them— on the contrary, you try to remain hidden, looking away and bowing your head every time Beomgyu’s gaze sweeps around your area.

God, you wish Beomgyu didn’t turn into such a ditz whenever he spotted you in the audience— because then you’d be able to enjoy more of their concerts, addicted to the borderline euphoric feeling you get from attending them, only for it to be multiplied as your eyes catch onto your boyfriend performing, your heart pounding against your chest at the sound of his voice ringing out into the venue— a surge of pride and love fills you as a grin spreads on your face, and it isn’t until you notice a member walking around that you’re able to look away from him.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Hueningkai.

His mischievous smile and raised brows are immediately returned with a violent shake of your head; telling him to not say anything to Beomgyu, rubbing your hands together pleadingly the moment he glances back at the said man— then he turns to you, sending you a playful wink before he’s off to another section, not without sending you one last teasing grin and a wave; you’re glancing at Beomgyu in a panic, unsure if he’s spotted you, only to be relieved at the sight of him too concentrated on playing to even look up at the crowd.

It isn’t until the encore that they’ve all begun to move around, (save for Taehyun and Soobin, bound to their instruments as they’re resigned to simply wave at the crowd when they can) changed into more comfortable outfits during a small intermission— Beomgyu is decked in baggy jeans and an equally baggy shirt, long hair messy and makeup smudged as he walks along the stage, smiling and waving at fans that reach out for him— he plays his bass so effortlessly as he does, truly mesmerizing as he stops a few times to interact with fans; the sight has your heart fluttering hopelessly.

But the closer he gets, the more you’re buzzing with nervous energy. Gripping onto the barricade tightly, having stood up long ago with the rest of the fans that are eager to get their attention. Beomgyu’s eyes scan through the crowd thoroughly, smiling cutely and returning hearts until he spots you.

He freezes entirely.

He’s no longer playing bass— he’s just standing there, in complete shock as he stares at you. You can only muster to give him a sheepish wave, an uncontrollable grin on your face as you laugh at his dumbfounded expression, trying to yell at him to go back to playing. But he doesn’t, and you’re jumping slightly at the way he takes off his bass and jumps off the stage, security frantically following behind as he rushes over to you.

His hands are on your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss quicker than you can process; you hear the screams of the crowd around you, but Beomgyu’s got you in his hold so tightly that you’re unable to pull away, left to give in and melt against him as he kisses you for a little longer. Your face feels as though it’s on fire by the time he’s pulled away, his own alight entirely with joy as he grins at you, your head still in his hands as he leans against the barricade excitedly— you think he might just jump over it any moment now.

“You’re here?” he says exasperatedly, eyes scanning you frantically as though he were imagining you, “why didn’t you tell me, you should’ve— I would’ve—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, placing your hands over his and laughing at the way he can only stutter stupidly, brushing his hair behind his ear fondly— watching the way his eyes crinkle cutely as he smiles, your own sweeping over the array of piercings that decorate him, hello kitty earrings glinting under the light— and pry his hands off your face, ignoring the pout he sends you as you scold him instead. “Get back on stage!”

Your words seem to snap him out of his reverie; his head is whipping back to look at the stage, at the way his friends can only laugh at him teasingly and yell at him to get back here— the way Yeonjun yells directly into the mic is slightly embarrassing, shrinking at the way all eyes are on you as the man’s words ring out the venue— Beomgyu, get the fuck back here!

He’s only able to leave with one last chaste kiss— the crowd is screaming at the sight, and you’re resisting the urge to cover your face in weak hopes that it could take all this attention off you— but you’ll bear it, especially with the way Beomgyu mouths a cute I love you! before he’s jumping back on stage.

The poor boy is unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the night— but on the bright side, there are no missed cues or wrong notes played. He’s just entranced with you for the rest of the encore, his energy seemingly replenished with the way he jams out to the music; mouthing the lyrics even when it’s not his part, maintaining eye-contact with you during songs he knows you’re particularly fond of— and suddenly, the idea of spending his anniversary at a concert isn’t as depressing as it was earlier tonight— because now, he had you by his side.

⤬⤬⤬

“Beomgyu— Beomgyu please, not here…” you whine, unable to do much but bite your lip and swallow back whines that threaten to escape you, left to Beomgyu’s mercy as he immediately led you to his dressing room after the show— the said man is much too focused on kissing and marking your neck to listen, soft hair brushing against your face as he pulls you flush against him; back pressed against the wall, arched prettily from the way his hands snake around your waist and press your lower half against his— you’re holding back a groan at the way he’s already hopelessly hard against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Hmmm? Just wanted to be a tease? Was this your little surprise?” he asks, biting at your skin and huffing out a laugh at the whine that escapes you; your hands are gripping onto his shirt tightly, fisting it in your hands and wrinkling the material as he lets his teeth sink slightly near your collarbones, “god, you look so good tonight, you’d really expect me to be able to hold myself back?”

His hands are wandering down your waist; over the swell of your ass, fiddling with the hem of your mini-skirt before he’s venturing under it— feeling the way you shiver against him the moment his hands squeeze at the soft flesh, fingers decorated with rings cold against your skin as he comes back up to kiss you. It’s rough and desperate, lip rings scratching as he kisses you with such hunger it leaves you breathless; he grinds his cock desperately against you, eliciting a small gasp from you and allowing him to slip his tongue inside— the piercing that decorates it scrapes along your mouth, unable to help the way your knees weaken at the feeling of him— his touch is everywhere, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded as you can only melt against him, allowing him to press you flush against the wall with his own body; your miniskirt is riding up along your hips as he situates himself between your legs, panties already a mess as he begins to rut his cock into you.

“Are you sure you want to wait now, pretty?” he asks, looking down at you with low-lidded and fucked out eyes— he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, laughing at the way you yelp and tighten your hold on him, “I could stop everything right now, send you back to the hotel like this and make you wait, just like you said— is that what you want?”

Oh, he’s cruel— even more so because you’re left shaking your head no deliriously, your mind fogged with such need that your eyes are glossing over at the very thought of not having Beomgyu inside you right now; your voice is pathetic as you plead Beomgyu to finish what he started, throwing a hand over his shoulder and entangling your fingers into his hair as you pull him back into you— he’s more than eager to return the kiss, tilting his head and pressing himself more against you as a hand reaches down to your thigh; grabbing the back of your knee, guiding you to hook it around his waist as he begins to rut into you mindlessly.

“So cute, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes trailing down your low-cut top to spot his favorite zip-up, a smile tugging at his lips as he merely sends you a cute smile, “did you miss me that much? Already so needy from a little bit of kissing— god, I love you so much…”

You think he’s mostly talking to himself at this point— spewing nothing but filth as his hands shove your shirt over your chest, grinning as he remains impatient enough to not take off a single item of clothing, choosing to push tug your bra down harshly before he’s swooping down to mark your breasts with a cruel smile.

