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Already Home || Chapter 3 - Chasing Shadows

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pairing: max verstappen x female!reader, mentions of charles leclerc x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, insecurities, negative thoughts, slightly traumatic meeting other notes: loosely based on the Italian GP 2022 word count: 8.6k Hope it is worth the wait! Thanks to whoever supports the story ♥

That night, Monaco’s streets seemed emptier than they actually were. Lights danced around you like delicate fireflies and shone in the otherwise dark crossroad you found yourself at. An indistinct chatter filled your ears, muffled at first but slowly emerging and the sudden succession of loud honks brought you back to the present. What were you doing? You were running away, once again, as you had already done. You had escaped from home like a coward and hoped to find an answer to the disappointments you’d had to endure as a daughter; you’d sought a familiar face, ready to console you, to guide you through a mess you couldn’t solve on your own. Did you succeed? Partly. You had found someone who could help you, but an awful set of circumstances created by your presence had ruined it all. What was left for you to do? You realized it was probably time to face and fix the problems you were avoiding, on your own: time for you to stop hurting others because of your incapability in handling your life.

You had to stop tagging along with Max everywhere you went. It wasn’t going to work out, that was clear. It wasn’t working, it hadn’t worked. You still struggled to understand how you had both managed to do that for months, but it had to stop: you knew – for his own good – that it would lead to failure in the long term and you would never tolerate it. Whose fault was it? For sure not his: Max did everything in his power to keep you by his side, and you couldn’t help but give him credit for it. Was it yours, then? Maybe. But despite the effort from the both of you, it still ended up badly. You'd called Max, but why? Did you hope it would come and rescue you from the chaos you started? Were you expecting him to be that patient, that stupid to follow all along your madness? «Are you in town? Do you recognize any building around you?» Although you thought he should do it for himself, Max wasn't giving up on you. He believed he could help you, that it could get better, that he’d find a solution, that you could solve it. But you didn't. «Sorry, I shouldn't have called you.» you said, voice laced with sadness and regret. «Just tell me where you are.» he demanded with resolution. Could you really allow him to ruin his life for you? To give up on his love for Kelly just to help a splintered soul? Could you live with such a guilt slowly eating you alive for the rest of your life? «Max... I can't.» Tears threatened to fall. Of course you couldn't. That hit too close to home. Home. Why did everything ultimately come down to it? You hanged up before you could even say sorry. You didn't add anything, you didn't explain what you really meant; it hurt you more than you would admit yourself. Max, sat upon his bed, stared at the screen of his phone, waiting for you to call him back, crumble one last time and break down. He believed you would, or rather, he was ready and willing to watch you open up to him and release all the pressure once for all. He should've known better than expecting you to do so, and he actually already knew, deep inside of him, you never would. The silence that followed the call, despite his own hopes, made him feel vulnerable and helpless. It wasn't even the fact that you were wandering lost in Monaco, all alone; you were old enough to manage on your own. It was the tone of your voice that warned him about a hidden, deeper meaning he had to read into your words. You didn't want to tell him, you couldn't tell him where you were. Giving a last glance at the phone, Max felt you slipping away from his grasp, well aware he couldn't do much to have you back without your own will.

Monza was the Temple of Speed, a historic track everyone anticipated with joy, excitement and thrill. Out of everyone, Ferrari did the most. It was a ritual, a challenge they had to face yearly, a test whose passing was needed; it could be the chance for salvation, a way to redeem themselves from "sins" and mistakes made throughout the season. It was, out of all the weekends, the only one they couldn't mess up. And in such a season, after thousands of reasons Tifosi had to blame the team and still keep faith in it, a good result would've been more than welcomed. Charles knew terribly well what winning in Monza felt like. And it was a curse. The wave of excitement, happiness and disbelief that got him after crossing the finish line, the red sea engulfing him in a shared delirium and ecstasy… It was a drug he wanted to taste all over again. Every single drop of champagne sticking to his skin felt disturbingly more pleasant, when he had won in Monza; every cheer seemed louder, each heartbeat faster and stronger, the adrenaline higher and more powerful than ever. Charles had felt it, so now he knew he was addicted. He would crave it regardless, but winning there would compensate anything which had gone wrong lately. Going through pictures taken on that podium, Charles couldn’t restrain from fantasizing. Could that be the year? Monza also knew how to be utter madness. The madness of Max and Lewis crashing into each other, holding onto every meter, without leaving any room to one another. Max knew that well too; Monza, till that point, hadn't really been his best track, but the positive momentum of the season – especially after the summer break – made him foretaste a sweet surprise. Could that be the year? - «Ahh, finally home! Hi, mate.» «Hola, Charles.» The two Ferrari drivers entered the room set up for the conference they’d just had, sitting in silence and exhaustion - though they'd never admit it to each other - after two days of media events, interviews and fans. Fun, but there was a race to prepare for. «I received a weird text today.» Charles said, scrolling through his phone. «From who?» Carlos asked, still reading and studying some racing info on his laptop. «Y/n.» Carlos' eyes perked up with interest. «What is it?» he said, sitting more comfortably. «She asked if she could spend the whole weekend with us in the Ferrari garage.» «Well, I told you she would. Last time in Zandvoort she mentioned it to me.» Charles, despite his teammate’s words, frowned. «Yeah, but... She asked me if she can stay with us at the hotel.» he said, lost in thought. «Like, in the same room?» Carlos said, raising a brow. The Monegasque, too focused trying to figure out what your request meant, blushed for the lack of clarity in his response to Carlos. «No, no! I think she means in the same hotel. Near us.» Carlos, beginning to see what got Charles confused, closed his laptop and stared at his friend. «Isn't she with Max as always?» the Spaniard asked. «Clearly not, if she's begging me to have her with us.» They both stayed silent, getting a grasp of the situation. «Wait, didn't you tell me they live together now?» Carlos asked again, brows knotted. «Yes.» «And now she's texting you so that we do something Max has always done.» «Exactly.» «It's nonsense.» Carlos stated, his tone of voice utterly disbelieved. «I mean, I'm happy she'll be with us.» Charles added, starting to type a reply. «But I don’t know.» he then whispered. Carlos looked outside the window in search of inspiration. «It’s strange.» «Maybe it's not, Carlos. Do you find it hard to believe she likes us?» Charles laughed. «She likes him more, that's for sure.» Charles' confusion grew. «What do you mean?» At the naïve question, a smirk appeared on Carlos' face. «Mate, are you serious? Didn't you notice?» he said, jokingly hitting his teammate’s shoulder. «No, I have no idea what you're talking about.» Charles widened his eyes. «Didn't you see how they look at each other?» Charles then tried recalling some of the moments he spent with the two of you and it suddenly started to see what Carlos was implying. For example, he remembered catching Max staring at you the morning you shared a hot chocolate with them. And the time Max interrupted the conversation Charles was having with you back in Zandvoort after the race in order to hug you. And the fact you spent a lot of time together. «Wait a second.» Charles said. «Do you think...?» «I don't think, I just know. Man, it's so obvious, c'mon.» Carlos plainly said. «But Max is with Kelly.» Charles reasoned. «And do you really think that's enough to make him stop loving her?» Charles, weirded out by the loud tone of Carlos' voice, afraid someone in the conference room could hear them, tried to shush him. «What? Is it a crime to say if someone is in love with someone else?» Carlos let out, half-frustrated. «I-I don't think it's our business, mate.» Charles chuckled nervously. «Whatever. But don't say I didn't tell you.» Charles entered his hotel room and closed the door with a tired but still content sigh. Removing his shoes, he took his phone and opened your chat. When he had received your text and read your request, images of your last encounter played in his mind: he had felt the veil of tension between you and Max and could easily anticipate an argument or a disagreement coming on the way. However, it would've never expected you'd decide to completely split apart and search for someone else's support. It felt... Out of place. You and Max seemed to have a well-oiled friendship, on the outside. But nothing lasts forever, right? Charles' memory also went back to the stolen picture someone posted on Instagram of you and him in Zandvoort; he'd discussed it simply and smoothly with Charlotte, but considering what Carlos had implied, what if Max hadn't been completely okay with it? Was it the reason the Dutch replied so salty at his text on Monday? Charles had to admit it: as absurd Carlos’ theory could seem, a lot of things were starting to make sense. But what about you? Did you fall in love with him? Could Max possibly be the cause of your tears that night in Zandvoort, all alone? It's none of your business, Charles. Focus. He gave a look back at your text. It sounded so discrete, yet so desperate. Who was he to deny you something he would be pleased with? Right. Absolutely no one. "Of course, y/n, you know you're always welcomed :)" It would be a fun weekend with you in the garage, after all.

Waiting. Max was sitting on an uncomfortable airport chair, waiting for his jet. Waiting. People around him ran towards mysterious destinations, panicking for suddenly lost passports, disappeared suitcases and missed flights. Everybody rushed, in urge. He didn’t, he couldn’t. He unlocked his phone and did what he had been doing for the last two days. Waiting. For you to give life signs. Since the night of Kelly's argument, he hadn't been able to hear from you again. It was as if you had disappeared. Worse: he knew you were ignoring him. On purpose. Max had never felt so... Rejected. Well, he had. Being abandoned at a gas station by his father had been a brutal and quite traumatic event, despite how much he’d try to deny it and consider it normal, usual, but a lot of years had passed by and now Jos would hang off Max's words, the son who had succeeded in what he hadn't, and couldn't blame him in any way. Max thought he would've never been vulnerable again. Your absence told him otherwise. Kelly's silence didn't upset him as much as yours did and his incapability of giving some sort of explanation for it drove him crazy. With heavy heart and mind, Max took the flight to Italy with two equally important objectives: winning the race and having a talk with you. - As soon as you read Charles' reply, you let out a big sigh. Thank God, he said yes. He surprised you when he sent you a flight ticket and the reservation details 10 minutes later. Charles knew you had no money, but his act of kindness made you feel sick, guilty. Had you let go of Max only to take advantage of someone else? For the umpteenth time in months, you wondered whether it was time to finally get a job and stop being f1-drivers-dependent. It wasn't fair to them and to yourself either. Acting so childish was a way not to prove yourself you could provide for your life, be able to take care of yourself. Self-sabotage was a way to prove your parents had got rid of you because, after all, you deserved no better.

Your way to the paddock was lonely. You had no happy bubble surrounding you; there was no Red Bull’s blue shade occupying your sight, no chuckles, no lightness. Just a heavy weight on your heart and a tight clenching in your stomach. The fear of crossing paths with Max terrified you; you couldn’t even imagine facing him, because deep inside you knew you had treated him terribly and knew the least you could do was giving an explanation. You walked with a fast pace, face down, not sparing a glance at anything or anyone; you couldn’t risk spending more time than necessary in the paddock, or you would’ve met him for sure. Immersed in your silent space and your restless brain running quicker than your feet, you didn’t notice someone approaching you. «Y/n!» He called you a few times before your head snapped, petrified at such a simple and familiar greeting. Sebastian came towards you with a smile, which slowly dropped at your frantic appearance. «Hi, y/n.» he greeted you, his excitement dying out. «H-hi!» «Are you okay?» the German asked, still smiling but raising a brow. «Yeah, all good!» Your voice going pitchy, your hands fidgeting with the hem of the shirt and pupils looking in thousands of directions but Sebastian’s and, well, everything about your body language told him the exact opposite. «We still need to finish those peppermint cookies. If you’re free, we can do that now.» His request completely surprised you: it was Thursday, but you didn’t expect him to have a lot of spare time to dedicate to you. Such busy people could find time and worry about you and you would be so unappreciative. How ungrateful. «Uhm… Yeah, sure!» «They taste even better than they did last time.» «Gosh, I’d eat peppermint cookies for the rest of my life…» you said, closing your eyes while chewing. «Would you?» Seb asked, entertained. «I’ve got good reasons to, don’t you think?» you chuckled. «You’re right…» Crossing his arms on the table, Sebastian took a look at you. The upset y/n he had talked to 20 minutes earlier had disappeared and given room to the usual girl he was used to talking with. It was… weird. Sebastian began feeling uncomfortable, noticing your sudden mood shift; he had never seen you reacting so poorly to his greeting. Maybe you simply were in a low mood? Yeah, probably that was the reason. Searching for a topic to cheer you up with, his mind went to someone special. «How are things with Max?» You stopped eating and bore your eyes into his. The only question you dreaded being asked. The only name you didn’t want to be reminded of. «H-how come you are asking?» «I’m just curious, I haven’t been able to have a chat with him since Spa. Just wanted to know how youngsters are getting along.» The simplicity of the question made you feel bad for your unreasonable aggressiveness and fear. «Guess he’s doing good.» you stated, looking down. «Guess? Aren’t you together all the time?» Seb asked, holding a laugh. «No, we aren’t.» Silence filled the room. Only a distant chatter from the hospitality’s hall could be heard, paired up with your quickened heartbeat. «I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound rude.» the driver said. «No, don’t worry. It’s my fault.» Before Sebastian could reply with anything else, you jumped out of your seat and excused yourself. «I really gotta go now, but thanks for the cookies!» Sebastian watched you leaving the hospitality with hurry: a weird vibe caught him once again, but he couldn’t decipher your behaviour. His eyes fell onto the almost emptied plate. He slowly took one of the last cookies and bit it, pensive.

Entering the paddock, Max walked constantly scanning his surroundings, paying attention to every single living being passing by, listening to voices and laughter in search of yours. It was similar to wandering in a reign of ghosts, desperate to find a lost, dear soul. He still couldn’t make sense of your words, not completely, at least: he knew you may feel guilty for everything that happened with Kelly, but why disappearing? Why not giving him the opportunity to solve it? Max had compromised his relationship in order to keep your friendship intact; how come you didn’t see his efforts and decided to throw them out of the window, so that he had lost contact both with you and Kelly? Max, deep in thought and torn and conflicted, sped up without noticing; his assistant tried to keep up with his pace, cheeks red for the effort and the warm temperature of Monza. Right when Max was losing hope of finding you that day, he heard a loud cackling coming from somewhere near Ferrari’s hospitality. Was he dreaming or was that your voice, among that laughter? Was he hallucinating? Was he in such a need of you? He stopped dead in his tracks, startling the assistant who was following closely his steps. Max turned his head to the red and black building: Carlos and Charles’ figures appeared, amused, joking in front of a camera you were holding with a huge smile plastered onto your lips. Max got lost for a second which seemed eternity: you formed a harmonious and happy picture, needing nothing else to be complete. Needing no one else, not even him, in order to be happy. The crying mess you’d been on the phone with him had turned into a bubbly and thoughtless young girl with Carlos, with Charles. The complicity in the way you leaned against him to show some of the footage made his insides being pulled and torn, squeezed under the weight of a newly discovered gravity. Were you his barycenter? Were you that crucial? Were you his center? Whatever you were, in that moment Max despised it. Terribly, strongly. The feeling of being chained to you, for some unknown reasons, made him want to break free and avoid caring about you, but he was also painfully aware he couldn’t fool himself with lies. He did care about you. Carlos, sneaking at the footage as well, felt Max’s heavy stare on the three of them, so he raised his head to search for that presence. «Guys, there’s Max!» Carlos stated, as if he wanted you to realize it. As a lightning, your eyes flashed Max’s figure and immediately abandoned it, then excused yourself from the Ferrari drivers and ran back inside the hospitality. Max simply raised his hand as a greeting to the two guys and kept walking unfazed, his assistant rushing at the sudden restart. Unfazed, on the outside; burning of anger, on the inside. His attempts of concealing it proved to be useless: his answers to the engineers and mechanics were harsher than usual, his interviews and media statements sharper, his mood serious. But how could he be happy about someone consciously ignoring him after such events? How could be possibly stand being treated that way? How could he react at you searching for support on others? Others, sure. He should’ve seen it coming, you were going to ask Carlos and Charles. How classic. The way everything seemed to point to Charles enraged him even more. The idea of someone being closer to you than he was made him feel utterly vulnerable, because he’d always believed to be your only confidant, your accomplice, your anchor. Max wanted to be your number one, as much as being number one at the final ranking of the weekend. And of the season. No matter what. Charles entered the hospitality and saw you fidgeting with the camera, not entirely sure of what you were actually trying to do inside there. Better: he knew you were hiding from Max, but didn’t know why and itched to ask you. He hated the tension between the two of you and, since he had been involved, he wanted to get to the bottom of the question. «You okay?» he said, standing behind you. Flinching at it, you didn’t turn to face him, kept your back on him. Charles got closer and took place next to you, observing your nervous hands flipping through some of the pictures of the day. «You sure?» Exasperated by the pressing questions, you raised your head with the intention of telling him off; though, you met his soft and sincere eyes, letting your guards fall a bit, opening a gap in your defenses. You sighed. «What do you really want, Charles?» you asked, avoiding once again his stare. «I’d like to see you happy like you were before Carlos said Max’s name.» You lowered your head, as if his name could bring back his presence and expose you to judgement. «‘Cause you were happy, right?» Charles added, misinterpreting your silence. Inside the insecurities of his words, you read your own. Were you really happy ignoring Max? «Of course.» Not. You weren’t happy. Not even a bit. You needed to confront him about everything that had happened in order to be able – or try, at least - to go on and leaving him behind. But the fear of being treated poorly due to the avoidance you had been pulling off so far made you reluctant: for sure Max didn’t appreciate it, how could he? Whatever you decided to do, you would be acting wrong. «We probably should finish to record the challenge.» Charles said. «Yeah, yeah, of course, let’s go.» You took the camera and rushed back outside.

