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summonerscenarios · 2 years

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Can I get a Headcanon where Hephaestus likes bikes and makes his own motorcycle from scratch to impress MC?

Half an hour left of my bday and what better way to end it than with some finished requests~! As always more than happy to give Heph some love so here's hoping it's up to par cause it's been a while lmao

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It makes sense that Hephaestus has taken advantage of his time in Tokyo to hone and enhance his craft. In his initial pursuit to make an ideal version in Talos, he branched out and learned about the creations in this world and the new things that could be improved upon. Quite a number of his earlier days once he had settled in with the Kamata Crafters was spent tinkering, building, and picking things apart to figure out what made them work and what was needed to make them even more efficient. It was a way to pass the time for a while, but the machine work with this world’s vehicles ended up piquing his interest; Hephaestus made more than a few test creations, all in varying states of completion as he bounced from project to project. While Heph hasn’t put much thought into seeing these projects through to the end just yet, they’ve become an excellent thing to fall back on when he finds himself getting frustrated with other things - seeing them as a good source for tinkering and tweaking till said frustrations have melted away.

You were never supposed to see any of the prototypes he’s been working on - just the mere thought of you setting your eyes on his unfinished pieces makes him feel like he’d die of shame. He wants things to be perfect and put together, regardless of whether you actually see them or not because that’s just a part of his nature; however it’s by pure chance that you come wandering into his workshop before he can clean all of his usual materials out of the way, gaze falling onto the heap carefully stashed away to the side, just waiting to be worked on. This one in particular is an unfinished lump of metal and motorwork, more of a husk than anything resembling a complete motorcycle; it’s the first one he goes to when he’s breaking things down to see how they tick, and it's clear from how some of the parts look as though they’ve been constantly disassembled and reassembled by careful, methodical hands.

And yet you look at this unfinished mess with wonder, not masking the amazement in your voice as you spin around to look at the crafter and ask him if he’s really working on making a bike. At his confirmation, Hephaestus can feel his heart hammer in his chest at the smile that crosses your lips, expression regarding him as though you’re impressed by the idea even though he’s nowhere near close enough to have finished the thing yet. Praise from you of all people is the highest form of validation, and what pretty much seals it is when you grin and say:

“This looks amazing; I’d love to see what it looks like when it’s finished!”

Consider it done there and then - but if he’s gonna make this bike, Hephaestus is going to do it right.

Of course, if it’s to impress you it’s got to be nothing less than perfect for the simple fact that Hephaestus absolutely refuses to present something to you that he doesn’t consider worthy of being gazed at by the person most important to him. So not even moments after you’ve parted ways Hephaestus doesn’t hesitate to get to work mapping out the framework for this new project, bringing together every piece he’s been working on thus far for what’s going to be a rigorous case of trial and error in an effort to produce the best results. To anyone other than a Crafter the work would be tedious, but if anything that makes Hephaestus all the more determined to perfect this particular project, with each attempt getting more and more refined than the last one. All he can think about is how impressed you’ll be once he creates the perfect bike for you, taking into account personal preferences and wracking his brain for any dislikes and likes that you’ve mentioned in the past.

Hephaestus is so set on it being perfectly tailored to your tastes that you can expect more than a few phone calls from the creator. It’s both amusing and kind of endearing hearing him muttering on the other end of the line each time you answer his increasingly specific questions as he scribbles down your responses for future reference. It isn’t hard to figure out that whatever he’s working on has got you in mind, though you have no idea exactly what it could be given the extravagant nature of some of his previously constructed gifts. And yet you still find yourself smiling listening to him prattle on, unintentionally letting slip comments about making it perfect and doing you proud before he catches himself and stumbles over his words before abruptly hanging up to get back to work.

He wants to make it a bike you’ll like, but Heph also wants to make it safe for you too - if you managed to get hurt trying to ride one of his bikes, or if it wasn’t able to protect you out on Tokyo’s busy roads...it’s a line of thought he refuses to follow. There’s multiple test runs to ensure that not only does it look good but it functions well; it’s not the weirdest sound you’d expect to hear in the workshops, as the other crafters have their fair share of specific projects, but the rev of an engine and squeak of tires raises more than a few eyebrows in the rare instances that Heph exits the workshop to acquire more materials. They know better than to ask when he’s in the zone, so he thankfully goes about his task undisturbed as he works to ensure that everything is perfect for the big reveal.

Long nights working on building it up and taking it apart piece by piece to fix any margin of error finally pays off in the end, and the next time you’re being called into his personal workshop what you’re shown is a far cry from the metal shell you found yourself looking at mere weeks ago. The way your expression lights up in wonder is worth each and every sleepless day spent working on this motorbike; he enjoys making these bikes as a passion project, and now seeing you excitedly step towards it he’s practically bristling with nerves and expectation, hoping above all else that it’s good enough for you.

Of course there’s nothing he needs to worry about - Hephaestus’ so meticulous to tweak each and every piece of this bold machine to your frame and preferences while ensuring complete functionality that there’s no room for error. Even so there’s no hiding the way his shoulders visibly slump in relief when you flash him that wonderful, awe induced smile as you pour over how beautiful this bike turned out. The stress over worrying about what you think seeps out of him completely, finally allowing the ebbs of satisfaction and just a bit of exhaustion to creep their way in as he follows your steps around the motorbike. He’s got the details down to your favorite color, even with little accessories neatly tucked away in places where they’re visibly but also safely out of harm's way with room to add more in the future. The praises are free flowing, and watching Heph’s chest puff up thoroughly chuffed by your words is a clear indication how much your thoughts about this project mean to him.

With that being said however, it doesn’t entirely click that this was made specifically to impress you until he brings out the keys (which you make a note have some of your favorite keychains on them), and comments that if you don’t have your license yet, Talos is completely capable of riding you around anytime you want to use the bike - whenever or wherever you want. That makes you pause, the realization that he’s quite literally offering you a ride that he made himself for you to be able to use whenever you want. There’s a beat where you glance away from the bike and stare at him, and just like that the stress is back again, with Heph worrying that he’s somehow messed up with the way you’re looking at him. Do you not like it? Was there something that he missed? He should have known better than to think he could get it completely right with this one - if you’d just give him some time, he’s sure he’ll make something even better-

Whatever apology or excuse was going to tumble out of his mouth is silenced with just a few swift strides across the workshop, your hands coming to clap around the one holding the keys. It’s then that Hephaestus sees that you’re not looking at him with expectation or disdain - you’re happy, and excited. Your hands squeeze around his, his fingers closing around the set of keys as you begin guiding him towards the motorbike, still flashing him a giddy grin as you nod your head for him to follow as you speak:

“Come ride with me, Heph - Let’s go together, it’ll be so much fun!”

And of course, as with everything that involves you, he’d never refuse, that familiar warm feeling sprouting across his face at the prospect of being able to spend more time with you.

#tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo imagine #tokyo afterschool summoners imagine #housamo headcanon #housamo hephaestus #hephaestus #kamata crafters #request #anonymous

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier poly fic #poly frontier #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader #maybe i dont know people

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 26 - The Higher Realm

The Higher realm continues. So close to the end!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Time passed, but it was difficult to tell how much. Time worked so differently in the different realms. How long did we really spend trying to save one lower realm? Minutes? Decades? It felt like no time and forever. Adonis and I traveled to lower realm after lower realm, fixing the stories, stabilizing the world before heading back to the higher realm.

Some lower realms were easy, if a bit annoying, such as the high school dramas. In those I would often play the “average” new girl at a school. I would meet new people, and was supposed to go on to have romance, betrayals and coming of age realizations. I quickly realized that befriending all my supposed romantic leads instead of dating them, reconciling with my rivals instead of humiliating them, and pushing towards success all together was a much more satisfying strategy. Fortunately, graduating valedictorian with a happy and psychologically healthy group of teenagers often stabilized worlds that had been torn apart by half-baked character design or infighting between rivals.

I took calculus so many times that I could recite lessons in my sleep, but at least the worlds were saved. Despite our success, however, Adonis was often frustrated. He had his own vision of how we were to save these realms. His plans almost always involved us dating, making the high school romance “successful”.

I refused.

He had been a lot more likable since our first meeting, and I was able to consider him a close friend and ally… but I felt uncomfortable at the idea of even pretending to have a romantic relationship. It was definitely a more difficult route to stabilize the world without a romance, but I chose it every time. Adonis pouted and complained, but couldn’t argue with success, and I was successful.

Some lower realms were more difficult. In particular, zombie apocalypse stories were my least favorites. The worlds often couldn’t be stabilized until a cure was found or humanity’s survival was assured. This meant that Adonis and I sometimes spent decades within these realms, working to build armies, or teams of scientists. There was hardly ever any running water, which meant showering was few and far between.

My unwashed self was made even filthier by my absolute failure at using anything with range. Bow and arrow, guns… anything that would keep me out of the gore, I couldn’t hit even the largest of monsters. Fortunately I picked up a sword with relative ease, which allowed me to fight… but this also meant I got covered in rotten blood and guts.

I hated zombie worlds the most.

Realm after realm. We worked constantly, spending very little time in between in the higher realms. Adonis would often try to use those moments to push his ideas regarding fate and the higher realm’s story, but as soon as I rejected him, which I did every time, he would simply scowl and pull us into the next lower realm to save.

It was getting old.

“How many lower realms are there?” I asked one evening as we recovered from our latest mission, rubbing my sore shoulder where I had taken a blow in the last sci-fi alien battle. The wounds disappeared with the realm traveling, but my mind still could feel the wound, projecting the pain long after I had left that form behind.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his grin a little too bitter to be a natural expression. “How many unfinished stories are there? Infinite, Bel. There are infinite lower realms. We will never be able to save them all. Not like this.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“There are options. You just don’t want to hear them.”

“What, this fate you keep talking about?” I sighed, closing my eyes, tired. “ It sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity shown through all the same. “It’s our duty. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

“But what you’re saying is: we follow along some sort of script…”

“Fate.”

“…fate… here, in the higher realm. And that is somehow supposed to fix the lower realms?”

He chuckled. “You’re oversimplifying it, but pretty much. We follow our fate, and the heroes of the lower realms will find their happiness tied to ours.”

“What if they don’t want that ending? What if they don’t want that happiness?”

“Of course they do! Everyone wants a happily ever after with their destined one.” He snapped. My eyes flickered open to study his enraged expression.

“I don’t.”

“You’re selfish!”

I shrugged. “Am I? If you’re right, we submit to fate here, everyone in the lower realms gets an automatic happy ending… but most of those worlds aren’t breaking because they don’t have a happy ending. They need a wider world, different ideas… and what about the side characters, even the villains… what about their happiness?”

“They don’t matter.”

“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just because they’re the villains?”

“They’re evil.” He stood up, trying to tower over me. An intimidation tactic, one that might have worked before we’d spent countless years fighting in life-or-death battles together.

“Have you met the heroes and heroines of some of these realms?” I laughed. “They’re not much better. I don’t think these roles are as clear as you would like them to be. And I don’t think you and I having a happy ending together, and forcing a simplistic ‘and they lived happily ever after’ on all the lower realms will actually fix them. In fact…” I stood up, and he stepped back slightly at the danger in my tone. “I bet we would break them all the more. Are you really so foolish as to think that saving a universe of worlds would be so simple?”

“…” Adonis was gritting his teeth, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. But I didn’t back down. Didn’t step back. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. He wouldn’t dare step out of the role he imagined himself to be in. Wouldn’t dare cross a line that might ruin his chances at the happy ending he seemed to crave so desperately.

“…” The silence stretched on between us. We were at an impasse. He wanted to follow fate. He wanted clearly defined roles and rules to follow. And I?

I wanted freedom.

*** Soul transfer 11% complete. ***

It’s been forever since I last saw those words… I thought it had disappeared. For some reason, I felt a deep sense of relief at the glowing blue sentence. Something within me had frozen during these many trips to the lower realms, but finally it was growing again.

“The next world is waiting.” Adonis spoke up, his tone flat. I noticed an odd shifting of his gaze, a reluctance to meet my own, and felt a sense of unease.

I won’t like this next world. I cracked my knuckles and gave him a thumbs up. Well, no sense running from a challenge.

We left.

______________________________

I woke up in a luxurious canopy bed. Staring up at the fabric , I raised my arms and have a cheer.

“YES! NOT A ZOMBIE WORLD!”

On the downside, the setting appeared to be a more primitive era, medieval at best, which meant no running water, but at least I appeared to be noble or wealthy.

At least if I suffer, I’ll be clean while I do it!

“Princess?” A young woman dressed as a servant entered the room, seeming very confused. “Are you all right? I heard you yelling.”

I smiled brightly at her. “No worries. It was just a nightmare.”

She visibly relaxed. “Even so, you seem in a much better mood, if I may say so.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you haven’t broken a single thing this morning.” She, unfortunately did not seem to be kidding. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your father’s decision.

I didn’t have my character’s memories yet. I needed to accept the mission first. In the meantime, acting too out of character could destabilize an already poorly functional world.

“I’m still… thinking it over.” I spoke up cautiously.

“It’s not so bad, your highness.” She smiled at me. “Most young girls feel a little uneasy when their father arranges their husband. But you’ll be happy. I just know it.”

Arranged marriage?

“After all, Prince Harold is reported to be a true gentleman, a might warrior, and a handsome young man!” She sighed dreamily. “Any woman would be thrilled for a chance to be his bride.”

“I’m. Sure.” I spoke through gritted teeth, the satin sheets crumpling in my grip. Adonis, when I find you, I’m going to make you regret every life decision you’ve ever made… and the ones you’ve only considered making. What kind of lower realm did you land us in? As I plotted my revenge, the mission screen popped up.

**** NEW WORLD: A Divided Kingdom****

This is a romance fantasy story featuring a prince and a princess from different kingdoms, putting aside their differences to save the world.

“I already don’t like this.” I muttered.

The Princess Alaire of the Yenlar Kingdom was a clever, independent woman, horrified at the idea of an arranged marriage. Prince Harold of the Bestion Kingdom felt differently. He fell in love at first sight and vowed to woo the young maiden. The couple was different in almost every way, and seemed destined to bicker and fight.

“Then how about we don’t get married?”

But fate had other plans…

“Of course it did!”

A terrifying beast threatened to destroy both their kingdoms, and to survive, the political marriage had to go forward. Uniting the kingdoms, and therefore their armed forces, was the only way to save their people.

However, despite the happy ending, the first book was not well received by readers and the trilogy was abandoned due to poor sales. The reason given was that the romance was “forced” and unbelievable.

Your mission is to bring a satisfying end to the story, while making ensuring the survival of both kingdoms.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

“Quick question.” I spoke quietly to the glowing words in front of me. “Do I have to marry the prince to ensure an ending?”

The kingdoms will not unite without the political marriage.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked if I HAVE to marry the prince. What if I can save both kingdoms without a political marriage?”

The stability of the world is all that matters.

“No lecture on the necessity of fate?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

As the words faded away, I jumped out of bed. My head spun slightly as I accepted the memories from the poor princess of the original story.

She had not been happy.

She had dreams, ambitions. The Kingdom of Yenlar allowed for women to inherit the throne, and as the firstborn she was ready to take over from her father, to rule her nation. She had spent her entire life preparing. Studying law, economics, warfare…

And all of it had meant nothing in the end.

She had begged for a political treaty. One that did not involve marriage. The Kingdom of Bestion had refused to even discuss it. They stated that there was too much distrust between the kingdoms to move forward without some sort of permanent assurance. Even the threat of annihilation from the ancient beast of legend wasn’t enough to have them reconsider. That wasn’t the full story, though.

Later she discovered that Prince Harold had seen her at a party. He had supposedly fallen in love with her at first sight, and became determined to marry her. He had learned of her plans to marry a minor noble, one who would support her position on the throne without causing an imbalance of power within the nobility. He had no chance, as far as she was concerned. The threatened destruction of their people was just the perfect opportunity to force the matter.

She had lost all power. Becoming a figurehead, a beautiful statue beside the true king, Harold. He ruled over both nations with an iron fist, treating her own people more harshly, much to the approval of his staff. She slowly became bitter and deranged, watching the destruction of the people and the nation she loved so dearly.

Beyond the end of the first book, when the realm’s story ended, she had attempted to poison him and failed. Harold had been disappointed, but felt that she still had use as a figurehead. They faked a stroke, and kept her mute and weak with poisons. A lovely doll. A perfect figurehead.

…is this a fantasy or a horror? Sheesh, no wonder the trilogy wasn’t going to sell. I shuddered, still standing awkwardly next to the beautiful bed that had belonged to a lovely young woman.

I will change this story. I spoke silently to the memories, feeling a sense of relief that didn’t belong to me as I did so.

First, let’s try to reason with Adonis. He and I had worked together in multiple realms, side by side. We were friends. We may not see eye to eye when it came to our approach towards fate and the lower realms, but he had never forced me to do something I didn’t want. He had always respected me and backed off when I said no, even if it made him unhappy.

Hopefully this time will be the same. I thought uneasily. Hopefully he will listen.

______________________________

“No.” His tone was gleeful, but his face was calm, towing with a silver goblet rather than meeting my gaze.

“Are you joking?” I leaned forward, keeping a gentle smile on my face to fool the guards and our fathers who sat on the other end of the enormous dining table.

“I’m perfectly serious, Princess Alaire. Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to work together. We can only work together if we trust each other. The only way the Kingdom of Bestion will trust the Kingdom of Yenlar is with a marriage alliance. It’s out of my hands.”

I reached forward and took the cup from his hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you forcing this, Adonis? You know it didn’t work out so well for the originals.”

“Careful Princess.” His eyes glanced over at the nearby guards. “You don’t want anything to destabilize the situation further, now do you? Better to act as a proper princess should.”

“Answer the question. This plan already failed. Why do you think it will work?”

“Simple.” He leaned forward and plucked the goblet back from my hands. “We’re different. You may not want to admit it, but we have spent lifetimes at each other’s side. Growing up, going to school, facing enemies, fighting together… we could make this work. It would be a wonderful ending.”

“You know what happened to Alaire after the first book.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“But you are.” I growled, wishing I could punch him. “You are trying to make me a beautiful figurehead, just like Harold did to Alaira.”

“We would rule side by side.”

“What use is that promise, if you are already ignoring my wishes and forcing me to do this in the first place?”

He shook his head. “You have to trust me. This is the only way we can defeat the monster, and stabilize this realm. We’ll save this world. Together.” He smiled. “It’s our fate.”

I threw a plate at him, forcing him to fling himself on the floor to avoid injury. Walking out, I ignored my father’s shouts of rage. Picking up a bag I had packed ahead of time, just in case, I changed into some light armor, grabbed a sword, and headed out into the forest.

If I couldn’t win by a political alliance, I was going to find another way to save the world.

I was going monster hunting.

I searched Princess Alaira’s memories of the legends and stories, going out in a northern direction towards the area known as Death Valley.

As I marched onward, my thoughts wandered over the time I had spent since I had woken up in the Higher Realm. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Adonis. He might truly think that he was saving the world by insisting on going through with the marriage, but his lack of willingness to even consider other options was frustrating. He was the only person consistently by my side through every one of these worlds, someone I considered a friend, and being unable to rely on him served to make me feel all the lonelier.