“Looked so fucking hot out there, just made me wanna take you backstage and fuck you there,” he confesses, listening to the choked whine you let out, his pierced tongue playing with your hardened nipples, leaving them swollen and sensitive. He’s looking up at you with doe eyes that contrast greatly with the way he sticks his tongue out for you, letting you watch the way he circles and toys with the cute jewelry he bought for you earlier today, pulling away with a coy smile and leaving them soaked with his spit— he blows softly on them, watching with tentative eyes as you keen at the feeling.

“God, you know I’ve been wanting to do this every time I see you at one of our shows? To make sure that everyone that looks at you knows just who,” he rolls his hips into you, nice and slow and letting you feel the length of his cock press against you as you flutter your eyes shut from pleasure, “you’re here for?”

“Fuck, gyu,” you pant out, snaking your hands under his shirt and up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him into you— as if there’s still space between the two of you, as if you’d die if you weren’t touching him at all times, “‘m only yours, only want you…”

He’s sneaking a hand down to move your panties to the side, the two of you much too desperate to shed off any layers— and as you listen to the clinking sounds of his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hardened cock, you busy yourself by sucking and biting at his neck, listening to his stuttered breaths as you suck and tease at the joint of his neck, his most sensitive spot as you bite at it playfully— you’re only pulling away at the feeling of Beomgyu grabbing at you hair and tugging you away, letting out a baffled laugh at the satisfied look you give him in return.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” you coo out softly, grinding your pussy slowly against Beomgyu’s tip that teases your entrance, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him mirroring the action, running along your folds and swiping at your clit, “all mine, my pretty boy…”

He laughs fondly against your lips at that— bringing you in for a slow kiss, feeling the way your mind goes blank the moment his tip slowing enters you; he’s swallowing a soft moan from you as he bottoms out slowly, keeping himself deep inside and grinding his hips slowly against yours— and he stays there, a tease like always as he watches your brows furrow and your lips pout, telling him softly to move, to do something.

“Mmmh, all yours,” he mumbles softly, pulling out slowly to let you feel the way every vein runs against your walls, clenching and fluttering against his length as he hisses at the feeling, “I’m yours, belong only to you, fuck…”

He’s not able to keep this agonizingly slow pace up for long— as much as he wants to tease you, to have you crying and pleading for him to fuck you stupid, he isn’t fairing that well himself— so it isn’t long before he’s beginning to snap his hips into you, cock curving and aiming for that spot that has your knees buckling, pretty nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulders and biting at the skin in order to try to stabilize yourself.

“Such a perfect cunt— fuck, ah, just wanna fill you up, wanna see it dripping down those pretty thighs— stupid fucking skirt can’t hide anything, ugh—” his voice is deep and breathy as he continues to talk into your ear, his hands sliding down to the swell of your ass before he’s holding it there— lifting you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist as you’re left to his mercy; his chest is pressed flush against yours as he fucks you, and you can only bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your sounds, the rough way you bounce from his thrusts causing your nails to slip and scratch down his back— he hisses at the feeling, only to be spurred by the stinging sensation it leaves behind.

“So loud, shit,” he laughs meanly, grinning at the way you only bury your face into him more to try and muffle your sounds, “want everyone to hear you? All the staff, the members— I’m sure they’d like to see what a pretty doll you are for me.”

You shake your head at that— but your body gives you away as your cunt clenches around him pathetically, the wet sounds of skin against skin filling the room and undoubtedly filtering outside— but you remain persistent to keep your moans to yourself, choking back on sounds of pleasure as Beomgyu only begins to fuck you rougher; your silence is a challenge, one he’ll gladly take as he begins to roll his hips into you just the way you like it.

“Come on pretty, I wanna hear you,” he purrs into your ear, a hand snaking around to rub at your clit while the other remains firm on your ass, “don’t you feel good? I can make you feel even better— so, so so good, just let me hear your cute little sounds.”

You’re playing hard to get. And Beomgyu takes absolute pleasure in it, watching the way you shake and dig your nails into him helplessly, your body being wound up from how good he fucks you; your thighs are sticky and shining from your arousal, poorly concealed pleasure only fueling Beomgyu’s ego further as he reaches up to tug your head out from it’s hiding spot.

He thinks he might just cum on the spot; your makeup is ruined, tears of mascara running down your cheeks as you merely let out soft hiccups of moans, your lips parted and brain completely empty as you stare at him— he smiles at you in return, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hand begins to trail down; toying with your breasts, nimble fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you jolt and whine into his mouth at the sensation.

“Gyu— gonna— need to, ah…!” the choked whimpers you let out aren’t enough for Beomgyu, and he only slows down at your request; fresh tears stream down your cheeks as you plead softly, breathy voice barely above a whisper as you whine quietly to keep going, don’t stop, please gyu, pleeaaase….

“Hmm? What’s that? I can’t hear you, baby,” he murmurs softly against your lips, slowing to nothing but a grind as he presses himself against you— pelvis grinding against your clit, the feeling making you tremble as you dig your nails into his shoulders once more. “Come on sweet thing, tell me what you need.”

You’re telling him— begging, pleading, breathy whimpers and soft cries escaping you as you roll your hips into him, biting your lip and sighing exasperatedly at the way he simply watches you with dark eyes, slowing down until he’s simply bottomed out inside you.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, breathy voice intertwined with a lilt so sweet you’d almost think he pities you— and by the way he’s looking at you, he just might, swollen lips caught between his teeth to try and suppress a smile. You’re still weak and quiet as you try to voice your wants, looking at him through wet lashes, a pout on your face as your hands run absentmindedly up and down his back.

“Wanna cum?” he coos, pretty hand reaching down to circle and pinch your clit teasingly, “Want me to fuck you? Fill you up? Hmmm?”

All you can do is nod along to his words stupidly— and obviously, it’s the very last thing your boyfriend wants, abandoning your clit and reaching up to grab your face roughly; fingers digging into your cheeks, forced to look at him as he merely glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Tell me,” he says, voice sharp and dangerous as he narrows his eyes, “use your words— or, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already.”

He’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist at that; you’re stumbling slightly, leg too weak to let you stand as you merely cry at him to wait, bringing him closer to you in fear that he might pull out and leave you like this— his fingers still dig into your cheeks as you speak, drool building up at the corners of your pouty lips as you stutter out exactly what you want— what he wants to hear.