Following the two black and yellow tees you learned to recognize among all the others, you tried to let yourself be exhilarated by the Tifosi, the loud colors and the crystal-clear cheers roaring and rising and whenever you were near the two Ferrari drivers. You repeatedly got hit by adrenaline and excitement, only to be left with a subtle, inner discomfort. You wanted to feel happy, thrilled for a new race, but couldn’t enjoy it fully. So, since it was useless to spend Friday morning being pitiful in your hotel room, and given the fact you were staying in Monza, you decided to go visit Milan in order to distract yourself; you had seen some beautiful pictures Charles showed you from some of the Ferrari events him and Carlos had to co-host and fell in love with it. You explored the city center with all its beauties, getting lost and carried away by the astonishing cathedral and the huge square right in front of it. You kept taking pictures everywhere you looked around, amazed at how artistic any corner and stone of Milan seemed. After two hours of tour, your stomach started protesting: art feeds your soul, not your body. You searched for a nice and cozy bar – making sure it wasn’t too expensive – and took a seat, ordering a simple sandwich. Your eyes, still taking in the view out of the window next to the table, traced the constant coming and going of tourists, occasionally spotting people wearing f1 themed merch; and when you did, you involuntarily smiled a bit. The smile suddenly turned into a petrified expression. You tried to focus your sight even more to check if you were hallucinating, but they still stood there, a few meters away from you. Your parents. They held their phones and turned their heads around frantically, probably lost, trying to find their bearings. Despite a waitress getting close to you and asking you something in that language you still failed to understand, you felt your mouth going dry and your lungs not able to reach for air nor keep it inside to breathe properly. All the people you had seen speeding through suddenly disappeared: it didn’t matter how hard you tried to look away, you couldn’t. After a countless amount of time, you had them before your eyes. Lost, but lost in one of the most beautiful countries of the world. Carefree, enjoying a sunny trip. The hatred you harbored subsided under the weight of tension and panic that caught you the moment your mother’s eyes met yours. You could see her lips slightly parting, her brows furrowing. And her figure walking towards the bar, towards you. Before you could even process it, you got up the chair and snuck into a small corridor which led to the bathroom. You couldn’t register the information, couldn’t make sense of it. Why did they have to be in the same country, the same day, the same damn place? How was that even possible? How many chances were there? Deep inside, resentment fought its way into you to no avail: the astonished and conflicted eyes of your mother were still marked onto your skin, quickening your heartbeat in fear. Fear. Was it okay to fear your parents? Was it normal? Was there left anything normal in your relationship with them? Was there a relationship at all? As your mind was still shaken by questions, you heard some steps getting close and then halting. «There’s nobody here.» «I thought I had seen something…» You heard your father sigh at your mother’s silence. «You should put your glasses on instead of buying expensive contact lenses all the time. C’mon, let’s go, love.» Their footsteps got lost in the loud chatter of the bar; you exhaled sharply, since you had held your breath without noticing. You thought you could be over it, over them, but you clearly weren’t. You couldn’t even tell how you were feeling: disgusted? Full of hate? Angry? Without thinking twice about it, you ran away.

You stormed into the paddock still heavily affected by the events: you felt electricity on your fingertips, making them tremble and hit each other; your steps were short and quickened as you got closer to Ferrari’s hospitality. Your chest, convulsively rising and falling back down, seemed uncapable of keep under control the beatings of your heart, whose pulsing made your cheeks red and your eyes widened. In a silent prayer, you hoped none of the hundreds of people you crossed path with had noticed you and finally reached your destination. Entering the building, a familiar voice called out before you could escape upstairs. «Y/n!» Carlos, willing to show you highlights from free practice - which you had missed - stopped before he could say something because of how bothered you looked. Unable to hold the overflow of feelings, your watery eyes pierced right through him in a desperate plead, seeking comfort and calm. Carlos immediately frowned in worry and took your arm to invite you sitting down on a couch. «What happened?» he asked you plainly. Reading into your hesitation at replying, Carlos corrected himself right away. «I mean, if you want to talk about it. I’m not forcing you.» he added, gulping. «Can I do something for you?» he spoke again, looking straight into your eyes. Still upset by the uncomfortable inner turmoil, you struggled to give him an answer. What did you need? What did you want? What could make you feel happier? Who could make you happier? «Don’t worry, Carlos, I’m fine.» you said, drying the corners of your eyes from unfallen tears. «Y/n, c’mon.» the driver told you, a peremptory and serious tone to his words. «What?» you asked, surprised by his rough reply. «You’ve been low all the time and you avoid everybody in the paddock. Plus, you’ve missed free practice and you always make sure someone isn’t around.» Carlos raised a brow in an inquisitory expression. «Just tell me.» «Tell you what?» «Why you’re avoiding Max.» His name had you paralyzed, once again. The events of that morning didn’t matter, nor your panicked state, nor the trauma of having your parents in front of you after such a long time. What crushed your soul the most was not being able to rely on him in your attempt of forgetting the worst parts of your life. What crushed your soul was him, simply. Carlos, still staring at you, saw your features soften at the thought of the Red Bull driver, and smirked to himself; he had seen right into the situation from the very beginning. «It’s complicated.» you said. «Then try to make it easier.» Carlos stated in a matter-of-factly. You sharply inhaled, pausing a few seconds to elaborate a concise explanation. «I did something that hurt a person Max loves.» «Okay.» Carlos’ stare warned you he was waiting for you to go on. «I felt really guilty for doing it, so I thought it would be better if I avoided him.» you added, insecure of your own excuses now that you were saying them out loud. «Why did you do that… thing, whatever it is?» You reflected a few seconds. «Max asked me to.» you muttered to yourself just so that Carlos could hear it. «Then why do you feel guilty if it was Max’s idea?» Silence filled the air once again. «Because I was ruining his relationship with that person.» «So ruining yours with him seemed a better idea to you?» Carlos replied with insistence. You suddenly felt naked and vulnerable: all the excuses that had you enveloped and trapped for days fell to the ground under the Spaniard’s sensible words. «But… I couldn’t stand being the reason of their arguments. That person is too important for him.» «Then you must be really important for him too.» Carlos said with nonchalance. He let the sentence sink in, so that you could process it, before going on. «He was searching for you yesterday and has thrown daggers at me and Charles today because you weren’t there for free practice.» he smiled. «Even if you don’t want to see him ever again, you have to tell him straight to the face.» You hummed, still pensive. «Y/n, look at me.» you obliged. «He deserves to know your reasons. If he’s trying to reach out, he must care about you more than he does for this other person.» You let out a dry chuckle. «I don’t think so.» you said. «It’s… It’s Kelly who we’re talking about.» «I know.» Carlos’ confidence made you lose the last bit of yours. «Hi, people!» Charles plopped on the sofa next to the two of you, visibly tired after free practice. After scrolling through his phone, he quickly put it back into his pocket directing his undivided attention towards the pair of you. «Did I interrupt you?» Charles asked after seconds of awkward silence. «No, we were done talking.» Carlos answered him, suggesting the topic was over for him and wanted it to be over for you as well. As the two teammates began casually de-briefing, your thoughts ran back to the conversation you’d just had. Still confused, you headed upstairs, silent. «Is she okay?» Charles whispered over to Carlos once you had walked away. «She will.» The Monegasque gave a skeptical look to the Spaniard. «If you say so.»

Max tried not to think about it. He just had to focus on performing exceptionally well on qualifying to try beat Ferrari in its home race. Nothing else could matter, nothing else was allowed. No feelings, no arguments, not a single worry about personal relationships. Just pure racing. It was easier said than done. There was no better way to forget about all his problems than doing the thing he was the best at. Because at that point, it was clear, relationships weren’t his forte. Kelly had sent him a last message on Friday morning, stating for the umpteenth time she wasn’t willing to make an effort at tolerating your presence one more second. After that, she stopped replying. Was it a breakup? Max couldn’t tell: how was he supposed to know? At the same time, you we’re completely ignoring him, not even making an appearance at Ferrari’s garage for free practice. What was the point in coming to see the race, then? How was he supposed to bear that cold silence and indifference surrounding him? He was mad, so incredibly mad that two people and the feelings he nourished for them could have him wrapped about their fingers, holding him with such might. And then he saw you. Walking towards Red Bull’s hospitality after being done with practice, he saw you walking by with disturbed and anxious features. He could swear there were tears in your eyes threatening to fall. The annoyance he had been nurturing about your behaviour seemed to disappear and turn into sudden worry, one question only urging in his mind. Were you okay? He couldn’t get too caught up in it, since his assistant came near him and started talking about interviews, but he would’ve liked to run to you and finally being over the whole situation. «Well done, Max. That’s P2!» Max didn’t even try to be happy. Qualifying second was frustrating per se; having a 5-positions penalty for the race made it even more unbearable. As he got out of the car, the crowds’ cheers all sounded like boos to him. Nobody from the team tried to lift his mood, nobody got close: nobody wanted to unleash a lion’s fury. Walking towards the pitlane in order to go over the usual procedure, Max forced himself not to look at Charles’ displays of happiness and diverted his gaze elsewhere, telling himself he would get him on the race. Would’ve definitely been easier without the penalty. Passing by the pit wall, he felt a pair of eyes watching over him. It was you. Surprised to see you there, he couldn’t help but stare at you while walking. Did you watch the entire session? He hadn’t seen you down the pitlane before Q1 started, even though he had peeked inside Ferrari’s box. Focusing on your creased expression, he was immediately reminded of the day before and the way he’d caught you rushing to the hospitality with distress written all over your face. Max’s trail of thoughts got interrupted as soon as you ran away, after being caught staring. He should’ve known.

Head upon your hand, you lazily gazed outside the window. A lively and loud crowd of fans filled the street in front of the hotel, waving Ferrari flags, cheering, chanting in delight red-laced names, Charles and Carlos’. Lost in thought, you watched as evening gradually casted its orange shade onto the clear sky; it immediately reminded of you of Zandvoort, of that chaotic and poetic scenery, of the electricity which ran down your spine under Max’s stare, the warmth you felt between his arms, the innocent happiness and contentment in his words. You couldn’t help but think he deserved it: he deserved to have hundreds, thousands of reasons to smile and celebrate. And you couldn’t help but feel a coward to have taken that smile away from him. Crossing his eyes once had been enough to see surprise and disappointment painted inside of them; the way he would search for you in the crowd aware he couldn’t get near you made you vulnerable, unveiled, caught red-handed committing a crime you couldn’t forgive: leaving. You did what your parents had done with you: you had decided to eclipse yourself from his life, disappearing, leaving no trace, without giving an explanation. Just out of fear. Fear showed you the differences that split you and Max apart, the hurt you could give Max, Kelly and Penelope, and purposely forgot to warn you about your own consuming guilt; memories projected themselves onto the future and created an ideal alternative world where such a beautiful friendship would’ve been able to grow undisturbed. The thought of losing Max forever scared you, but your actions had already cut him out before you could realize it fully. Looking at the carnival of colors displaying in front of you, among the chants screamed in a language mostly unknown to you, a small part of your heart silently began to pray and feed hopes for you to find your way back to him, no more hurt involved. As blue and orange melted in each other’s embrace, you thought it made a good metaphor. Two opposites unafraid to merge, brave enough to live in the same universe, clash and love the other. You craved to be able to do the same.

14 minutes. «We think tyre degradation is going to be high on the first few laps and it’ll be mainly due to temperature.» Still 14 minutes. «There shouldn’t be problems in terms of pace.» «Yeah, I know.» Just 14 minutes. The formation lap was 14 minutes away. Max couldn’t focus. The 7th place on the grid seemed way busier than being on the first row was, busier than he remembered: VIPs, media, mechanics, engineers, assistants, cameras polluted his sight. Fucking Monza. He’d spent a lot of time in Italy in his karting days, but in a way he’d never fully vibed with the track: was it him? Was it driving for Red Bull in Ferrari’s home that made him less likeable and appreciated by luck? He couldn’t tell. Was it you? Was it you moving through the crowd uneasy? He couldn’t tell. But it was enough to get Max breaking his immobility status. «Max!» the engineer tried to call him back. Zigzagging through the crowd and taking advantage of his agile figure, Max made his way and reached you. «Y/n, stop!» Before you could even recognize the voice, Max tightly gripped your wrist, giving you no chance to escape his hold and no way of avoiding his piercing gaze. «I’m tired of all of this, so don’t feed me up with bullshits.» «Max, I-» «No, listen to me.v he cut you harshly, sounding so decisive you didn’t dare reply. «If I win this race, you’ll have to talk to me.» You stared at his adamant features and momentarily got lost in his ice blue irises, left speechless. A sparkle, a fire burned inside them, igniting your confusion. «W-what?» you uttered. «You heard me.» As he said that, someone from the Red Bull staff called him to the track to get ready. Painfully reminded of his grid penalty, you frowned. «What if you don’t win?» you asked with a shaking tone full of worry and uncertainty. «Max! Please, we’re 3 minutes away!» 3 minutes? Weren’t they 14? Max turned his head towards the engineer, only to look back at you one last time. «I know how to get what I want.» After that, you saw him getting away from you as quickly as he had appeared. Inside Ferrari’s box, wearing a pair of red headphones, you felt yourself burn and consume due to the hot weather and a race terribly nerve-wrecking for you to watch. Each overtake Max had pulled had you silently praying everything didn’t turn into a crash and if you had always been worried whenever a yellow flag was shown on the screen, now more than ever your heart would quicken. Once he had conquered the first position on track after Charles’ pit stop, you sensed the high hopes of the people around you, all cheering for their driver to close the gap, hopes that only partly met yours: you would’ve liked a winning Charles, but a deeper desire burned inside of you, and that was seeing Max finally walking on the highest step of the podium. The safety car prevented any change in the position order. Eyes on the screen, you didn’t even move after the checkered flag announced Max’s victory. Hearing his voice through the team radio finally awakened you; you got up and moved towards the podium, as all the Tifosi were doing. You didn’t feel the heat anymore, you didn’t hear the loud cheers mixed with screams of disapproval, you didn’t notice Charles’ bitter-sweet smile, no. You only admired Max’s bliss, his flushed skin, his smile. Like a spell, you seemed to forget everything else and got carried away, enchanted, while he celebrated his deserved win. Once he disappeared from your sight, your senses took in the crowded pitlane and the loudness surrounding you; it was as if steadiness had become unknown to you after Max had left, leaving you without support.

It didn’t last long, though. He royally emerged amidst a cloud of cameras and flashes, walking with the most intense and determined stare you’d ever seen on him. He seemed magnificent, the happiness for the win already gone. You realized a tiny bit too late he was heading right towards you. He got close to you and, without uttering a single word, he took your hand in his, so that you naturally started following him. His fingers tightly gripped yours, afraid you could vanish if he didn’t hold strong enough, and his feet’s thumps echoed through corridors you couldn’t recognize, heading to some unknown destination. Despite his hurry, you would’ve never dared to escape: the way his blank yet determined expression had seemed to draw you, to claim you, after keeping up to the deal and winning, had you wrapped around his charming aura. He walked off the podium with a veiled rage, almost as if he didn’t care about the victory as much as he cared about getting things clear between the two of you as soon as possible. And there you were, hurrying behind his steps, your heart racing faster than you ever would. Lost in a labyrinth of white corridors and anonymous doors, Max abruptly turned left and dragged you inside one of those rooms. «Here nobody will hear us.» he told you, locking the door. As he turned to face you, you stared at each other. He seemed to be as breathless as you were; a light veil of sweat covering his skin reminded you he’d just had a race, and his slightly reddened cheeks just proved it even more. The slow movement of his chest rising and falling lulled you and enchanted you, so that you momentarily forgot why you were there. You came back to reality as soon as Max got closer to a desk and leaned on it, hands gripping the edge of it, looking at you and expecting you to get comfortable as well. Unsure of what to do, you searched for cleavage on the wall right in front of him, bracing yourself for the talk you were about to have. «I go first, okay?» As he said it, you nodded and mentally thanked him, because you wouldn’t have been able to initiate the conversation. «I’m sorry if I forced you to move in, that clearly was a bad move.» Max said, looking straight into your eyes. «I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, because that was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.» His hand passed through some locks of hair while he searched for the right words. «I get it if you don’t want to live with us. Geez, I could even understand if you didn’t want to deal with me anymore after all of this, but I have to know why. I’ve been pissed all week because you ignored me. Now I want the truth.» All the excuses and valid reasons you had played in your head suddenly felt too weak when you had to say them out loud; Max’s bluntness deserved an explanation, an exhaustive one, coherent, logical, and you realized you had none. None which could be enough for him, that is. He’d asked for the truth, though; truth you would give him. «I… I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin things between you and Kelly.» you rambled. He looked away and laughed, bitter. «Guess it’s too late to worry anyway. We basically broke up.» Max realized his words had affected you more than he expected to; shock was painted on your face, paired up with a sad frown. «I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- Gosh, I know you asked me, and I really wanted it too, but only as long as I didn’t interfere with your relationships. - you quickly said. «And this clearly hasn’t worked.» Max stayed in silence, assessing the situation. «Okay. So you wanted to?» «Of course.» you whispered. «Why did you disappear then?» he urged. «I thought it would be better.» «Better for who?» he asked, a pinch of sarcasm in his voice. «You knew I wanted to talk this out. And don’t you dare tell me it was better for you, because you seemed all but happy.» You shot your head right in front of his. What? «I’ve seen you, after free practice.» Those few words were enough to awaken images and memories of your parents. You stared into the void. Max got up from his semi-sitting position and got closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder as to comfort you. «What happened?» he asked you, straightforward but soft at the same time. You stayed silent for a while. You didn’t talk, he didn’t talk; your lack of explanation was enough, spoke more than you could express, and Max knew it. After a deep inhale, you briefly answered. «I saw my parents. I was in Milan, they were there. They didn’t notice me. I… I didn’t expect them to be here.» Max didn’t say anything. He simply rubbed your shoulder with his thumb in gentle motions, caring. Once he understood that was all, he spoke with a low voice, so low nobody else could’ve heard his words. «You don’t need them to be happy.» You raised your chin towards him. He didn’t divert his gaze. «Fuck them.» He put on a faint smile, prompting a bitter one to bloom on your lips as well. «Yeah, fuck them.» you repeated in a whisper, sad. «Hey,» he said, «I mean it.» His eyes were honest, pure. «And I’m here.» And his words felt sincere. He didn’t try to sugarcoat it, he didn’t go overboard; he measured the weight of his sentences, so that they didn’t burden you nor left you indifferent. He made your heart falter. As if your bodies were moving under the same enchantment, the same spell, you tenderly hugged each other, nestling your face in his neck and both of you letting your arms automatically twine in a comforting, intimate embrace. No other words were needed: nothing but silence could seal the implicit promise you had just made. You’d never run away from him. Never stray from him again. Max broke the embrace and took your hands, placing them softly onto his chest, playing with your fingers and smiling lightly while looking at them. He then looked at you, leaving you breathless. His face, his eyes, his lips were so close to yours you couldn’t even acknowledge it properly. You weren’t backing down, though, and neither was Max; for the first time, none of you felt embarrassed because of the closeness. Despite the lack of discomfort, you began perceiving the warmth of his hands on yours, the champagne scent still drenched in his suit and skin, like a golden honey that kept you glued to him, a precious flower. Max’s beauty got you trapped. Your gaze couldn’t decide what to give most importance to: they flicked to his eyes, then dropped down to his slightly parted lips; you were breathing the same air, sighs mixing and flowing from one soul to the other, making no distinction between you and him. You suddenly wondered whether he had moved towards you – how could you tell? You already could feel his hot breath on your face. Without daring to move, you only had time to notice Max’s hands holding a little bit more firmly yours, while inching over and getting your noses almost to touch, brushing against each other. As your lashes’ weight was ready to close your eyes to conceal the softness in them, a loud shout coming from the corridor made them wide-open, startled. «Max! Max, where are you?» You recognized Christian Horner’s voice calling for him, and you saw him shut his own eyes with annoyance. «Max, c’mon! I know you’re here, please! I’m too old to play hide and seek!» You chuckled silently, as Max stared and smiled with you. Smiled at you. «I think you should go.» you whispered. He simply nodded. He let go of your hands and regretted it immediately; he turned around and unlocked the door and regretted it strongly. After those moments, he’d started to crave your touch, your slightly cold but soft hands, your scent, your presence. He hadn’t even been able to say something after it, because he felt strange. Something different, unusual, unpredicted had struck him. «Here you are! We’ve got a bit of media to cover, let’s go.» Christian patted his shoulder and dragged him to the media pen without getting a reaction from him. The team principal simply thought he was tired, maybe even emotional at the thought of winning for the first time in such a track like Monza, and that last reason sounded the most convincing given the fact Max’s eyes seemed to brim with a new sparkle. What is it?, Christian couldn’t help but wonder, curious. What is it?, Max asked himself while dealing with media interviews. What is it?, you told yourself, pressing your hand on your suddenly reddened and hot cheeks. Was it… affection? It felt deeper, warmer, fuller. What could it be, then?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