My mind briefly touched on the assassin of the first realm, Liam. I had thought with his comments and actions that he had known about my mission… that he might be from the higher realm too. But no matter how much I looked for him, no matter how much I hoped to see him again, I never did.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was someone from the lower realm, and I’ll never have the chance to see him, to thank him.

I felt a sense of despair. How long can I keep doing this? Is this why Adonis preaches following our fate so much? Is he as tired of traveling, tired of the missions and the different lives? Is he just hoping to end all this?

I sighed, keeping moving. I’m not that tired, not tired enough to sacrifice my freedom. Not yet, anyways.

It took several days of traveling. Fortunately from my years of experience in zombie worlds, I was well prepared to survival in the wilderness. At least here the rivers were clean, allowing me to bathe occasionally. Finally I was at the entrance of the valley, staring up at the pillars on either side.

There were ominous words carved deeply into the stone.

Only death lies ahead.

I stared at the words silently for a few moments, and then shrugged.

“Still better than marrying Adonis.”

I moved forward.

______________________________

The valley was dark, a deep fog settled in permanently, apparently unaffected by the weather beyond its borders. Dark twisted purple trees rose all around me, their roots tearing through the earth desperate searching for nutrients. The valley was quiet, suffocating in an unsettling silence. My presence there felt like an intrusion, my instincts screaming at me to run away, to escape.

I kept moving.

There were no other signs of life. But I knew at least one other being lived here, the reason why nothing else dared to.

The Ancient beast.

There were no descriptions of it in the legends. Just that it was deadly, enough to take on entire armies. And that it was terrifying.

I feel like I should have seen something by now, if it was so large. I sighed, sitting on one of the trees, staring up at the mountain ahead of me. Shouldn’t it be easier to find an enormous beast that terrified an entire world?

…

Wait.

I looked up, struggling to see the top of the mountain in front of me.

I’m in a valley…

The mountain moved up and down, with regular motions.

There shouldn’t be a mountain here.

It was breathing.

I drew my sword, inwardly despairing. I had underestimated the sheer scale of the monster. I had thought it would be the size of a house, an elephant. Instead it towered stories above me, unimaginably large.

I was doomed.

There was a rumble as the beast in front of me shifted. I couldn’t tell the shape, just an impression of scales and spikes. Slowly, something lowered down in front of me, stretching forward in all directions, filling my vision. I saw teeth larger than my own body, the white of them contrasting with the dark fog around us. As I prepared myself for my death, an eye opened to stare at me.

It was a beautiful dark blue.

“…”

Suddenly, I felt relief. It was incomprehensible. I was standing in front of an ancient beast, enormous and terrifying, and instead of fear and dread… I felt safe.

I raised a hand, almost despite myself. “Hello there.”

The eye blinked. I comforted myself that it hadn’t eaten me yet.

“I think you look awesome. I’m Princess Alaira from the nearby kingdom of Yenlar. I actually came here to kill you, to protect my people… but now I realize that you could crush me like an ant, and that was a bad plan.”

The eye blinked twice. It seemed more confused than anything.

“I have a much better plan, if you would be willing to listen to me.” I let out a laugh, slightly startled at how… villainous it sounded.

*** Soul transfer 20% complete. ***

The creature let out a sound like thunder. I felt that it was laughing too.

______________________________

The wedding was this morning.

I was surprised as I drew near to see the party going. You would think that after I disappeared, they might have canceled or delayed it. I assumed that Adonis had felt sure that I would agree with him in the end. That I wouldn’t be able to let the world end just because I didn’t want to marry him.

Well too bad, buddy. This princess has a different plan in mind!

I could see him, standing on the elevated stage before two thrones, waiting. I couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but I imagine he was barely hiding his worry. Alaire’s father and Harold’s father were also waiting on the platform, their postures betraying their impatience.

“Let’s get this party started!” I yelled.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAR!

The ancient beast let out a triumphant roar as he flew closer and lowered his head, letting me jump down onto the platform before landing behind me, a large, threatening mountain of a creature.

“Alaire?” The king called out, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, Father.” I also nodded to Adonis, who stared back.

“What is this?”

“Your daughter is a witch!” The King of Bestion shouted, drawing his ceremonial sword. “She betrayed us!”

“Hold on, father.” Adonis held out his hand, stopping his attack. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

I grinned.

“Nope. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve teamed up with the Ancient being. We’re friends now.” I gestured at the monster high above us, who let out a grim chuckle, shaking the ground. “So now I make the rules, got it?”

“…”

“I’ll take everyone’s stunned silence as happy agreement! Now, first rule: Wedding canceled.”

“What?”

“You can’t do this!”

The three other royals on stage shouted simultaneously. I simply pointed again at the enormous creature.

“I can do whatever I want. The big scary monster behind me says so. Next, the kingdom of Bestion will surrender to me, as will the kingdom of Yenlar.”

“You want to rule the world?” Adonis’s gaze was… disappointed. I grinned shamelessly. “Nope. But here’s the thing: Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to convince the monster not to kill us. The monster only trusts me. So I have to rule both kingdoms.” I shrugged. “It’s out of my hands.”

I threw his words from earlier back at him, and felt satisfied as he winced in recognition.

“We… surrender.” His words were quiet, defeated.

“You unruly child!” My father tried to shout, but a roar from the monster above us silenced him. He quickly surrendered too. I accepted both surrenders, quickly organizing the meetings to bring our governments together under one rule. Fortunately, the princess’s years of study served me well, guiding me smoothly through the process.

______________________________

I had one more confrontation with Adonis, the night before the coronation. He was escorted to my rooms by guards, saying he had a request. I hesitated briefly, but allowed him in, waving the guards behind the door so we could speak freely.

“What was that?” He shouted as soon as they had left.

I stayed sitting, forcing myself to be calm. “I fixed the story.”

“You ruined everything! Even if it stabilizes this world, it will ruin it in the long run.”

“Says you.”

“Trust me.” He threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY.”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid. These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the story is going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

I sighed. “No, there’s always different paths to take. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Adonis stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just accept.”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful.

“your.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own.

“fate.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

THUD.

The blade in my hand threw through the air, stabbing into the wall inches from his face. I smiled cheerfully as he looked back at me, shocked.

“Try touching me again, and I’ll cut off something you’ll miss. We’ll discuss missions and roles again in the higher realm, but for now?” I rang a bell and guards came in, escorting him out. “I have a coronation to plan.”

______________________________

My coronation was held outside so that the Ancient beast could stand behind me. It seemed cheerful, letting out victorious roars and swaying from side to side. The people cheered as well, seeming a lot happier than I expected them to be. I guess they’re relieved that they won’t be eaten by the giant monster? I wondered idly how I was going to incorporate the creature into the day to day life of a monarch. For an odd reason I had very little doubt that the monster would stick around.

However, all my plans came to nothing. As the crown was placed on my head, bright blue words formed in the air in front of me:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

It was time to go.

At little sad, I looked up at the ancient monster above me. “Thank you, friend for your help. I wish I could stay with you longer.”

A mournful cry echoed through the world. It seemed to understand that I was leaving. Before I could say anything more to reassure it, the world around me shimmered and disappeared.

Only to reveal a furious Adonis standing in front of me.

“Happy now, Your Majesty?” He sneered.

“Oof, someone’s still a little angry that I used an ancient monster conquer the world. Believe it or not, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. But you know why I did what I did. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

I walked away, feeling his glare on my back long after I was out of sight.

______________________________

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn't move.

I panicked, struggling to move my arms and legs, only managing to turn my head slightly. Enough to see Adonis’s smug expression as he sat by my bed.

“It’s time for our story to progress, Bel.” His smile was strange, twisted. I couldn’t talk back, I shook my head slightly side to side.

“I’m the hero, you are the heroine. If the relationship between us can’t be advanced by working together, than it must be forged in adversity." He reached down and picked me up, carrying me out of the small cottage I had arranged for myself and into the castle courtyard. Whatever drug he had injected me with was slowly wearing off, and I struggled in his arms, finally able to shout.

“Put me down!”

To my surprise he did, and although I struggled to stay upright, I kept my balance and glared at him.

“What are you planning?”

He sighed quietly. “I’m tired of always being the one to compromise. It’s time for you to make a sacrifice, Bel. I’ve avoided this so far, worried that progressing our story this way would kill you, but it seems that it is our fate that we take this risk. It’s… unfortunate. I do very much hope you don’t die.” He paused, trying to smile at me. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I’ll come and rescue you soon.”

“A sacrifice?” I felt cold, even as I stood in the warm afternoon sun. My thoughts were slow to form, possibly a side effect of the medication. “Why?”

He shrugged. “There’s an order to everything. Rules. Law. They are all that stand between us and pure chaos. No one can ignore them. Not you. Not even me.”

“Then sacrifice yourself, asshole! Why send me?”

He shrugged. “It’s your role to play, not mine. Your fate.”

“Screw fate! I don’t care if you say it’s temporary or not! Friends don’t sacrifice friends!” I was furious, still weak and feeling helpless.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek, the touch freezing my skin. I wanted to move away but I could still barely move, only managing to glare at him. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. It’s not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame the story.”

“Ad…”

“Sorry, you must accept your fate.” I felt a pinch in my arm, the stick of a needle as he injected something into the muscle. Immediately darkness overwhelmed me.

“We all do.”

Everything faded into darkness.

______________________________

When I woke up, I was in a strange world, surrounded by forest. I lay on my back, still feeling weak, fury coursing through my veins.

Adonis and I had worked well together, despite arguing multiple times in the past. But now… any goodwill I had towards him was gone. He had betrayed me. Knocked me out and sent me to somewhere dangerous, somewhere I could be killed, just to follow his precious fate. To get the story he wanted.

“Are you lost?

I looked over at the source of the voice. It was a tall young man with dark hair, wearing grey, non-descript clothing. He kneeled down next to me, and I found myself staring into dark blue eyes.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I smiled despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

Liam? Could he be…?

“…Nice to meet you, Liam.” I laughed. “Or should I say: nice to see you again?”

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

#writing #please fix the story #fantasy #fate #next part will be fun #world hopping

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azurevi · 3 years

Text

enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed.

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard.

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands.

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences.

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep.

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms.

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings.

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay.

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence.

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping.

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it.

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence.

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous.

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence.

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing.

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater.

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though,"

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy.

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito.

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day.

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..."

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work.

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail.

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #natsume sakasaki #ibara saegusa #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #tatsumi kazehaya #keito hasumi #sie writes

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johnshelbystoothpick · 3 years

Text

'NO MORE HIDING'

[PETER MAXIMOFF X FEM!OC]

WARNINGS — explicit sexual references, strong language

WORD COUNT — 1,608

PROMPT(S) — “just a little more” & “i want everyone to know that you’re mine”

TRANSLATIONS — koroleva; queen

WRITTEN FOR — @lazylangdon’s one shots contest, round four (smut); she is also the one who was kind enough to make the above graphic for me! <3

———

“If we get caught, Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peter quirks his signature grin, all cockiness and bravado with no trace of humility to be seen. If Peter Maximoff is capable of embarrassment, it is not something that has ever been witnessed by another human being. Certainly not by Arcadia, at least, and she is quite literally capable of feeling his emotions - something she ordinarily finds useful, but in such circumstances as these the arousal radiating off of him in waves threatens to submerge her in a sea of eroticism.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” he growls lowly, dipping his head so that silver hair brushes against her sharp cheekbones. It tickles, but the sensation is sensual as opposed to playful which one may consider strange for somebody with as natural an affinity for immaturity as Peter. If Arcadia has learned over the past few months that the Peter Maximoff the world sees is not the whole man but rather a fragment projected.

Her fingers twitch with the need to move and suddenly Arcadia finds herself sympathetic to Peter’s everyday plight because this must be how he feels in any given situation: like things are moving too slowly. Torturously, agonisingly slow.

“I’ve never really understood the whole academic spiel,” Peter says after a lengthy pause, “but damn if thinking so hard doesn’t look hot on you, Brodeur.”

She rolls her eyes, more exasperated than annoyed, and her hands find the collar of his shirt. Yanking him forward with more force than strictly necessary, Arcadia effectively swallows his sharp intake of breath when her lips crash against his own.

It’s messy and without preamble, as is always the case when the two of them can find a spare moment alone away from the prying eyes of telepathic professors and fathers who aren’t yet aware that their adult son is living under the same roof as he is, currently making out with his girlfriend in an abandoned classroom two floors above his bedroom. There is still the raw passion that consumes Arcadia whenever Peter is in her presence, but the tenderness is quashed in favour of the rapid removal of clothing and skin-on-skin contact which drives her dizzy with desire every time.

“Are you done with the whole hate sex act?” Peter questions, one eyebrow raised. He’s obviously amused, almost definitely aroused if his body’s natural reaction is any indication, and looking at Arcadia through pupils blown wide with lust.

She brings a hand up to his cheek, cradles it for a moment, then lightly drags her nails across his cherry red, kiss-swollen lips. “Just a little more,” she whispers, breaths tapering into uneven huffs when she feels Peter’s hands weaving through dark tresses and lightly tugging the strands with just the right amount of pressure that the pain is gratifying. “How am I supposed to be annoyed with you when you make me feel like this?”

“It’s all part of my natural charms,” he claims brazenly, breath hot against the shell of her ear. The phantom sensation of his words across her skin sends a stimulating jolt of pleasure through her entire body. “Now, do you wanna talk or do you wanna make out?”

“God, you are such a boy,” she scoffs, slapping his arm lightly. It may have been effective in conveying her point, but it only makes Peter’s salacious smirk widen as he grabs her wrist and pins it above her head with a victorious expression.

“You love me for it,” he states.

It is not a question, though Arcadia finds herself nodding along nonetheless. “And what if I do? I could show you just how much, if you like…” She bats her eyelids with a faux innocent expression.

Peter groans, the sound deep and guttural. With her unrestrained hand pressed flat against his chest, she can feel the vibration of the sound. “Don’t say shit like that right now,” he warns, “I’ve gotta meet Jubilee for training in fifteen and she’ll never let me live this down.”

Finally, it’s Arcadia’s turn to smirk as she glances down at his hardening erection. “Not my problem, Pietro.”

Something she has come to learn in recent weeks is just how much her boyfriend enjoys being referred to by his given name in any circumstance, but especially when they are alone and domesticated, so to speak. The pressure on her wrist increases for a second before Peter relaxes, exhaling slowly.

“You’re a fucking tease, Arcadia Brodeur.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

He leans forward to capture her lips in a kiss which is so uncharacteristically soft that it takes her by surprise. His tongue moves languidly, glides effortless with hers as though they were destined to come together in some synchronised dance, and a plethora of metaphorical fireworks explode in the small room they are encased in.

“I love you,” he says against her lips, repeating the words a dozen times when his mouth leaves hers to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of the exposed flesh of her neck. His teeth lightly graze her collarbone, then again in the same place with a sharper bite, and Arcadia lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a shriek at the paroxysms of pleasurable pain it leaves in its wake.

“I love you,” he rasps once more, tongue flicking out to soothe the stinging pain he had caused. Arcadia finds herself missing it, though the expert way that Peter works his tongue against her flesh more than makes up for the loss. “And I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

He brushes his lips against her palm before finally releasing his hold on her wrist which hangs limply at her side for a moment before both of her arms wrap around his neck, clasped at his nape. The ensuing staring contest is charged with electric energy, the sexual tension so palpable one could almost certainly reach out and touch it.

“I love you too,” she says at long last when the silence has run its course. “I just wish we didn’t continue to hide away like this is something to be ashamed of.”

He cups her cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the grooves of her cheekbones. “I’m not ashamed of us, koroleva,” he insists firmly, “I just didn’t want to put any strain on our relationship with the whole Daddy Issues thing I’ve got going on here right now.”

“You’re an idiot,” she deadpans, “if you think I wouldn’t want to be here with you every step of the way, Peter. Even if your dad is terrifying…”

“Nah, he’s a softie really,” Peter claims, “otherwise he’d have smothered me in my sleep by now with how annoying I act around him.”

“Just around him?”

Peter mock gasps. “I am hurt, Arcadia. Shocked and hurt.”

“You should get over it pretty fast, Quicksilver,” she teases before unlooping her arms and giving his abs a firm pat. “You’d better go now before Jubilee sends out a search party.”

They both know that she would, so Peter doesn’t object beyond a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe deal with that first, though,” she adds. Her hand reaches out to lightly palm him through his jeans, revelling in the ensuing groan he emits as the heat travels from her cheeks to her clit in a way that causes her knees to quiver. She hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans to steady herself.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They aren’t confident that they could string together a coherent sentence with their hips grinding together with unadulterated lust; their ragged breaths indiscernible from one another’s so that it seems impossible to know where Peter Maximoff ends and Arcadia Brodeur begins.

“To be continued,” he pants after a minute or so has passed. He takes a step back but doesn’t tear his hooded gaze away from the dishevelled Arcadia. “We’ve got unfinished business here.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Arcadia responds, excitement rushing through her at the thought of continuing their little rendezvous. It’s excruciating to have to wait, but she figures having sex in a classroom with windows overlooking the lake where hoards of people seem to be more often than not probably isn’t the wisest decision, no matter how much she and Peter may enjoy the thrill of sneaking around so carelessly. The soft, red lace of her panties becomes wetter with the thought.

Alas, public makeout sessions are hot in places like the mall or the cinema, not so much at a school.

Pausing just before Peter leaves, she has to ask, “Seriously though; why this room?”

Peter’s smirk returns with a vengeance. It’s unclear whether this is due to whatever answer he may give, or if he’d picked up on the tremor in her voice as she’d asked. “Because Scott and Jean walk past here every day at precisely three pm,” he informs, watching with impish glee as her eyes widen comically, “and would you look at the time. No more hiding, koroleva.”

The clock strikes three hardly a second later and Peter gives a mocking salute before speeding out of the room in the blink of an eye.

“Peter Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Peering through the open doorway, Scott and Jean make no effort to conceal their snickering. “Might want to deal with that hickey first, Cady,” the redhead advises, flouncing away with her boyfriend before Arcadia can formulate a witty retort. She can feel the amusement emanating from the couple as they disappear.

God, she needs to get her own place. And possibly a new boyfriend. First things first: makeup.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter and arcadia #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff imagine #quicksilver #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver imagine #evan peters #x men fanfiction #jean grey #scott summers #erik lehnsherr #magneto #charles xavier #professor x

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izabellq · 3 years

Text

DREAMS -> Akaashi Keiji

summary: a soulmate au where you see each other in your dreams.

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

word count: 3k

contains: angst, fluff, open-ended (also, if you guys spot instances where i specify gender, let me know and i’ll try to fix it asap! i edited this but sometimes, things just slip by)

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

he swipes the dust off the leather bound book before carefully sliding it back into it’s alphabetized slot. he carefully maneuvers himself around the oak wooden shelves, letting his feet track footprints into the burgundy rug below him. with a sigh, he realizes he is yet again desolated. a library reverie dedicated solely to himself and his predestined soulmate. yet, it seemed the universe had yet chosen one quintessential for him. akaashi didn’t need perfect, but on some days, he just wanted to have someone.

the macrocosm was seemingly convinced he was unfit to wield one. strung on the idea that he was intolerable and unmatchable. akaashi’s pessimistic attitude had betrayed his hopeful one, and soon, he was unable to shield himself from the knowledge that perhaps-- there was no one in the world meant for him.