“Want you to fuck me, use me— wanna cum, please,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes your head teasingly, as though to say and what else? “Want you to cum inside, baby please, just wanna feel good—”

You’re rambling at this point. But Beomgyu enjoys it nonetheless, telling you to keep going as he begins to move again; slowly at first, allowing you to feel the drag of his thick cock against your walls as your words become stuttered through weak moans, the sight making your boyfriend laugh as he slowly begins to pick up his pace.

“Like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” you’re nodding in confirmation to his words; staring at him with pleading eyes, whimpering a soft harder, faster, that the man is immediately obliging as he coos at the way you yelp at the sensation. “Want it harder? Hmmm? Want me to fuck you ‘till you can’t even walk—? Have to carry you out of here, let everyone see the way your sweet cunt is filled up by me?”

All you can do is nod to his words at this point; whimpering a weak yes, yesyesyes, want you to fill me up, use me, more more please—

Everything crashes down on you unexpectedly; your eyes are shutting tight and you think you might just black out as your orgasm hit you suddenly, cunt squeezing and fluttering around Beomgyu’s cock as he groans at the sensation— he lets you ride it out, cooing soft praise into your ear before he’s pulling you in for another kiss; you’re barely able to kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and letting him do whatever he wants with you.

It isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you as well; you’re so tight he can barely move, your cute whimpers and warm cunt guiding him through it as he fucks into you slowly, making sure none of his release slips out as he continues to fuck you, even after he’s become horribly sensitive. Then he’s still, lips still on yours and arms wrapped tightly around you as though he’s afraid to let you go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, still lingering close to you, taking in your appearance with tentative eyes. You nod softly, still attempting to catch your breath as you chest heaves against his; he huffs out a soft laugh, caressing your cheek fondly before he’s going to fix your clothes— your mini-skirt remains up on your hips, his cock still bottomed out inside you as he coos about how good you were for him, caressing any skin he can get his hands on (which is a lot, considering your wardrobe) with a smile.

“Pretty girl, so perfect,” he coos, finally pulling out and tucking himself in before he’s going to fix your clothing; not without slipping his fingers inside your cunt one last time, watching with hungry eyes as you curl into him and cry that you’re sensitive— he’s only satisfied after his cum is left snug in your pussy, smiling darkly at the way he brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean— you do it without any hesitation, and Beomgyu swears he might just be getting hard again.

“Love you so much, thank you for coming to see me today,” he says instead, bringing you in for a warm hug and a loving kiss; you merely hum tiredly in response, hands slipping out from his shirt only to be thrown over his shoulders leisurely.

Your face feels hot the moment he’s trying to get the two of you to leave back for the hotel— because your legs are absolutely not cooperating with you.

“Holy shit, I was joking about that whole fuck you till you can’t walk thing,” he laughs, only to get cut of by the way you hit him in response— he’s letting out an exaggerated whimper at that, rubbing his arm and telling you sorry, sorry baby, with a cute pout.

“Ugh, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, fuck,” you mourn, only for Beomgyu to pull you into his side firmly, sending you a smile that’s not as reassuring as you wish it was.

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he says simply, swinging the door open and immediately being met with Soobin passing by.

He slows down at the sight of you two, glancing at your appearances briefly before he keeps walking.

“Try to keep it down next time please,” he yells out, turning the corner and disappearing from your sight before you can retaliate. You feel slightly mortified by his words, but Beomgyu isn’t affected in the slightest as he leans over to murmur softly into your ear.

“Should we continue this at the hotel, pretty?”

You don’t answer his question. But he already knows the answer, sending you a giddy smile and intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you to where the staff car is waiting for you two— and you hold back a smile of your own as you trail (limp, kinda) behind him. It’ll be a long night, but you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your anniversary, no matter how unconventional it is.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #[2k event!]#[nsfw]#[revisiting stories]

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tinycoffeeroom · 9 days

Text

end of beginning | carlos sainz

face claim: none ᡣ𐭩

requests: here !

tags: angst, break up (rebeccarlos ily pls this is just for the story)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

september 2023

👤 carlossainz, charles_leclerc liked by carlossainz, chares_leclerc and 70,385 others

y/nstagram boyfie won another race but looking at the second pic, i may be the real winner ❤️

carlossainz princesa, contigo a mi lado, siempre soy el ganador (princess, with you by my side, i'll always be a winner) ↳ y/nstagram stop you'll make me blush 🤭

charles_leclerc stop being gross and in love on my feed ↳ y/nstagram carlossainz should we kiss in front of him again xx ↳ carlossainz sin duda ❤️ (definitely) ↳ charles_leclerc i hate it here

user1 i want to be y/n when i grow up (i am 2 years older than her) ↳ y/nstagram then it should be i wanna be user1 when i grow up 😘 also where is your top from in your pfp, i love it!! ↳ user1 ??? im in love with you ??? it's from this little boutique near my house! i can send you one!!! ↳ y/nstagram omg i will send you the money!! 🫶

user2 this is why we stan y/n, a true girls girl ❤️ ♥️ y/nstagram

francisca.cgomes even the back of you is gorgeous ↳ y/nstagram kiss me. ↳ francisca.cgomes come here 😘 ↳ pierregasly i miss when my girlfriend was only My girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram not my fault she upgraded x ↳ pierregasly i will take carlos out on the first corner don't try me ↳ carlossainz you'll have to catch me first hombre

january 2024

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.cgomes and 39,495 others

y/nstagram bed rotting but make it 🎀 aesthetic 🎀

user1 she still watches f1 y/nsainzers there hope ↳ user2 she hasn't been to a race in months :((( hope is dwindling

user3 the bear i'm gonna scream, cry AND throw up ↳ user4 what's the significance of the bear?? i'm new to f1 :) ↳ user3 carlos got y/n the bear when he joined f1 so she would have something to remember him by when he went away on race weekends ↳ user4 and she still has it?? it must have been like 10 years ago?? ↳ user3 roughly around that!! 2015 if i'm correct...

kellypiquet i see the red bull on your screen 😉 would love to have you back with me in the paddock, P misses her bestie ❤️ ↳ y/nstagram P saw me last week when i spoilt her rotten in the mall but i may take you up on that offer ❤️

user2 y/n in the red bull garages??? y/nsainzers i fear we've lost her... ↳ user1 carlos may be moving to red bull don't give up hope best friend!

march 2024

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 924,495 others

carlossainz P1 in Australia :) thank you for the well wishes guys, maybe my appendix was what was holding me back 😉🎉

landonorris booking the surgery rn ↳ carlossainz you still wouldn't win muppet ↳ landonorris wow carlos... low blow

user1 the last pic... pls say it's y/n PLEASEEEEEEEEEE acc on my knees rn ↳ user2 i'm down there with you best friend

iamrebeccad congrats mister!! next up: the world championship ♥️ carlossainz

user3 ^^ um guys ↳ user2 don't ↳ user1 don't.