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#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #golden #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction

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hot-take-tournament · 10 months

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sorry if my take sounds deeply incomprehensible i just kept going back on submitting it and knew if i didn’t ramble it all out in one take i was gonna chicken out again LMAO

don't worry about it at all!

i think an incoherent infodump every once in a while is good for the soul!

look, if we're being totally candid -

i have pretty severe adhd comorbid with bipolar disorder, which i do my best to mask - yeah yeah, i know you're not supposed to, but i doubt i'll ever truly shake the shame, especially given the things i've done as a result of failing to mask, both online and irl (the latter being much, much worse) - so i've resolved to do it for the rest of my life

i did talk a little bit about what i was like on my main blog here, which you might need for context:

(speaking of which, please don't actually follow or even go to my main blog just because you like this one - i'm 100% fucking serious. i'm a very different person over there to the point of being almost unrecognisable, even to myself - and i guarantee that side of myself wouldn't recognise me either; we're like two parts of a very fucked up whole. so for that reason i want to keep these two blogs separate; like i said, i'm bipolar, so that's where i let the venom out, and when i feel joyful again, i come back here. i'm more active here anyway, to the point where i basically consider this my main blog now - i mean, my bio isn't even up to date over there)

the point is although i plan to mask for the rest of my life, even i'm partial to an unprompted infodump or oversharing session every once in a while

that's the reason i want this blog to be a safe place for people to vent/infodump/just share their wildest takes anonymously, while still having a little fun by making it a tournament - it's partly to atone in a cringe kinda way, but also because this dumbass site has actually been a huge source of support in some of the darker points in my life

it's almost ironic in a weird way - i spent so much time targeting other people for their mental health problems, but when i had some of my own i came crawling back to those same people. maybe karma does exist lol

no, i didn't ever interact with any of them; but just lurking on their blogs and reading their posts helped normalise what i was going through when i felt so alone after receiving my diagnosis; though it was always in the back of my mind that maybe a year earlier i would've seen those same posts and done my level best to make them feel like shit for it just for the sake of a little dopamine hit

i'm a proud airhead, but i'm not naive - i'm not going to lie to you and say that tumblr is a safe space, partly because nowhere on the internet is safe, partly because i've read some of your takes and they terrify me, but mostly because i'm living proof of how awful this site can be

but i do want to at least create one semi-safe place on the internet after ruining so many other people's

jesus i'm fucking crying that's new lol

anyway sorry for taking your incoherent infodump and exchanging it with one of my own, that's probably more info about me than you ever wanted to know

but i hope this provides a little context for why i decided to start this blog

the point i was actually trying to make, because i'm pretty sure i never actually responded to what you were saying - never feel embarassed to submit anything! trust me, i totally get it; but i promise, even when i make jokes about some unhinged takes, it's all light-hearted, and if it ever comes across otherwise, please let me know! <3 <3 <3

i'm gonna take a quick break, i'll catch up with you all again later

#i'm absolutely serious about what i said about my main blog #that's now a tournament rule #although if you stumble across it in the wild - i've had two posts go viral - i guess it's fine #but strictly no jumping from this blog over to there #tournament updates #asks #tournament info #tumblr

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dingdonghyvck · 3 years

Text

The Only Exception || Lee Haechan x Reader

Summary: You finally realize that Haechan’s the only exception to the one rule you gave yourself.

Genre: Angst and a little bit of Fluff

Pairing/s: Drummer!Haechan x Lead Vocalist!Reader, Minor College Student!Mark x Reader

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, implications of sex, sex jokes, use of drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, verbal and physical abuse, divorce, and a few others I probably forgot to mention

Word Count: 5.4k words

So this is part two of the Drummer!Haechan AU I wrote: Still Into You

Please do give feedback, it’s greatly appreciated! Thank you and enjoy :)

"When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget”

It all started with hushed arguments, hidden whispers of disappointment behind closed doors, afraid of breaking the perfect image your family had, afraid of the neighbors to talk. From hushed arguments to daily endeavors of avoiding each other everyday, it was like a ticking bomb inside your home. A ticking bomb you had tip-toed over each morning past your parents' bedroom, hearing the muffled crying. You knew it was only a matter of time before the bomb would finally explode, imploding your house from inside-out.

You hoped and you prayed to any god willing to listen that the rumors were not true. The neighbors started talking and the news had somehow got out. And that was when everything started breaking down. The hushed arguments turned to wars of screaming and crying, sharp words that cut through you like a knife. That was when the walls of your home began to talk, they spoke to you too, they echoed the hatred your parents had for each other. They made you feel unwanted, unloved and useless, since of course the sole foundation of your life was crumbling. You were the scars, bruises, and pain they brought into the world, you were once proof of their love that turned into a ghost wandering the halls, desperately clawing against the wallpaper to make it all stop.

It didn't end with words, it seemed as if words weren't hurtful enough. You were caught in the crossfire, desperately trying to raise the white flag between the two, but you ended up becoming their stress ball. They would sometimes drown you, lock you up in the basement or straight up hit you. They kept squeezing you and throwing you around like a stress ball bound to burst, the people at school began noticing the bruises and cuts. In the end they left you alone, vacant and ignored since you began bringing your friends over your house.

And for the first time in a while you felt safe, you felt safe in Jeno's comforting smile when he tried to teach you guitar. You felt safe with Hendery's little pranks and teasing during practices. You felt safe in Donghyuck's presence whenever you two would head out after band practice, in his car with no particular destination in mind. The nights were long, but somehow it always ended too quickly for you. You wished you could stay for an eternity inside Donghyuck's car, it was a place where you didn't bother to be someone else except yourself.

It was a space where you weren't either the whore's daughter or the useless excuse of a student. You were just authentically you and Donghyuck openly accepted you, he didn't say it but you knew he did. He didn't talk whenever you didn't feel like it, he opened the car window when you wanted to watch the stoplights and streetlight wiz by. That's what made those nights perfect, it was Donghyuck's soft humming along the mediocre pop song on the radio. His weirdly specific defensive monologue whenever you brought up his tacky lavender car scent. Donghyuck's presence in general as he would sometimes just hold your hand while you thought to yourself.

One of those nights where you thought to yourself that life should always be like this, you didn't know how, but you knew that Donghyuck has to be apart of it. You decided that the world may go to shit, your parents may end up getting a divorce, you may end up living the rest of your life as a deadbeat. But you no longer cared as long as you had this place, in a worn out car seat next to him; well that was what you thought at least.

"And that was the day that I promised,

I'd never sing of love if it does not exist"

Donghyuck's sudden departure from the band shocked both Jeno and Hendery, they took it considerably well in all honesty. They still wanted to continue on with the band, partly because they needed the money from the gigs and mostly because they worried for you as a friend. You tried your best in trying to continue with your life and look for another drummer, for another Donghyuck in your life. As silly as it sounded since you were the one that pushed him away, you would think of him most days. You were only realizing how important Donghyuck was in your life.

He was always the one who took care of you, reminded you to eat and rest whenever you forgot. He would show up at your dorm to bring you breakfast or make you coffee, remind you that some of the books you borrowed from the library was due tomorrow, or even just chat you to check on how your day was going. Now that you had changed your number and avoided him like a plague you were starting to realize how much you lost.

And you had thought of calling him, or maybe reaching out to ask how his day was going, the same way he used to check on you. You were so tempted that you showed up at his place, a second away from buzzing his doorbell, but you remembered. You remembered how awful you were to him, you were reminded of the pain and misery you've caused him all through out your lives so far. You were being selfish yet again, so you stopped yourself. You immediately turned around that day and called up Hendery and Jeno to tell them that the band was over, you didn't have the guts to face them anymore.

The guilt was eating you alive, they had tried to convince you otherwise but you pushed them away too. The only person who you kept in your life was Mark. You still felt happy to be around him, although you didn't feel comfortable since you felt like you had to keep a facade around him. He seemed glad to see you more often, you'd cling onto him like a flee for days. But there came a time when he finally asked why you were so vacant these days, and where were your other friends; it was an argument caused by Mark's growing irritation for being required to see you everyday and almost having to babysit you like child, all the while trying to keep up with other activities going on his life. You had left him without a single word and returned the next day like nothing happened.

He genuinely did like you, he wished things were different but he couldn't handle the nonstop texts and calls that came from you every minute of the hour, he was beginning to get sick of it. And you immediately notice his distaste, the way he would dryly reply to your messages or not talk to you whenever he did have time to see you. You knew you were becoming a bit too much for him, desperate for company that you became too overbearing, a bit too possessive and selfish when it came to his time.

And for the first time, you felt it. You felt how your heart sunk everytime Mark chose to answer a call from a friend when you were talking to him, the way he would look anywhere else but you whenever you tried to start conversations. You were usually on the other end of the stick, careless of other people’s emotions and too busy living in your own world. You finally knew what it felt when Donghyuck dated you, and what horrible thoughts that came with it. In the end, you knew that Mark was too kind to end it with you, he obviously knew you were having issues in your personal life, but he couldn't be bothered anymore; he's tried talking to you about it, but you'd always change the topic.

So you told yourself that it was better if you would be alone for now, this is the tenfold of misery and hurt you've caused everyone around you, especially Donghyuck, your world was falling apart as more and more people left. You eventually ended things with Mark, and he gave you a simple okay and left. He didn't seem to notice you anymore, he continued to live his university life unscathed, it was as if you two never spoke in the first place.

He would sometimes smile at you or give you a small nod of his head whenever you saw each other around campus, but that was the most you've gotten from him. You didn't blame him, he didn't have time to waste with people like you. Being alone with your thoughts truly was eating you alive, you were beginning to go insane. Everytime you were about to reach out to anyone, either Jeno, Hendery, or Donghyuck, you'd always stop yourself to remind you that you deserved this.

You deserved to be alone, you cannot be loved. You were a heartless monster just as Donghyuck said and you lived most of your days alone while trying to survive with the little funds your new part time provided. You didn't know how, but you somehow lived as days went by. You watched the leaves and flowers bloom from the branches outside of your dorm till they wilted. It was now winter, and you freely wandered the streets. No other human could be seen outside, everyone was probably spending time with loved ones, since of course it was the holidays.

Days you should be spending with the people you cherish and loved the most, you could see the warm lights from within some of the homes, laughter resonates through the walls, probably the lovers and families enjoying their own company. Playing dumb board games and cuddled up by the fire, watching the grinch movies with eggnog and warm cups of hot choco. You never really understood the joys of the holidays, probably because the only other person you had spent it was with Donghyuck, and there you go thinking of him again.

As if thinking of him in everything you do wasn't enough, he began appearing in your dreams. You didn't know if it was pleasant to revisit old memories or did it hurt to reminisce what was lost between you two. And as much as it hurt you chose to remember him as someone you loved, perhaps not romantically, but he was someone you truly cherished. You thought that he'd comment on how cheesy you've become, so melodramatic that you'd give William Shakespear a run for his money when he's already in his grave.

You bitterly laugh at the thought, the cold makes your throat dry and eyes watery but you look up to the moon while standing next to a lamp post near the frozen river. You could almost feel his presence, you truly were going insane that you started imagining things he'd say to you at times like this. The snarky comments and cute pet names he'd give you whenever you dragged him along for whatever adventure you had in mind. You remembered how he'd first complain about it to no end, but he always ends up coming with you. He always does, of course, he's Donghyuck, the person who stuck with you through thick and thin; the person you've hurt the most.

You begin humming a small tune, you didn't recognize it at first, but you ended up humming a paramore song. The song you both listened to during class the first day you two met, the same song that you sang here, with tears streaming down you cheeks. You didn't know you were crying until you felt the cold gust of wind brushing against your cheeks, a chill running down your spine as you sniffled.

"I hope you're happy now Hyuck, wherever you are," it felt weird to speak, you couldn't remember the last time you opened your mouth to say anything. it's been months since you've last said a word to anyone, you throat was dry and you could barely recognize your own voice, it was raspier than you last remembered.

"I'm happy enough to know we're looking at the same moon tonight at least." you laughed, your throat hurts like hell, the laugh came as a croak and you tried to gasp in air to try and stop yourself from breaking down.

It felt weird to listen to your own voice, everything felt unreal. These past few months were like a fever dream to you, you even wondered if you were dead and this was some cruel purgatory you served for the shit you pulled back then. You've thought about jumping into the frozen river, maybe the cold would at least wake you up if this was truly some cruel nightmare. If not it could also finally end all the suffering and pain you know you caused yourself, what hurt most was you cannot blame anyone else for what is happening now. You shakily let out a breath, hands gripping the metal railing. You were about to jump over it when the street's fairy lights were suddenly turned on and it reflected off the thin layer of ice of the lake.

You wake up from your daze, what the hell were you thinking? The pretty lights distracted you for a moment, you pace your breathing with the consistent flicker of the warm glow of the tiny lights, trying to calm down.

"And I've always lived like this,

keeping a comfortable distance"

senior year, prom.

You bit your lip while watching the fairy lights flicker, whose idea was it to have tiny light bulbs as decoration for the photo booth, and god you wanted to give them a kiss now. It was such a hazard that you couldn't stop thinking of the endless possible drama it could cause, the prom queen could end up stepping on it and light her dress on fire, that would at least make the night interesting. You blew the tiny patch of fake snow off the table while you grumpily waited for someone, anyone, to step on one of the fairy lights, but you were dragged out of your reverie when you hear Donghyuck's voice behind you.

"Hey ugly,"

"Hey stupid," you replied, eyes shifting away from the photo booth for a second to look at him. He stuck out like a sore thumb, he wasn't wearing a tuxedo like the rest, or even a tie to at least try and be formal. He was sporting his favorite leather jacket with a green untucked button up underneath, he looked underdressed, the only effort he made to his appearance was the way he styled his hair to showcase his forehead.

"That's not a nice way to speak to your boyfriend" Donghyuck faked a gasp, dragging a chair to sit down beside you, you raised an eyebrow at him. The stupid crease on his jacket annoyed you to no end, so you fixed it for him, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you.

"Boyfriend? I thought boyfriends put in extra efforts for prom? You know like in the movies, they give the girl a cute corsage and tell them how pretty they look and end up fucking in the bathroom or something?"

"You're beautiful." He says it blatantly, you stop to look him in the eyes, and it seemed genuine. You pursed your lips while trying to hide your smile, boyfriend Donghyuck was different from best friend Donghyuck, he was a lot... sweeter.

"Let's fuck in the bathroom later?" he added, to which you groaned and slapped his thigh. He only laughed at you while gently fitting his hand into yours, gently kissing your knuckles when you swore you were gonna bite his dick someday, just he wait.

Well you'll give him credit, he at least made an effort to look nice for you. You didn't even bother to blow dry your hair today and you were wearing what you'd usually wear whenever you went out with him, just with a bit more grunge added, like black fishnet stockings. He wasn't complaining at all, he knew that whatever you were wearing tonight would end up ripped anyway, probably somewhere on his bedroom floor. And plus, you two didn't really attend prom, the only reason you bothered to this year was for the battle of the bands.

You were already done with the performance so you were all simply waiting for the announcement of the winner. You knew Jeno was probably out on the dance floor dancing with his date in a proper suit and tie like a gentleman, but you had no idea where Hendery went. One second he said he was going to get you a drink, the next he's disappeared before you into thin air. So you were left with Donghyuck, who was currently playing with your rings. As weird as it felt to have a label between you two, nothing's changed. You thought that you'd feel more awkward towards him, but the only thing that changed was the label, and you were happy in a way.

"Wanna dance?"