(he still desires one, because he’d love nothing more than to connect with the person who he was bound to meet. he wants to depict their love in unrealistic fairytales.)

nights go by where he falls asleep and lounges in his fantastical library. he decides he could write a book with all the time he has to himself. but then again, he knows better than anyone that most of his projects remain unfinished. he’s lost inspiration, captured by the nasty talons of writer’s block. he thinks he’s at the end of his rope, and for a second he believes it’s about time he goes down a different career path. but he doesn’t do that. mostly because he’s unsure, and partially because he’s still filled with hope.

(but when his soulmate never shows, he comes to realize that hope is a fickle thing.)

it's one random day of the week where akaashi’s schedule isn’t as rigid as it habitually is. after a long afternoon of practice (which doesn’t stray from the norm) he’s desperate for sleep, and despite knowing that taking a nap would complicate his circadian rhythm, he was rather desperate.

drifting towards the soulmate reality became a feat he was more than used too. the vertigo he commonly experienced was quick to depart as he molded into his surroundings, the familiar scent of paper musk and printed ink leaves much to be desired.

though, if there was one thing that was slightly unsettling— it was the disruption of books laid despotic on the floor. akaashi, though only sometimes forgetful, had never once committed such a polluted act. he was always careful to restore books to their proper position once concluded, so he wondered what possible entity could have disrupted the neat nature of his lonesome library.

(it’s when you round the corner that all his presumptions were answered.)

oh dear, he thinks, you’re a winsome mess. books pulled into your chest, pajama pants folded past your ankle, a tank top only doing so much as to cover your chest and stomach. your mouth is shaped into an ‘o’ as if his presence was the most stupefying thing around— when really, it was you.

(a book slips from your grasp, a reverberation follows shortly. he tries not to wince as it lands on its pages, folding the corner of the paper.)

the moment of shock is lost and your look of astonishment is replaced with mild skepticism. “who are you?” you ask, almost defiantly.

“akaashi,” he replies honestly, though the look on your face seems to morph in some sort of revelation that he can’t understand.

“say it again,” the stern tone of your voice lets him know that it wasn’t a mere request but a demand. he isn’t quite sure why you’re so on edge but because he already seems like the most rational one between the two of you, he doesn’t argue.

“my name is akaashi keiji,” he repeats himself, his concern only multiplied by the sting of comprehension creased into the sight wrinkles of your face. a part of him truly understands the circumstance before him, though a portion of him doesn’t want to give into the naïveté— because for so long, he was cursed with the belief that he didn’t deserve a soulmate.

“your words keep getting… blurred,” you tried your best to explain, though no matter how detailed your explanation, the experience couldn’t be put into perfect words. “you know what that means… don’t you?”

of course he knows. on days where he thought his life was the one exception— he researched every story about soulmates as he possibly could. some were undoubtedly fake, others were heartwarming, but the one common piece of information he stumbled upon was that soulmates couldn’t hear personal information about the other whilst in their dream world. perhaps to prevent early encounters or just to make the process seemingly endless; either way, akaashi was well aware.

“i didn’t think i had a soulmate,” he lets his guard down decently low, though the flutter in his heart alerts him that it’s all going to come crashing down eventually.

“neither did i,” you admit, placing down the books wrapped in your arms onto the floor. he wants to question what you could possibly be doing, but there’s more alarming inquiries he needs answers too.

good thing you seem just as eager to figure out why today was any different. “did you do anything today that might’ve been different from your usual routine? i went to bed at eleven… which isn’t any different from any other day.”

that’s when it hit akaashi— the answer was so obvious. “we live in different time zones. that’s the only reason i can think of…”

he trailed off, having been caught in the most frustrating loop of incredulity. all this time… you were right there… so close yet so far. the only thing that had separated his years of getting to know you was a different sleep schedule. in due time, he may look back at this incident and laugh— but right now, he felt cheated out of the most basic human experience ever.

(like a story, this was only the rising action— or perhaps the exposition, because this was truly the start of something new.)

he wants to speak, to reach out and connect with you in all the ways he’s only wished to do, but your harmonious laugh distracts him from his thoughts. “i never understood why my soulmate reality was a library. i guess that’s because of you, right?”

he doesn’t understand your change in personality in the same way he can’t tell when bokuto’s in a bad mood until it’s happening right before his eyes (though others would beg to differ). he’s desperate to learn everything there was to know about you— most importantly, your name. It’s the only thing he wants to know.

instead, he settles on, “what are you doing with those books?”

it’s obvious you weren’t expecting that question, but then again, how was akaashi supposed to ignore the books you're defiling by simply letting them scatter on the floor?

with a shy giggle, you respond, “well… since i thought i was alone, i was going to make a huge fort with them… ya know, cause i'm not much of a reader.”

from the red tint of your cheeks to the way your head was slightly tilted to the left was surefire proof of your discombobulation. and to akaashi, it seemed to hold such a power over him that he was unable to keep check his usual deportments. screw etiquette! this wasn’t even reality!

“i’ll help you build one,” he offers, picking up a book from the ground. he runs his thumb over the edges, smoothly out the wrinkles that had surfaced.

your head perks up, an opulent grin painting the once grimace. “really?!”

(for a smile like yours, he’d do just about anything to safeguard it’s fluoresce.)

back in the real world, all day his thoughts are occupied with you. you exist, your real, somewhere out in the world, your waiting for him. it’s a condolement he’s not willing to gamble with. he finds himself wanting to take more naps, just for the chance to indulge in another conversation with you. of course, it meant the eye bags under his eyes had sunken into a deeper shade— not noticeable to anyone that wasn’t him, and considering the effect it had on his everyday appearance, he’s come to the conclusion that it’d be nearly impossible to visit you every day of the week. it wouldn’t stop him from trying though.

from the side of the volleyball court, kuroo nudges bokuto skeptically. “what’s with that look on akaashi’s face… it’s starting to freak me out.”

bokuto hums— in approval? in contempt? who knows, but he’s happy. “he told me he finally met his soulmate. he’s just excited!”

“ah,” kuroo clicks his tongue knowingly, “i thought he didn’t have one?”

“turns out, they just go to sleep and wake up at different times. konoha thought it was pretty funny,” bokuto relayed, a chuckle bubbling under his throat. for so long, he had witnessed akaashi’s self-doubt and insecurity, and while parts of them still existed, it seemed to be slowly resolving itself. he couldn’t be more happier for his best friend.

“well, tell him to start focusing, i want to beat you guys when you’re at your best,” kuroo smirked, narrowing his gaze onto bokuto.

“you’re so on!”

(for the rest of practice, they had to endure akaashi’s love-sick gaze. fukurōdani still won.)

a month had passed since your very first interaction together. getting to know each other was more laborious than first intended. some words remained blurred, preventing the other from learning anything that might accelerate the rate of introduction in the real world. akaashi just wanted to know your name. it’s how he came to learn that while the universe was giving, it was also relentless.

“hey! i've been waiting for you, you know! i want to show you something!” you call from under the makeshift book fort. having just arrived, he knows from this point on, he has around thirty minutes before he’s awoken for dinner.

thirty minutes, four times a week— the only times he’s ever been able to talk to you, due to the tight schedule you both live in. it’s too little, too small, and he feels selfish for wanting more.

crawling under the fort, he pushed himself up to the side, wanting to give you as much room as possible in the cramped spot. in your hands, you have a book— it’s thin, meant for children, pages that combine to tell a moral. when you hand it over, it takes him less than a second to deduce the story and it’s plot. not because he’s some genius who had read every book on the face of the earth but because this story was rather popular in other parts of the world.

“sleeping beauty,” he reads aloud. his fingers run over the cover, trying to mentally depict what could be so important about this story that had you desperately trying to show him.

“it’s one of my favorite stories,” you sigh, propping your elbow on top of your thigh, leaning the weight of your face on your dominant hand. “my grandma used to read it to me all the time.”

oh. oh. you’re not asking what he thinks you're asking? right?

“can you read it to me, please?”

you are asking. his heart beats against the tightness of his chest, his ribs feel a tad out of place. and he knows— soulmates or not, he was utterly and completely yours. his cheeks flame and he attempts to hide it under his shirt.

“are you blushing?” you ask, and he can practically feel the teasing grin on your lips.

“no,” he mutters.

you shuffle from your spot and coincidentally; tower over him. your hands and legs trap his body under your presence. you’d practically be touching him if the soulmate reality allowed you too. akaashi finds that to be the greatest travesty of them all. even though it’s practically impossible, he can feel your warmth radiate around him as if you were actually there.

“does that mean you’ll read to me?” you ask, the battering of your eyelashes ever so visible. he doesn’t understand how you came to that conclusion, but it only tells him you knew exactly how’d he’d answer before he did.

“i’ll read it to you… just don’t laugh, okay?” akaashi opened the book, flipping the white picture-pages until he had reached the first chapter. you giggle, obeying his request with much hypocritism. you moved to sit beside him, leaning just a bit aways over his shoulder to follow along.

(akaashi isn’t a prince, but he’s more than willing to be yours if you asked.)

“i’m moving… so who knows? maybe we might meet in person one of these days,” you declare. It’s been an entire year now since he’s met you and it’s safe to say he’s utterly whipped. now in his second year of high school, he thinks he’s gotten to know you well enough to the point where the only thing left to learn is your name.

(what’s your name??)

“you’re moving? above or below the equator?” he jokes.

luckily, you laugh-- knowing that there really isn’t much you can say without your words becoming a blurred mess. “i’m still above the equator, loser. actually, if we’re going to get really specific— i’d say the northern hemisphere.”

you guys laugh at your puny attempt of a joke. really, you know it meant no difference, and the fact that you can only rely on fate to carry you through is pitying to say the least.

“i can’t wait to meet you,” akaashi declares honestly, pulling on his fingers in habit. he wants to say more, anything that remotely rhymes with i love you, but he wants to save that special moment for the day he meets you. he knows more than anything that you’re waiting for the same.

“i can’t wait either— honestly, i think my mom might be more excited than i am. i talk about you all the time, you know?” you softly lean against your book fort, your eyes as happy looking as your smile.

(yeah, it’s safe to say he can’t wait.)

akaashi and writer’s block do not coexist peacefully.

struggling to find words to replace the repetition created on pages, desperately searching for a means of inspiration-- he’s awfully close to giving up.

with a huge essay due tomorrow and a huge game he can’t afford to lose on the same day, he stresses over the fact that he may not be able to put his one-hundred-percent effort into both. even in the middle of a library (he should note: in the real world), a place where solitude was absolute, it provided no peace of mind.

it’s only when a small child, no older than five, wobbles out of the kid’s section with a copy of sleeping beauty, that akaashi’s reminded of you. with a small smile, he calms himself down. after all, you are his greatest muse.

(you’d probably laugh in his face if he told you that.)

after moving away from your hometown, which wasn’t quite as jarring as you expected it to be, you were quick to make friends. you wouldn’t call yourself a social butterfly— but contrary to most teen dramas, new students weren’t ‘fresh meat’ ready for the picking. finding a comfortable group of people you could associate yourself with, you found that most of them were volleyball fanatics (not because they actually played the sport, but because there were a lot of cute boys on the teams around the area, or so they say). either way, going to one of the games was inevitable. like a sort of inauguration you had to go through if you truly wanted to be considered part of the group.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

after all, akaashi plays volleyball— that much you knew. the team name couldn’t be said, but at least you knew the sport he associated himself with. although he wouldn’t admit it, he was good, his team was good; after all, they made it to nationals and that was more than enough substantial proof. and while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were going to watch the national matches. you wondered… could this be the day?

walking up to the main arena, there was a certain ponderosity in the air that you couldn’t describe. it was as if a crushing truth was about to fall on your shoulders, and not knowing where it was about to fall from— you felt a crawling chill.

at the same time, akaashi had just finished the first game of the nationals match, split between wanting to rest or attend to bokuto’s high spirits. he’s attempting to walk into the main arena to watch the karasuno vs inarizaki match, but with his team basically surrounding him in their own attempts to make their way through— he deems the effort fruitless.

just as he approaches the door, so do you.

but you're too busy keeping up with your friends.

and he’s too busy trying to squeeze past a ranting bokuto.

your hands graze each other’s, and simultaneously, you both receive a shock that runs down the basis of your spines. something prompted him to search for the cause of the odd feeling, and in that moment, he finds you. your back is faced towards him, your hair made no difference in the immediate recognition process-- but he’s sure that he’s met you before. he just knows it. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, a fraction of a second away from being revealed.

he watches as your friends wait up for you, before your social circle turns around the corner and disappears from his sight (he gets hit with a strong sense of nostalgia from that). his heart stings, for reasons he can’t quite place. he’s never been too good at distinguishing his feelings anyways. bokuto is ushering him towards the stadium seating area, and the answer once on akaashi’s mind had dissipated into the air.

once he turns the corner, the moment is forgotten.

it’s only when he falls asleep later that night, not having dreamed of you, that it dawns on him.

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

#SIR PLEASE RAIL ME #anime #fanfic #fluff #angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #keiji akaashi #keiji akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #bokuto kotarou #kuroo tetsurō #konoha akinori #haikyuu soulmate au

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 2

Masterlist of other Chapters: Here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the food so far, please take some more of it. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist or anything like that. For now, let’s enjoy our favorite angel doing ... not very angelic things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Luxurious Smut Tags: Voyeurism, mutual masturbation Summary: With the first chapter behind him, there's still something missing in Simeon's writing, and he needs your help to figure out what it is.

Stumble

True to his word, Simeon had the draft he promised in your email inbox within a few days. You were surprised. He seemed to be struggling so much when you last saw him, you really expected him to take a little more time. Regardless, it was to your benefit since it meant you had more time to edit.

Even if it was just the first chapter and a little bit after, you were surprised at the speed in which he jumped to the lewd scenes. It wasn’t surprising considering sex was the focus, but you would need to teach him how to reign in his enthusiasm. By the time you were finished reading through the draft the first time, your whole face had gone hot. The explicit details he wrote out only brought your mind back to what you had acted out in that sunroom just a few days ago. It was a direct translation of your actions to text. Sure, Simeon was new to the genre, but his talent as a writer still shone through.

Despite the roughness of the draft, the publisher approved it as acceptable proof of progress. They greenlit the whole project and you were more than excited to email Simeon and let him know the good news. Just as you had come back from the meeting with the executives, your phone chirped with a new message.

[SMS: I AM STUCK. I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. HELP ME.]

You laughed at how short and crude the message was. For someone who spent most of his time on a computer writing; he was absolutely hopeless with any other form of technology. Shaking your head at how someone like him had gotten so far in life barely knowing how to send a text, you packed up your things and made your way to his place. You did have a few notes about his first chapter to give him, anyway.

Simeon hated being deceptive. He hated how quickly he had started to rely on that image of you in his brightly lit sunroom to fuel his writing and for his own desires. He was ashamed to ask you to come over again; but he was repeating the same motions in his writing, he needed new visuals and you were the only one he could trust. In reality, his request was a thinly veiled request to see you perform again. He was able to complete his work so quickly after watching you. Researching video clips and online articles gave him some fuel, but nothing got him so fired up as watching a scene unfold from you.

It was a strange obsession he was still wrapping his mind around. He had to be careful, the temptation you possessed was absolutely dangerous. Simeon had to reassure himself that he was ancient and knew his way around humans with how long he had studied them. He needed to convince himself that he would never sully a human body, no matter how much he wanted you. His title, status and reputation as an angel were the most sacred parts of him. With so many years of writing experience, surely he could write a proper sex scene without actually ever having to fuck you.

It didn’t stop him from being nervous. No matter how many fail safes he came up with, he knew that you were effortlessly enticing him to be joined with you. He had to be vigilant. It would be the ultimate test of his will and his determination. Both for his career and his soul. He would see it through, he knew he could. No material experience could be more important than his angelic status. Right?

He paced back and forth in the foyer of his home, gnawing on his nail while he waited for you to arrive. It had taken him half an hour to find the right words to text you. Simeon glanced at the phone in his hand almost every ten seconds, hoping you had replied. He knew you had a meeting, but it should be over by now and you should be arriving at any moment. You hadn’t answered him which made him antsy. Usually you would have at least told him you were coming over. He could only hope that you were just eager to see him as he was to see you again.

He didn’t want to admit how he had fallen asleep with his hands down his pants the past three days, dreaming about your sweet voice as you came and called out to him. He didn’t want to think about how many positions he had imagined you being in. Simeon didn’t want to dwell on how many scenarios he came up with just to have you reenact them for him. Some of the scenes delved so deep into his darkest desires that he was scared to even admit he thought about them.

But he wanted to see them play out.

The doorbell barely finished ringing and he was already flinging opening the door to let you in. “I’m guessing the meeting went well.” He said with a bright smile to hide his nerves. He was already set up in his sunroom. During the time you were gone, he had brought a small folding desk to the recliner. The cable for his computer had also been moved so he didn’t have to worry about the battery being drained. You instinctively went over to the couch lined up against the wall but he stopped you. Instead of letting you lounge like you did the last time, he offered you a chair across from his makeshift desk instead. He refused to make eye contact as you made yourself comfortable.

“The meeting went as well as it could,” you said while taking out the envelopes that contained his work. “They like everything so far, but it’s still rough and needs a little bit more refinement, and I have to agree with them.”

You glanced up at him and noticed him fidgeting with his fingers while he kept his face calm. “So, what needs to be fixed up?”

You flipped through a few pages and showed him the paragraphs of smut he had written. The color drained from his face as he was face-to-face with the obscenity of his work in physical form. “So, it’s not bad. But I can tell it was your first time. There’s something missing about the partner. I can’t place it, but it just feels… flat? Like I can’t tell if they’re feeling anything from the exchange or what.”

“Ah… Oh… Hahaha. I see… That explains a lot.”

You raised a curious eyebrow at his comment. “Does it?” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the chair. It seemed as though Simeon was just at the verge of another great discovery about his writing and you were rather intrigued about what his thoughts were.

“Yes. I was struggling to write this next scene and I just… couldn’t figure out how to convey the partner’s feelings. It’s frustrating. I should have all the resources that I need to make it work.” He gestured at what he had written and bade you to take a look.

It was always fun to see his work in progress. With the partially polished scenes and unfinished sentences, it was like you got to see the inner workings of his brain. What he had in front of you was a far cry from the more polished work you were used to, but the overall flow of action was much better than the travesty you had seen last time. However, you could see the exact point where he started to struggle. As he said, there was a lack of feeling behind the words.

“Ooh… So this is the part where you need my help again, huh?”

Simeon covered his face with his hand. “I’m ashamed to ask you to assist me with another scene.”

You smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’d be the world’s worst editor and manager if I refused to help you, right?”

“You don’t have to…”

“But I want to.” You reassured him, while getting up from your seat to start stripping. Truth be told, you were waiting for the next time you got to see him so hot and bothered while working. Something about how focused he was on writing and not what his body needed made you want to push him further, see just what it took to get him distracted. “But you know… I’m sure you’d get more out of it if you experienced it too. Sometimes, just watching isn’t enough.”

Simeon felt his heart drop to his stomach from your suggestion. You were putting into words all of his desires and what he had craved ever since the last time. If he didn't have his wits about him, he knew he would have taken you up on the offer. The temptation of knowing how it felt to be in you while you moaned had piqued his curiosity and he longed to experience it. “I… Uh,” he stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around how to reply.