charles_leclerc i'll get you next time... ↳ carlossainz ok charlie, i believe you

scuderiaferrari forza carlos! congrats on P1, not even surgery could keep you down 💪 ↳ user5 you bitches don't deserve to celebrate

maxverstappen1 strong fight there mr sainz! looking forward to japan where i'll be back on top! ↳ carlossainz fuck you This comment has been deleted

user3 UM GUYS??????? ↳ user2 do not look at f1wagupdates i'm being so serious ↳ user1 well now i have to FUCK

liked by user8, user9 and 93,283 others

f1wagupdates Carlos Sainz seen kissing Scottish model Rebecca Donaldson following his Australia GP win. He was previously linked to long time girlfriend Y/N L/N but the pair haven't been seen together since December last year. We guess this marks the end of their decade long relationship.

user2 carlos sainz i'm in your walls.

user1 man, fuck carlos sainz

user3 3 months ?? if that ?? glad his appendix burst ↳ user2 reports (twitter) are saying R + C were first seen together in January... ↳ user3 the c*rlos s*inz voodoo doll is being made as we speak.

user4 all men do is lie. what happened to "until the end of time"... i don't believe in love anymore

user5 i feel so bad for rebecca, y/n's so loved by the paddock and the fans ↳ user3 obvs no hate to rebecca, she's gorgeous and i'm sure she's lovely, this is solely carlos hate ♥️ user1, user2 and 19,349 others

user6 bro fumbled the bag with y/n man

👤 kellypiquet, maxverstappen1, landonorris, redbullracing liked by landonorris, kellypiquet and 58,395 others

y/nstagram different point of view 💙

redbullracing pleasure to have you back in the paddock y/n! see you in japan? 👀 ↳ y/nstagram i'll be there best friends (pls stock up on coconut red bulls) 🫶 ↳ redbullracing 🫡

kellypiquet the last pic?? i love you so much?? ↳ y/nstagram y'all are so cute i couldn't stop myself 🤭

maxverstappen1 thanks for coming y/n! i've missed seeing you around ↳ y/nstagram missed you too maxie! P says she wants me to come to every race so you may be stuck with me this year! ↳ maxverstappen1 just please don't steal my girlfriend ↳ y/nstagram she may be your girlfriend but she's My wife ♥️ kellypiquet

francisca.cgomes why didn't you tell me you were coming!! i would have ditched pierre :(( ↳ pierregasly everyday i wake up ↳ y/nstagram unfortunately ↳ pierregasly bro...

landonorris you got the champagne shot in action! missed seeing you around bug! ↳ y/nstagram had to see it with my own two eyes! congrats on the podium lan, you so deserve it ❤️ ↳ landonorris let's get dinner tomorrow, it's been too long ↳ user1 mr norizz shooting his shot on main damn ↳ landonorris 🤷‍♂️

carmenmmundt all the girls are getting together for dinner and drinks, you coming babe? ↳ y/nstagram i'm having dinner with kelly, max and P but i'll join for drinks after ❤️

user2 goodbye goodbye y/nsainzer's you were brighter than the whole sky ↳ user3 y/n deserves the world, if That Man couldn't give it to her that's on him.

june 2024

👤 kellypiquet, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe liked by kellypiquet, carmenmmundt and 58,029 others

y/nstagram healing ❤️

Comments on this post have been turned off.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz x you

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genshxn · 1 year

Text

✤ 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜: 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

mild(?) spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (but probably everyone knows it by now let's be honest)

written pre-3.3

author drivel. what's up, i've got covid and a head full of cotton and I'm making it your problem too, so here's some unsolicited 'fluffy' scaramouche word vomit. as such, please excuse any egregious spelling/grammar mistakes or consistency errors because lord knows i'm gonna fuck something up with my negative braincells rn.

sorry about the lack of consistency with scaramouche's name. there are so many bloody things you can call that lil piece of shit

synopsis. under kusanali's order, you're in charge of scaramouche's domestication. for now, you've fallen sick with a tenacious cold, and as part of his 'training', scaramouche has to look after you.

contents. y/n has a cold (and the shivers), scaramouche being scaramouche, slight crack, fluff, and scaramouche screaming.

w.c. 2.2k

HEY HEY YOU CAN READ PART 2 HERE

You let out a prolonged, melodramatic groan. Colds suck. You were piled under blanket after blanket, nestled in amongst a halo of pillows, banished to your quarters near the Sanctuary of Surasthana. Despite being half buried alive, you were still trying your best not to shiver. Your fever has rotated to its chills period, and nothing was helping.

You sigh. The low-lit room and radio silence weren't helping your awful feeling. Curse human fragility and its ability to fall victim to microscopic beings not even really considered "alive".

"Augh, I feel like shit..."

The door slams open. "You look like shit." In walks Scaramouche—the man of many names—with a tray of food in hand and blankets strung over his slender shoulders like an oversized, pompous collar. Same as ever, he speaks with a sharp tongue. It's not so much sarcasm aimed at you rather than it simply being the puppet's nature.

"Yeah, thanks Bowlcut." You cough back in reply.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" He huffs, gently setting down the tray on a small table next to you, contrary to his grouchy demeanour. Next, he sheds himself of the blankets, sticking them at the foot of your bed.

"As many times as I've told you to not announce your arrival with 'n insult aimed a' me." You grunt out, voice stuffy and croaky from your sinuses feeling like they're about to blow up. "Try your opening line again, Bowlcut."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he belligerently changes his greeting. "I brought your food." He dramatically gestures to the table beside you, sarcastically showing off the dishes with the added pizzazz of some jazz hands.

"Much better." You pathetically sit up, cascades of green blankets falling off your form. The movement makes your wonky head spin slightly.

"If you don't hurry up and eat it, I'm gonna eat it myself." He pulls a chair up from behind him and sticks himself down on it, leaning back with one leg crossed on top of the other. "It smells good." He looks between you and the food expectantly.

"I'd love to be able to smell it, but unfortunately it feels like a slime's taken refuge in my sinuses right now." You shuffle over to the edge of the bed to get closer, still wrapped in a thick, fluffy blanket. You shudder at the loss of warmth. "Thanks for bringing my food, Scaramouche."

To your surprise, you're met with silence from him. Normally he has some sort of surly quip to fire back at anything you say, but not this time it seems. "...What're you gawking at?" He notices your blatant staring.

"You feeling alright? You're unusually quiet."