You perk up at his question, you finally realize that a slow song was playing. Everyone was paired off in front of you, even some of the teachers were dancing. You almost let out a laugh at the sight of some of couples who were trying their best to keep it in their pants. You thought he was joking until you looked over at him, he was shyly fiddling with his own hands now, not able to look you in the eyes. You would laugh if it weren't for the way he seemed so shy to ask, he looked like he was about to combust.

"I don't dance," you laughed, he looks up at you. You didn't know it was possible but he looked much more embarrassed now, it was cute it in a way.

"Let's get out of here?"

"Now that's more like it" you smirk, taking his hand to lead him outside of the gymnasium and to his car. He didn't bother to fight it, he just simply let you drag him out to the parking lot.

He opens the car door for you and you played along, deciding to not tease him just this once since, of course, he was already red enough. He turns on the engine and you switch through different channels on the radio, finally settling on one when he pulls out of the driveway.

“And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk.”

The song on the radio hummed in the background as he drove as carefully as he could, the roads were iced and it wasn't very safe to drive right now. He was about to take the turn to his house but you stop him and told him to bring you to the center of town, he was unsure why the sudden request, but he follows your directions anyway. For the moment, you stared at his face. The way the streetlights lit up his skin, you rarely saw his forehead and it did make him look attractive. Well he was already attractive in the first place but you couldn’t help but observe the way he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the song’s beat, it looked instinctive and natural to him.

"So are you finally going to murder me and take my intestines to sell on the black market?" he spoke, and you laughed, throwing your head back; he was finally starting to look handsome to you, and he opens that damned mouth of his.

"Kidneys my darling! Your kidneys will be worth a fortune!" you giggled while leaning over the center console to kiss his cheek, he smiled at the sound of your laughter.

He takes you exactly where you asked him, the center of the town. The exact intersection that’s considered as the heart of your buzzing neighborhood. The exact intersection that usually had so many cars, always the cause of traffic and delay, was now completely empty. All the stores near the intersect were closed, no other person in sight but the stoplights continued to operate. The colors red, yellow, and green appearing in an ordered sequence, proportionally timed. Although there wasn't a single car in sight, Donghyuck stopped when the light turned red.

"What are you waiting for?" you asked in confusion, he shrugs.

"Can you tell me why we're here?"

You didn't bother to speak, you simply got out of the car and stood at the center of the intersection. You opened your arms up to him and he watched you curiously, you let out a boisterous laugh, spinning around your heel. You forgot that the road was slippery so you fell flat on your back, still laughing. Donghyuck runs out of his car to kneel beside you, he had a worried look to him but it immediately faded away when you looked at him with joy in your eyes.

He scoffed, not forgetting to comment on how stupid you looked before offering his hand to help you stand up. You take his hand but instead of sitting up, you pull him towards you and he slips, ending up toppled over you. His breathing was uneven as it brushed cooly against your cheek, you close your eyes at the feeling. He gently kissed your cheek after a minute, finally standing up to brush himself off. You were still lying down on the ground, flailing your arms around to try and form a snow angel.

"Are you dumb? Get up before we get run over" Donghyuck tried to sound angry, but he couldn't stop the lilt in his voice, a tiny chuckles escapes his mouth.

"Shut up already and just lie down! Why do you always ruin the moment?” you whined looking up at him, still spread eagle at the center of the intersect, he raised an eyebrow at you, it was becoming a habit to him.

“Don’t you feel it too? The world’s stopped, they’ve finally shut up! So enjoy it and come lie down with me.”

“And if we get run over?”

“Then so be it” You shrugged, Donghyuck lets out a heavy sigh before taking his seat beside you. He doesn’t lie down, so you sit up to lean against his shoulder.

And the world stops, like what you said. For a moment the only thing you two could hear was the sound of your breathing and the beating of your hearts, he held your hand in his while you both watched the stoplight change colors. It felt like you two were the only people on earth, and it was the best. There was nothing but the moon, your thoughts, the stoplight, and him. And as peaceful as it was you couldn’t stop the thought from spilling from your mouth.

“Someday I’ll burn this town to the ground” you comment, and he snorts.

“Gee, it sure sounds like a solid plan” he says it sarcastically, and you turn to look at him.

“I’m serious! You better not get in my way or anything or else I’ll have to set you on fire” you say it with the most serious tone that he’s taken aback, well that was one weird thought he thought.

His face makes you laugh and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh with you. He shook his head when he realized you were joking, probably. You felt content and happy that you decided to grant him one wish. He once again has the confused face he had earlier, just when he was finally settled you suddenly move. He tries to stand up to follow you, but you told him that you’ll be back.

He watched you open the driver’s side of the car, he thought you were about to drive away and leave him here but he was abruptly stopped mid-thought when the speakers of the radio of his car boomed throughout the empty streets. His eyes widened, he was worried that it might wake the whole street up. Then he remembered that the residential homes were located near the outskirts of town, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear. Most of this area had shops and stores, so the people are probably back at home, you both aren’t technically disturbing anyone hopefully. He relaxes back into his seat to watch you waltz back towards him.

“So?” you asked, the smile on your face was infectious.

“So?” he mimicked dumbly and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, was he always this dumb?

“May I have this dance?” you groaned, turning red yourself. You blamed it on the cold, but he couldn’t help but laugh at you. At first it sounded like he was mocking you, but when you met his eyes to smack him on the head you were only met with eyes filled with so much endearment and affection that you could only pull back your hand.

He takes your hand to stand up, you complain of course, he was heavy. But he hushed you when he placed his fingers to your chapped lips, he smiled so widely that it looked like it hurt. You pursed your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and he securely holds your waist. Although the atmosphere was supposed to be romantic, your terrible sense of rhythm in dancing ruined it. You would think that you’d be good at following the rhythm when dancing being a couple of musicians, but you both always missed a beat by a second. And he could only laugh while you cursed, finally remembering why you never danced.

You were muttering something under you breath, but your voice hitched when he brushes his fingers against your hair. He placed a sweet kiss to your temple and you freeze, you felt your heart clench at the action. He begins whispering the lyrics to your ear, you swallow thickly. This was one of the rare times he’d sing to you, you tried to tell him countless times that his voice was beautiful, but he had always denied saying yours was better. But hearing him now, whispering softly against your ear while he nuzzled his nose to your neck affectionately made your heart throb. You take in a deep breath, this feeling in your chest, it was your heart clenching. You didn’t know if he was hurting you but you were so overwhelmed that you suddenly pushed him away.

“Did I do something wrong?” his eyes spoke, trying to reach out to you again but you take another step backward.

“This was a stupid idea” You were shocked to hear your voice crack, Donghyuck frowns at your comment.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me home.... now.”

He tried to take a step towards you but you run back towards his car, closing the door to wait for him. You lower the volume of the radio and try to gather your thoughts, what the fuck was that? You watched him walk back towards the car and swore to yourself, whatever the hell you felt earlier, whatever he did to you, he will never be able to do again. It was too much of a risk, and you swore to yourself to never let yourself be that vulnerable again.

He tries to talk to you on the way home, but your replies were dry. You were busy fiddling with your fingers while looking outside the window. He tried his best to make you tell him what he did wrong but he couldn’t get another word out from you the moment he pulled up in front of your house. You were about to leave but you decided to try and turn things around, you tried to get back to what you two were used to.

You kissed him, hauling yourself over the center console to sit on his lap. He tries to pull away but you continued to kiss, hastily lifting his shirt to try and remove it. In the end he was weak to your touch, he could never deny you of anything. He hoped that you two could talk it out in the morning but you were unavailable the next few weeks after that, busy fooling around with Johnny.

“I've got a tight grip on reality but I can't let go of what's in front of me here.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up, leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream”

Present day.

The next day you decided to visit your home town. Although you didn’t have any family left to visit, you had volunteered to play at an orphanage, it was the least you could do for the holidays. If you couldn’t be happy, you could at least make others feel it. Who knew that Jeno’s stupid guitar lessons would end up becoming an asset to you, you could at least spread a little joy to the children who didn’t have parents, you somehow understood how they felt, in a weird way.

It was a joy to finally sing with a purpose again, hearing them laugh and sing along with you made your heart sore. Well at least you didn’t feel as useless after playing with a few of the kids and chatting with the caretakers and other volunteers. It felt freeing, to finally do something right. You fucked up this year for the most of it but you felt a bit less burdened when the children asked you to braid their hair or took your hand to dance with them. After serving your purpose at the orphanage you find yourself at the intersection. You don’t know what you wanted to accomplish, but your feet ended up taking you here.

And as expected it was filled with bustling life, people going in and out of shops to buy late christmas presents, children building snowmen and riding the tiny slopes made by the snow. The traffic as usual was heavy, the cars were honking and the streets were so noisy that no one could bearly hear themselves think. You sat by a bench near the park, the intersect still in your sight. You were eating a bagel mindlessly when a little kid sat beside you, he was eyeing your guitar.

“You play?” the little kid asked and you nodded, giving him a small smile to not scare him away, you probably looked like a walking corpse; you can’t remember the last time you slept properly.

“A little bit, like five songs?” you smiled and he instantly asks you to play, there was this urgency in his voice that you couldn’t help but immediately do what he was asking.

You bite into the bagel while tuning your guitar, thinking of a song to play, well out of the five you knew how to play. You began strumming the guitar to Paramore’s The Only Exception, humming the tune as best as you could with the bagel in your mouth. You end your humming after the first chorus to be met with a grimace, the little kid laughed at you.

“You’re no good”

“Hey!” you take out the bagel from your mouth to yell jokingly at him, he scrunches his nose up when you ruffle his hair and you laugh at his annoyed face, he somehow looked familiar, was he one of the kids from the orphanage? Wait were they even allowed to leave the orphanage?

“So what’s your name?” You ask, putting the guitar back into its case. The voice that meets your ears wasn’t the little boy’s, it was a voice you haven’t heard in a long time, a voice you thought you’d never hear again.

“Dongsuk,”

This has to be a dream, it couldn’t be real. You blink a few times before pinching yourself, you were probably hallucinating. Because there is no way, not a chance the Lee Donghyuck was now standing in front of you. That shit only happens in movies, this can’t be real. But you could only rub your eyes so much, he looked real, like real enough that he was getting closer to you. And he finally speaks, and you finally realize it really is him in the flesh.

“Where have you been?” he speaks, you first thought that he was talking to you but he grabs the little boy’s arm. He glances at you and you try to speak and he simply turns his nose away from you, you feel your world crack in half.

To his defense you were the one who moved dorms, changed your number, and avoided him like a plague. So his reaction was expected, you don’t know why you were so surprised. He was about to walk away when you finally speak, he stops cold in his steps when he hears your voice.

“Donghyuck...” He turns to look at you, and his eyes were still the same. It still had the same hurt and sadness you’d usually see when he looked at you, but he looked much more angrier than you remembered.

“Let’s... talk”

“You are the only exception, oh and I'm on my way to believing.”

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lulu-zodiac · 3 years

Note

cockles never made much sense to me before but the complete mess yesterday has shifted my entire perspective on jensens relationships with jared and misha and i don't know what to think anymore

honestly? I feel this.

okay, cockles made sense to me pretty much from the first moment I watched them interact, but this entire mess with the prequel has definitely shifted my perspective on jensen's relationship with jared (if anything, it's just consolidated my belief that jensen and misha have a really good relationship).

until pretty recently actually, I was quite unaware of a lot of the bad stuff jared has done over the years. I thought people disliked him just because he can be a bit loud and obnoxious and doesn't always seem to know when to draw the line, but I didn't know he'd done anything objectively awful. after returning to spn tumblr (thanks november 5th lol) though, I started to learn about some of the things he's done and the way he's treated people over the years.

I won't lie, it was kind of rough to process that stuff at first, because although jared had never been a favourite of mine, I'd grown up with spn being my safe space and I loved all the actors involved. I always try to be aware that everyone's human and makes mistakes and that as fans, we never know the full reality of anything that happens between actors, so just tried to not comment on it and engaged as little as possible in any jared related discourse.

honestly though? for a while, I think there was also still a part of me (the 14 year old who adored the spn actors with all her heart for creating her favourite show) that partly hoped those mistakes (however bad they might have been) were in the past, and that jensen and jared still had that special, brotherly relationship that had made the show so good.

people are complex, and I didn't want to demonise someone I'd never met, even though all the evidence I had was starting to feel pretty damning. but I also didn't want to not hold him accountable for genuinely shitty behaviour. it got to a point where I honestly didn't know what the right thing was to do, I didn't want to hurt anyone or condemn them unfairly, and spent a lot of time worrying about it.

however, it became increasingly clear that a lot jared's actions were pretty damn worthy of condemnation. and then the prequel mess hit.

seeing him treat his alleged best friend and co-worker of 15 years like that really brought it all home to me. it also made me really re-evaluate everything I'd grown up thinking about his relationship with jensen, because treating someone like that is just not how you treat a friend. or literally anyone you respect. I'd had this sense from panels etc for a while that there were maybe tensions and difficulties between them, but it was all (obviously) unspoken. what happened with the prequel made me think about all those hints I'd noticed over the years and think about them in a whole different light, and I've been thinking a lot about their relationship and how/why it might have changed over the years a LOT.

sorry, this ended up being ridiculously rambling, and I don't even know if it answers your question/helps at all (I hope it does!). I'll stop now before I get carried away and write an entire essay lol.

I really respect the fact that you're reconsidering how you feel about this, because I know it's rough to do that when it's something that's meant so much to you for a long time. sending hugs your way for all that you're dealing with, and remember that everyone is welcome in the cockles trash dumpster <3

#asks #j2 fallout theory #cockles #cockles trash dumpster #jared paladecki #jensen ackles

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lottiebagley · 3 years

Text

Snow covered courtyards- Oliver Wood

When he'd asked her to the ball he'd been certain she would say no. They'd been friends for a while but never particularly close, simply in the same year and house and therefore knew each other through mutual friends.

He'd always thought she was kind of unattainable, she seemed to always look perfect, she was smart and funny and kind and top of her classes. He never knew why but she always avoided Oliver a little, he spent nights laid in bed listening to Percy's snoring and racking his brains for any reason she might avoid him, an insult from years ago, a history between him and one of her friends but nothing quite came to mind.

It wasn't until a few weeks before the ball that he realised that maybe the reason she avoided him was because she wasn't quite as unattainable as he'd thought. He'd laughed at first when his best friend shrugged that she probably just had a crush on him, mouthful of cereal and a slightly bemused look on his face.

After that conversation he slowly allowed his brain to convince himself she just might like him back. After all why else would she blush when he catches her eye? why would she go to every quidditch game no matter how awful the weather? why would she giggle a little with her friends when he passes?

And so, Oliver Wood let a little spark of hope light in his heart and he began to plan how he would ask her to the ball.

He thought about asking her after they won a quidditch match when he was high on adrenaline but he didn't like the idea of being muddy and sweaty and with the fucking Weasley twins, their relentless teasing playing in his mind before it even happened.

Next he thought about making some production out of it in the great hall like he'd seen a few other people do, but he knew she'd hate being the centre of the entire school's attention.

He contemplated asking her at a party, figuring some liquid courage might make the prospect of asking his dream girl on a date a little easier, but didn't want her to think it was some drunk decision.

He settled on approaching her with a bouquet of flowers and just asking it, after all, he knew he was a good looking guy and most people found him charming if not a little intense. What he didn't think about though was that most people didn't make his heart beat too fast, his hands go clammy, and his words come out a stuttering mess.

Oliver announced to his friends one morning that today was the day he'd ask her out, they'd grinned widely, given him a pep talk, mocked him a little for his nerves and sent him on his way and Oliver had every intention to ask her out.

It was then that Oliver learnt the age old lesson.

Girls travel in packs.

No matter how hard he tried she was surrounded. Between classes, at meals, in the common room, christ even on her way to the bathroom. Whenever he saw her she'd have a gaggle of girls with her all of which would eye him with curiosity and smirks when he attempted to approach.

It took Oliver a further three days of attempting to catch her alone, his friends seeming to find the entire situation funnier by the hour, before it had happened. He'd caught a glimpse of her with Cedric.

Oliver Wood hated Cedric Diggory, hated that he was so often compared to him, hated that he had swoopy hair that made girls swoon, hated that he too was a good quidditch player. His newest reason though to despise the boy who showed him nothing but kindness was that he didn't clam up around her. He talked to her with ease and made her laugh.

If he'd done a little digging, Oliver would have easily found Cedric was a family friend and she viewed him like a brother. Through exasperated mutual friends sick of both their pining he'd have probably also learnt she had a massive crush on Oliver and had turned down multiple boys in the hopes Oliver would ask her to the ball.

He didn't dig though. Instead he scowled in the direction of Cedric and her, they were laughing by the quidditch pitch as the Hufflepuff practice ended and the Gryffindor's arrived for their own. She had been on her way to the greenhouses to grab a book she'd accidentally left there when Cedric had jogged over, unknown to Oliver actually asking if the Gryffindor had plucked up the nerve to ask her out. She had brushed her friend off, thinking it would be a miracle for Oliver Wood to fancy her back.

"Hurry up Wood, she's a good one, she'll get swept up all too soon," Fred smirks as he passes Oliver on his way into the changing rooms.

And with Fred's words in his mind Oliver grabs the bouquet of flowers from the office and marches towards her, Cedric spotting him coming and quickly taking his leave.

"Hi," He calls, cursing himself for not thinking to say her name when she doesn't even turn around, not used to him approaching her, "Hi-Y/N,"

She turns then, still clad in her uniform, hair blowing in the light wind and a small smile on her face.

"Oliver-uh-hey," She blushes a little as she falls over her words

"You're a really hard girl to get on her own," He comments. Fucking christ why does he sound like a stalker? The question spins in his mind but she seems to not think anything of the comment, instead blushing a little

"Oh- my friends and I are kinda inseperable," She shrugs lightly, not wanting an awkward silence so instead opting to ramble "They only aren't here now cause they are busy. Meg's at detention, Ali's with her boyfriend and Katie's tutoring some second year in potions. I'd have waited for one of them to be with me because honestly I kind of hate walking alone- not cause I'm weird or un-independent or any thing, I just, well I get a little anxious and feel like people are staring at me and-" She silences herself, suddenly coming to her senses and realising how crazy she's making herself sound. "Sorry,"

"Don't be. I think it's cute when you ramble," He admits, blushing as red as his quidditch robes when he realises what he's said.