You dragged your finger up his thigh, pausing right at his crotch and waited for his reaction. He was so cute with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and his brain short circuiting from your advances. You wanted to devour him and see him crumble under your fingers. “You what?” You encouraged, moving the focus from his crotch upwards, your finger skirting the soft sweater he wore and up to his chin. You tilted his head upwards to meet you eye to eye. “You want to write the best novel… don’t you?”

“I do…” He breathed, unable to take his eyes away from you and his mind struggled to keep up with how quickly you had taken control of the situation. He needed to wrestle some semblance of calm back in his favor if he wanted to continue getting what he wanted without you suspecting his obsession. “In order for me to do that, I need you to show me how…” He trailed off, cheeks flushed warm from thinking about his lewd request.

“How what? Come on now, you asked me to fuck a pillow last time, how is this going to be any worse than that?” you teased. Much to your delight, he became more flustered, his gaze dropping to the floor and he mumbled to himself. You let him get over his shyness, waiting patiently with his chin balanced at the tip of your finger.

Please uhm… Please show me how you please yourself… for this next scene.” He managed to save himself from falling completely into your trap, specifying exactly what he needed you to do. You were so alluring and so close to him, he had almost asked for the unforgivable.

You smiled, letting go of his chin and stepping back. “It’d be so much easier if I had some toys to do that… but I guess I’ll show you since you asked so nicely.” You planted a kiss on his forehead before undoing the buttons of your blouse.

“T-toys?” Simeon squeaked. He had seen them in video clips and read about them in reviews when he researched; but it never occurred to him that you might want to use them.

“It’s okay if you don’t have any. I can always settle with this…” You teased, walking over to him and fondling his crotch. “In fact, I would prefer this over anything else.”

You were close enough to see his pupils dilate and notice how his breath hitched as you touched him. He pulled away from you, hiding behind his screen and pretended to be busy with opening a new document. “I… I need to write.”

“But that’s the problem…” you whined, pouting that he pulled away but you didn’t press the issue any further. Watching him squirm was so satisfying; and you hadn’t even done anything yet. “You were writing the last time and you had the same problem, so stop writing this time and get into it.” You suggested.

“I can’t.” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t do it. No.”

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips and looked at him. You never pegged him to be the kind of guy who waited until marriage to be intimate, but it seemed like he was alluding to the fact that he was saving himself. If he wasn’t, he was at least being very reserved for the type of content he was writing. “Fine, we don’t have to do it,” you conceded before going back to stripping yourself bare. “But feel free to help yourself to whatever you need for inspiration.” You winked, looking down at his crotch and he hastily crossed his legs when your gaze lingered.

He was so cute. You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to expect someone so beautiful and of his age to not get intimate when the chance arose. Part of you wondered if it was because you weren’t desirable to him outside of your little acts. Dwelling on that thought made your chest hurt in bitterness and you shoved that to the side to focus on helping him instead.

You flopped back down on the chair, spreading your legs and resting them on the arms of the chair so that Simeon had a clear view of what you were about to do to yourself. Having him watch everything you did so close to you aroused much faster than you expected. “Well, time to get to work.” you said nonchalantly.

You closed your eyes, imagining Simeon joining you in getting nude. You imagined what it would be like for him to reveal his skin a little at a time in a playful strip tease. He always wore such bulky and cozy looking sweaters, it made you wonder just what kind of body he was hiding underneath all the layers. You started at your breasts again, squeezing them together and playing with them to aid in the fantasy.

In front of you, Simeon was typing up a storm. In your mind, it was his hands at your breasts, playing with your nipples until they were perky. You thought about him latching his soft lips around your nipple, licking at the sensitive skin there until you squirmed and moaned his name. You were careful this time to make sure you didn’t accidentally call for him when you really got into it. You weren’t in a rush to experience that embarrassment a second time.

He could see your folds progressively get wetter as you touched yourself and wrapped yourself in a fantasy he had no access to. Recalling the last time, Simeon wondered if he was occupying your mind again. This time, he was much more aware of his body’s reactions to the scene in front of him. There was no way he could ignore the pressure growing in his pants. No matter how much he focused on the document in front of him, he could feel his desires bubbling and threatening to spill over.

It was different this time. You were sprawled out in front of him, moaning softly and panting. Your head rested on the back of the chair. With your eyes closed and your mouth open slightly in an “O” you looked absolutely angelic. He wanted to join you, his fingers stopped typing and he was once again frozen, watching the performance in front of him.

You noticed he stopped typing much sooner than the last time and smirked a bit, cracking open your eyes to see his precious face staring at you in wonder. “Like what you see?” You asked coyly, sliding one hand down from your breast to your pussy. You spread yourself wide so he could see exactly just how wet you were.

Simeon only nodded, entranced with the way your folds glistened and he could smell your arousal from where he sat. He licked his lips holding onto his fraying desires as best as he could. Control yourself. You can do this. “Y-yes…” His voice came out thickly, as if his vocal chords refused to work properly.

You giggled, loving how riled up you were getting him and slowly rubbed your slick slit with your fingers. You moaned, the pleasure your fingers gave you was much better than riding a pillow. With just a quick glance, you noticed he had uncrossed his legs and was sporting a rather impressive tent in his pants. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not bored.” you teased much to his dismay.

His hands flew to his crotch, covering himself and he tried to will his boner back down to no avail. You giggled again, pulling his attention away from his arousal. “It’s okay, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t get turned on by what you’re seeing.”

“I uhm…”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him again. “Feel free to join in however you want. It only makes it all the more fun.”

Simeon gulped, torn between work and pleasure. He put himself in this predicament, he needed to figure a way out of it. He needed relief and he needed to write. The two sides of him warred as he scrambled with his fizzling brain to figure out something. An epiphany dawned on him when he heard his phone go off.

“Spam?” you asked when he fumbled with the incoming call, trying to silence the ringtone. “Or were you expecting someone?”

“Ah.. uhm… spam. I think.” He confirmed once he managed to figure out to disregard the call without picking it up. The next thing he needed to figure out was how to get the camera working and recording. You wanted to help him, but with one hand covered in fluids, you weren’t sure if he wanted you touching his phone.

Eventually with a little vocal coaching on your end and a lot of fumbling on his side, he got it to work and propped the phone up to start recording what you were doing. If he was going to get relief now, he needed to at least have proper reference to go back to later.

“Wow… you are so much kinkier than I thought.” You joked, causing Simeon to cover his face in shame, but he didn’t try to argue. There was something about having everything recorded for later that only added to the sexual tension in the room.

“It’s for research…” He mumbled more to convince himself than to explain to you what he was doing.

“Right… research.”

He moved his hands to mirror your own. One at his crotch and the other at his chest. It was difficult to hide your disappointment when you saw he wasn’t about to expose himself. His hand slipped under his clothes to touch and tease at his skin. You could see the barest hint of his abs peeking out from underneath the oversized sweater and you practically drooled at just the little bit of skin he showed off. You couldn’t help a small pout, frustrated at how unfair it was that you were putting in so much work for him and he could just so cutely masturbate alongside you.

The frustration disappeared the moment you saw his eyelids flutter clothes and he let out a soft moan. It was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was infinitely better than anything you could have imagined. His blue eyes lidded with pleasure were only opened to a sliver as he urged you to continue what you were doing.

With the camera rolling and the very vision of sin in front of you, you were more than eager to get back to getting off. Your finger found your clit and you rubbed it in the way that always made you see stars. “Hmmm, oh yeah…” You groaned, flicking your finger side to side before circling the little bundle of nerves. You were undoubtedly going to ruin his furniture again, but you didn’t care.

Simeon watched the way your fingers moved and he mimicked everything you did. His hand under his shirt pinched and rolled his nipple between his fingers. The sensation made him hiss from the initial pain but that was quickly replaced by pleasure which sent jolts of bliss straight to his aching cock. He bit his lip, repeating the motion, drowning himself in the sensation over and over again.

The scent of your essence was thick in the air. It felt like you were surrounding him with every breath he took. You were invading his every thought and infecting everything he thought was pure. But the freedom you gave him and the gratification that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of your breathy moans and the wet sounds of your fingers toying with yourself.

His own hand in his pants pumped his cock in time with the motion of your fingers. At one point you had done the most lascivious thing and slipped a finger inside of you. His eyes widened as the digit disappeared and reappeared covered in your slick. His cock twitched in his hand in jealousy. He wanted to be buried in there, he wanted to feel your heat surround him. But all he had was his hand to satisfy him.

Simeon was heavily panting now, working up to a frantic pace in his pants as his hand stroked his length. It was cramped and uncomfortable; but he couldn’t bear to expose himself to you. Surely that would be too much for you to see; and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he stripped alongside you.

“Mmm, I’m getting close.” you groaned, rolling your hips to meet your fingers and you teased your clit further, feeling your body tense in preparation for your climax. “What about you?”

“I… Uh.. I’m…” Simeon, stuttered, not able to process how close he was. It was so different from all the times he relieved himself alone. He just had to keep going until he was done. But with you in front of him, he wanted to do it together with you. Seeing your soaked pussy right in front of him made him more excited than he ever had been. “I think I’m close…”

You laughed at his naivety. “You think?” You teased. Perhaps you needed to up the ante a bit. “Come on… come with me.” You beckoned and pressed two fingers into your tight hole.

He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what his hormones were doing. Seeing your fingers being engulfed by your pussy, sliding in and out slowly while you moaned right next to him was pressing all the right buttons in him. He could see you stretch to accommodate your fingers and he was entranced by that. Without warning, he gasped, his grip on his cock tightened as he came. “Oh … I’m… I’m sorry…” He panted. “You just… that was… Uhm..”

“Too hot for you to handle?” You asked, now working yourself faster. The face he made when he came all of a sudden was so hot. You would definitely think back on it during lonely nights. Simeon’s breathy moans, the way his skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. It all added up to be a breathtaking image.

“I...Yeah…” You could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks and smirked, satisfied that he was enjoyed himself just as much as you were loving every moment you were in front of him.

“Good… I guess it’s my turn then.” You said and went right into the motions of getting yourself to climax. Locking the image of Simeon’s “O” face in your mind, you finger fucked yourself closer and closer to completion.

You could feel your inner walls tighten and you were just at the edge of no return when you felt Simeon’s firm hand pull your fingers away. Whining loudly and glaring at him, you were about to berate him for ruining your good time until your entrance was filled with his own slender fingers. “Let me help you…” He said, his bright blue eyes were lit with a determination you hadn’t seen before and the fire behind them was such a turn on.

For someone who had just been so bashful about being intimate with you at the beginning, Simeon sure was being bold now. You didn’t say anything, not like you really could. Your capacity to form coherent words disappeared when his slender fingers entered you and mimicked the motions you had shown him. He was a fast learner, able to have you shivering with little to no effort. It was hard to believe just how he had a sudden switch in personality, but it was beside you to figure it out now.

You were free to call his name. After all, he was the one touching you now. “Oh… Simeon.” you moaned, panting and once again ramping towards your climax. This time, he was in control of the pace and the intensity of what got you off. He curled his fingers in you and you cried out loud when he brushed past a sensitive spot in you. He was so gentle and so precise, it was mind blowing what he picked up just from watching you.

“You’re close… right?” He asked sweetly. You looked at him and the intensity in his eyes was only made more obvious against his dark skin. The tone of his voice was in direct contrast to the laser focus his gaze had on your most intimate parts. Just the dichotomy of that alone inched you dangerously close to your climax.

Then, his thumb pressed against your clit and your world exploded. It was just the last bit of stimulation you needed to go over the edge. You clutched onto the arms of the chair while you rode out the high on his fingers. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you breathlessly tried to ground yourself. Your inner walls clenched around his digits and Simeon continued to slowly slide them in and out of you, marveling at the sensation of your pussy milking his fingers.

You kept seeing stars at the edge of your vision with every extra pass he took. You wanted to tell him to stop, but he was too engrossed in his ‘research’ to really pay any of your protests any mind. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you and you sighed in both relief and disappointment.

Simeon looked at his glistening fingers, holding them to the light and observed the slick essence that coated them. It was almost a little embarrassing to watch him be so intrigued by your fluids that you needed to distract yourself by getting dressed again so you didn’t have to look at him. While you had your back turned, Simeon experimentally licked his coated fingers and by the time you were fully clothed, he had fully cleaned them off. He looked at you and licked his lips. “Research.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug.

“Right… research.” you said, already getting hot and bothered again at what you had just witnessed. This man will be the end of me. “Do you think you’ve gotten all you need for your next scene?”

“Hmm….” He nodded sagely, remembering to stop recording. “I’ll have to review everything, but I think I know where to go from here.”

You smiled good naturedly and pat his head gently. “Don’t overwork yourself.” you said gathering your things. Once again, it had gotten late and you had to regretfully leave to ensure you caught the last trains home. “Call me or text me if you need help again, okay?”

“Oh, of course. I plan on it.” He smiled at you and your heart melted a little, but there was a devilish nature to that smile that had never been there before. “I’ll finish the next chapter probably in a week and send it to you.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it’ll be great, as usual.” You grinned, feeling giddy after such a great climax as well as knowing that Simeon was able to continue working. It would definitely be good news to report back to the publishing house and keep them off his back as he worked in peace.

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It was a shame that he was already back to his usual innocent self. You wouldn’t have minded seeing more of that sex god who showed himself a few moments before. “Well, I’ll do my best to not disappoint. I have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll be sure to help you in any way I can.” You said. Looking down at your phone, you gasped noticing the time. “Shit. I gotta run if I don’t wanna walk all the way home tonight. Text me if you need anything!” You yelled, halfway across his home and stumbling to get your shoes back on.

When the door slammed shut, the silence that surrounded Simeon was deafening. He had been able to hold out on taking you, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten a taste of what it was like to sin. The uncomfortable dampness of his cum clung to his leg, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was focused on the file on his phone. The recording of what transpired that afternoon.

Taking a shaky breath, he resisted the urge to press play. The scent of your arousal and the taste of your essence were still too fresh in his mind. He needed to clean up. He needed to work. He needed to research and plan for you. He sighed and started to make his way to the shower. If he needed relief, then at least he could take care of it there and not in the mess that was his soiled pants.

As the sun sank past the horizon and gave way to night, the light within his soul waned and the darkness he had pushed aside grew. After a taste of sin, it was only natural that he would crave more until it consumed him.

And it felt heavenly.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me! Fanfic #Obey Me! Simeon #Obey Me! Smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey Me! AU #My writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #It's innocent ish now #It'll only get kinkier as we go #Formatting is weird af on tumblr #go to the Ao3 link for it to be proper with the words emphasized as they should be #I'm too tired to bother through tumblr sorry folks

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liliability · 4 years

Text

Day Two: In the hands of the enemy

(Eh, kinda. This piece is a nod to the prompt I wrote back in September, set in the same universe of Day One: Let’s Hang Out Sometimes)

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanizing language, collar, caged whumpee, captivity, blood mention.

Timeline: Late 90's, 20 years before Max abduction

Every year, Emma attends Trevor Harding’s luxurious ball uninvited. A nice excuse, she thinks, to wear a tailored suit and flirt with absorbed ladies all night without bringing attention to herself.

An even better annual excuse to keep her eyes on Harding’s closest friends, the infamous elite of magic timekeepers that hold all the cards in this part of the city.

Trevor had reacted with mild annoyance at the first, but quickly took up the challenge to surprise his most intriguing guest every year with his latest purchases. Usually, the acquisitions are older than the immortal host himself.

This year, unlike the last few decades, Harding’s precious asset isn’t on display in the main hall, and that’s enough to make Emma a little wary of the nature of his acquisition.

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

“Well, it’s not exactly a new acquisition, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it took me years to get improve my project. I wouldn’t settle with an unfinished piece of work.”

The loud Vivaldi that entertain the guests in the ball room is slowly replaced by a faint ringing in her ears as Harding leads Emma to the biggest cellar she had ever seen. The place looks more like a warehouse from a horror movie, or even an old-fashioned dungeon, than the underground of a sumptuous castle. She wonders if anyone can hear her if she screams.

The answer is probably no, or else Harding wouldn’t lock any living creature down there. Emma knows they’re walking towards a living thing, because the ringing is replaced for a low groaning as they run down the cellar.

“Don’t get too close to the cage. My girl has quite strong teeth.”

Emma notices the big cage hidden by the shadows in one corner of the cellar. The reinforced bars hold whatever pet Harding got his hands on this time, and it mustn’t be very well-trained, but this isn’t Emma’s biggest worry.

The cage is too big for a dog.

The dark Harding whistles to bring the attention of the creature.

Emma hears a rattling of chains, followed by a loud growl, before the pet draws closer to bare it’s teeth at them and thrash violently at the bars of the cage.

The woman nearly falls back when the pet snarls at her, and in the darkness of the cellar it takes her a while to notice that the figure locked in the cage is not an it, but a bruised young woman, bound on her hands and knees, that thrashes back and forth against her restraints like a startled animal.

The sounds she made doesn’t sound human at all. Distressed and strangled whimpers come out from a throat that is as restrained as her limbs.

She’s wearing a fucking dog collar.

“What...What the fuck, Harding? This is a- fuck- how long do you have a person in your cellar?”

Trevor puts himself between Emma and the cage, doing quiet shush motions. Behind him, the woman stares at them with wide icy eyes and bared teeth. There’s a thin layer of sweat covering her face but no flush reddening her hollow cheeks. No freckles, no blush, despite the paleness of her skin. The only color in her face are the dark circle under her eyes and the dried blood spattered on her cheeks.

She looks sick. Damn, if she wasn’t panting so much, Emma would think she was fucking dead.

“I know, I know what you’re thinking, but let me explain. Do you see the runes in her arms?”

Emma lowers her gaze, looking at the elaborate knife-made marks in her arms. She had heard about the forbidden runes, made by greedy mortal beings who want immortality- or perhaps corrupt timekeepers who lost their powers. At the end, their craving is the same, but these years of life are not simply granted. They are stolen, and that’s the purpose of the runes.

The lines are neat and straight, the work was clearly slow and deliberate. The woman must have stayed still- or unconscious- but if the point Harding is trying to make is true, she did these runes of her own volition.

“So, the rumors are true. Are you sheltering strays now, Trevor? I thought mortals like her had their own gang, or something like that”.

“Well, what could I do? She asked me for help, and I turned her myself.”

The woman snarls at them again, pulling at her restraints with smudged red fingers and shouting something that sounds quite like “Go away!” Emma would guess she’s in her twenties, but there’s no way to know with the runes-

One awful question pops in her mind.

“How long... for how long do you have her?”

Harding grins at the question.

“Now, that’s a nice question! I found her at ‘91, so let’s say... seven years?”

Emma’s going to throw up. There’s no way the poor thing in the cage had known the fate reserved for her, there’s no way she would agree with this.

“This...this is wrong, how can immortality be worth all this?”

“Oh no, she didn’t trade herself for immortality, that was only a collateral. Do you see how the pattern in her arms is different from the standard rune?”

There’s a mark in her arms that resembles a chain, the rune used to bound a mortal’s life to a Timekeeper’s powers. No matter who this woman was, she gave herself to Harding to be able to extend someone’s life.

Emma is paler than usual. “What could she possibly use these powers for?”

“About that...”

Harding leads her back to the crowded ballroom. The caged woman doesn’t seem to relax even when they got more distant. Instead, Emma can see her growl to a shadow and rub her face in the bars, removing the matted hair that gets in front of her eyes.