"I should be the one asking you that question." His half-assed sarcastic tone betrays his actual message with that line. He stares at some point on the floor in front of him, unable to meet your gaze. "I-it's— um... just..."

"Just what?" You blink, tilting your head slightly.

"Can you not call me that?" His voice is much quieter than normal. He sounds almost... defeated. A very uncharacteristic tone for someone who refuses to accept defeat (despite it being the only thing he's been faced with in recent times).

"You mean Sca—"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He quickly cuts you off.

"Ah, sorry." You look down at the same spot on the floor for a moment. "What would you like to be called then?"

He doesn't answer, still looking downcast.

"I think I've heard you use Wanderer once. I could call you that."

"What? Don't call me that. I just said that because I couldn't think of anything to say to some rando, like... one time!" His expression is right back to his usual self: a look of confused contempt.

"What about your other name, Kunikuzushi? I could also call you a shortened version, like... Niku?"

"Do not call me that. Niku means 'meat'. Of all things, you picked out that?" He throws his arms up in response. "Kunikuzushi or whatever works, I guess... Just don't call me Scaramouche. Or Bowlcut. OR NIKU." Upon the final word, he crosses his arms over himself like a child having a tantrum. "Now eat your food or I'm gonna take the halva for myself and feed you the... other thing... myself."

"Alright, alright." You turn to look down at the food. As you've had with your past meals, there was a dessert side of Halvamazd, made specially by Nahida for you, but curiously, the main dish itself was different than the usual Sumeran cuisine. It looks like some sort of Inazuman dish that you're not sure you've ever seen before. You stare at it curiously, and he notices.

"What, do you not like it?" Kunikuzushi frowns, staring intently at your face. His voice is unexpectedly intense.

"Oh, nothing like that, I just wasn't expecting an Inazuman dinner today." You wave your hands around slightly beneath the blanket.

"I-if you wanna blame anyone, blame the Radish," he says, sitting back, crossing his arms again. "It was her idea..." He trails off suspiciously, looking off to the side.

With that reaction? "Yeah right."

"It was!" He exclaims defensively. "Gods, are you sure you're sick? You're still as annoying as ever."

"Either way, it looks really good. What is it?"

At your words, Kunikuzushi calms down with a sigh. "It's my take on chazuke. Rice with some tea poured on top, plus some toppings. I made it, so of course it's going to be delicious." He declares confidently, puffing his flat chest.

"You made it for me?"

He stops in his tracks, lavender eyes going wide once he realizes he just blew his nonexistent cover. He sputters out some unintelligible nonsense before ultimately slumping down and crossing his arms grumpily for the third time. "Yes. Yes, I did. There, are you happy? I made it for you and it was my idea."

"Thank you very much, Ku. It looks delicious." You smile warmly at him. He looks at you with wide eyes, expression almost unreadable. His mouth parts, maybe to say something in response, but nothing comes out.

You unsheathe your hands from the blanket and begin to eat the dish. While your senses of smell and taste have been dampened by the cold, you can still taste the softly bitter and sweet flavours of the dish dancing over your tongue. It's the perfect temperature, to boot. Hot, but still cool enough to not burn your already shredded throat. Because your appetite isn't quite what it normally is, the light dish hits just right. The whole time, Kunikuzushi carefully—almost nervously—watches you wolf down the dish.

Once you finish it, you place the bowl and utensils back on the tray. "That was so good. Exactly what I needed." You wrap the blanket back around yourself, pulling it tighter to try and preserve your limited warmth. "You'll have to make it for me again when I'm better so I can really appreciate the taste."

"...Sure." He says shortly. His response isn't curt like normal, but just... awkward. You sit there awkwardly as well, trying to gather up all your layers of blankets again to reassemble your blanket cocoon. You're putting in a bit too much effort to try and not shiver. Kunikuzushi watches you for a minute, and then wordlessly moves to pick up the extra blankets he brought from the end of the bed.

"Oh, than—" Instead of simply handing them to you like you thought he would, he layers you in them, wrapping them around you himself. He kneels on the bed, torso close to your head. As he piles on blanket after blanket, his hands brush all over your shoulders. He's so close that you can feel a faint warmth radiating off him. An idea cha cha slides into your head.

"You look all... not even pathetic, just sad when you're sick and cold."

You've been around the grumpy puppet long enough to know that what he's really saying is that he doesn't like seeing you look miserable. Once you're suitably wrapped, he places one final blanket on top, draping it over the top of your head like a hooded cloak or veil. He takes a step back to examine his blanket-wrapping handiwork. Suitably happy with it, he decides to return back to his chair. But before he can get too far, you manage to grab his slender wrist, earning a shocked sputter from him.

"The blankets aren't enough. I'm still cold."

"What?! What else could you possibly need to—"

"You can't get sick, right?"

"No, not from colds or viruses or whatever, hence why I'm he—wait, what're yo—" Kunikuzushi squints at you suspiciously, aware of sinister things lingering in the air.

"You're warm. Be my heater for a bit."

"H-has your fever turned you delusional?!"

"Probably." You try to suppress a shiver unsuccessfully. "But c'mon, you said that you wouldn't get sick. Please?" You look at him expectantly,

Kunikuzushi looks at you with all sorts of conflicting feelings flitting across his twitching, reddening face, bubbling up until he finally concedes with a massive sigh. "F-fine." He puffs, eyes completely avoiding your gaze. He's too embarrassed to look anywhere near you. "At least let me do something first..." He sits on the edge of the bed and sheds his loose-sitting kimono and robes, leaving them folded neatly on the edge. Now he's in just that semi-transparent undershirt and regular shorts.

You stare at him with slightly raised eyebrows.

"What? I don't wanna overheat." He frowns, turning away from your gaze slightly. "If you're really going to... c-cling to me or whatever, lose at least two of the blankets."

"But 'm cold."

"That's your brain gaslighting you into thinking you're cold. Your 'shivers' will dissipate once I'm under there with you. If you overheat, your brain will become even more fried, and then you'll be completely useless."

Now it's your turn to let out a massive sigh with a reluctant "Fiiiiine." The outer two layers of your blanket cocoon come off, discarded to the floor next to you. You shuffle back to your original position, lying under the covers, wrapped in blankets. Kunikuzushi shuffles up next to you, hesitates for a second and then pulls the new outer blanket up a little to sit it just on top of your head. That was the second time he did that.

"What's the point of that?"

"What?"

"Move the blanket on top of my head?"

"...Um. I... do it sometimes. I like the feeling of it. I don't know, I thought you might—"

Instead, you cut him off by reaching out and putting part of the blanket on top of his head as well. He immediately goes quiet with wide eyes.

"Come on heater, get under the blankets. You talk a lot."