"Did you need something or have I just embarrassed myself over a polite hello?" She questions, he chuckles a little making her feel mildly less uncomfortable.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go to the ball?" He questions. He feels a weight off his shoulder's once the question has been asked. Like suddenly even if she says no at least he could tell himself he tried.

"With you?" She questions, she realises she probably sounds more idiotic by the second but can't quite convince herself to believe her long term crush would actually ask her out.

"Uh-yeah," He's taken aback by the question and feels stupid for even thinking she'd consider it and suddenly the even if she says no bullshit is just that, because shit if the girl in front of him with wide eyes and a nervous smile doesn't say yes he thinks his heart might break in his chest.

"Like a date?"

"I was hoping,"

"I'd love that,"

Oliver feels like the luckiest person on earth. Watching as she blushes a little, but her smile is wide and god if he doesn't want to kiss her right there.

"Great,"

"Good,"

"Cool,"

"Yeah,"

Neither of them is quite sure what comes next and the interaction seems to run even more awkward. "You'll pick her up!" Oliver rolls his eyes at the sound of George Weasley, although thankful for the prompt, she blushes, peering behind him to see the entire Gryffindor quidditch team watching them.

"I'll pick you up," He confirms

"Right," She nods

"At 7? Outside your dorm?"

"Sounds good,"

"Okay," He grins brightly, still thinking this entire thing is his mind playing some cruel tricks on him.

"So you should go, your team awaits," She reminds, he nods, partly wanting the interaction over before he can make even more of a fool out of himself or ruin something before it even has a chance to start and partly wanting to live in this moment of pure joy for the rest of his life.

"Right, so I'll uh- see you at the ball- and- uhm- around before obviously," He stutters a little

"Great, I'll see you in both those places," She confirms, realising only after she's spoken how idiotic she sounds.

"The flowers Wood! Christ you're bad at this!" Fred shouts

"Always thought he had game," Harry comments

"We all did kid," George agrees.

"Sorry about them," Oliver apologises

"It's okay," She smiles gently, waiting patiently as he stands staring wondering why her eyes are flickering from him, to his team to his hands and-

"Oh right, these are for you," He confirms, passing the bouquet over and grinning when she blushes a little

"Thanks Oli,"

"Any time," He nods

When she pulls open her dorm door Oliver is certain time stops.

She looks like an angel, her makeup perfect, hair flowing in curls with a small section pinned back as to see her face clearly, Oliver is certain nothing else has ever looked as beautiful. She's dressed in a golden gown that shimmers in the light and makes her look like a princess.

"You- I mean- it- you look beautiful," He stammers over his words and his face goes redder by the second but she smiles at him

"Thank you Oli," She smiles up at him and when their eyes meet both of them feel their hearts hammering in their chests.

"You ready?" He questions, she nods, smiling when he grabs her arm in his and they walk together to the hall.

The hall looks like something out of a fairytale. Seeming to glow an ice white, lined with glittering trees and a glance at the ceiling showing a sky full of stars that gleamed in the air.

"You want to dance?" Oliver questions, eyes falling to the already slightly crowded dance floor, the students dancing to the waltz that plays.

"Think you might loose a foot if we try," She admits, glancing at the girls who swirl around the floor effortlessly and feeling a little self conscious she can't do the same.

"It'd be worth it," He grins, pulling her along with him.

"Hey Oli?"

"Yeah?" He questions as they come to the edge of the dance floor

"These heels are really high. Please don't let me fall,"

"I've got you," He assures, smiling when he notices her physically loosen the panic in her eyes dissipating.

It takes them a few stumbles and a couple of toe treads but eventually they pick up the dance. He watches with a grin as she stares at her feet in focus and with time, and a few glasses of the punch Fred and George spiked, she relaxes, feeling at ease in his arms and becoming more comfortable with the slightly confusing dancing.

Oliver whispers commentary about the ball that makes her laugh and he loves the way she talks with such excitement that he can't help but follow along with every word. He's pretty sure in that moment he could die happy and she's almost certain this is the best night of her life.

As the minutes tick into hours they become more and more comfortable with each other, sure there's still an awkward teenagers with crushes layer to the conversation, but they learn they have a lot in common and find it easy to make small talk that they both actually enjoy.

"Do you wanna go get some air?" She questions at around 11, the dancing has changed from formal waltzing to jumping around to the band who'd been hired for the event and they were both hot and a little sticky from the crowd.

He nods in confirmation and smiles to himself when she immediately takes his hand in hers to pull him along behind her, she seems to have no idea he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

She takes him to a small moonlit, snow covered, empty courtyard.

"Anyone would think you wanted to get me alone," He teases lightly, she blushes a little but playfully shoves him

"Maybe I did," She shrugs, he grins cockily "Or maybe it was a little crowded in there and I'm a polite date who didn't want to just abandon you," She isn't quite sure where her newfound confidence around Oliver is coming from

"I'm going to go with the first option," He grins, she laughs a little before shivering at the cold December breeze that wraps around them. He's quick to shrug of his black formal jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders and blushing when she leans up to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

"You wanna dance?" She questions, he laughs a little at the idea of leaving a ball to go and dance but nods.

Her arms wrap around his neck as his circle her waist, he hums gently and she smiles a she glances up at him. Oliver Wood looks like a god in the moonlight and she thanks her lucky stars that it's her who got to be in that moment with him.

They dance slowly, eventually pulling each other closer. She laughs when he twirls her under his arm and he grins when her hands begin to brush through the ends of his hair.

"Tell me something," She speaks quietly, his arms pulling her even closer.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Anything about you," She decides, he takes a deep breath, figuring now's probably the best moment he'll ever get to tell her this.

"I've had a crush on you since first year,"

"You have?" She sounds shocked and he can't help but laugh at the idea of her not realising he's practically head over heels for her

"I have," He confirms with a grin

"Why'd you never say anything?" She questions. Her heart feels like it's beating a million miles a minute and she's almost certain he can feel it

"You kinda avoided me," he shrugs

"Yeah I did," She laughs

"Why'd you do that?"

"I was scared to make a fool out of myself," She admits

"Yeah I get that," He nods

"You do? You always seem so- I don't know- at ease,"

"Around everyone but you I kinda am," He shrugs, she blushes a little at that. "You wanna know something else?" He questions.

They're still swaying a little but there's not much movement at their feet, instead the entire thing looks like a loving embrace and she figured to an extent it kind of was.

"Sure,"

"All night I've thinking about if I were to try and kiss you. If you'd kiss back or you'd pull away and laugh in my face and I'd have made a fool of myself," His words leave her breathless and his charming grin only makes it better

"There's only one way to know for sure," She whispers.

His lips crash to hers in the moonlit courtyard, the snow falling around them. It's slow and gentle. Holding years of emotion and there's no need to rush, in that moment they both know they have forever to hold each other this close. It's a little toothy from both their wide grins but as his hands cup her cheeks she's sure nothing has ever been as perfect as this moment and the boy she's sharing it with.

MASTERLIST

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter masterlist #oliver wood #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood imagine

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thr-333 · 3 years

Text

Drastic Measures- Part 2

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Swordplay~

To summarise: I will have the love square one way or another!

Ao3

First >Next

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

As far as homes go it’s pretty good” Adrien stretches out, Plagg curls up next to him.

“Don't get too comfortable we’re going to be on the move,” Marinette types furiously at her computer.

“I will try my hardest,” Adrien stares blankly at her, sat atop a pile of grubby blankets next to a broken window. Marinette loses connection to her computer and slams it shut with a huff.

“Get some sleep I’m going to find an internet cafe,” Marinette stuffs the cheap laptop into her bag, amazing how something she bought at a hole in the wall place for thirty bucks didn’t work well.

“Who needs sleep when you can have coffee,” Adrian stands up, ready to follow her.

“Sleep Chat,” She pushes him down by the shoulders, “I need my partner fully operational,”

“Yeah kid, take a break, we worked hard,” Plagg yawns, turning over.

“You also worked hard Bug,” Adrien lets himself be pushed back onto the blankets.

“I won't be able to sleep until I know how everything is in Paris,”

“Neither can I,” Adrien protests, already half asleep.

“Sure you can, night Chat,”

“Night M’lady,”

Marinette leaves the same way they came in, though the window. She has to slide down the gutter to get on the street, Tikki hiding away in her bag. She has to go pretty far in town to find a suitable cafe, too far from Adrien to be comfortable. Marinette pops in her earbuds before opening her computer to let her talk to Tikki freely.

She doesn't immediately search up missing person cases. Looking instead at Paris tourist destinations and guides. Switching to the dangers of traveling to Paris; the only mention of Akuma being on obscure question and answer sites. She looks at kidnapping potential and then moves onto missing person cases. Adrien's is the first to come up, obviously.

There was lots of outcry among his fans. Many were throwing around accusations of foul play on Gabriel's part from abuse to locking Adrien away from the world. However, Gabriel was also fiercely looking for his son. Adrien hadn’t left behind any sort of note. Well only to Nino, which Adrien had told Marinette was asked not to mention to anyone.

Marinette then feels safe enough to look up her own case. It was smaller, although was gaining attention as Jagged proclaimed it to high heavens; more so asking what they did wrong and how they could fix it and asking for any sightings of her. That could be a problem if her picture was already around. Marinette pulls her hood up higher. They might have to get haircuts and wear disguises… on second thought wearing suspicious disguises in Gotham might cause more problems.

“Tikki they seem really worried,” Marinette watches the videos Jagged posted, her parents in the background running around talking with police.

“Of course they are Mari,” Marinette feels a light tap on her side, “But you're doing the right thing,”

“No I’m not,” not when she’s watching a video of her parents crying, “I’m doing what needs to be done, this is my responsibility, no matter what a certain someone thinks,”

She spits with venom. Maybe Adriens rant last night rubbed off on her.

“He’s the hero here,” Tiki says non accusingly, “Imagine if another hero came to Paris without asking you… remember Volpina?”

“Ah now that was an actual villain,” Marinette hadn’t trusted her from the start, “Plus she was akumatized,”

“Marinette,” Marinette can’t bring herself to feel guilty, even under tikis scolding.

“Right but that still doesn't give him the right,” Marinette huffs, “After all would he attack Marinette? No!”

“Are you implying you would attack Lila?”

“......... no,”

“Marinette,”

Marinetti smirks to herself instinctively looking around for Adrien to share her joke. Then Marinette froze. The cafe was empty, not even a barista. How had she not noticed!?

“Wait,” Marinetti says out loud before Tiki could talk, “I’m going to have to call you back, something just came up,”

Something was watching her from the kitchen door as if she couldn’t see them. Marinette tries to act normal going for the pepper on the table and putting it on her food. They move at the same time. The attacker runs towards her, Marinette throws the shaker at- Robin?! It hits him square in the forehead, with a curse he touches his bleeding forehead.

“I am so sorry!” Marinette panics, “That was meant to explode in your face!”

“How is that better?!” Robin runs forward, sword drawn. Marinette ducks behind the table grabbing her plate and frisbeeing it towards him, he manages to dodge this one, “Draw your weapon coward!"

“I don’t have a weapon!” She grabs the table cloth ready to take the vigilante down, “What is wrong with you?!”

He doesn't answer lunging at her again with the sword. Marinette kicks up the table then kicks it towards him in one swift movement. With the impact of the table he drops the sword, Marinette jumps up landing on the table which pins Robin down to the ground with its weight and hers, with the legs sticking up.

“I knew it,” Robin spits and she presses her weight into the table to keep him pinned.

“Excuse you,” Marinette catches his wrist as he tries to pull a dagger on her using the table cloth to tie it to the legs of the table, then does the same with the other, “You attacked me,”

“-Robin!” she hears a faint call, no one is around so it must be from his communicator, “-Robin report back to the cave!”

“I’ll take that~” Marinette sings songs ignoring how he growls at her. She rolls her eyes stepping off the table she needed to get out of here now.

She steps out of the cafe throwing the communicator and likely a tracking device too on the roof of a passing car then sprints in the opposite direction. She heads for the alleys looking for an area with no cameras as she runs. When she finds a spot Marinette transforms running back to their base with record timing.

“Adrien wake up!” Ladybug jumps through the window, barely avoiding landing on him, “Batman’s after us,”

“What?!” He sits bolt upright, Ladybug pulls him onto his feet.

“Move! Now!” She grabs their bags, Adrien transforms and they take off over the rooftops.

“What happened?!” Chat shouts as the runaway, “Is Batman chasing us?”

“Yes, well kinda-- Robin tried to kill me,”

“He what?!”

“As Marinette,” She adds, slowing down as they should have put enough distance between them.

“Did they figure us out already?” Chat Noir slows down into a walk then collapses on the rooftop,

"Probably,"

“This is the worst wake up call ever!”

“Well, it's about to get worse,” Ladybug cringes feeling the distinct trace of magic she was all too familiar with.

“Akuma?”

“Akuma,”

“Great, perfect,” Chat complains standing back up.

“At least we’re not at school,” Ladybug shrugs, launching herself over a roof.

“No you’re right being chased by a masked vigilante is a massive improvement,”

---

Wow

“Robin! Get your head out of the clouds and get over here!”

Damian breaks out of his trance, regrettably tearing his gaze away from Ladybug to the much less awe inspiring sight of Batman trapped under a car. They shouldn’t be wasting their time worrying about these established amazing hero’s and worry about that assassin on the loose. Who knows who she was after. She could be planning Batman’s demise at this very moment; if she was close with his mother then surely she knew their identities which was far far more dangerous.

Ladybug could handle herself as evidence by her going toe to toe with the newest villain. In a matter of minutes, the villain was down for the count with no help on their part.

“Ladybug!” He calls before she leaves again, maybe she could help him convince his father that he was being an absolute buffoon.

“Oh it’s you,” She says surprisingly coldly, “What do you want now?”

“Now?”

“Are, you here to attack me again?”

“... I didn’t attack you?” He had spent all morning tracking down a dangerous assassin.

“... Oh! Of course, you did- haha I just ummmm-- there must have been an… Akuma! Yes! There must have been an Akuma earlier that looked like you,”

“An Akuma was impersonating me?” Robin growls.

“Yeah, they do that sometimes,” Chat Noir pipes up, “It’s annoying,”

“Yes and if you’re here, that uh… that means the Akuma is still out there so we gotta go deal with that so-bye!” Ladybug swings off closely followed by Chat Nor; off to go save his name and reputation.

---

“So you really think that was an Akuma?” Adrien asks as they transform back.

“Maybe- I don’t know it was just an excuse so he wouldn't figure out my identity,”

“Well at least he doesn't know it,” Adrien shrugs as they walk through the alleys in search of a new place to rest that night.

“If he doesn't know then why would he attack Marinette?” She asks, “And if it was an Akuma that means Hawkmoth knows my identity which is so much worse!”

“Is it tho?”

“Chat,”

“I mean back in Paris it would have been bad,” They both cringe, “But here we have no home, no family, no friends! He cant use any of that against us now!”

Adrien beams his contagious smile.

“You always manage to find a bright side,” Marinette smirks punching him in the shoulder.

“So that's why,” They both turn around, staring in shock.

“Batman?!” Turning back their way out is already blocked by mister boy wonder. Who, by the way he is glaring at her, was not an Akuma this morning.

“I can't believe Talia called me because some teenagers were eloping,”

I know that name- WAIT!

“Eloping?!” Marinette chokes, “We are not eloping!”

“As in not at all,” Adrien blanches, “And I mean no offense Marinette you are literally the sweetest person but I can’t imagine anything more horrific!”

“Oh god, same!” At least now, “I mean once when we were younger…-- it was a silly crush!”

“Wait you had a crush on me?!”

“Yeah, well, you had a crush on me!”

“... oh god… I did, didn’t I?!”

While Adrien is dealing with that little revelation Marinette looks around for an escape. There isn’t much opportunity since both have their eyes on them, partly out of morbid curiosity at their little freakout. Well if you don't have a distraction homemade is fine.

“AKUMA!” They both look, predictably.

Marinette grabs Adrien and runs. She goes for the side Robins guarding, sweeping his legs sending him crashing to the ground.

“I’m not sorry!” Marinette calls as they sprint down the alley.

Marinette heads for the main street, enough of a crowd to camouflage. As they are walking through as casually as possible Marinette sweeps them both for bugs putting any she finds on random passerbys. They walk sometimes ducking into busy shops in hopes of losing their trail. They come across the mall which works perfectly for them. They stay until it starts to approach closing time, it’s easy enough to avoid security and so they get locked in for the night.

“So what do you want to do?!” They walk through the empty halls Adrien skipping along and looking at each display. Marinette stops outside an electronics store, the tv’s still on and displaying the news.

“Make a plan for a way to deal with that,” On-screen are the two of them, a video of Ladybug throwing a car at Batman, “This is taken completely out of context!”

“What’s the context?”

“Batman was being a little bitch!”

“I’m sure that will hold up in court,” Adrien laughs taking a seat in one of those massage chairs, “Besides what's the problem?”

“The problem?!” Marinette yells, “The problem is that now all of Gotham is going to hate us!”

“So? Do we really need them to like us?” Adrien gets up to stand by her, rubbing her shoulder.

“They did in Paris,”

“We’re not in Paris anymore,” Adrien says quietly, leading her towards the seats, “We have a chance to start new again, everyday something we haven't done before, a couple of pals living day to day on the edge, isn’t that exciting?”

“I just--” want to go home, “I’m tired,”

“Take a break,” Adrien sits her down in the massage chair with a kind smile, “I’ll keep watch,”

“.. ok,” Marinette curls up in the chair Tikki coming to lie beside her. With not much strength to fight it, Marinette falls asleep while she can.