Dozens of servants move around the room with plates full of champagne glasses. One of them is visibly younger than the others, and particularly nice looking. His icy blue eyes and messy dark hair caught her attention immediately, but she can’t stop thinking how similar he is with the feral prisoner downstairs.

He walks with his head cast down, a tired frown in his face, but despite his careless expression his uniform is flawless, except for the wrinkled fabric in his arms were the sleeves are rolled up to expose the runes.

Anyone could see the carved marks at meters of distance, and Harding’s closest guests would certainly know about its meaning. A sign of danger and unnatural in any other place out of a timekeeper’s territory, but here? In Harding’s own ball, serving guests and cleaning tables? The rune is a sign of ownership. A brand marked with no iron.

“Is that a...?”

“A bound mark, exactly. The siblings made a deal with me, some years ago. His darling sister dropped dead in my door some years ago, and he came for me to trade his life for hers.”

“I won’t say he looks very alive, but he’s clearly not dead, at least.”

“I got a little turn in my arrangements. His sister wasn’t very pleased when she woke up. She begged me for a deal, and I granted her new powers to keep her brother alive, as long as she can buy him more time.”

Trevor doesn’t say the rest of the sentence. From someone, buy him more time from someone, harming innocent mortals to extend her own life- or someone else’s, in this case.

“But she’s not one of us, she can’t steal without killing her targets.”

Harding’s smile widens. “I’m very aware of this” The trail of blood is no inconvenience for him.

This is absolutely sick. She knew some timekeepers could be corrupt, but Harding is in a whole new level...

“What would you get in return, huh? Betraying your own people, using forbidden magic? Brennan lost his powers for much less.”

“I beg to differ, as I was the one who removed his powers, in the first place. With your connivance, if you don’t remember.” Harding shrugs, following the dark-haired servant with his eyes. “But what did I get in return? As you could see, I got myself a gorgeous brand-new toy, and the best hunt dog I could hope for.”

Emma doesn’t think about all the laws Harding had broken behind her back. She doesn’t think about the inappropriate comments the half-dead man gets from the guests and their even less appropriate touches that only stop when the guests see the runes.

But mostly, she tries not to think about the bared teeth pointed at her, and kicks herself whenever she wonders about what Harding would consider a hunt.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #collars #OC #fic #pet whump #lady whump #dehumanization #captivity #restrained #caged #whump #Emma Rosenblum #Trevor Harding #Isadora Ortiz #Timothy Ortiz #creepy whumper #blood mention

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teriwrites · 3 years

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2020 Writing Wrap-Up

Something that I do every year on the 1st is go back through absolutely everything I’ve written throughout the previous year and compile it into one massive word document. Everything from outlining notes to unfinished short stories to my NaNo project wind up in that file, where I like to read back and reflect on what I’ve gotten done through the year.

Every year, I end up having written more than I expected, and this year was no different!

Total for 2020: 203,119!

This is the first recorded year (I think it’s year 4 that I’ve done this for?) in which I’ve cracked 200K! It’s also the first year I’ve ever actually followed through on my resolution to share some of my writing online! So as rough as 2020 has been, I still somehow managed to break some personal records in writing. Which probably has everything to do with the fact that I joined this community earlier this year, and it’s been incredibly encouraging and supportive!

I also branched out a bit more this year in a few ways. I worked on some poetry and prose, which is not something I’ve put a lot of time into before so tends to be a challenge. It’s nothing that I’ll be posting anytime soon, but it was fun to work on in the moment, which is especially important in such a wild year as 2020.

One snag that I definitely hit was the fact that I have a lot more unfinished work than most years. A majority of the short stories I started working on never got finished. But I can’t even be too upset about that, because I totally loved being able to read back on even the fragmented pieces I ended up with. And while I do think a large part of that (for me) is discipline over inspiration, I’m willing to accept that, sometimes, things will remain unfinished. And it’s okay to stop working on them.

My overall focus shifted a bit this year, too, which was interesting. I worked more on longer things than most years - started out the year by finishing my first draft of Castle on the Hill, continued making some edits and reworking its outline, did a large part of Beneath Alder Creek’s first draft in November. Right now, I’m working on what I expect to be a novella by the time I’m done with it. It’s a big contrast to the usual, short and snappy short stories that fill most of my previous wrap-up files. But I still definitely write those sometimes, and it’s nice to be able to try stretching and testing my own boundaries.

This is the part of my wrap-up where I go ham throwing in some of my favorite out-of-context quotes from a variety of different things I’ve worked on. Some of them might be familiar, a lot probably won’t. I’m going to post it beneath the thing so this doesn’t become even more absurdly long!

Some of the ~highlights~ of 2020:

First Thoughts in the Morning: wow the sexual tension between me and the alarm clock right now. Later Reflection: wtf? (a literal note on my notes app that I included because I Cannot remember writing any of this and it made me laugh)

Edriele’s gaze trailed down to the woman’s armor, and her stomach twisted. “Where did you find your attire?” The woman glanced down in surprise, as though she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “It was fitted to me when I gained my ranking. I suppose it draws attention, but after my confrontation at… you mean to ask me whether I’m impersonating a Knight!” “The thought had crossed my mind,” the Sister replied dryly. (novella WIP)

“Do you need to make a stop at your house before we head to the chapel?” Leslie asked as they started off. “What for?” Winnie asked. Leslie looked pointedly at the tip of her galoshes poking out from beneath her dress. With another roll of her eyes, Winnie sighed. “Oh, I suppose so.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

When the third meeting for the Society of the Hidden Immortal Tribe was called for the decade, I knew heads would roll. Gathering the entire society together took months. Everything had to be hush-hush; that was the entire point of spreading ourselves out. Plus, every time a letter arrived in the mail, it was a reminder of the idiot who had decided we needed a name change. Everybody agreed that being deemed the ‘S.H.I.T.’ was humiliating, but nobody could agree on a better title, so it had remained the same for nearly a full century. That was the problem with living forever. You always had more time to make decisions, and, in the end, nothing ever got done. (S.H.I.T.)

When she leaves, I’m not sure I remember a word of what she’s said. But as the stresses of the semester wash back in, and my mind clears like being pulled out of a dream, I suddenly understand how one could crash upon the rocks without realizing they’d ever changed their course. (A Modern Siren)

When Georg arrived later, he found Klaus leaning forwards onto the table, staring vacuously at one of his textbooks. "Studying hard?" he taunted as he approached and dropped into the seat Ingrid had been occupying. "I talked with Ingrid," Klaus explained. Georg's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, but he quickly recovered and looked pointedly at Klaus' posture. "Go that well, then?" "She said I'm arrogant and completely self-involved and that I never take what a girl says into account whenever I'm on a date." With a haunted gleam in his eye, Klaus stared up at his friend. "I think she's right." "Well then it's a good thing somebody pointed it out," Georg offered, and he turned to his work. (Castle on the Hill)

Takemoto Hana rested a hand over her face. She couldn’t see the swirling of darkness over her head, but she heard the whine behind its words. With a wry smile, she asked, ‘Do you not know how to brew tea?’ ‘Of course I know how to brew tea!’ The dark spirit’s voice boomed with a defensive defiance that rang false in the funny little woman’s ears. (The Funny Little Woman)

“None of us want to be here right now,” Edgar called out to the hall. “None of us want to go back through the handbook and listen to the steps of proper etiquette in immortality. But it seems that, once again, it’s necessary.” “Dammit, Dave,” muttered the man next to me. I said nothing, but I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Dave was… how do I describe Dave? To call him an idiot would be underestimating his craftiness. To call him a genius, I’d have to ignore all of his dumb antics. Cruel was too strong. Misguided was too innocent. Mischievous fit best, but even that fell short. Dave was a trickster god, if ever one existed. (S.H.I.T.)

Ridiculous, he told me with a self-conscious laugh of someone who didn't expect to be believed. I smiled, but I didn't join in. (The Little Roads)

“Hey, where did Alina go?” Lorelai asked. Zoe shrugged, but Jaiden cleared his throat. “I think you crossed one of her boundaries, Lo. She specifically asked not to involve her girlfriend in this, and then you did anyways. I know we needed the help, but friendships have to be built on mutual trust, my dude. You should’ve at least let her know your plan before you went behind her back.” The two women stopped and shared a look. ��Hey, Jaiden,” Zoe asked. “Do you know the capital of Canada?” He shook his head. “I dunno, Ontario?” “Amazing.” (Mirror, Mirror)

"We had a bet going over whether you'd make it in time," Hans told him. "Did you win or lose?" Josef replied. Hans flipped a 5-Deutsche Mark coin over to Peter, who grinned as he pocketed it. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me." Josef's voice dripped with sarcasm. (Castle on the Hill)

Taliesin reached over his head and grabbed at one of the low-hanging bows, picking leaves from it. “I’m not sure.” Winnie stopped. “What do you mean?” “I mean that I don’t know.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

While she attended to these, the man beside her began to stir. Ella could see him out of the corner of her eye, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position. ‘You may want to lie back down,’ she told him, scrubbing uselessly at her skirt. The man continued to sit up anyways, pressing a hand against the side of his face. ‘Am I killed?’ ‘No, but your savior may be.’ Ella threw her skirt back to the ground. ‘When the Madame sees the state of me, I’ll be spending my future afternoons off making a new dress out of the fabric scraps.’ A frown crossed the man’s face as he considered her words, followed by a scowl of understanding. ‘You work for them. The bourgeoisie.’ (Cinderella)

Ingrid took the seat and began digging through her bag for a book. As she did so, she explained, "There were no other tables open in the building - even in the quiet section upstairs - so I figured that I would just ask the first person I recognized if I could sit with them, and well... here we are." "Don't worry about it," Georg answered when Klaus found himself dumbstruck again. "Just ignore the oaf, he'll leave you alone." Ingrid shot a grin at Georg, and Klaus suddenly wondered whether it was a good idea to have the two of them sit together. (Castle on the Hill)

Up ahead, I could see the glass walls of the bus stop. Usually, I waited for the bus leaning against the metal frame of the stop, leaving the seats inside open for children on their way to school. But the seats were empty now. I still avoided them. (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

Now, I ask that you do not feel too much self-pity. For as easy an error as it may be to mistake a visiting aristocrat’s son for the hired help, the true talent in such a display causing his immediate departure lies within you alone. And to think that the meeting was the work of your father’s tenuous sway over the court! Well, I am sure the time away will do him some good, lest you begin to consider that you’ve ruined his position as well as your prospects. (Dearly Detested,)

Edgar was at the front of the lecture hall, and standing beside him was Dave, smirking as though at some private joke that only he was in on. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the dim lighting of the room, probably because he thought he looked cool. I rolled my eyes. What a tool. (S.H.I.T.)

The work is different now. Countryside pathways winding through the forest lie forgotten for years without the familiar steps of a traveler. Off beaten paths in the city are never unknown for long, and sometimes streets that were once crossed by thousands a day fall back into obscurity. (The Little Roads)

“How much time will you give me to think on it?” she asked suspiciously, wrapping her arms around herself as though afraid they’d reach out to him if not kept in check. “You have all the time in the world,” the golden man said. “The boy’s, however, runs out with every passing second.” He extended his hand. (Beneath Alder Creek)

You ever met a rich person? Not comfortably wealthy. Not ‘my Uncle Kenny is a lawyer’ rich. Not even ‘widow answering the door to her manor on a hill dressed in fine silk’ rich. No, I mean proper, so-much-money-you-literally-can’t-spend-it-fast-enough rich. They say it isn’t worth Bill Gates’ time to pick up a $100 bill off the floor because he’ll have earned more in the time it takes to grab it. That kind of rich. They seem to be bred for times like these. Their houses are a source of endless entertainment – movie theaters, bowling alleys, personal gyms with a view of the sprawling landscape they overlook like cruel dictators. There’s no need for them to leave during a pandemic; they have access to the equivalent of a luxury resort most families have to save up month to visit. Necessities can be stockpiled in one of the useless extra spaces in the house. I mean, I once had to hide out in a luggage room for a contract. That’s right. An entire room dedicated to holding luggage, bigger than some of the apartments I’ve rented. I thought their residential labyrinths were my greatest source of grief. But social distancing? I’m one bad contract away from retirement. (Bounty Hunter During a Pandemic)

Shaking his head, Detlef pulled a new sheet from his notebook. “Look, I’m just saying, if we can get the satire right, we can be a modern Jonathan Swift.” “I don’t want to be a modern Jonathan Swift, I want to be a student actually passing his debate course!” Peter snapped. (Castle on the Hill)

Moonlight illuminated the German’s fair hair and pale skin, the effect more malevolent apparition than man. (Face on the Other Side of a Dark Window)

Back then, he’d been known for commissioning the exact same portrait of himself every hundred years, hanging them in a hallway in his manor and trying to pass them off as his line of ancestors to any of the locals. It had been a far less skeptical age, and Dave had earned himself a small band of worshipers before Jeff Goldblum himself had been forced to intervene. (S.H.I.T.)

Clara stood before the board of advisors assisting with her thesis. She was one, very intense paper away from her M.A., and she wasn’t about to risk it all by being too proud to ask for help. When she’d made the appointment to meet with them, she expected a series of questions surrounding her topic. Instead, they’d opened by offering her a job. “You want me to steal from the school?” Dr. Pye wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. Next to her, Dr. Pritchard said, “Don’t think of it as theft, dear. It’s merely redistribution.” Clara hadn’t amassed tens of thousands of dollars in debt to be lectured on the definition of robbery. “Either way, it involves me sneaking into the Chemistry department and taking a huge risk to get you some new toys to play with.” (Origins: The Ghost)

“Why is undermining Pryderi so important to Queen Ceridwen that she would risk breaking a timeless alliance just to dismantle them?” Her stomach twisted into a knot, protesting against the answer. “There are few members of the Dusk Court that we know by title.” A shadow passed over Enid’s expression. “The Lord of the Undernell is second only to the Queen.” “Great deeds build the reputation of one in their own court. Cruelty builds it in both.” Taliesin buckled under Winnie’s weight as she suddenly leaned against him. (Beneath Alder Creek)

“Why are all my friends so quick to endanger themselves?” I muttered as I packed up Midas’ crate. Natalie swiveled around from the candy aisle. “So you’re finally willing to admit that we’re friends?” “Save it.” (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

#writeblr #writing #my writing #writers of tumblr #teriwrites #writing wrap-up 2020 #my wips #I forgot just how much I missed my boys from CotH until I was reading through it #wow I would die for those funky little dudes #also feel free to ask about anything for some extra context since I've never talked about half of these projects #anyways that's all folks

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emma-nation · 4 years

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Unfinished Business - F! Sam Dalton x MC Fanfiction (Chapter 2)

Summary: When Sam Dalton is caught in a scandal, Anna Schuyler is the only one who can help her. But will her former nanny be able to leave the past behind?

“Samantha Dalton was like one of good dreams you don’t want to wake up from. You close your eyes, you force your brain to remember every minor detail, you begin to imagine what comes next… hoping to be in control. You want to fall asleep again. You want it to continue, but it’s too late now. You’re wide awake.”

Genre: Angst, Romance

Tag List: @save-me-the-last-dance (If you wish to be tagged for future chapters/fics of this pairing, let me know)

Anna couldn't determine how much time had passed since she became completely submerged in her own thoughts. Her brain couldn't quite process what was happening. It could only be another one of those crazy dreams she often had during these two years, where she and Sam would meet again under the most bizarre scenarios. It had to be.

In silence, she cautious glanced to the side to confirm it once more. Indeed, Sam Dalton was actually seating on her passenger seat.

She had to try and do something. If that was a dream, in the moment she tried to speak, she'd definitely wake up.

"An accomplice!" She shouted. "You just made me an accomplice."

"Anna..." Sam tried to respond to her accusations. "I'm so sorry..."

Not a dream. Anna wasn't dreaming after all. Her former boss, past lover and now a criminal, was really sitting by her side in the car. In flesh and bone. With her pretty face and fancy perfume.

"Listen, Sam, and listen well. I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to toy with my life again. If the police stop us, I'll surely say you kidnapped me and forced me to drive away. No way I'm going to jail because of your cowardice."

"A coward. You think I'm being a coward again and running away from the problem."

"Isn't it what you always do?" And that was it. Anna was suddenly spitting out all the rage that had been stuck inside her chest for the last couple years. If Sam was going to drag her into her mess, she'd deal with the consequences.

The CEO lowered her eyes, looking terribly hurt and upset. For a second Anna could almost feel sorry for her, before reminding herself of everything she'd done in the past.

"Would you at least give me a chance to explain?" Sam asked. "In the end, you're free to choose if you want to help me or not."

Anna sighed. Being close to Samantha again was like being under a spell. Even when she tried so hard to resist, she couldn't say no. She couldn't escape. Before she could come back to her senses, she had already parked the car in front a small diner on the road.

The first thing Anna did when they entered was to head straight to the bathroom. Stopping on the sink, she washed her face multiple times as she tried to calm herself.

"I can't believe that..." she spoke to her on reflection in the mirror. "Only a few hours ago I was driving to my hometown, to meet my mom for a road trip. And now I'm stuck with... Sam Dalton."

Grabbing her phone, she considering texting Jenny but stopped herself. That wasn't a good time to answer all the questions and suggestive insinuations she'd make. She had to deal with that problem alone.

"Okay," recomposed, Anna returned, ordered some coffee and sat down in front of Sam on a booth, "explain yourself. You got about... 15 minutes. Until I finish this cup of coffee."

"Anna, I know what you're thinking," Sam took off the sunglasses and the hood. "I'm not a fugitive. Although my lawyers recommended not leaving the city or the state, it's not like the police is coming after me. I'm a free woman, at least until the trials."

That didn't make the situation any better. Sam was still being accused of a crime and for some reason, she thought Anna was her only hope to get away.

"Okay, but it doesn't mean you're innocent either. Right?"

"I am, this why I need your help. I need proof of my innocence."

Anna stared at her former lover for a long moment. It was the first time she noticed Sam was still wearing a wedding band. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. That woman was asking her help to save not only her career, but her marriage too. A marriage that destroyed Anna's heart only two years ago.

"I'm not a detective," she took a long sip of her coffee. Swallowing down her anger. "I'm afraid I can't help you then."

"This is not the case," the CEO explained. "Somebody offered that woman private information using my cell phone number. Somebody who had access to the company's most secretive projects."

"Wasn't she your... mistress? I mean, it would grant her direct access to your phone while you two were... together."

"Anna... this is not how it happened."

How could someone be so cynical? The woman could only be one of Samantha's nannies, that she seduced, fooled around and broke the heart, before sending her away. Anna rolled her eyes and channeled all the sarcasm that existed inside her.

"Oh, are you going to tell me she tripped and accidentally fell on your bed, in the middle of your legs?"

Sam showed some discomfort and looked away.

"I'm not even sure we slept together," she told after a pause. "We met at this event, had a few drinks together and then, all I remember was waking up by her side in a hotel room. After that, she started blackmailing me. She alleged to have compromising pictures. This is the real reason why I gave her the check."

That was enough information. She didn't want to listen any more details about the supposed sexual encounter.

"Okay, let's go straight to the point. How do you expect me to help you, Sam?"

"I brought my laptop and my phone with me. I know you're kind of a tech nerd, Anna. Can you try to find any evidence I got hacked and the information got extracted from my devices?"