He makes a miffed grunt and shuffles under the covers, finding his way through all the blankets until he was right against you. You rotate your body to face him for optimal surface area coverage and close your eyes with a content exhale.

The two of you remain like this for a while, you lying next to the slightly stiff but warm Kunikuzushi. He doesn't move much and is completely silent aside from the very faint sound of his gentle breath. (does he breathe? idk lol) He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he seems to loosen up a little. You smile faintly at the thought, but it's quickly wiped from your face and replaced with a confused frown because he turns to face you and places his chin on top of your head. You can feel his soft breath on top of your head. Your eyes are as wide as saucers, staring right at the view in front of you—his neck. But oh, he's not done. Next, he pulls you slightly closer to him and then takes your hand in his own and gently laces your fingers with his. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

Next, he begins to mutter to himself. There's absolutely no way he's asleep—he must think you're asleep.

"Damnit... Fuck you, (Y/N)..."

You have to try SO hard to remain silent and not get offended and hit him with 'Bowlcut', but the dizzying polarity between his actions and his words is enough to keep you silent for now.

"Making me feel all this shit... Not even the Radish really knows what these feelings are."

You blink, eyes wide. You feel a cough coming on. This is not good. Your cover's gonna be blown.

"You're gonna be the end of me. Toying with my already shattered heart like I'm your plaything... Your smile, now calling me Ku... all these promises and things you do... I want to hate you, but I can't."

You can't hold it in anymore. You quickly push off his chest and jerk your head in the opposite direction so you don't have a coughing fit right on his chest. When you finally finish and turn back around, you're faced with a red-faced Kunikuzushi, looking absolutely mortified.

"YOU WERE AWAKE THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME?!"

You bit your lips together awkwardly.

"AND YOU HEARD IT ALL?!"

You cough again. "Yep."

Instead of having a response that could somehow qualify as normal, his stare simply goes blank for a second until he proceeds to konk out, eyes closing and head flopping down onto the pillow.

He short-circuited.

#fr idk what the fuck this is lmfao #i just word vomited like i do with 90% of the shit i write #scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #genshin x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin fluff

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oddinary4bts · 6 months

Text

November Sun | jjk

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.

☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.

Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.

It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?

Jungkook thinks it is.

He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?

Jungkook doesn’t want to know.

Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.

Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.

He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.

He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.

You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.

Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?

*****

“I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”

He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.

“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”

“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.

“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”

Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.

“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”

You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.

For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.

“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”

“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.

So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”

You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”

He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”

An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.

“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.

“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”

You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”

“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.

“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”

*****

The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.

Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.

Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.

But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.

He did find you again, only you never knew.

*****

Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.

He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.

The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.

He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.

His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.

He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.

He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.

He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.

And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.

You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.

The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.

The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.

Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.

He would have rather not known the name.

Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.

Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.

*****

When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.

He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.

He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.

And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?

Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?

It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.

Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.

If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.

You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.

He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.

He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.

Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.

And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.

All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.

Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.

At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.

It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.

He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.

He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.

That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.

The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.

Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.

“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.

Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.

“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”

The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.

“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.

What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?

“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.

He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.

“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”

“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”

Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.

Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.

“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”

“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.

He doesn’t think it’s himself.

“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.

“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.

Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.

“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.

Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”

Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.

“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”

Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.

He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.

Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.

And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.

☆☆☆☆☆

I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away

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syndxlla · 8 months

Text

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between BOTW and TOTK

Chapter Five: My North Star

Read chapter four here

My masterlist

Song: August by Taylor Swift

Summary: Link and Zelda get a visitor from an old friend, and start to remember how to live for the hope of it all.

Warnings: brief and non graphic mentions of death and dead bodies, canon-typical violence and horror, PTSD (always for this fan fic)

Word Count: 3.3k words

Authors Note: finally some happy moments lol. Also this is unedited!! ALSO I KNOW I HAVE SO MANY UNANSWERED ASKS RN I PROMISE I AM NOT IGNORING YOU IM JUST BUSY AND LAZY kloveyoubye

It takes only three more days for Impa to arrive at their door, angrily pounding her staff on the wooden plank. It’s early, she beats the rooster, and Link is rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he stumbles to the door from his makeshift bed he’s made adjacent to the kitchen.

He’s shocked to see the old woman staring up at him, as far as he knows, she hasn’t left Kakariko village in decades.

“You completed the mission and your first instinct was NOT to come and tell me?” She asks, her wrinkled lips pressed firmly into a frown. Link looks up to see Cado, apologetic. His hair is down, shirt is off, and he’s barely wearing trousers. He yawns.

“Good morning, Master Impa.” He bows deeply to her and she just whacks his skull with her cane in the same manner she did the door. Link yelps and rubs the top of his head. “What was that for?” He asks.

“Where’s the princess?”

“She’s sleeping still, it’s barely sunrise.” Link rubs some more sleep from his lashes, his hand in a tight fist. “You know, most people say good morning when you see them first thing…”

Impa then lets herself into the house, pushing past him like the angry ball of spunk she is. “I’ll have tea.” She states, “And I’d like to see my friend.” Link and Cado look at each other, the Sheikah man staring at him apologetically.

Link nods, walking to the furnace and kneeling in front of it. He blows on the dying embers from the night before, placing a small log on them. Flames catch, and he’s setting the kettle over them, still full of water from yesterday. Cado closes the door and sits across from Impa at the table. Link eyes his bed roll in the corner of the room, kicking some blankets around in an attempt to make it look less disheveled, but the elderly woman just squints at the state of the house. If only she had seen it a week ago. Link was starting to feel proud of he and Zelda’s progress, wildflowers being placed in a vase on the table, and their plates polished and put away neatly for the first time. After Impa’s scrutinizing gaze, however, he was feeling all sorts of insecure again.

The air is stagnant.

“She's still sleeping…still.” Link clears his throat, his voice hushed. “She needs to rest because-“

“Link, two bodies were found just outside of the castle two days ago, the man who found them also reports seeing a Shadowy Figure, covered in what he suspects is malice.” Impa interrupts him.

“What?” He asks, startled.

“I didn’t want to lead with that, but it cannot be ignored.” She spoke in the same hushed tone. They didn’t want to wake the Princess, and they especially didn’t want to scare her.

“Treasure hunters? I mean it's still a war zone there, it wasn’t anything else… right? He was lying, surely. All the Malice disappeared…” Link asks, feeling the blood go from his face.

“The man was Me.” Cado frowns. He would never lie. “After we got your message from Purah, I traveled to the castle to confirm that the Calamity was destroyed. The bodies were hylian, two young people. A boy and a girl… I thought it was..”

Cado’s voice became too loud, and Link hushed him.