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

Taglist? nope don’t have one, horrible at keeping track of them sorry~

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous marinette #Marinette #badass marinette #batfam #daminette #good adrien #slow burn

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retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

show me love | jaehyun

title: show me love pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: fluff request: “I have a fic idea for Valentine's Day 💀 Jaehyun's gf is busy trying to prepare a really sweet bday gift while Jaehyun is busy trying to prepare a really nice Valentine's Day gift for his gf?” word count: 2.2k warnings: alcohol use a/n: writing pure fluff is not as easy as you’d think, but maybe that’s only an issue when you’re emotionally constipated like me...💀 anyway, here’s to the birthday boy. 🌹

You want to be sure Jaehyun’s birthday gift is perfect this year, which is why you spent so much time saving up for it. To you, it often felt a little hard to measure up to all the lavish gifts he gets every year for his birthday from fans, friends, and family members—especially since it’s on Valentine’s Day—but he always claimed that you could get him anything and he’d love it.

You and Jaehyun haven’t met up very frequently this week, partly because you’d both been busy preparing your gifts for each other; you for his birthday, and him for Valentine’s Day. You weren’t too upset about that, though. Being able to see him when the day finally came around would make it even more special after the time spent away from each other.

It’d been a lot harder than you’d anticipated to keep your gift secret, but only because you’re so excited for him to finally know what you’d gotten for him. You’re eager to see his reaction to it and hear what he might say about it. You’re also wondering what he might be planning for you, but you’ve done your very best not to pester him about it too much—even though you really want to.

The day of his birthday, you’re so jittery that you even get up earlier than usual so you can get dressed and make sure your look for the day is perfect. You end up calling Jaehyun while you put your makeup on, not wanting to wait any longer to talk to him. It’s not too early in the day when you call, because you know he won’t like getting up at that hour, but maybe early enough to cause a small complaint.

“Hi Y/N,” he answers after a few seconds, voice a bit deeper than usual—probably because he just got up. You grin at the sound of his voice.

“Good morning! Happy birthday, baby! Did I wake you? I’m sorry, haha.”

“Y/N.” Jaehyun repeats your name and smiles on the other end. You can’t see this, but you can hear his laugh, which is full of happiness at your greeting. “Thank you, sweet girl. It’s fine, I don’t really care, I was gonna get up soon anyway.” You hear the sheets rustling in the background and figure that’s him getting up now. “And of course, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“The day for lovers, how could I ever forget.” You smirk to yourself, sifting through your makeup bag for a certain highlighter. “By the way, you’re gonna come over today, right? I have something for you,” you tell him in a singsong-y mischievous tone.

“Oh?” Jaehyun perks up at that. “You want me to come over now? Because...I have something for you too, for Valentine’s Day, but it’s here at my place.”

“Ah, really?” You laugh. “Come to my place first, it’s your birthday and you should get your present first.”

“But since it’s my birthday, shouldn’t you come here? Do it for me~”

You almost roll over with laughter. “Aw, Jaehyun! I can’t believe you’re using that cute tone with me, I know you hate aegyo.”

He sighs, and you know he’s probably blushing from embarrassment. “Hmm, okay, okay. Never gonna do that one again. Should we flip a coin on it, then? If I win, you have to come over with whatever your gift is.”

You chuckle. “Flip a coin? You serious?”

“Dead serious. Get on FaceTime.”

“Now?” You snort and look at yourself in the mirror, makeup only half-done.

“You don’t want to? What are you hiding?” Now his voice takes on a sneaky note.

“I’m not hiding anything, but if that’s what you want, then prepare yourself...”

You both hang up and Jaehyun calls you on FaceTime a few seconds later. You smile when you see his face on the other end, still bare from just waking up. One corner of his mouth tugs up in a smirk when he sees you, then he bursts into a full grin, giggling at your half-made-up face.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

“Yes, yes, laugh it up! My own boyfriend clowning me on Valentine’s Day, how sweet of you.” You pout for good measure.

“You laugh at me nearly everyday,” he points out, and you must admit that he’s right. “Anyway, you always look pretty to me.” Then he pulls a hand through his hair in a way that he knows can always make you swoon, and you sigh in defeat.

“...Okay, you’re forgiven.”

You see him rummage around for a moment before the phone straightens again; now he holds a coin between his fingers. “So. What side do you want?”

“I guess heads.”

Jaehyun snickers momentarily before affecting a nonchalant expression again. “Yeah, I’ll take tails then.”

“Stop being dirty-minded,” you complain, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not, Y/N,” he insists, though his tone suggests otherwise. He flips the coin into the air and points the phone camera to where it landed on the ground—heads.

“I won! Now you have to come over,” you cheer.

“Fine, fine.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll be over soon. Wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere else, now would I?”

Jaehyun arrives at your place a little while later, and he’s a bit starstruck when you open the door. Now with your makeup finished, you’re wearing a red dress with heels to match and your hair is styled prettily, falling over your shoulders. You smile happily at him, pulling at his shoulders to get him to come inside.

“Hi Jaehyun,” you say, closing the door after him and hugging him. He squeezes you back tightly, leaving a kiss on your bare shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair.

“Y/N. How do you manage to get prettier everyday?”

“Because you love me so much.” You give him a kiss and tug his hand to guide him into the living room. You lead him to sit down on your couch, though you don’t sit next to him just yet. “Okay, before I give you your gift, you gotta close your eyes first.”

“Close my eyes? What is it?” Jaehyun keeps hold of your hand as he asks this, grinning up at you.

“You won’t know until you do what I say, silly!” He relents, although a bit reluctantly, and lets go of your hand so he can close his eyes. You go to get his gift from your bedroom and come back into the living room with it, holding it out in front of him. “Open your eyes now.”

When he does, he sees you holding a small wrapped box. “Why’d I have to close my eyes? I still can’t tell what it is.” He chuckles as he takes it from you. “The suspense is gonna kill me,” he jokes as he begins unwrapping it.

When Jaehyun finally gets the wrapping off and gets the box open, his face softens as he sees what’s inside and takes it in his hand. You clasp your own hands together, your skin warming at his smile. “It might not be what you’re used to in terms of like, luxury, you know...but it looked nice and I thought it’d look good on you.”

“Y/N…you must’ve spent a lot on this,” Jaehyun murmurs, examining the shiny new face of the watch in his hand. He holds it as if it were a rare jewel, turning it on all its sides to examine it. It’s mostly black leather and silver, but it was still more than usual for your budget, costing you a few hundred dollars.

“I did save up for some months...and still had to use a payment plan for it. Good thing we never broke up in that timespan or I woulda been shit outta luck.” Jaehyun snorts and shakes his head at your statement, knowing you’d say something like that to lighten the mood.

“Thank you baby,” he says, sliding his new watch onto his wrist. “You know this means the world to me.” He goes over to the window to see it better in the natural lighting, holding it up to the light to see it sparkle. You go over to him and peek over his shoulder, grinning softly. “I’ll have to pay you back.” You raise your eyebrows.

“What? It’s your birthday present, why would you—”

“You’ll see later,” he says mysteriously, and you give him a curious look. “Meanwhile, we should go somewhere. The day’s still early, so let’s enjoy it.”

“You’re right,” you say, glancing at the new watch once more and then kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s go, then.”

It’s evening by the time you get back to Jaehyun’s place, having already eaten at an upscale restaurant that he’d reserved. You’d had no idea about it, and you were glad you’d taken the initiative to dress up today. Both of you spent the earlier part of the day going out to brunch and then exploring the city for a few hours, which even included taking one of those romantic boat rides that the nearby lake always offers on Valentine’s Day. You thought it would be kind of cheesy at first, but it turned out way more fun than you could imagine.

When you step inside his place, you’re surprised to see everything is decorated pretty lavishly; the overhead lights are dimmed, leaving a bunch of small tea lights as the main illumination. There are rose petals spread everywhere, too, and the sitting room is set up with pillows and blankets and a nice spread of chocolates and wine on the coffee table.

You gasp, studying the surroundings. “How did you arrange all this? We were together all day.”

“Had some help from the guys; they came while we were gone. Hope they didn’t take anything, though...” Jaehyun shrugs as if this whole setup is no big deal, but his dimples poke out from the gleeful smile on his lips. He picks up an unlit candle from the coffee table, and you notice there are a few more spread around. “Now that we’re here, we can light these. Safety first, you know.”

“Of course,” you snicker, taking your jacket and shoes off so you can sit down on one of the pillows. You take up the bottle of wine and inspect the label while Jaehyun finds a lighter for the candles. “Considering that we already drank at the restaurant...don’t be surprised if I’m off my ass by the end of the night.”

“We don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he suggests, raising one eyebrow.

“Oh no, I want to!” Jaehyun laughs at your enthusiasm as you open the wine and pour a glass for each of you. Once he’s done lighting the candles, he goes into his room. You lean back on the cushion and take your glass in your hand, waiting for him to come back.

Jaehyun returns soon with his blazer discarded and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. “I see you’ve gotten relaxed, too.” You smirk, crossing your legs. “You look so handsome with your new watch. I’m glad I got it for you.”

“Then I think you’ll like this even more.”

“Hmm?” You turn to Jaehyun as he sits on one of the pillows beside you. Your eyes widen when he pulls out a velvet case you didn’t notice before. It’s not a ring case, though, which really would’ve caused you to fall out; it’s the kind you use for bracelets or necklaces. He places it in your hands, and you gingerly take it from him like it might vanish if handled too roughly. “Oh...what is…?”

“You have to open it.” He grins, mimicking your earlier teasing of him with his own gift. You set down your wine glass and open the velvet rectangle to find a delicate necklace lying inside. At the end of it is a small circle with tiny diamonds embedded in it.

“Oh wow...it’s perfect,” you whisper, taking it out of the box and looking it over with enamored eyes. “Is this what you meant by ‘paying me back’? Because, Jesus, this is Cartier. I think you’ve done more than enough.” You smile wistfully and shake your head.

“Let me put it on you,” he says, and you give him the necklace so he can do so. You turn away from him, and you shiver a little at the feeling of his breaths on the back of your neck and his fingertips brushing your skin. You face him again when he’s done fastening it and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him closer to you and smiling against his dimpled cheek.

“I love you, Jaehyun. Thank you so much.”

Jaehyun’s lips curve up at your words, and he tucks his face against you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your jaw. “I love you, Y/N.”

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writinglizards · 3 years

Text

Make me Happy

Summary: "I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous." - Mary Shelley's Frankenstein He is created. He is abandoned. He is found.

Read on Ao3

The first thing he knows is agony.

He feels set on fire from the inside, bright white pain arcing through his veins. He cries out, voice hoarse. The sharpness of it ceases as quickly as it came, but the ache persists.

A clatter to his left draws his attention. He shifts. Distantly, he’s aware of the scratch and shift of the rough-hewn shirt and trousers he’s dressed in, but there are larger concerns, at the moment. His limbs feel awkward but otherwise cooperative, so sits up.

There is a man across the room with his back pressed against the counter. White hair, a beard. The man’s face is drawn in an expression he can’t parse. Beneath the man’s feet are shards of glass.

He doesn't understand where he is or what's going on. He opens his mouth to speak--and finds he doesn't know the words to communicate this. He makes a quiet, wordless sound, questioning. He hopes it's enough for the man to understand. He so wants answers.

In response, the man jolts for the door.

He starts at the abrupt movement, makes another quiet noise of surprise, reaches out a hand toward him, wait, please--

The man makes a shrill noise, "Stay away, you, you--" he flings the door open after a brief scrabbling with the lock and bolts, a high pitched terrified noise leaving his throat. He throws the door closed behind him, but it hits the doorframe and bounces back, hard.

He follows because he doesn't know what else to do. The other man is scared. Should he be scared?

He lets the smell of terror, sickly and awful, lead him down a spiral staircase and out a partly concealed door onto the street where he's abruptly hit with an overwhelming wave of scents and sounds. It's too much for him to understand; all he knows is he needs to find the man again. He hopes he can help.

He sees someone, not the man from the room, on the street a few feet away. He approaches, timid. He's trying to work out how to ask what he wants to know--where did the man from the room go?--when he catches the other's attention.

"What the--what the fuck?" He doesn't understand the words, but the tone--the man spins on his heel and sprints away, terrified. It catches the attention of several people up the street. The first man was scared, but these men--help, maybe?

He takes a few slow steps in their direction, still trying to figure out how to ask what he wants to know when he catches the glint of steel. He freezes. He takes quick stock of their expressions, the naked weapons in their grips, and hesitates.

"You'll get the fuck out of here if you know what's good for you, monster." He doesn't understand, doesn't know how to respond in a way that will ease the aggression of their posture. He just wants help.

"Well? Get," one of the men shouts, rapping the flat of his blades together. It makes a harsh sound, makes him whine with how the sharp noise hurts. He ducks his head, cups his hands over his ears to try and make the hurt stop. "I said get," the man shouts again, repeats the movement of his weapons. He keens, a low, quiet sound full of pain. He doesn't understand--

"You got to the count of fucking three," another says, and he doesn't wait for them to make the noise again. He runs.

Every person he sees in his mad dash down the street and away from the pain reacts similarly. Either they flee or they bare steel and make threats, loud and angry. The mixing scents, the noises, his own fear, it's all too much. He doesn't know where he is or where he's going. He just runs.

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

By the time the sun is beginning to rise, he's finally broken out of the rows and rows of buildings and into the trees, where he runs until his lungs burn and his feet hurt before he collapses in the shade at the base of a tree. He doesn't know where he is or what's going on, doesn't understand the fear and hostility of the people he'd seen. He sits there, somewhere in the middle of the forest, and finally feels it hit him. He doesn't know, he doesn't understand. He sits and he cries, deep chest wracking sobs, until he's too tired to keep his eyes open. He curls himself up small and tight in the roots of the tree, and sleeps.

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

He's woken some indeterminate time later, to the sound of footsteps. Lots of them. The sky is going grey at the edges, so he knows he must have slept a while. There's shouting coming from the direction he came from yesterday, words he can't understand in a tone he can--they sound like the men who made the awful noise.

"If you see that fuckin beast, just kill 'em. No need to leave him loose to terrorize the city again."

“Nah, the mage wants ‘em. Said--”

“I know what he said and I’m saying just kill ‘em.”

They're not that far. He knows enough now that he doesn't want to run into these people, doesn't want a repeat of last night. He rises very quietly, and treks farther into the forest, away from the sounds of the approaching men. He'll walk all night if he has to.

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

He walks until he can't hear them any longer, and then he keeps walking, for good measure. He walks until he stumbles across another group of buildings, much smaller than the one he'd fled last night. He lingers at the edge of the trees, watching a trio of young women leaning against a wooden fence not far, talking. One of the women has something she appears to be eating in her hand, and his own stomach growls loudly in reminder that he has eaten nothing since...he doesn't know when.

These women look nothing like the men with their weapons, which is the only reason he steps out of his hiding spot in the trees, starts towards them.

"Sara, look--" one of the women catches sight of him and goes pale. She steps backward, hands shaking, and he freezes. He doesn't want them to be afraid. He only wants--

The one eating turns to look back over her shoulder and their eyes meet. She drops the thing she'd been eating. There's a shriek--the third woman--and then all three of them are running pell-mell back towards the rest of the buildings.

He tamps down on his hurt and darts forward to scoop the food off the ground--an...apple?--and then he's running again, farther into the forest. He knows better than to stick around for the angry men and their weapons.

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

He doesn't pause until he feels he's far enough away he'll be able to hear anyone coming with enough warning to escape. He settles at the base of a tree and gnaws on the apple slowly, trying to savor the small thing. It's a little better than nothing, but it reminds him he's hungry, sets his stomach to rolling uncomfortably. When he's gnawed the thing down to its core he finally sets it aside, disappointed.

He’ll have to see if he can find more food, or venture back towards the buildings to see if there’s anything he might be able to take that won’t be missed. But not tonight.

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

In the end, he ends up doing quite a bit of stealing from the village at night while he hides in the trees during the day, watching the way the people interact with one another. He feels bad about just taking, but there’s nothing much that can be done for it--there’s no easily accessible food in the forest and the people still spook and run at the sight of him.

So that’s the way he survives, for a bit. It's not a comfortable existence and he knows the people of the little town both know he's there and are upset by it. He tries not to scare them, only slips down into their fields at night, when most are asleep, only takes as much food as he needs to quell the emptiness in his stomach.

Watching the people interact with one another is helpful, though, even if he can’t approach them. The field workers do a lot of talking to one another as they work, and over time he starts to pick up what the words mean, in a roundabout kind of way. So he lingers and he watches and he hopes for...something he can't put a name to.

He's finally forced to move on when he tries to slip down into the town about three weeks later and there are men with swords again, lining the outskirts of the village. He knows enough about people at this point from what he's observed and he doesn't want problems. He moves on, just picks a direction and starts walking.

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

When he stumbles across a tiny cottage out in the woods all on its own, he assumes it must be abandoned--people don't live alone, after all. He would investigate further, but the sun is already peeking over the horizon, sky dusting pink, and he knows he needs to find somewhere to settle before daybreak.

There are several little shacks sprinkled around the clearing that he doesn’t know the purpose of so he picks one--the shack behind the cottage--to test the door and finds it unlocked. It's a storage shed and moderately well-stocked, despite how the little room seems to be on the verge of collapse. He settles to the ground on the far side of a crate and tucks himself into a tight little ball. He'll stay here today and investigate more closely tonight.

Shortly, he dozes.

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

He wakes much too soon to the sound of...something. He's never heard it before, this softly twanging noise. It's good. Nice.

He knows it must be well past mid-day from the way the light slants in through the chinks in the walls. He's just thinking it's too early to try venturing out when the singing starts, soft and lovely and he thinks, oh, It's a person.

He rises very slowly and quietly and crosses the tiny storeroom to the wall that's shared with the cottage. The music is a little louder here, and he can make out the words, a story of a knight saving a fair maiden and true love's kiss. He can understand what those words mean a bit now--language has come slowly, but he's getting better at piecing together bits and pieces from the things he's heard, although not all of it makes sense all the time. And well, some things just feel right, like he's known them all his life. Language has been a little like that, even if speaking is a challenge.