"I..." it wasn't hard job. In a few hours, Anna was capable of scanning the devices for suspicious activities. Yet, her life would be crossing Sam's for a second time. There would be something that connected them, that would make Anna feel close to her again. And then, once she was proven innocent, it was to Sofia's arms she'd be running to. "I'm sorry, I really am. But I'm in the middle of something important. If you want, I can recommend you a friend of mine."

"I trust you, Anna. And I'll be paying for your time."

Avoiding her eyes, that was the key. She couldn't let herself to fall for them again. It would be nothing but an illusion. She needed to keep that in mind.

"I can't."

Anna stood up and paid for her coffee.

Sam asked her to drop her at some motel, from where she'd call Carter to pick her up. The drive was completely silent, neither of them dared to speak a word. Considering the tension in the air, anything could spark into an argument.

"How are the boys?" Anna couldn't go without asking that question. "I assume this situation must be a huge stress for them."

"I'm trying to protect them," Sam told. "I sent them to my parent's house as soon as the news started. But it hasn't been the same since you left. They hate me. They think I sent you away and I feel they'll never forgive me for that."

"It hurts me to know they somehow got involved into our mess. I still miss them too, I became a school teacher because of them."

"They'll be glad to hear that. You know you're free to visit them, whenever you want. Always."

"Better not."

Anna stopped the car. That was goodbye. The end of her reunion with the woman she used to love. Yet, none of them dared to say the final words. They just stood frozen, gazing into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

"You..." Sam broke the silence. "You're even prettier than I remembered, Anna. God, there isn't a single day you don't cross my mind. I wonder how you're doing, where you are, who you're with... It drives me crazy. I still miss you."

She could feel the distance between them had shortened. She could feel the point where Sam's breath was meeting hers. One move and their mouths would come crashing together again, just like the old times. The fire was still there, all it needed was somebody to take the first step and ignite it.

"Sometimes you cross my mind too, Sam," Anna shook her head and turned her attention to the window. "Then I remember how badly you hurt me. You didn't fight for us. You never intended to. I was only a temporary fun, to supply what Sofia couldn't provide you at the moment."

"She still doesn't," the CEO touched her arm, caressing it softly. "She doesn't even compare to you."

"But you still married her. This is the life you chose, and you can't change that. You don't want to change that!"

After that answer, there was nothing left to say. Sam opened the door and left the car, giving Anna one last glance, that she purposely avoided. She didn't want to say goodbye. Instead, she turned on the ignition and started driving away as fast as she could. She feared the feelings inside her, the ones she could not control. The feelings that could suddenly make her come back and fall for Sam all over again.

Tears started streaming down her face. However, she felt a lot calmer as she noticed the motel was becoming more and more distant. This time, she was able to resist.

It was almost night when she arrived at her hometown. Her mother's car wasn't in the garage. She attempted to call her cell phone, but it was out of reach.

"Anna?!" A neighbor finally noticed her presence. "Is that you?"

"Mrs. Perkins," she forced a smile. "Hey. Have you seen my mom or Jack? I've been waiting here for a while but they're not home."

"Oh dear, haven't you heard the latest news?"

Something terrible seemed to have happened to Anna's stepfather. If only she hadn't lost time with Sam, she would've known. She could've called her mother or even arrived in time.

In the hospital reception, she was informed her mother's husband had been hospitalized. Her mom should be with him in the room. Nervously, she knocked the door.

"Anna," her mom was the one to open it. She spoke in a low voice to not disturb Jack's sleep and headed outside. "I'm so glad you're here. Come with me to the cafeteria."

Between sobs, her mom told her Jack had relapsed. His cancer had returned in an advanced stage, as the exams showed. At this point, the chemo or radiotherapy sessions would have to be too aggressive and potentially lethal, with remote chances of effectiveness.

"M-Mom..." Anna couldn't hold her own tears. After all, that was the man who accepted and raised her as daughter, when her biological father abandoned her as a baby. She owned Jack part of the person she had became. Even her love for Chemistry and Science she had gotten from him. "I don't know what to say. Oh my god!"

"While he's asleep, I've been doing some research," Mrs. Schuyler showed her phone screen to her daughter. "There's an experimental treatment with a new test drug. Jack would fit all the requirements for the research but... we don't have the money."

"You can take all my economies! The amount we had saved for our trip, is it enough?"

"Not even far, darling. We're talking about some hundred thousand dollars here. We'll never raise this amount in time."

Or they could. One thought crossed Anna's mind. She quickly stood up from the table and grabbed her purse and car keys.

"I'll be right back, mom. We're going to save him, I promise."

There was still one hope. One desperate measure Anna could take.

"Please be there... please be there..." she spoke to herself as the motel where she had driven earlier that day came to her view.

Fate had a funny manner of playing with lives and bringing people back together. Sam needed help. She needed the money. That would be the most perfect business deal.

She knocked the room where the CEO was supposedly to be staying. Anxiety started to consume her. If she couldn't find Sam now, she wasn't sure she'd be able to reach her again in time.

"Anna?" The door opened. Anna had never been so happy to see that face, those eyes, before. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping you," she announced. "But it'll cost a lot of money. My time is precious and limited."

"Whatever it takes."

Anna sighed and entered the room, knowing she had a long way ahead. Battling against time, against her stepfather's illness and especially, battling against old feelings. Would she be able to resist Samantha's charms this time?

#the nanny affair #sam dalton x mc #f!sam dalton x mc #sam x mc #f!sam x mc #choices tna #tna #the nanny affair fanfiction #tna fanfiction #unfinished business

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kat-hawke · 4 years

Text

The Renegade Agent Returns

(Following [Coincidental Meetings])

Looking out across the distant water Kat watched as the moonlight danced across the subtle waves and how the stars above painted dots in the deep blues. The ambient sounds of water crashing against the hulls of ships mingled with the distant city sound as her mind traced over the events of the day, from the office to the taverns. Bare fingers slipped into a pocket, encircling around an azerite crystal. Leaning up against the nearest lamppost, she looked down at the stone as it turned to grey, her breath feeling cold as the satisfying surge of energy numbed her mind.

The intoxicating sensation slowly waned as the depleted crystal spun in her fingers, the brittle edges slowly breaking off. With eyes shut, Kat was content to let the energy high burn away as she focused on the ocean sounds below, but the sound of footsteps upon cobblestones approaching from behind interrupted her mental escape.

Peeling her eyes, open Kat cast her gaze over the shoulder to find her lost agent standing a few feet away. Eyes widened as her heart nearly stopped, lungs freezing with a breath catching in her throat. Pushing away from the lamppost, Kat spun around, tossing the dead crystal to the ground.

"Trist?" Kat's voice shook with denial, questioning whether or not she was truly here. In an instant, her mind flashed back to the comatose vision of the young renegade, and the guilt buckled in Kat's stomach.

With pursed lips and furrowed brows, Tristana watched the crystal shatter on the cobblestone before looking back to Kat from under the hood. Her features the same as Kat remembered, with the addition of a faint scar across one cheek. A lasting memoir of the agent's participation in the Siege of Lordaeron.

"Thought you'd be slightly less surprised to see me." She spoke with little movement of the body.

"Two years ago, perhaps no'." Kat stifled a single chuckle, thinking back to how often Tristana would be lurking in her shadow. "But ya' can't fault me for startin' to doubt, after all this time. Granted, I never, truly, believed ya' were dead... Despite wot others chose to think."

"Life is often easiest lived by the ghosts." Tristana rolled her shoulders in a small shrug, her rigid posture and expressionless mask betraying very little to her thoughts. "You wouldn't take the opportunity to disappear, were it given so easily to you?"

Kat glanced towards the harbor with a gentle hum, mulling over the query. "I've spent most of m'life in the shadows, one way or another. Hidin' who I truly am, or simply hidin' outright." Slowly her gaze drifted back to Tristana. "Sure, it's easy, at first that is. But the other side of the coin is that ya' can miss just as much. I was in a coma for the last couple of months, that puts things in perspective, a real blink-and-ya'-miss-it sort of way." With a slow, deep breath, she gave a shallow shrug. "Runnin' away never solved anything, I think I'd do more harm than good if I were to disappear on everyone."

"That explains some things." Tristana's hood shifted as her head cocked faintly to one side, her eyes trained on Kat as she deliberated over the conversation. "It must be nice to have those who would miss you out of more than just guilt of not doing enough."

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Kat arched a brow, staring inquisitively. "Sure, some would miss, but in time we all fade into the wind. It's no' like I have a family to devastate or abandon."

"That is one way to justify it." Tristana nodded slowly, fingers of her left hand twitched at her side, curling inwards before relaxing again. "So, a long absence... multiple months in a coma... have they forced you to step down from your position yet?"

Kat snorted quietly in amusement, shaking her head. "I feel like th' over m'dead body joke would be in poor taste here. Short answer is that it's complicated, someone else was appointed in my absence, and now there is a power struggle: that and the typical post-war bullshit. Shrinking funds, military efforts scaling back, people have nowhere t'go, yadda yadda yadda. For now, I have t'play nice. Things were pretty bad prior t'the coma for everyone. So..."

She trails off with a long exhale before vaguely motioning in Trist's direction. "Are ya' inquirin' if yer still employed, or just lookin' for an open window to try and prod me on failure?"

"Hm. I find it hard to imagine you playing nice - or playing by the rules, for that matter." The young agent's hand lifted to pull back the hood, giving a soft snort at Kat's query. "Can it not be both?" She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, deliberating a little longer before giving an actual answer. "Can't say I've given the idea much thought."

"I can play nice when I want to. As far as rules go, well..." Shrugging, Kat left the sentence unfinished with a subtle smirk, quickly moving on.

"And while it could be both, I'm willin' t'wager ya've been out of the loop enough to know of my failures. Aside from the obvious one, I wouldn't blame ya' fer still harborin' some level of spite. Shadows know I still hold guilt over it." Quickly scanning Tristana's leathers, Kat opted to push to call her bluff. "I find it hard t'believe it didn' cross yer mind more than once. I also can't think of more than two or three other reasons as t'why ya'd approach me after so long."

"Some things are just better off not dwelled upon," Tristana answered in a mildly cautious tone.

"Fair enough." Kat crossed her arms, glancing down at the cobblestone.

"And if I were to be interested?"

"If ya' were," Kat's gaze drifted upward to Tristana again. "Then ya'd find a rather decent amount of money tucked away. I was able to secure every third paycheck of yer's into a private account under a half-faked name. While the paperwork would be rather strenuous, it would be possible to reinstate yer rank, but nothin' I wouldn't be willin' to do. However, things are a bit different now, budget cuts and rollbacks, our work is less in the public domain."

"Understanding that this job has nearly cost me my life on more than a handful of occasions, gold is not a terribly exciting lure." Tristana slowly shook her head. "Hard to spend it from six feet under."

Kat pursed her lips with a faint nod. Judging by the armor's condition the woman wore, she had assumed money was no longer an issue. In truth, she had not expected that offer to be received openly, remembering that Tristana was never in it for the pay, but rather the broken and empty promises Kat had repeatedly made to her.

"What dreams are you selling people these days? Surely has to be more than 'come and be cannon fodder for a weekly paycheck."

Dropping her gaze to the street with a low-toned hum, Kat bit the corner of her lip as the head bobbed slowly. "I deserved that," she uttered the admittance in an exhale, looking up to Tristana again. That single sentence stung more than she let one.

"Shouldn't be any cannon fodder, and I'm no' sellin' dreams. I won't make excuses, and ya' have every right t'hold that against me. I don't expect ya' to trust me right away. It's earned. I get that." Fingers lifted off the crossed arm to pause her rambling, holding in a deep breath before exhaling and speaking again. "I won't make promises, but I will do woteva I can, in yer best interest. I'm no' here t'force anything; everyone is here of their own volition."

Short of scoffing, Tristana gave Kat a stiff shrug. "Actions have always spoken with far more truth than words... and you've always had a way with talking." Now she crossed her arms, mirroring the Director's stance with a cold gaze. "But I suppose the tides have changed. With Lordaeron considered, I'd say I don't owe you any favors now. Question is, are you making the offer out of guilt or because you have actual need for me?"

With a pained expression at the mention of Lordaeron, Kat's guilt was spoken just above a whisper. "I shouldn' have done that to ya'."

She moved on with an exhale in silent defeat, arms uncrossing and hand moving subtly as she spoke. "Would ya' believe me if I said one or the other, or perhaps both? Truth be told, Trist, I feel like I owe it t' ya' to do right. I fucked up more than once before, and I'll own that. But honestly, despite wot ya' may think of me, I did and still do like ya'. Yer potential and talent, ya' sell yerself short. Do I need ya'? Of course I do. But no' fer some project or misplaced projections. I need ya' because back then ya' were one of the very few worth that badge."

"To be fair, the bar of standards was set -really- low at that point. I hope it's improved since then." Tristana muttered back in response.

"It's improved greatly, yes." Kat couldn't help the smirk curling the corners of her lips. "If ya' don't count the barmaid, though she's not an operative. But there are only five others, and I don't plan on adding any more. I strayed too far from our roots before, and I don't want to make that mistake again. I still mean it when I say th' Unit is my family, and if that means dyin' t'protect it, then so be it."

"Good," Tristana stated, appearing to be more or less satisfied with that answer. "Suppose I might be willing to lend a hand then."

"I assume ya' still have yer badge?" Kat inquired with a smile.

Tristana procured the badge from a pocket on her side with a flick of her hand, flipping the tarnished yet undamaged metal in her fingers. "Just in case. Sometimes it came in handy for getting discounts."

I'm no' too surprised," Kat admitted with a mirthful expression. "Honestly, I'd have done th'same. I'm sure it would also loosen some lips. It's a little worn, but nothing a little polish won't fix, much better than expensing out a new one." Glancing towards the water for a second, Kat mulled over the thought of where the young agent had been for the last two years and what she had gotten into. It wasn't long before the guilt began to chew into the thoughts again, wondering now if Tristana was playing at her own angle.

"Well, couldn't exactly throw it out," Tristana said as she pocketed the badge. "Who knows what someone might have gotten up to with it if it fell into the wrong hands."

"I'll start the paperwork in the mornin'," Kat stated, looking back to the agent. "It'll take a few days to get everythin' sorted proper, but I'll be sure it's done." Pausing for a second, she debated whether or not to pose the next query. "Is there anythin' ya' want, from this?"

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Tristana echoed the statement from earlier with a faint upturning of the corners of her lips. "But for now, I'll content myself with just purpose."

Kat's lips pursed to one side at the answer she was given, not entirely content with it, but aware that was deliberate Tristana's part. "Fair enough. Once the paperwork is finished, I'll be in touch, and we'll go from there. Cases are few at the moment, hindered mostly by the shrinking funds, but never a lack of work to be done."

"I'll be around," Tristana mused as she pulled up her hood. "Should you require me. I'm sure you'd need only to lob a rock at the nearest shadows."

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." Masking any sense of unease with a chuckle, remembering back to how often the agent managed to come across knowledge she shouldn't have. "I may no' be as entertainin' as I once was t'watch, though. Good night, Agent Sutton."

Tristana lifted her hand in a gesture that was halfway between a salute and a wave of farewell as she turned on her heel and ventured back into the city streets. "Goodnight."

In the silence, Kat watched as Tristana moved further away until out of sight around the furthest corner. With a contemplative hum, she turned to face the open ocean again, leaning a shoulder against the lamppost. The sudden urge for a drink began to churn as her nerves twitched, knowing full well that revealing the agent was not only alive but reinstated would send Fiske into a frenzy.

[ @tristanasneak ] [ Relevant: @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @jocelyn-wellson, @quinn-varden ]

#ic #rp #Unit Eight #Agent Sutton #The Renegade Agent

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

The Other You - 3

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Marinette groaned loudly as a ray of light caught her eye, disturbing her sleep. She stirred lazily, slowly regaining awareness of her surroundings. Her neck was stiff from the odd position she had fallen asleep in, and she couldn’t feel her left arm after having laid her head on it all night. Eyes bleary, she groggily looked around her and barely muffled a defeated sigh upon realizing her current whereabouts.

She had fallen asleep in her office.

Again.

The night before, when she had left Chat Noir on the Eiffel Tower, she had fully intended to follow his sound advice. Heading home was definitely the sensible thing to do, considering Alya was more than likely already pissed at her for having ignored her calls all day. No use adding fuel to the fire.

But as she was swinging her yoyo from building to building, images of her cluttered office flashed before her eyes. Her desk, buried under bolts of fabric and spools of thread, the unfinished dress hanging from the mannequin, and the pile of designs waiting to be sorted and put into production.

She had worked herself to the bone for months for that first women’s line, had suffered through so many sleepless nights, had stood up to her boss so many times… This project truly was her baby, her greatest achievement yet, and she wanted everything to be as she and Gabriel had envisioned it.

So, convinced she could squeeze in a few more hours of stitching before Alya would notice her absence, she had changed directions mid-jump and headed straight back to her office. Detransforming in an alley across the street, she had let herself into the building, bid goodnight to the security guard, and snuck back into her office like she had done countless times before. She turned on all the lights in her office, took out the designs Gabriel had approved just before passing away, and got to work.

She had cut, pinned, and sewn for the better part of the night, losing herself in the passion that had become all work and no play. Exhaustion quickly caught up with her, and after pricking her fingers a few times with the needle, her head steadily began to drop, and she lost track of time.

Soon enough, the weight of reality crashed back on her, and the next thing Marinette knew, she was waking up amongst her mess, groggy and disoriented.

Her cellphone chimed on her desk, and she reached for it to check the time. Maybe, just maybe, if Tikki’s luck was still on her side, she would be able to sneak back into the apartment without waking Nino or Alya up.

As soon as the little digital screen lit up, however, Marinette instantly knew that she was utterly and perfectly screwed. Any hopes of a stealthy return home were crushed by the heavy amount of missed calls and text messages overflowing her phone.

Just her luck.

Scrolling through the messages thread, she cringed, her heart jumping into her throat. Of course there were the usual inquiries about her current whereabouts, the expected question about whether or not to save dinner for her. But where the usual follow-through was “Are you coming home at all tonight?” she instead received, “Guess I’ll have to buy my wedding dress off-the-rack.”

Her heart broke reading those words.

Panic rose in Marinette’s chest, and she blindly reached for her planner, refusing to believe the implications of said message. She almost tore the book open, finding the right page with shaky fingers. It just couldn’t have happened. Alya had to be mistaken, there had to be a huge and horrible misunderstanding.

That was the only explanation she could see. There was no way she could have forgotten that.

And yet, hastily scribbled in her own handwriting on the previous day’s page, was definite proof that she had committed an unforgivable crime against her relationship with her best friend.

9 p.m.: Design wedding dress with Alya !!! <3

Her defeated whine resonated loudly in her empty office. “Tikki! Why didn’t you remind me?”

The little kwami lifted an unimpressed gaze toward her charge. “I did, Marinette. Several times. You ignored or dismissed me every time, like you usually do when you’re working. In the end, I gave up.”

Marinette groaned, not bothering to answer the bitter jab. It was already bad enough that she had to pencil her best friend in her planner for something as important as her wedding, but she had managed to forget about it altogether. The uncanny absence of any other message after the mention of the dress was telling volumes.

Alya was not pissed.

She was utterly and completely furious with her.