“We want to think it was leftover spells, but we don’t know. We don’t know who else to ask to investigate.” Impa says.

“Now that Hyrule is safe, it's time we start reestablishing civility, democracy.” Cado steps in.

“It’s been eleven days since I defeated him.” Link crosses his arms, “I’m still not sleeping through the nights, Zelda doesn’t have her full strength back yet. You promised me I would get to rest when it was all over.” He looks at the Sheikah Chief.

“Don’t lie to me, Link.” Impa shakes her head, “I know you can’t stay in one place for too long. No matter how hard you try.” She states. She wasn’t wrong, but recently Link has started to feel different.

The kettle starts to whistle. Link swallows his frustration and takes it off the heat, preparing three cups of green bell tea. Everyone feels discomfort. “Did the figure do anything?” Link asks as he pours the hot water into the cups, his back turned to the Sheikah.

“It just stared at me, it was tall, hunched over.” Cado describes, one could easily hear the fear in his voice. “We stared at each other, I couldn’t tell if it was from this world or not.”

“Tall like a Zora or tall like a Gerudo?” Link asks, still turned away.

“Gerudo.” Cado struggled to say it. “I drew my sword, and as soon as I did, it turned away from me and walked into the mist to the south. I never saw it again.”

Link swallows and then turns around finally, carrying the cups to the table. “And the bodies?”

“Cause of death was unknown, I checked for a pulse multiple times but they were both long gone. They were dressed in traveler's garb. Their dress seemed to be from the north.”

“If they have families they need to know.” Link sits, holding the mug of tea in his hands.

“You’re the only one who could inform them about such a thing.” Impa says. “Tabantha is a long way, but you could be there and back in an hour if you warp. We’ll stay here until you-“

“The sheikah slate is utterly destroyed.” Link admits. “I left it with Purah but she essentially told me it's beyond repair.”

“You’d have to go on foot like the rest of us.” Cado smirks.

“Why would I?” Link asks, perhaps too forcefully. “I did my quest.”

Impa stares at him, silent for a moment, “You don’t really feel that way.” She shakes her head, “And if you do, then you are not the same man who woke up three years ago.”

“I’m not!” Link almost shouts, and they all bite their tongues, listening for any sound from upstairs. “Impa… you know I care. You know I want to go find whatever that figure was, but I am tired.” His voice cracks. “I can’t just sleep this one off.” He can’t look at her, if he does, he’ll break. “This is much deeper than exhaustion. It’s… it’s traumatic.

I still see him. His eyes, the way His heat radiated and burned my skin, the sound of His laughter. He Haunts me at night, I swear He finds ways into my dreams and taunts me there. Like it was all just a game to Him. Because it was. It always was. He’ll do it again a hundred times, and we can’t ever stop Him. There will be countless more Links who lose their hearing and can’t sleep and won't even look themselves in a mirror because as long as the triforce exists, He will mock us all with His deviance.”

Link stares into his tea.

“Impa…” A quiet voice says from the stairs, and all three of them are turning to see her. Long, blonde hair draped over her shoulder, eyes sleepy and confused, hands at her sides.

She nearly trips down the stairs as she runs to the woman, wrapping her hands around her neck and crying. Impa immediately holds her back, laughing, taking an old, bony hand and stroking the top of her friend's head with it.

“Good Morning, my dear.”

Link and Cado share one more glance.

The day is spent with hugs and laughter and Zelda looking into Impa’s eyes and crying every time she sees that they’re still the same eyes. Link cooks for them, and gets as quiet as he was at the start of this war. It’s all he can think about. Did it return for other Links? Did it return this early?

Zelda must have noticed his distance because while Impa is telling Zelda all about the man she married, the Princess is glancing at Link. His shoulders tense, his head down, his voice silent. She frowns, deciding to ask him about it later.

Cado was delighted to meet the woman, bowing deeply for her. He eventually got on a tangent about his children while they ate the omelets Link prepared, but Link stayed silent. He glances over at the Master Sword, leaning against the corner of the room, staring back at him.

He distracts himself the rest of the day with Epona, tending to her constantly while Zelda tells Impa every single detail about her time sealed away. The two prayed over each other a few times. The sun gets low in the sky, Link stays silent.

They come back inside, and before Impa and Cado enter from the outside to begin their next hour of catching up, Zelda places a gentle hand on Link’s shoulder. “Link,”

He turns to look at her, everything about him immediately softening as her green eyes stare at him.

“You’re upset?” She says, her voice soothing.

“No I’m not.” He denies. She raises an eyebrow.

“I know you.” Link becomes acutely aware of her thumb that starts rubbing circles into his muscle and he has to remind himself how to stand. ”Talk to me.”

He knows he can’t tell her about this, not yet. “Later?” He asks. She smiles and nods.

“I’m here for you.”

Link begins dinner, and Zelda washes up, leaving the three alone for the first time since early morning.

Impa stares, Cado uncomfortably clears his throat. Link looks at them, frowning, knowing what they want.

He sighs deeply.

“I will return to the castle. Zelda and I briefly discussed returning the Champion’s weapons to their people, and can do it then.” He finally says. “Tell every leader to warn their people to avoid the castle at all costs.”

“Good.” Impa nods.

“But-“ Link holds his hand up, “I’m not going until both she and I are ready.” He says.

“What do you mean by ready?” That old woman was always so pushy.

“When Zel and I both feel ready to return to those places without it absolutely crushing our spirits, we will go. Together.”

“Hylia knows when that will be.” Cado scoffs.

“Exactly.” Link says. “Unless more deaths are reported or this shadow is seen again, it can wait. Everyone has been avoiding the castle for a century, what’s a little while longer?” Link states, silently proud of himself for sticking up for himself and not just being the obedient soldier he was trained to be. “Besides, no one should be there anyways, it’s not safe.”

“You’re in love with the Princess.” Impa states with a chuckle and Link sputters, the wind knocking out of him.

“What? Why would you say that?” He asks.

“I saw you two. The way you look at her.” Impa smirks. Link feels his ears heat up, Cado stifles a laugh.

“You are so rude.” Link replies.

“I think you two need each other.” Impa shrugs, “But do not let any worldly affection keep you in the way of what really matters here: Hyrule and its people.”

Impa always knew exactly how to remind Link that he is just a soldier.

“We will leave before we eat. At this rate we will not return home until late into the night.” Impa states, standing back up.

They say their goodbyes. Zelda promises to visit, Impa gives her a kiss on the forehead, Cado bows again. And just as the sun begins to set, the pair is headed through the bridge.