So he can follow the story, vaguely, even as the song ends and another quickly takes its place. He hears no other voices or movement in the adjoining room, just that smooth tenor singing of heroics and heartbreak. He settles down beside the wall, rests his temple against the rough wood grain, and listens.

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

He wakes again an indeterminate time later. It's late, the sun is down and the man in the cottage sounds as if he's retired for the night. It's quiet. He...probably shouldn't stay here, but it's warm and quiet and the man sings so beautifully. He borrows a small meal of hard bread from the stores and tells himself he won't be back when he slips out of the storeroom to stretch his legs.

By the time the sun rises, he's tucked back into the storeroom anyway, curled up against the wall that joins the cottage. What's one more day?

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

One day becomes two days becomes a whole week. He's reluctant to leave the security of the little storeroom, the pleasant singing. A few days in, he finds a chink in the wall that lets him see into the cottage room and he now spends his daylight hours pressed to that wall, watching, listening. The man is...beautiful. He looks like they would be of a height, even if the man is a little leaner than he himself is. Despite that, the man is still broad-shouldered and strong looking, with brilliant blue eyes and a sweep of brown hair he can only think of as pretty. And he can tell the man is not just beautiful; he’s also intelligent, witty. He talks to himself constantly, sings, reads, dances his way around the room. The man moves through life as if he has not a care in the world. He wants so badly to be a part of that.

Despite how much he yearns to join the man, he still won't reveal himself, too afraid of the potential reaction to him. He finds himself growing attached, despite how much he shouldn’t. If this soft and delightful man is as afraid as the village people were, it will break him.

So he watches and he dreams and he tries to help around the cottage, at night. It starts with some chopped wood when the woodpile gets a little too low, which the man reacts to with delighted confusion. Then it's a few rabbits and other small animals, here and there, to replenish some of the food stores he's been dipping into to feed himself.

"Well, looks like we've got ourselves an admirer," the man says softly the morning he finds the first rabbit. He'd been...nervous about leaving the little thing. Nervous it might upset or scare the man. Instead, he looks...pleased. He smiles all day, even when he comes back in from caring for the chickens, which he knows the man dislikes. It's nice, kindles a warm feeling in his chest.

He wants to be the cause of that smile more often.

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

A few days later, he wakes to the sound of more than just the man in the yard out front. There are several people he can't see but he can hear them, carrying things to and fro.

"Jaskier, where do you want this?" one of them asks.

"Oh, that's fine there," the man says. Something flutters in his chest. Jaskier.

There's a few more crates the other men bring into the cottage that he can see through his chink in the wall. The man, Jaskier, watches the stacking of these crates on the far side of the cottage along with another man who stands at his elbow. Compared to Jaskier, the man is very broad and well built with short cropped dark hair. He carries a sword on his hip and stands like he'd be ready to draw it at a moment's notice. He reminds him of the men who'd threatened him the first night.

"I should also warn you there's been sightings of some kind of monster lately." Jaskier turns to the man with the sword, effectively presenting his back to the chink in the wall. He wishes he could see his face.

"What kind of monster? Monsters have been gone for almost a hundred years."

The other man is already shaking his head, "not a monster, monster, no. This is some kind of abomination. Looks like a man but...not. Wrong. He's been spotted at one of the nearby villages as little as a few weeks ago."

"And? How do they know he's a monster then?"

The man puffs out a tired sounding breath, "I'm just relating what I heard, Jaskier. I don't know."

"Of course not," he says, tetchy. There's something beyond the words that have upset him.

"Look, I--"

Jaskier pulls away from the hand hovering over his shoulder. "I don't care, Vincent."

"Jask, you know I didn't--"

"We're not talking about us," Jaskier says, tone sharp in a way he's never heard, "just...let the men finish and then you can run on home to father and tell him what a good little disowned son I've been, hm?"

Jaskier doesn't give him a chance to respond, just steps over to watch the men bringing in the crates more closely, steps just a little too heavy.

When they're gone, he watches Jaskier cry, head in his hands. It makes his chest uncomfortably tight but there's nothing he can do.

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

When night falls and he's sure Jaskier is asleep (and he feels a little flutter of delight in his gut when he thinks the man's name, elated that he knows it after all this time), he slips out of the storeroom and into the pooling moonlight of the little clearing, stretching his legs. His goal tonight is to chop some more wood so Jaskier will have enough to stay warm tomorrow. Then...maybe a walk. He'd seen some blackberry bushes a few nights ago. Maybe he'd pick some, leave them for him in the morning.

The wood chopping goes quickly and he stacks the split logs nicely with the other chopped wood against the wall by the front door. He does so quietly, not wanting to rouse his sleeping friend. Not that he thinks it likely the man will rouse tonight. He'd been somber the rest of the day and he'd cried again, curled in his bed when he should have been sleeping. He finds he wants to do something to ease the unhappiness that's settled over him since the men had come by.

It's with that thought he wanders off in search of those blackberries. He takes one of the wooden buckets Jaskier usually uses for gathering eggs and sets off to find the blackberry bushes.

They're right where he remembered them, just a short walk from the little pond where the ducks gather from time to time. He goes about picking them to fill the bucket, careful of their little thorns. He gets the bucket three-fourths or so full before he calls it good. By then, he's covered in sticky juice and the sun should be up soon. He's got just enough time to visit the pond, wash off his hands and leave the bucket out front before he’ll settle back in the storage room.

The pond is silent and still when he wanders up, the bucket dangling from one hand. He sets it aside on the shore and kneels at the edge of the pond. He tries not to peer into his reflection in the water, even as the moonlight reflects back off its surface.

Unbidden, then man's words resurface in his mind. Like a man but not. Wrong. He knows he looks...different. There are harsh scars scattering his face, his temples, his arms, his torso. His eyes are wrong, too bright, too strange a color. His hair is unnatural, too pale, too wild. He understands why the villagers are startled by him, understands why they react with fear. He's...wrong. He just doesn't know what to do about it.

He pushes the thoughts from his mind and doesn't let himself linger. Instead, he washes up quickly and treks back over to the cottage. He leaves the bucket of berries on the doorstep and retreats to the storeroom.

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

He rouses just a little when Jaskier rises. He listens to him sing and go about his morning routine with half an ear, still mostly asleep. The sound of his friend awake and back to normal is a comfort, so it's disturbing the way he abruptly goes silent when the door creaks open.

"Oh--" he's obviously found the berries. The quiet stretches out for a beat too long and then there's a sniffling noise. "Shit," Jaskier mutters. The door clunks back shut. He hears the noise of the bucket being sat down somewhere in the cottage. "'s stupid to fucking cry over berries, Jask, pull it together," he tells himself, voice thick with tears.

He can't help the surge of alarm that rolls through him--he didn't mean to make Jaskier cry. He presses his face to the wood, eye at the chink in the wall, and is surprised to find him smiling despite the tears, gazing down into the bucket of berries as if they are something far more precious as he wipes aggressively at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Blackberries," he repeats, once his breathing is a little more under control, "I'll have to make a pie." He's still smiling. Maybe they weren't such a bad idea, after all.

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

Jaskier continues with his daily routine after that, and he lets himself sleep again, after a time. He's fairly attuned with the noises of Jaskier going about his day, so he doesn't startle when Jaskier begins going through the crates of supplies the men brought yesterday. By the time he realizes what that means, Jaskier's already at the door of the storage shed, dried goods tucked under his arm.

He lays very, very still where he's curled in the corner, pressed against the wall of the cottage, eyes squeezed shut, and waits for the inevitable.

The gasp is expected. The sound of the bundle Jaskier is carrying hitting the ground is as well. What is not expected is the hands that land on his shoulder, tug him over gently. He blinks up at the face of the man he's only watched from a distance, startled. He expected revulsion, fear, the sound of footsteps fleeing. Instead, he's peering down at him with concern.

"Oh, thank the gods you're alive," he sighs out on a breath, patting reassuringly at his shoulder where his hands still rest. "What are you doing in my storage shed, darling?"

And oh, this is...not something he'd been prepared for. He swallows hard and can't seem to force words out.

"You don't have to tell me," Jaskier says softly, "but let's get you inside, alright? It can't be comfortable out here."

He follows in a daze when Jaskier tugs him gently upright and leads him into the cottage. This doesn't feel real. He must be dreaming. Why else would Jaskier be looking at him like that?

"Have you had anything to eat? Are you hungry?" Jaskier asks once he's settled at the table. He at least can follow that much so he shakes his head, still afraid to speak. Jaskier jumps to preparing him a small meal of hard cheese and fresh bread. “Sorry, I haven’t had the chance to make that pie yet,” he says as he sets the little plate before him and settles across the table from him, smiling. "Go on, eat," he says, and he doesn't have to be told twice.

The food is the best thing he's ever tasted. The pleased look never falls off Jaskier's face. "Thank you," he whispers once the plate is empty, wincing when the words fall rough like gravel from his disused throat.

"Oh," Jaskier breathes, freezing with his hand outstretched to take the empty plate. He thinks maybe he's made a mistake, but Jaskier's smile stretches impossibly wider, eyes sparkling, "you're very welcome, dear heart." The look on Jaskier’s face, that tone, settles something warm in his chest.

Jaskier puts the plate on the counter and resumes his seat. He doesn't know what to do with himself in the face of Jaskier's kindness and keeps his eyes averted. Jaskier doesn't give him time to start feeling self-conscious, though.

"I'm Jaskier. Do you have a name, darling? Something I can call you?" And he knows Jaskier’s asking a question but--

Jaskier can tell his mistake almost immediately. “Oh! Um,” he fumbles to press his hand to his chest, “Jaskier,” he repeats, and he nods. Then, tentatively, Jaskier holds out his hand to him. He doesn’t move, not quite sure what Jaskier means until his palm makes careful contact with his chest. His breath catches. “You?”

He shakes his head, understanding that Jaskier is asking for his name. He feels a bubble of shame rise in him. It's not his fault he doesn't have something to go by like everyone else, he knows, but that doesn't lessen the feeling he's let his friend down.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jaskier breathes, and he doesn't sound upset. Or at least, not at him. "What should we call you then?” He looks thoughtful for a minute before, “Hold on, I’ve an idea.”

Jaskier rises and crosses the room, bringing back something from one of the shelves. “I’ve got a book here,” Jaskier says, settling it on the table in front of him, “It’s a storybook, but I could read you the names of the characters here until you find one you like?” and that was a lot of words but…“Just nod if you hear one you like, yes?” He can do that.

So Jaskier flips through the book, stopping periodically to read out the names as he finds them. And they’re...fine. But none of the names sound right to him.

“Hm, Eric?” He shakes his head, “No, I agree, too bland. Jakob? No? Alright then, Alice? That’s typically a lady’s name but--nope okay, um, Geralt?”

And that’s--“Yes,” he says softly. Something about that feels right.

The smile on Jaskier's face is small and delighted. "You want to be called Geralt?"

"Mm." And something about choosing the name makes his face hot. He ducks his head.

The grin that stretches Jaskier’s face looks like it hurts it's so wide. "A good name. Heroic. Kind." His gaze softens as he reaches across the table to rest his palm on Geralt's forearm. The touch is reassuring, even as he burns hot under Jaskier's fingertips. "It suits you."

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

He doesn't pressure Geralt for an explanation of anything, but he reassures him several times that he can stay, that it's no trouble. He even sets him up with new clothes, soft cotton that isn’t as scratchy as what he’d been wearing.

"Really Geralt, I have to insist. I won't be able to rest knowing you're out there somewhere with nowhere to stay. And," he continues, “if you stay long enough, I’ll even send for some clothes of your own, if you’d like.” And well. He can't let Jaskier worry (and the new clothes would be nice, too).

He sleeps on the little divan and marvels at how quickly Jaskier drifts off, breaths evening into sleep. The trust inherent in the action shakes him to his core. He follows a while later, chest overly tight.

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

They settle into a habit surprisingly quickly in the weeks that follow. Geralt picks up many of the tasks he'd already been performing for Jaskier in the twilight hours and Jaskier provides excellent company. He still sings and plays his lute in the evenings, preening to have an audience that Geralt is happy to provide.

He's thankful Jaskier asks no questions, although it's obvious Jaskier would like to know more about him, about what happened. He catches him staring at the scars when he thinks Geralt isn't looking, but it's not with revulsion. Geralt can't name the emotion on his face, but it's not a bad one necessarily.

There's only one question he does ask.

"So, do you know who my admirer is?" he says finally. Geralt’s just starting to feel truly comfortable here with Jaskier and is less worried about Jaskier changing his mind about keeping Geralt around. He’s proven he’s helpful and he’s trying very, very hard not to scare him (he’s beginning to think Jaskier can’t be scared, actually).

Geralt's in the middle of chopping wood when he asks. "Because you know, it was really very sweet of them." He's grinning.

"Uh," is the very elegant response Geralt comes up with, cheeks hot. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed. Jaskier obviously knows it was him. He chops the next piece of wood with a singular focus, doesn't shift his gaze back over to Jaskier.

"He must have very fine arms. He chopped all my wood for weeks, you know," Jaskier says offhand, and oh. He's teasing. His tone is friendly. Geralt only flushes harder. He’s not sure why Jaskier can fluster him so quickly. "Not as good as yours, I'm sure," he continues, and Geralt nearly jumps when Jaskier's hand settles on his bicep, squeezing. "Mm, not sure anyone's as deliciously built as you are, darling."

"Jaskier," he finally bites out, mortified. He feels--he feels--he doesn’t know the word for it, but he’s pretty sure it’s not appropriate. Jaskier laughs.

"It's alright sweetheart," he grins and shoots him a wink, "your secret's safe with me." And Geralt doesn't know what to do with himself, but he likes the way his stomach clenches when Jaskier touches him, the soft way he speaks. And he does trust that he's safe with him. It's...reassuring.

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

Despite how safe Geralt feels, he still can't bring himself to tell Jaskier how he ended up hiding in his storeroom. He's fairly certain Jaskier won't care at this point, but every time he tries to say something, he finds the words have abandoned him. Unlike Jaskier, he struggles to voice his thoughts, even when he has the words neatly arranged in his head. Jaskier reassures him that it's fine, not everyone is gifted with their speech and it's normal for words not to work the way you'd like, but it frustrates him anyway. He...cares...about Jaskier. He’s…different. He wants to share this part of himself with him. He just doesn't know how.

His efforts are further complicated by the way his stomach flips uncomfortably every time Jaskier is close. He's not an idiot, he knows what it means (Jaskier is a big fan of love ballads, the raunchier the better, he says and it’s…that) but it feels...dishonest to entertain Jaskier's subtle flirting, especially when Jaskier knows nothing about who he really is, how he came to be. After all, who could love a monster?

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

"Geralt," Jaskier calls from his mound of blankets as Geralt stokes the fire for the last time that night, "come to bed with me, darling."

Geralt can feel himself flush. "Jaskier," he admonishes, but Jaskier only laughs, lifts the corner of the blanket invitingly.

"It's been cold at night and it will only get colder. Come on, Geralt." He bats his eyes enticingly, pats the corner of the mattress again.

"I can't," he says, quiet, and something in Jaskier's expression softens.

"Alright, darling," he says, letting the blankets fall closed around him, "but that's a standing invitation."

"Hm."

Jaskier doesn't press further, but Geralt lays awake thinking about it for far longer than he should.

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

"I'm a viscount," Jaskier says apropos of nothing a few days later. It's early morning and they're outside, returning from the chicken coop. Geralt turns to where Jaskier's stopped in the middle of the yard, bucket of chicken eggs forgotten on the ground beside him. "Or at least, I used to be. My father disowned me about a year ago now."

"Why?" Geralt asks, because Jaskier seems to need the encouragement. He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't wanted Geralt to know.

"I...embarrassed him. With who I chose to take to my bed." He's staring hard at the tree line opposite the cottage. He's not even facing Geralt. "My father's head of the guard. Vincent."

The name brings to mind the day the crates were delivered. The man with the sword who stood too close.

"I was disowned either way and I knew that, but Vincent..." he trails off.

"Thank you, Jaskier. You don't have to tell me." His eyes meet Geralt's finally and he smiles. It's a tiny, watery thing.

"No I--he chose to stay. With my father. And I'm...here. It bothered me. For a long time." He's quiet so long Geralt thinks maybe that's the end of it, but when he steps forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jaskier, he keeps talking. "I thought...who would want a disowned viscount? Vincent certainly didn't. I'm damaged goods."

"Jaskier, you're not damaged," Geralt says, horrified at the prospect. Jaskier is...wonderful (even if he talks a little too much for Geralt's taste, sometimes). How could anyone think him lesser for loving who he loved?

Jaskier extends his hand to catch Geralt's and squeezes tightly. Geralt squeezes back, stomach fluttering when Jaskier smiles at him. "I know," he says softly, "and I know you’re not ready to talk about yourself yet, but whatever it is, it’s okay, okay?" And when Jaskier says that, looking at him the way he is, Geralt can almost believe him.

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

They settle deeper into their routine, something Jaskier calls "disgustingly domestic" with a smile that nearly splits his face, so Geralt's pretty sure he doesn't think it's a bad thing, actually. Geralt certainly enjoys it.

Jaskier talks incessantly about anything and everything and Geralt likes listening.

“You know,” Jaskier says one night, after he’s wound down his playing and put the lute away, “I haven’t had many guests out here since I was disowned. It’s been...nice.”

“Why not?” Geralt asks, stoking the fire before settling back on the fur rug. Geralt can’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to spend time with Jaskier.

“Being disowned is…” he pauses, obviously searching for the right words, “it’s not something that’s done lightly. It means the people I grew up with, the people who were close to me, they can’t see me anymore, or risk having their own reputation tarnished.”

Geralt feels his lips twitch in a frown. Jaskier laughs.

“Oh, don’t make that face, I know. But that’s how it is. I’ve spent some time with the village locals, but it’s...not the same. I’m still nobility to them and I’m no longer nobility to the actual nobles.” He shrugs, but Geralt can see the thought still bothers him.