Breath short, heart pounding in her ears, Marinette put away the mess of fabric on her desk as quickly as she could, not bothering to fold them correctly. She would probably curse her lack of foresight later, when she’d resume working and find herself dealing with a bunch of wrinkled and mixed up fabric, but for the time being she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything other than the friendship she had probably just destroyed.

Going home by traditional means was going to take too much time considering her jittery nerves. So, ignoring Tikki’s disapproving glare, Marinette quickly transformed and let herself out through her office window. She’d have a hard time explaining why her security badge’s log would show an “in” but no “out” if anyone was to look at her file, but that was a problem she’d have to deal with later.

For now, she just wanted to salvage what little was left of her bond with Alya.

Part of her wanted to just crawl in through her bedroom window and pretend to have been asleep the entire time, but the rational part of her brain knew Alya would never be fooled by such a weak excuse. After all, it wasn’t exactly past the blogger to have spent the night in her bed only to make sure she wouldn’t risk missing her arrival.

Reluctantly, Marinette instead settled on hiding in an empty alley to detransform and walked to the building entrance like a convict heading to their death sentence. Feet heavy with dread, she headed for the elevator, the silence only disrupted by the pounding of her heart in her chest.

When the doors opened on their floor, her breath hitched in her throat. This was it. No going back now. She messed up, and she had to face the music.

Her keys jingled loudly when she pulled them out of her purse, and the rattle of the metal when she slid the right one in the keyhole made her gasp inwardly. Marinette pushed the door open slowly, bracing herself for her impending doom.

Sure enough, Alya was sitting at the kitchen table, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her expression as her eyes landed on her friend standing awkwardly in the doorway was unreadable. Marinette twitched uncomfortably, feeling bare and vulnerable under the piercing gaze.

Gulping painfully, she hung her purse on a hook and took a few careful steps into the apartment, trying to assess the situation. She made it about three feet in before Alya’s voice, dripping with venom, stopped her dead in her tracks. “How kind of you to finally let me know you’re still alive.”

Marinette blanched, startled by the anger behind her friend’s words. “I’m sorry, Alya, I—”

“Don’t,” Alya interrupted her, holding a hand up. “I’m sick and tired of your lies and your excuses, Marinette. I can’t sit around and pretend I’m fine with you wasting your life away like that anymore.”

Deep inside, Marinette knew that it was the anger talking, and that Alya didn’t really mean to be this harsh. But she’d had a long day. She’d spent the night in an office chair and she was still feeling shaken from her encounter with Adrien. Her patience had already been wearing thin, and despite her best intentions and how much she cared about Alya and wanted to mend their weakened friendship, she couldn’t help but snap.

“Oh, because you patronizing me basically every single time I set foot in the apartment is your way of pretending you care about me? Could’ve fooled me.”

Alya’s eyes widened, and her expression shifted to something darker, sadder. She stood up, her arms still crossed in front of her in a defensive manner. “You know, I’m starting to think that maybe Adrien had it right after all.”

“Don’t you dare bring him into this. Adrien Agreste is nothing but a selfish, manipulative jerk,” Marinette snarled through clenched teeth.

“Who tried to warn us that working for his father would change you.”

Marinette backed up a few steps, looking every bit like Alya had just slapped her across the face. How dare she suggest that what Adrien had done back then was anything less than pure treason?

Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she spat as angrily as she could, “Okay, so you’re going to pick the awful human being who didn’t even bother showing up at his own father’ s funeral over your best friend now?”

“No. I love my best friend to pieces, Marinette, but she isn’t you,” Alya answered, her fists clenched by her side. “Not anymore. She’s the kind, sweet girl that I met in middle school. The woman standing in front of me right now is nothing more than a stranger to me.”

Hurt and confusion choked Marinette, who bit back an angry sob. Her life was unravelling under her fingers, and she felt powerless. “Then why don’t you ask Adrien to be your bridesmaid while you’re at it?”

A shadow crossed Alya’s face. “You know what? Maybe I will! That way maybe my bridesmaid will actually show up!”

“Is that so? Well, in that case, count me out!”

“GLADLY,” Alya yelled, fists clenched tight.

At first, Marinette couldn’t even answer. Words were stuck in her throat, the air was heavy, unbreathable. She knew that feeling all too well, it was the same feeling that had overcome her upon realizing Adrien was so disgusted by her confession and wanted so little to do with her that he had hidden her internship application from his father.

She was clearly unwanted.

Anger bubbled up in her chest, the rejection stinging badly. “You-you want me out of your wedding ?”

“Mari, I’m sorry. I—”

Marinette shook her head, crossing the apartment in long, harsh strides. She rushed past Alya and headed straight for the front door. “It’s pretty clear that I’m no longer wanted here,” she spat angrily, trying to ignore the tears pooling in her eyes. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time, don’t worry.”

“Mari, wait—”

"I'll send someone for my stuff later. You know, someone who won't nag me constantly and who doesn't believe Adrien isn't the biggest asshole on the planet." Grabbing her purse from the hook, she slammed the door shut behind her, ignoring her friend’s pleas.

Marinette made it back to Gabriel ’s headquarters in a dazed state with about an hour to spare before office hours, still shaken by the entire encounter. She let herself into her office through the same window she had used to exit, briefly noting that her security log wouldn’t be a problem after all. Throwing her purse in a corner of the room, she let her transformation fall and absentmindedly offered a cookie to a worried Tikki.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” came the soft voice of her littlest friend.

“I don’t know, Tikki. I…” Marinette swallowed painfully, refusing to meet her gaze. “How dare she say Adrien had been right? He selfishly tried to sabotage my career, and—”

“She’s right, though.”

The words hurt more than Marinette wanted to admit. Eyes widening, she whispered, “W-What?”

“You did change, Marinette,” Tikki said softly. “It’s up to you to figure out if it was worth it or not.”

As she slumped in her chair, landing an unimpressed gaze on the ambient clutter, Marinette suddenly felt overwhelmed by recent events. Her boss was dead. His son, whom she despised above anything else, was back in her life despite her wishes. She and her best friend were barely even on speaking terms anymore.

Emotions bubbled up in her chest and tears spilled on her cheeks, unbidden. This was not how she had envisioned her career going, much less her personal life. But she was too far gone; she had accomplished too much to back out now. If only she could salvage the line she had been working on with Gabriel, she would make a name for herself. Then maybe, just maybe, land herself a position that would actually allow her to have a life and an apartment of her own.

Gabriel had had projects for her. The upcoming women’s line had been meant as a test, an introduction of some sort into the management of an entire line. If she did well, he had promised to let her take care of the feminine branch of Gabriel on her own.

Now though, with Adrien behind the wheel of the company, her future within its walls was less than assured. It was no secret the young man loathed everything related to fashion and the Agreste name. Not a really good combo when you’re aspiring to a stellar career as a fashion designer in Gabriel Agreste’s empire.

She threw her frustration into her work, furiously sewing, cutting, and drawing the day away, barely stopping for fifteen minutes to eat a sandwich from a vending machine in the early evening. She worked until her bleary eyes couldn’t focus on her fingers anymore, until her brain refused to make the stitches remotely even.

With a loud sigh, she pushed the skirt she had been working on away and waited warily for the flow of worries and memories to come back to nag her. Shoulders hunched in defeat, she rested her head on her folded arms. This wouldn’t be the first night she’d spend in the office, and probably far from the last. As long as she didn’t figure things out, she would be stuck sleeping there, so she might as well get used to it.

Her sleep that night was restless, not bringing any soothing to her troubled mind.

Still exhausted, her patience long gone, she had half a mind to bite off the head of the rude human being who saw fit to wake her up at five a.m., unceremoniously barging into her office. The icing to the cake, though, was half-jumping out of her skin only to meet the worried gaze of none other than Adrien Agreste.

“Marinette!?”

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #ML #miraclous #MLB #the other you #myart #my art

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deliasbabe · 4 years

Text

I’m With You- Venable x OC

Alright, so here’s the Lilac!Venable Kid Fic someone requested! I don’t know how y’all will feel about it, so any feedback would be very much appreciated! Also, if you are interested in me continuing this, let me know! Fic inspired by the song “I’m with you” by Avril Lavigne.

Words: 3,179

Warnings: None really, slight angst? Shithead kids?

Venable hadn’t ever considered herself a very observant person. Sure, she was meticulous in her work, leaving no detail unfinished. But for life in general, the small things tended to slip by, not that she cared. Her time was too precious to be distracted by menial things, and even the idea of “people watching” made the woman’s skin crawl. You didn’t have to study the human race to know they were a bunch of idiots, Wilhelmina dealt with them on a daily basis. She probably wouldn’t have even noticed the girl sitting on the bench, but after more than a few passing glances, the woman realized she had seen the same girl practically every day for months, and she couldn’t help but be a little intrigued.

It didn’t help that she had a perfect view of said bench from her office window, and she found herself staring at the girl more and more as the days passed, wondering what exactly she was doing. Sure, the office was in LA, but it was a secluded area with little to no foot traffic. Venable wondered if maybe she was waiting for the bus, but after a few days the woman realized that wasn’t the case. She never met with anyone, never talked to anyone, she just sat quietly. Some days she would have a book to read, other days she would eat some chips or a small snack. But more often than not, she would have nothing, not even a backpack or a phone. Venable wanted to find it annoying, just sitting around all day doing nothing, taking up what could be valuable space, but it wasn’t like she was being a nuisance. She kept to herself and didn’t bother anyone, didn’t cause a scene, the only annoying thing was that Venable couldn’t stop watching her. So maybe Venable could find her annoying, her mere presence being the nuisance.

But after a few days with no sight of the girl, Venable found her absence to be more of a distraction. She found herself to be glancing out the window more than usual, completely falling behind on a huge project Jeff and Mutt had assigned her to. She was always ahead of the game, always beyond punctual, and it infuriated her that this stranger had woven her way into the women’s head. Was she alright? Did something happen? Where did she go?

After a week, Venable started to believe she imagined the whole thing, after all, the girl should have been in school, but Jeff and Mutt had also mentioned not seeing her, although they made sure to comment that if she wasn’t so young they would totally bang her, which just made the woman roll her eyes and scoff. The boys were so focused on physical appearance they didn’t see what she did, didn’t recognize the signs she knew all too well. Venable only ever saw her in three different outfits, and most of the time her clothes were speckled in what the woman assumed was dirt and other various substances. Her blonde hair was often dirty and in desperate need of a trim, and she didn’t have the usual wide eyed gaze of a child who was properly cared for. Her blue eyes were dim, glazed over, empty, which meant either she was homeless or viewed as an afterthought, much like Mina was growing up in the system. Maybe that was why she took an interest, because she understood it, or felt some sense of camaraderie.

One rainy Friday night, Venable stayed late in order to get some work done for the quickly approaching deadline. She stared at the blue tinted screen in front of her until the sun had set and her head hurt, her eyes straining as she tried to finish as quickly as possible. Eventually, she paused and ripped open her desk drawer, searching through it until she found an aspirin bottle, the pounding in her head becoming too much to bear. She glanced out the window as she sipped on her bottle of water, spotting the girl once again taking residence on the dripping bench. “Idiot…” She mumbled to herself, shaking her head disapprovingly. Sure, it wasn’t pouring anymore, the rain reduced to a light yet annoying drizzle, but only a fool would choose to sit outside during it, drenching her clothes and giving herself a cold in the process. But when it dawned on the woman once again that maybe the girl didn’t have a choice, she glanced away and refocused on her work, not wanting to entertain the idea any further. After all, even sitting underneath an overpass was a smarter choice than sitting in the open air.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing up as the rain fluctuated between a sprinkle and a downpour, seeing the girl never move, not even an inch. At a quarter to 10, she finally gave up on her duties, begrudgingly leaving them for another day, and called for a car. She wasn’t one to give up on work, there were numerous times she stayed until 2am and toyed with her spreadsheets until they were absolutely pristine, but the rain had seemed to calm, and she wasn’t quite sure how long it would last. She was smart enough to actually plan her time so she wouldn’t be caught in the looming flood, unlike someone she knew, or at least knew of.

She grabbed her things, cane in one hand and an umbrella in the other, her bag slung over her shoulder, and walked toward the doors, locking them behind her and praying her moron of a driver was timely for once. She was careful as she stepped onto the slick pavement, taking small, light steps in order to keep her footing steady, the last thing she needed was to slip and ruin her freshly dry cleaned suit. Heels were a poor choice of footwear, given that she needed her cane in order to balance, but Venable wanted to look immaculate at all times and it usually didn’t cause much of an issue, at least not until that night.

Once she made it to the curb she stood regally, umbrella perched over her shoulder, and she glanced over at the girl momentarily, mostly just to see if she even noticed her presence, but she didn’t seem to, she just stared down the street as if she were alone. It wasn’t like Venable wanted to hold a conversation, and she felt a sense of relief that the girl wasn’t staring at her, but she also was intrigued, briefly wondering if it was something she was conditioned to do, or maybe she just didn’t want to chance any form of interaction.

The woman was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of some rambunctious boys walking towards her, hollering like it wasn’t the middle of the night, snapping her glaring gaze over to them and giving a fiery stare. Why did teenage boys, or boys in general, always have to be so obnoxious, like they had to make their presence known at all times, like they needed the attention? It probably was because they did need the attention, felt like they deserved to take up residence in everyone’s minds at any given moment, and the woman rolled her eyes at the thought.

“What are you staring at, hag?” One of the boys said, catching her stare and shifting their direction toward her, the rest following like a pack of wolves.

Venable smirked, “Not much, apparently.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” One of the boys said, marching right in front of her and towering over her like he was some sort of god, the rest circling around her. Venable didn’t break her stare, refusing to be intimidated by a bunch of shithead teenagers who probably couldn’t form an intelligent thought if they tried, but it only seemed to egg the boys on, and one was quick to snatch her cane out of her grasp, making her stumble slightly, “How about now?” The boy swung her cane in front over her, tempting her to grab for it, hoping the action would make her fall, but she knew better and stayed put, “You want this back? Apologize.”

The woman laughed, picturing the million ways she could take her revenge and dispose of their bodies, “For what? For recognizing the societal failures you all are?”

The boy in front of her narrowed his eyes, a grin overtaking his features, “So no apology, huh? Ok, have it your way. Give us your money and we’ll give you this crap stick back. How does that sound? Pretty fair, wouldn’t ya say?”

Before Venable could even respond, could even tell them they wouldn’t ever get shit from her, the boy was shoved to the ground, the cane ripped from his grasp. “What the fuck?” He yelled, the rest of the boys quickly moving to help him up.

Venable locked her eyes on the girl, cane in the teenager’s hand like she was ready to swing, the assistants jaw clenching. “Get the fuck out of here.” The girl bit, her eyes blazing. She didn’t even look at Venable, her eyes laser focused as the boy stood and moved towards her.

“That’s ours, give it back.” The boy said, reaching for it as the girl reared the cane behind her and twisted her arm so it was palm up, seconds away from smashing it on the idiot’s head.

“Go find some kids to steal candy from. That’s more in your league than robbery.” The girl said, bouncing the cane as if it was going to give her more momentum, “You heard me, scram!”

“Little bitch.” The boy muttered, looking back at his friends and motioning them to go on, seemingly deciding this wasn’t a battle worth fighting, “Let’s go.”

The girl turned and watched them as they walked away, holding the cane behind her with an open palm like it was a relay stick so Venable could grab it, waiting until the cane was out of her grasp and firmly situated in the woman’s hand before turning back to her. “Are you ok?” She asked, although there wasn’t any softness in her voice, not an ounce of pity.

Still, Venable clenched her jaw. “I’m fine.” She said coldly, expecting a look of offense to wash over the girls features, but it didn’t, she just gave a curt nod and retook her position on the bench. Venable sat brooding for a moment, feeling the need to dig into the girl and rip her apart. She didn’t ask for help; she didn’t need help. She wasn’t weak, the child should have minded her own business and not meddled, and the woman would be damned before she said thank you. “Isn’t it too late for someone your age to be out?” Venable asked harshly, catching the girls attention after a short period of silence.

Her tone didn’t seem to faze the girl, she just shrugged her shoulders, “Probably.”

“Are you waiting for someone?” Venable asked, the harshness dissipating once she didn’t get the reaction she had hoped for.

“No.” The girl said quietly.

“Don’t you think that your parents are going to be upset at your meandering after dark?” Venable asked snidely, trying to provoke some sort of reaction from the girl that wasn’t painfully neutral.

“They aren’t my parents and they don’t care. The less I’m in that house, the better.” The girl said matter of factly.

Venable let out a huff, frustrated with herself for identifying with the girl, seeing herself reflected back as an almost mirror image. She hated that she felt sorry for her, because no one ever felt sorry for the assistant. No one pitied her situation, no one ever understood, but Mina understood this girl, her frustrations, her isolation, and she didn’t know how to handle it. She wasn’t a woman who was particularly empathetic, but she knew this pain, and she hated that she felt it, wanting to do anything to destroy any bond she might be forming with this wet, stray dog of a child. “You know loitering is a crime.” Venable said shortly, hoping it would scare the girl into walking away, but it didn’t even make the girl squirm.

“Sidewalks are public space and the bus stop is right there.” The girl stated, throwing her gaze towards the sign a few feet to her right.

“But you aren’t waiting for a bus. You’ve been here all day.” Venable fired back, although she did have to admit that she was impressed by the girls planning. The bus stop was an easy out, and she could easily deny that she knew the bus wasn’t running at these hours.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?” The girl asked bluntly, looking the woman in the eye.

Venable pursed her lips, sitting quietly for a moment, which told the girl her answer was no. To most, the girl’s bluntness and confidence would be seen as some sort of defiance, but strangely, Venable liked it. There wasn’t a hint of condescension in her tone, she wasn’t trying to suck up to the women, she was just to the point with her answers instead of tiptoeing around them to sound polite. “What is your name?” Venable asked, now purely out of her own interest, although the realization that she was interested confused her. This was the very thing she hated, and there she was, actively pursuing it.

“Charlie.” The girl said.

Venable couldn’t stop herself from snorting, “Charlie?”

The girl raised one eyebrow, a smirk on her lips. “Do I look like a Charlotte to you?” She asked sarcastically.

Venable nodded slightly, glancing away as she fidgeted a bit and flexed her hand on her cane, uncomfortable with the fact that she was so comfortable. She understood the sentiment behind the question, the idea that the girl didn’t live up to her name, that she wasn’t who a Charlotte should be. It was the very reason why Wilhelmina went by her last name, her first name seemed too regal and perfect for what she was, disabled and alone, imperfect in every way. It was why she was so focused on her appearance, why she dressed in purple every single day, fighting to make herself believe that even for a second, that she deserved the name, that she embodied it.

She shifted uncomfortably, hating the slight warmth she felt making its home in her veins, a sort of affection she had never felt previously, an affection for this girl. Venable had never really liked children, she always saw them as weak, naïve, but this girl wasn’t, or at least she didn’t seem to be. She wore the same mask Mina did, the detached persona, borderline robotic, but the woman knew there was more beyond the surface, a whole array of the very human emotions Mina herself tried to burry, ones the woman wanted to drag out and view, despite her best attempts at keeping distance. The idea of taking the girl home briefly flashed in her mind, but she pushed it out, clenching her jaw as if the sheer force of it would keep her in line. Did she really think she could help this girl? Wilhelmina was just as damaged as she was, probably more so. She couldn’t help her, the girl had to help herself, just like the woman failed to do. Venable wasn’t the nurturing type, and nurturing was exactly what the girl needed, something she couldn’t provide even if she wanted to. All Mina needed was for her damn driver to show up so she could leave and keep herself from making a horrible mistake.