Both Link and Zelda stand in the doorway as they watch them leave. Zelda starts to sniffle, wiping a tear.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Link says in a comforting tone when he sees her cry, turning to face her. “It’s okay, we’re gonna see her again real soon.” He reassures. Zelda sighs.

“She got so old, without me.” She tries to swallow her sob but fails. She presses her tear-stained face into the crook of Link’s neck, and he just holds her for as long she needs. Zelda is the one to pull away after a moment of comfort. “I’m sorry… I know there's something troubling you, too. I shouldn’t be so selfish.” Zelda sighs.

Link swallows, “It’s nothing. Not for tonight.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.” Link nods. “Can I show you something?” He asks, and Zelda is nodding as he takes her hand and leads her up stairs. He pushes open a hatch on the ceiling in the corner, and a rickety ladder slides down. Some dust and cobwebs fly down, but when the air clears, Link is climbing up onto the roof of their house. He helps Zelda up next, and she’s looking up at the night sky with bright eyes. It’s still not totally dark yet, but the first few stars are starting to shine.

The roof is slightly slanted, but not enough to cause either of them concern. They both comfortably find a position on the tiles, facing south, noses pointed at the heavens. There’s about a foot of space between them, and Link wants to scoot closer into her, but chooses not to. He closes the hatch from the outside, so the warm light of the house doesn’t pollute their view.

“I like to come up here to clear my head.” He says. “It doesn’t hold a candle to the night sky in Hebra or out in the desert, but it's still pretty spectacular.”

Zelda hums, “You’ll have to take me someday.” She stays looking at the sky but Link looks at her. Her profile is beautiful, hair long and cascading, ears pointed and blushed. Surely she knew he was staring, but neither of them did anything to stop.

“One day.” He nods before looking away and laying on his back. He rests his arms behind his head, crossing an ankle over his bended knee. “That one is called Haru.” He points to an especially bright star, “It’s part of the constellation Nabooru.” He then traces the warrior constellation with his finger.

“I remember, yes.” Zelda scoots into him, and he tries to stifle his smile. She doesn’t lay next to him, but now they’re a mere inches apart.

“And this is the North Star.” Link cranes his neck back to see it. “It moves though, did you know that? True north changes over time, so that one was the North Star when we were born, but over time the celestial bodies shifted and now it's that one. They didn’t even know that until I came back, because I was following the original one and ended up in Lanayru instead of Eldin. I talked with Purah and Robbie and they agreed, isn’t that fascinating?” He asks with a smile.

Zelda smiles so wide she thinks her cheeks will burst. “I never heard you speak like that before. With so much passion and eloquence.”

Link looks at her and just chuckles, “Now everyone follows the new star, but it didn’t have a name yet….”

“We should name it!” She gasps.

“Oh…I already did.” Link frowns, “I named it after I got my first memory back.” He shrugs. “I”m sorry. But there are plenty of stars without names anymore. A lot of the scientific research got destroyed with the…” He stops himself, “Well you know why. No one these days even knows the constellations anymore. I’m the only one.”

“What did you name it?” Zelda smiles.

Link looks at her again, “Zelda.”

She just about passes out from flattery, smiling down at her knees which are bent into her chest, blushing a little. “That’s very nice.”

“It was my true north.” He says. “I’d have been lost without it.”

It was fully dark now, and the sky lit up with the twinkling lights, the moon was a small sliver of a crescent and hung low in the sky near the sea.

“When did you remember the constellations?” She asked.

“They come to me slowly. It was required for all knights to know them, as I’m sure you remember.” Link described, looking to the heavens again. “I still can’t think of half of them.”

“Well isn’t that one Navi?” She points to another star.

“No, that one is Navi.” Link scoots up to her level, closing the gap further between them, and takes his hand to move her arm to the right star, his calloused and scarred flesh rough against her soft skin. “That one is the top of the constellation Hylia-“

“-Hylia”

They say it together. Perfectly in tune.

Their faces turn towards one another, locking eyes. The air freezes, time itself seems to hold.

Their hearts simultaneously skip a beat, and a soft blow of warm wind passes by, brushing through their hair.

Link makes the mistake of looking at her lips and for a split second he swears she leans in, but before anything goes any further, she’s moving away and laying down next to him.

He supposes this is alright, too.

“I wonder what she thinks of all this.” Link says.

Zelda is quiet ....“I sometimes wonder if the God’s regret making man.”

“What do you mean?” Link asks, looking at her.

“Well… man is what caused the curse of the loop anyways. If it weren’t for us, Hyrule wouldn’t have to be rebuilt every ten thousand years.” She frowns. “Maybe they wish they had left their creation to rest without our feeble beings.”

“I don’t think that.” Link shakes his head. “I think they put us here because we are flawed, not in spite of it.

I think our mistakes, our sins, our curses are what makes us special. Life would be futile if we were perfect. There would be no motivation. No growth. No passion.

You cannot have good without evil, or light without dark, or joy without pain.

That’s what’s so beautiful about life. I think the God’s know that. I think they love us because of it. That is a luxury they don’t have. I see it as a gift. To live for the hope of it all.”

Link rambles, and Zelda is stunned for a moment. She turns her head to look at him, this time he’s the one with wonder-filled eyes staring up, ignoring the gaze of the other.

“I really think you should wield the triforce of wisdom.” Zelda teases.

Link looks at her, their noses almost touching. “Oh no, I’m only profound when I’m around you.” He shakes his head, giggling. “You should see me try to talk my way through Gerudo town, there's nothing wise about it.” His tone is playful, and they both laugh over it. “I accidentally told a woman she looked pregnant instead of ordering a drink at the bar.” Link explains and then says the two phrases in Gerudo, Zelda can admit they have very similar pronunciations and the both of them are full-belly laughing at the situation. Zelda asks how he managed to get out of that situation, and Link had to describe further that he was in disguise, which made everything harder to get through. Zelda couldn’t get the image of Link in a woman’s clothing out of her mind, and Link only sets her off further when he finishes the story with him getting slapped by an elderly Gerudo Woman. It isn’t much longer until she has tears welling down her face, but this time they are finally tears of laughter and joy.

When they both finally pull themselves together, Zelda smiles at him, wiping a tear from the corner of her eyes. “Thank you.” She sighs, her stomach aching from laughter.

Zelda then takes a risk, and snakes her hand in between them before wrapping it around Link’s. They don’t lock fingers, and it isn’t even necessarily classified as a romantic gesture, but she just squeezes his hand, thankful for cheering her up, thankful for reminding her that there is still hope.

There is hope in balance.

She tries to pull it away, not wanting to overstep, but Link is holding her hand tighter, keeping it in his grip. Zelda happily obliges, and they keep their hands clasped at their sides the whole night.

—

Chapter Six

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