“You’re Venable, right?” Charlotte asked, the first question she had dared pose to the woman.

Venable gave a small nod, now thoroughly intrigued, “Wilhelmina. How did you know that?”

“The idiot coconut heads never shut up about you.” Charlotte laughed, Venable smirking at the nickname, “You know it’s amazing they’ve made it this long? God help whoever decided they were capable of running their own company. Someone has to be helping them keep their shit together, and you seem to fit the bill.”

Venable gave another smirk, arching an eyebrow, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s not flattery, it’s a statement.” Charlie said, glancing away before looking back, “I don’t flatter anyone.”

Venable gave a nod before the air was silent once again, the slight sprinkling of rain progressing into a drizzle, the woman letting out a scoff at her driver’s inability to be even remotely prompt.

“You could wait inside.” Charlotte stated, watching the woman roll her eyes and move to shield herself with more of her umbrella.

“I wouldn’t have to if my employees would do their damn job. Idiots, all of them.” Venable spit.

Charlotte smirked, “Are you going to call him a miserable excuse for a human again?”

Venable looked over at the girl, the shock written on her face, but only for a moment before she set her face and pursed her lips, “Am I that predictable?”

Charlotte gave a shrug, “Everyone is. Everyone has a pattern; you just have to pay enough attention to notice.”

Venable gave the girl a stern once over, “And I’m assuming you believe I’m being harsh?” It wasn’t like she actually valued the girl’s opinion, like it would change a single thing about her or her actions, it was more a test to see how blunt the girl would be.

Charlotte gave another shrug, “You just want people to be competent, that’s not a bad thing. Someone has to have the balls to call people out, be the villain, otherwise you’re just enabling and contributing to the problem.”

“Or maybe I’m just cruel.” Venable said, almost as if she was trying to play devil’s advocate, arching an eyebrow at the girl and a slight smirk forming on her lips.

Charlotte creased her eyebrows, thinking for a moment before she glanced away, “Sometimes the cruelest people have the best intentions.”

Venable wanted to ask what she meant by that, her mouth opening to pose the question when she spotted headlights in the foggy distance, pursing her lips and letting out a frustrated sigh. The car pulled up, the woman stepping towards it and opening the door before freezing in her place. Every rational bone in her body was screaming for her to just get in, but when she spared one more glance at the teenager, the words were flying out of her mouth before she could stop them, instant regret hitting her taste buds.

“Charlotte, get in the car.” She said, catching the girl’s attention as Charlotte looked at her inquisitively.

“What?” she asked, her brain taking a few moments to register the words before she shook her head, “No, I don’t even know you.”

The woman clenched her jaw, furious that her own stupid heart betrayed her, that it was winning over her very rational mind, “Charlotte, it’s raining, and I won’t ask again. Get in the car.”

#I kind of am into this concept?#I'm here for soft Venable 100%#part 2 is being drafted if anyone wants it #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhelmina venable #wilhemina venable #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #AHS #ahs fanfiction #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

When You Love Someone - Part Three /// Agape

pairing(s): Brian Kang x Reader, Day6 x Reader

genre: High School!AU, Young Love!AU, lots of Angst, not really sugar-coated with Fluff

warning(s): None

word count: 3,5k

synopsis: There are many paths in life, but the longest of all is the path to the heart. In your eyes, what does it truly mean… to love?…

chapter directory

It’s funny how quickly time can fly by. It seems like only yesterday you were walking through the gaping doors of the high school for the first time with thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach like a windstorm. But here you are, only weeks away from walking through those same doors clad in a cap and gown for one last time—The final walk into your true adulthood.

While others may disagree, your experience in high school has actually benefited you for the better. You’ve learned so much not only about the world, but about yourself since your initiation. It’s been a long road that’s passed in the blink of an eye, but you’re somewhat grateful for the paths you’ve endured thus far. Sometimes though, you find yourself feeling as if you have some kind of unfinished business—with someone you might even say.

You shake the idea from your mind, returning your gaze to the product checklist in your hands. If you want to afford that dress, then you should actually consider doing some work unless you want your grumpy boss to dock you for ‘adolescently lolly-gagging around’—his exact words, not yours. The man nearly fired you for accidentally knocking over a rack of soda one time, and didn’t even pay you overtime after he made you stay later to clean up the mess AND mop the floors. Nothing even spilled, and it was on a school night nonetheless.

After crossing off some items on the page, you make your way to the next aisle ready to repeat your actions. Like most shifts, this one seems to have trailed on for much longer than needed. The only thing protecting your sanity from inevitable combustion was the excitement of seeing Sungjin in a little under an hour. A smile immediately pulls across your face at the thought. Until yesterday, you hadn’t realized exactly how much you’ve missed the boy.

While Sungjin hasn’t been in your life as long as Wonpil, you still consider him one of your closest companions. You met a couple months into freshman years, and since you didn’t have a large circle of people you really talked to aside from Wonpil, you quickly latched onto the boy, even more so because of his compassion and lack of friends as well—although that changed for the both of you after he joined the basketball team and you somewhat blossomed out of your awkward phase. The both of you essentially grew up together, changed together. But even after four years, it’s as if nothing has really changed.

And to be honest, you don’t know if that’s entirely a good thing.

It’s not until the angry call of your boss do you realize you had been staring at a shelf of paper towels. You swiftly back out of the aisleway, preparing to dash into another, before you notice that the shout wasn’t directed at you—but a customer.

You recognize the young man from your school: Kang Younghyun. He pretty much keeps to himself, so you’ve never really spoken, but from what you’ve heard from everyone else, he’s not a very friendly guy. He skips class on a daily basis, argues with anyone who so much as looks him in the eye, and according to rumors, hangs around with some pretty shady people. You’ve never been one to follow what the grape vine carries around, but even you can’t deny that the kid is rather intimidating… and just downright scary.

“How dare you come into my store and try to steal, you little punk!” Your boss had Younghyun in his grasp, clutching the collar of his shirt with one hand and angrily shaking his fist with the other. He was fuming, his face gradually beginning to shift red as he drags his capture toward the register. You move to return to your task, not wanting to piss your boss off even more, but the accused thief’s hushed reply has your feet stopping in place:

“I didn’t steal anything.”

You try to tell yourself again to just look away, go back to work and wait out the rest of your shift without batting an eyelash, but something about the pained glint in Younghyun’s eyes and the soft, almost tired tone of his voice toyed with your moral reasoning. Somehow, a part of yourself believed that the boy was actually telling the truth… You didn’t know him after all.

Your boss roughly yanks at his collar, “Of course you did! Punks like you are always getting into trouble!” Younghyun’s expression doesn’t change, but the strange feeling in your gut only grows. You swear you could see into the depths of his soul—What if it were you in his shoes? Wouldn’t you want someone to help you?...

“I didn’t take anything.”

“We’ll see what the police have to say about that-”

“-Stop!” Before your mind can debate itself any longer, your feet are already carrying you toward the pair. Both parties grow visibly surprised by your interruption, more so Younghyun, but that doesn’t sway the words that continue to leave your lips: “It’s innocent until proven guilty. You should check the cameras before making any final accusations.”

For a moment, panic overtakes your boss’s face, but it’s short-lived as it quickly shifts back to fury. He releases the boy to storm your direction, however your stance does not falter. Even when you can feel the hot breath of his whisper staining your cheeks:

“If you want to keep your job, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and get back to work.”

Your cheeks grow hot as rage invades your body, slithering through your veins like a venomous snake. You step closer to the man until your noses are just barely touching. Memories of all his harsh comments and nights gone without adequate pay only add more fuel to the fire. With your gazes locked, you can see the reflection of your own eyes through his—glowing in the fit of your anger. This time, when you reply, there’s no hesitation at all:

“I quit.” Your boss lurches back, incredulously watching as you rip the employee apron from your torso. “I won’t be bullied and taken advantage of by you any longer.” He stumbles when you shove the garment into his chest, his expression completely devoid of anything except disbelief. He doesn’t say a word, even after you grab Younghyun’s wrist and drag him toward the exit of the store. But before you pass through the threshold, you make sure to knock over a nearby rack of magazines and CDs.

“Enjoy cleaning that up yourself!” You chuckle, for once leaving the building with a proud smile strewn across your face. Too immersed in your own valor, you almost forget that your fingers are still clutching Younghyun’s wrist—then again you almost forget about Younghyun’s presence entirely.

“Why did you do that?...” His murmur brings you back to reality. He frees his hand from your grasp before running a hand through his blonde locks. “You gave up your job, and you don’t even know me…”

“I’ve wanted to leave for awhile, since the guy’s such a jerk.” You shrug, then quickly add, “but you’re right, I don’t know you—but I know that you didn’t take anything.”

“How could you know that-?”

“-Did you?”

Younghyun startles at your question, but responds with a shake of his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, here we are then.” You peer back into the store, hand instinctively reaching for the boy’s limb once again. “In fact, let’s get out of here before egg-head calls the cops.” Younghyun doesn’t have the chance to protest because you’re already dragging him down the sidewalk with a laugh, “Gosh, I still can’t believe I did that!.. There’s a park across the street. We can hang out there.”

“You… You want to hang out with me?...”

You freeze, peering back at your companion with a confused expression. Your frown deepens once you notice the reflection of bewilderment on Younghyun’s face as well. Your head shakes, “Yeah, of course… Is that not okay?”

“Well no-just… Aren’t you… scared of me?”

“Why would I be scared of you?” Your chuckle relaxes the boy, his shoulders visibly sinking with relief. You continue to stare at him for a moment, noticing the genuine warmth along his features, before tilting your head with a smile, “...Should we get moving then?” Although it’s only an upturn of his lips, Younghyun smiles back.

“I’d like that.”

“I heard from Jinyoung that he and some of his buddies robbed the convenience store last weekend.” Wonpil explains as the two of you watch Kang Younghyun stomp his way through the cafeteria and out into the hallway. Students weren’t technically allowed to leave the lunchroom unless they had a teacher recommendation, but Younghyun wasn’t much of a stickler for the rules. Obviously.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Pil.” Sungjin waves a french fry toward the male, before popping it into his mouth. He quickly swallows the treat and continues with stern expression, “You can’t judge a person based on what others say. You know what they say about making assumptions.”

Wonpil rolls his eyes, “It’s just gossip, hyung. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“You never know.” Your face falls as the older boy clearly glances your direction, reminding you of the chaos you’ve endured all week. You try to push away the throbbing in your chest and instead immerse yourself in your own lunch. The sandwich and bag of Doritos only does so much though.

You hear Wonpil say he’s going to go talk to his biology partner, Jeongyeon to finalize some details about a project and acknowledge his departure with a half-hearted wave. A couple seconds of silence pass between you and your remaining friend, the time spent savoring your lunch and observing the daily cafeteria behavior, until the latter finally breaks the silence with a soft murmur:

“How are you holding up?... I know this week has been pretty hard on you.”

You shrug and polish off the final bite of your lunch, “I’m fine, I guess…”

“It’s okay to be upset,” He hums, pushing his french fries an equal distance between the both of you. You welcome the offer to share his food and help yourself to a couple fries. “Jae shouldn’t have let things go this far... especially if you two were together.”

“He said that he told Chaeyoung that he wasn’t interested and made the excuse that she’s persistent, but I don’t know if I believe him since he’s not the best at telling people off.” You also correct, “and we’re technically still together.”

Sungjin’s eyebrows pull together, but his facial expression remains calm. “Is that purposely? Have you guys talked?”

“Aside from after I heard the rumors, no.” You say, “I don’t think I want to break up with him, because nothing actually happened between him and Chaeyoung, but I just need some time.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? How do you know he’ll tell her off for real this time?”

“To be honest, I don’t. But I also don’t want some false rumors to be the cause of breaking our relationship off.”

The boy stares at you for a moment, as if searching your eyes for any sort of dishonesty or deceit. His own soften when he finds nothing but genuine thought in your irises. With a small smile, he reaches for your hand to give it a gentle squeeze. Your chest blooms at his affection, delivering a squeeze of your own.

“As long as you know what you want. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You chuckle, “You don’t have to worry about me, Jinnie. I’m a tough cookie.”

“Trust me, I know.” Sungjin spills a laugh of his own, using his other hand to brush a loose piece of hair away from your forehead. Used to the caring gesture, you allow your companion to do so and peer through the corner of your eye, finding Jae deep in conversation with none other than Chaeyoung. Another pang knocks into your chest, but it quickly disappears when Sungjin seizes back your attention.

“How about we do something Saturday night? Just you and me?” He offers, “You wanted to see that new movie, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually.” You answer, “Jae and I were gonna go, but I think I’d rather go with you instead.”

It could’ve been your imagination, but you swear Sungjin’s smile seemed to widen. “It’s a date then.” For the remainder of the lunch period, you and Sungjin discussed the details of your weekend outing, briefly arguing over whether pizza or tacos were a better midnight snack. Not once did you think of Jae, or Chaeyoung, or heartbreak.

The following Monday, you decided to end your relationship with Jae.

Sungjin’s heart continues to pound as he makes his way down the near-to-empty street. With the sun long past set, there was barely anyone aside from the occasional nightly jogger skipping around in the dark. It was both a blessing and a curse. Sungjin usually enjoys the peace and quiet of a silent night, but right now with his thoughts haunting his mind like a tornado, he really wished for some sort of relief. Then again, he should be pretty used to it by now—You’ve been the center of his thoughts since freshman year after all.

He never meant for his crush to grow to anything other than that: A crush. But alas, you can’t control your heart, and you certainly cannot control who your heart falls for.

For what seems like the millionth time since the start of his walk, Sungjin wipes his sweaty palms on the side of his jeans, transferring the plushed rabbit charm to his opposite elbow. On the way, he saw the keychain in the window of a store and was immediately reminded of you, and although a gift obviously doesn’t make up for his elusive behavior, he hopes it will still bring a smile to your face. He’s missed your smile, almost as much as he’s missed you.

It took everything in his willpower to keep away from you for the last few months, considering the fact that you two have never been anything other than attached at the hip. There were so many times he wanted to pick up the phone, just to hear your voice, or wait for you outside of the school, just to see your face. But the more and more he forced himself to think of anything that wasn’t you, the more thoughts that contained you overtook his head. Just last week, he almost failed his calculus exam after spending most of the allotted time worrying if you had turned in the final draft of your English essay. He usually reminds you about those kinds of things.

Sungjin stumbles, his foot catching on a small divot in the pavement. He quickly settles himself, inhaling a gust of relief before setting out again. His heart somehow picks up even more speed as he takes sight of the convenience store only a short distance ahead. He peers down at the watch on his wrist, concluding that you should be wrapping up your shift for the night. His hands are sweaty again.

After the push from Wonpil, Sungjin thought that confessing his feelings to you would be the best idea. But as of now, with his pulse ten times too fast and anxiety crushing his nerves like a vice, he can’t tell anymore—What if his confession not only fails, but changes everything? Your friendship is one of the most important things in his life, and he cannot imagine living without it. Especially with the last year of high school coming to a close.

He shakes the doubts out of his mind and instead, focuses on the excitement of seeing you. With a final bout of strength, Sungjin peers inside of the building through the giant storefront window. Confusion floods through his body when he discovers an obviously grumpy man cleaning up a mess of CDs and magazines and absolutely no sign of you. Maybe you were finalizing some work in the back? Or went for a quick bathroom break?

Something in the reflection of the glass steals Sungjin’s attention, bringing him to peer over his shoulder. Through the corner of his eye, he notices some movement occurring in the park across the street. It was too dim to know for sure, but he swears he can see the color of your hair.

It only takes a couple steps forward for him to realize that it is you sat on one of the swings, rocking back and forth with the nightly breeze. All fears slip from his mind as an excited grin pulls across his face. He dashes across the street, opening his mouth to call out your name, but his voice dies in his throat when he sees past your body—finding that you weren’t alone.

Sungjin’s smile disappears as he recognizes Kang Younghyun inhabiting the second swing beside you, a bright expression on his own face as he listens to you ramble on about something. He watches the boy’s lips move seconds later, obviously causing your head to roll back and a loud laugh to escape your lips—the sound like knives against his heart.

For a moment, Sungjin hopes you’ll angle your head just right and catch sight of him. But his faith disappears once more when Younghyun reaches forward to brush a piece of hair from your forehead. He looks away, unable to watch, and sadly gazes down at the keychain still in his hand. His thumb caresses the bunny’s smiling face, before he turns and begins to walk back the way he came.

The silence of the night mocking him with each heavy step.

“-so that’s why the Russo brothers completely ruined Captain America’s character in Avengers Endgame.” You finish off your rant with an exhale, gently swinging back and forth as Younghyun—who told you to call him Brian, laughs at your passionate argument. He wipes an invisible tear from his eye before grinning.

“You’ve obviously put a lot of thought and evidence into that.”

You chuckle, “Can you tell?”

“Just a bit.” To say you’ve learned a lot about Brian would be an understatement. Unsurprisingly, all the rumors about him were completely and wholeheartedly wrong. There was no gang, or anything along those lines. He was just a misunderstood guy with some attitude problems. You also found that the reason for his frequent absences at school are due to his visitations with his mother, who’s been hospitalized the majority of the year after experiencing a near-to-fatal car accident. She’s recovering well, thank goodness, but he doesn’t like to leave her by herself—Who knew he was such a nice guy?

He watches your feet pump back and forth for a couple seconds, before reconnecting your gazes. You merely stare at each other until he finally speaks, “...Thanks for this. It was nice to talk to someone for a change.”

“Of course.” You answer with a smile, “I’m (Y/N), by the way. Sorry, I should’ve told you before all that.”

“I know who you are.”

“You do? How?”

“I’ve seen you around.” He shrugs, “and I know you’re really close with the captain of the basketball team, Sungjin-”

Your mind completely blanks out on Brian’s voice when you hear the name fall from his lips, the sudden realization of your nightly plans hitting your gut like a cold, hard punch. Frantically, you rip your phone from your pocket to peer at the brightened screen, dread flowing through your veins when you find it to be way past nine’o’clock.

You launch from the swing with a gasp, “Shoot!... I’m sorry, Brian, but I have to go!”

“Late for something?”

“I was supposed to meet Sungjin almost an hour ago.” You shake your head, already noting the panic blooming through your body. “I’m really sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, you run from the playground and out into the dimness of the night. You glance toward the convenience store, finding it to be long closed… and empty.

“I’m such an idiot,” You murmur to yourself, swiping through your phone to pull up Sungjin’s contact. The buzz of the ringer sears at your eardrums, each repeat of the sound shoving more and more anxiety down your throat. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you hear a click over the line.

“Sungjin! I’m so-”

“-This caller is unavailable at the moment. If you would like to leave a message, please begin after the beep-” You drop the device from your ear, quickly ending the call before burying your face into your hands. How could you have been so careless? With Sungjin of all people? When things were finally starting to turn around?... and you just went ahead and ruined everything.

What are you going to do now?

This very thought haunts your mind as you make your way home through the silence of the night.

#day6 #day6 x reader #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 au #park sungjin #park sungjin x reader #park jaehyung #park jaehyung x reader #kang younghyun #kang younghyun x reader #kim wonpil #kim wonpil x reader #yoon dowoon #yoon dowoon x reader #kpop au #kpop fanfic

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