“You were lonely,” Geralt says. He’s not sure he should have pointed it out, but Jaskier doesn’t seem angry.

“I was,” he agrees softly. Something in his eyes pins Geralt to the spot, “until you.”

And that’s...too much to think about. “Hm.”

The smile that creeps over Jaskier’s face is blinding. “Yes,” he agrees, “hm, indeed.”

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

"My father's men should be stopping by in the next few weeks," Jaskier says on a morning like any other.

"Did you want me--"

"No," Jaskier corrects hastily before Geralt can offer to hide, "No, I want you here. I just--wanted to give you a heads up."

"Oh."

They don't talk about it again. They probably should have.

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

"Jaskier?" Geralt calls across the small space of the cottage, sitting up.

There's banging outside. People. Jaskier shifts in his cocoon of blankets that is his bed, only the top of his head visible. "No," he mumbles fuzzily, "don't wanna." He's...not really awake.

"Jaskier," Geralt rumbles, voice still thick with sleep himself, "we should--"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the door is swinging open and a man is striding through. When he sees Geralt, his hand lands on his sword.

"Jaskier, what the fuck--"

"Vincent," Jaskier gasps, nearly tripping in his haste to extract himself from the blankets. He’s eyeing the space between Vincent and Geralt with panic, "ever heard of fucking knocking?" he bites out, shifting to put himself between them as much as possible.

"Jaskier, you've got a--"

"Don't finish that sentence," he says, tone flat and threatening, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd give my companion and I some fucking privacy. I'll meet you in the yard in a moment."

Vincent's hand tightens around the pommel of his sword, "I don't think--" he starts, but the look Jaskier pins him with is cutting. He hesitates, but he leaves without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Fucking prick," Jaskier growls, stalking over to his wardrobe to put on some clothes before facing their company.

"I should--" Geralt starts, but Jaskier cuts him off.

"You should get dressed and let me drag you around the yard to hang off of while I make sure my father hasn't fucking shorted me on supplies. I'm already disowned, what more can he do to me?" The grin on Jaskier's face is brittle.

When they exit the cottage, Vincent is hovering by the door, obviously nervous. He's still got his hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword like a lifeline. Jaskier scoffs at it, but Geralt stays carefully back and works to make his posture non-threatening.

"Jaskier," Vincent says the minute he's out the door, "what is--"

"This is Geralt," Jaskier cuts in smoothly, "my companion." Vincent winces.

"He's--"

"My companion," Jaskier reinforces.

"The mage in Novigrad is looking for him." Geralt stiffens.

"I assure you we have no idea what you mean," Jaskier bites out, even as Geralt feels his stomach drop uncomfortably. The mage. The man from the room. He no longer cares one way or the other who the man is or what he wanted from Geralt. He’s happy here, he doesn’t want to leave. Vincent opens his mouth to respond, but he snaps his jaw shut a moment later with no protest.

"Okay," he sighs. Then-- "Where do you want the supplies?"

The men don't stay any longer than they need to, but it's a tense affair for everyone involved. Jaskier takes Geralt's hand in his and doesn't let go until long after Vincent and his underlings have left.

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

The rest of the day, Jaskier’s filled with a frantic sort of energy. He breezes through chores, drags Geralt on a walk with him out to the pond where he paces the water’s edge for near an hour before they head back. And it doesn’t dissipate even after they’ve returned to the cottage and had dinner.

The fire’s lit and Geralt is settled on the fur rug before it the way he normally does. Usually, this is about the time Jaskier would fetch his lute, or perhaps a book to read from. Instead, he’s still pacing.

“Jaskier,” Geralt finally says, breaking his focus as he comes up short in another circuit of the room, “come sit. Your pacing makes my head hurt.”

“Sorry,” he huffs, flopping down beside him with a heavy sigh. He leans against Geralt’s side for a bit, but he’s still restless, still shifting.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again and Jaskier sighs hard. He pulls away only to lay beside him, pillowing his head on Geralt’s thigh. Immediately, Geralt slips his fingers into Jaskier’s hair, soothing.

"So that was awful," Jaskier mutters.

"Mm."

He rolls so his face is pressed to Geralt's stomach. Geralt's fingers stay tangled in his hair, gently petting.

"I don’t want you to go," Jaskier says into the silence, muffled against Geralt's bulk.

Geralt’s chest siezes.

“I know you aren’t ready to tell me anything and that’s okay, but I--” his breath is warm against the thin cloth of Geralt’s shirt, “If that mage really is looking for you, I don’t want you to go,” he repeats, voice small.

Geralt feels as if his throat has closed. "I'm--I want to stay here,” he forces out, swallowing roughly. He should explain because Jaskier doesn’t know, but Jaskier sags with relief, presses his face closer to Geralt's stomach, fingers digging into his side and Geralt doesn’t want to take that relief from him, not now.

"That's--I'm glad." They don't say anything else for a long time as the fire burns down.

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

Geralt can’t stop thinking about the fact Jaskier doesn’t know, though. He needs to tell him. So that he’ll understand. Geralt owes it to him to tell him, whether he wants to or not. And if Jaskier wants him gone after? It will hurt, but he’ll go.

"Jaskier, do you have a minute?" he asks while Jaskier's tuning his lute that evening. He'd been getting ready to play, as he usually does.

"Of course, sweetheart. What is it?" he asks, strumming through a simple, uncomplicated tune. He meets Geralt's eyes with a playful smile, but his expression sobers when he sees the seriousness in Geralt's gaze.

"You asked me," he says carefully, "about before."

"Only if you're comfortable, dear. You don't have to--"

"No," he says, "I do." He needs to understand. He drops his gaze to his lap where he's wringing his hands together nervously. He stills them with effort, but that only makes the scars there stand out more starkly. He startles when Jaskier catches his hands in his own, traces those scars tenderly with lute-calloused fingertips.

"Well then, I'm listening," he says and smiles, small and encouraging when Geralt's gaze flickers back up to his face. It makes his chest tight. He doesn't deserve this. Jaskier. He tries to take in his face now, that tender care, that concern. Just in case it’s gone, after. So he knows. So he can remember.

Despite the fear churning in his gut, he takes a deep breath and starts talking, gaze glued to their still joined hands.

"My earliest memory is--uh. I. I woke up in a...room. I didn't know where I was. There was...a man. The mage, I guess." Jaskier is very, very still but his thumbs rub soothing circles against the back of his hands, a grounding point of contact.

"I tried to ask him what was going on, but I--" he trails off, unsure how to phrase what he means. He shakes his head. "--I didn't know how. I didn't have the words. And I--scared him. I think. He ran."

Jaskier sucks in a noisy breath and squeezes his hands briefly. "Go on," he encourages when Geralt glances back up.

"I followed him. I didn't know what else to do. I was in a town, I think."

"Novigrad," Jaskier interrupts before wincing. "Sorry, go on."

"The people there--I tried to ask for help but they--" he can feel the tears burning in his throat and tries to breathe through it, keep going, "they either ran or they threatened me. I didn't know what was going on." He feels the tears spill and ducks his head. If he stops now, he won't be able to continue. "I ran."

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier whispers. He lets go of one hand to bring his palm up to Geralt's face. His fingertips brush the corner of his eye, wipe the tears away gently.

"I ended up in the forest. There's a village not too far from here," Jaskier makes a quiet noise of acknowledgment. It’s the village Jaskier goes to sometimes when he needs things his father won’t or doesn’t send. "I stayed around there for a few weeks. Until the men with the swords showed up." Jaskier makes another small noise, rubbing his thumb along Geralt's cheekbone. Geralt closes his eyes. "So I picked a direction and started walking. And I found you."

"And I'm glad you found me, love. Sounds like you've had quite the rough go of it."

The calm acceptance is...too much. Does he not understand? He's a monster. Not natural. The mage wants back his creature. "Jaskier, I'm--"

"Shh," he cuts him off, grip still tight on his hand as he caresses his face, slips his fingers back into his hair, "I'm glad you told me, darling, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're a good person." He tugs him into his arms, gentle. Geralt goes, feeling like he did when he woke--unmoored, lost. He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, feels the way his breath catches on a sob. "I love you."

"Jask--" he can't get the words out past the lump in his throat so he just tucks himself a little closer, presses his face into Jaskier's neck. His lute sits forgotten beside them.

"You don't have to say it back, sweetling. It's okay," he says, stroking his free hand through Geralt's hair, the other tucked around his waist.

"I do, though," he whispers, lips brushing his throat, "I do." Jaskier sucks in a shuddering breath and holds him tighter, presses his lips to Geralt's temple, right over the mass of scars there. It's gentle, reverent.

That night, Geralt sleeps in Jaskier's bed, curled against his chest. He’s nearly asleep when the gentle tenor of Jaskier’s voice cuts through the soft haze of near-sleep. “--don’t know where I’d be,” Jaskier is saying softly, lips pressing intermittently to the top of his head, “gets hard being alone out here. And you’re so--” he cuts off, presses a kiss to Geralt’s hair again. He obviously thinks he’s already asleep. “You keep me grounded,” he says. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He breathes it like a secret.

As Geralt lets sleep finally pull him under, swimming in Jaskier’s quiet confession, it's the most cared for he's ever felt.

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

And that’s how things continue, for a long time. Jaskier frets over who may or may not be looking for Geralt and vacillates wildly between stressing himself out about it and pretending it’s not a problem. Vincent and his men show up about every eight or so weeks with supplies from Jaskier’s father and Jaskier drags Geralt out with him to watch every time. Vincent eyes Geralt skeptically still, but he no longer comments or reaches for his sword. And as Geralt begins to experience what contact with other people is like when they’re not running from him or threatening him, he’s further convinced that Jaskier is special. He doesn’t feel this way about Vincent or the other men who deliver their supplies, or the people in the village who Jaskier’s taken him down to meet a few times now (they still won’t come anywhere near him without Jaskier around, but Jaskier is insistent they treat him like anyone else and it’s...it helps).

But Geralt doesn’t know how to make it clear to Jaskier that he’s interested in more. They share Jaskier’s bed, they touch frequently, but things are...remarkably tame. They already say “I love you.” At some point, Jaskier’s flirting had tapered off and now he’s just...sweet. And Geralt loves it, but he also wants...that. The raunchy flirting and the...the things that come after. And the happy ending, like the ones from the fairytales Jaskier readers, sometimes. He just doesn’t know how to let Jaskier know that he wants everything.

It turns out he doesn’t have to ask at all.

"So I know this is a dumb question but," Jaskier's paused over making their eggs one morning, gaze downturned and intense, "I'm--uh. I mean, you--fuck. I have no idea how to say this," he huffs, taking the pan off the open flame and tipping the egg onto a plate. "You want to stay. Here. With me." It's obviously supposed to be a statement, but it sounds like a question.

They’ve already talked about this, haven’t they? "Yes, Jaskier," he says softly, "as long as you'll have me."

Jaskier lets out of a gust of breath, "Fuck okay, so--" he turns to face Geralt, egg abandoned, to take his hands in his, crouching at Geralt’s knees, "I want you here with me, too. More than I, uh, probably should."

Geralt makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. This sounds like--

"And I know there's no real practical purpose for it since I have nothing but this--" he gestures around them at the cottage, "--to give, but, um. I'd--If you'd be so inclined I'd like to marry you, Geralt." He pauses, eyes downcast and face flushed. Geralt for his part can't seem to put words in any order that might allow them to come out of his mouth and communicate just how much Jaskier's offer means to him.

"It's, uh, a little bit of protection. If the mage does come back for you, or something. But," he's rambling now, words falling from his lips so quickly his tongue is almost tripping over them in an effort to get them out faster, "but it's not like I don't want to marry you, or anything like that. I've been thinking about it quite extensively and I--"

"Jaskier," he cuts in, and he shuts up immediately, wide eyes focused on Geralt's face, nerves pouring off him. "Yes," Geralt says simply, and Jaskier gives a giddy little laugh, tips forward to hide his face in Geralt's lap.

"That's--yes. That's good. I'm glad." When he pulls back to look up into Geralt's face again, his eyes are shining. "Thank you, Geralt."

Geralt's not sure why Jaskier is the one thanking him when Geralt's the one who will most benefit from the arrangement, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

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

Jaskier makes a special trip to the village to bring the priest of Melitele back to their cottage to officiate the hand fastening less than a week later. Geralt's nervous the man will balk when he sees him, but other than going a little pale at the sight, he stands fast. Even the temple boy that he brought with him doesn't do more than flinch when Jaskier levels him with a look.

"Are you sure--" the priest begins, but Jaskier cuts him off quickly.

"We are. And we want a small, private affair. No fanfare. I'm disowned, remember?" he says sardonically, and Geralt knows it's a tactic to keep the man from asking too many questions, they'd talked about it beforehand, but it still makes his chest ache. Jaskier is so good, he doesn't understand why everyone isn't as drawn to him as Geralt is.

"Now?" The priest asks, fiddling with the cord he's brought with him.

"Geralt?" and Jaskier's expression is so cautiously guarded--

"Yes," he agrees, stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in their little clearing, just outside the door of the home they've already shared for months. The priest heaves a gust of breath.

"You'll need to kneel," he says, "Jaskier, give him your right hand. Uh--"

"Geralt," Jaskier supplies, eyes hard.

"--Geralt, give Jaskier your left." They kneel before the priest, hands clasped and held up in offering. The priest slips the cord around their joined hands, talking all the while. "Now, you don't untie this once it's done. Bad luck and all that. Ready?"

"Yes," Jaskier says, and Geralt nods.

"Alright." The priest waves the boy over to watch and serve as witness, and then he begins.

"As this knot is tied," he says, twisting the cording together in the first of several knots, "so are your lives now bound."

Jaskier squeezes Geralt's hand so tightly he can feel how he trembles.

"Woven into this cord, imbued into its very fibers, are all your hopes for your new life together." Another knot.

"With the fashioning of this knot do I tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last." He ties off the third and final knot and leans backward.

"Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows." The silence that rings out after the priest ceases speaking is deafening. Geralt can hear the blood rushing in his veins. "It is done."

"Geralt," Jaskier whispers as their joined hands fall to rest on Geralt’s thigh. He can't help but follow the movement of those lips with his eyes. "Kiss me, Geralt." And who is he to deny Jaskier anything?

He squeezes their joined hands, free hand rising to cup Jaskier's cheek. The look in Jaskier's eyes, the tenderness, the love, the thinly veiled excitement, twists his chest. How could he have ever feared this man would reject him?

"Geralt," Jaskier says again, and Geralt doesn't make him ask twice. He leans forward and presses their lips together in a tiny, chaste kiss, hardly more than a brushing of lips. It's still electric, especially when Jaskier makes a tiny, wounded noise and presses in closer, nearly in Geralt's lap.

Somewhere behind Jaskier, the priest clears his throat and Jaskier draws away reluctantly.

"You'll make it official in the books?" Jaskier asks without actually moving from where he’s perched on Geralt's knees.

"Of course. Should I send word to your father?"

"No," Jaskier scoffs, "don't bother." Geralt sees the priest nod behind Jaskier's shoulder. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, son. May Melitele bless your binding. Come, boy." Before Jaskier or Geralt can say more, the man is hurrying away with the temple boy who's eyes are still wide and fixed on Geralt.

"I'd like to see them take you from me now," Jaskier says once the man's footsteps have faded from hearing, "husband." Something in Geralt trembles at the word.

"Husband," he repeats slowly, testing out the word on his tongue and finding it to his liking. Jaskier grins, wide and bright.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He leans forward to kiss Geralt again, as if some dam has broken and he can't help himself. "My beautiful husband," Jaskier breathes against Geralt's lips.

When he pulls back, breathing hard, Geralt brings their still bound hands up to his lips to kiss Jaskier's knuckles, tender and reverent.

"How could anyone not look at you and see how sweet you are," Jaskier breathes, pulling his knuckles away from Geralt's mouth to give Geralt's scarred fingers the same treatment. "So beautiful, so full of love, my husband is."

"Jaskier--"

"Shush, I'm basking," he teases, giving another deliberate kiss to the back of his hand.

"I'm not--"

"No," Jaskier corrects immediately, "you just don't see yourself the way I see you. You're beautiful, Geralt and I love you very, very much."

He feels his face heat, ducks his head so his hair falls in the way, hiding his eyes.

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I love you and I'm not going anywhere. And--" he continues, slipping the fingers of his free hand under Geralt's chin and tilting his head up until their eyes meet, "--I'm not letting anyone else have you. You're mine, husband dearest."

"Yours," Geralt agrees easily. The mage may or may not be looking for him, but it doesn't matter. Geralt wants nothing to do with him anyway.

"And I'm yours, darling. As long as you want me."

"Mine," Geralt echos, "Always."

And that's enough.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #my baby! she lives!#a love letter both to geralt as a character and frankensteins creature

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squiggledrop · 3 years

Text

Day 13: Kissing in the Snow - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Ficmas 2020

Listen to my Christmas Playlist!

Summary: Ficmas Day 13

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Sundays were your favorite days. If you weren’t on a case, it meant you had Spencer all to yourself. The two of you often opted to spend your time relaxing, just enjoying the others company. Having no obligations for the day also meant sporting pajamas all day. Spencer wore plaid pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, whereas you donned one of his old sweatshirts and light grey sweatpants.

You were laying next to Spencer on the couch with your head resting in his lap. He was currently reading a book, while one of his hands came down to gently stroke your hair. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but being around you and touching you in small ways like this always calmed him. He liked the physical reassurance that you were there, even if his conscious mind wasn’t fully aware of it.

You closed your eyes, the peaceful sound of the fireplace and Spencer turning the pages of his book relaxing you. You took in a deep breath, the scent of the burning of the logs filling your lungs. Spencer felt you shift beneath him, turning over so the back of your head was pressed against his chest. You brought the hand that rested by your head up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his knuckles. Spencer smiled at the gesture, peeking down at you from the top of his book. You turned your attention towards the window across from the couch, admiring the calmness of the day. Upon looking outside, however, Spencer felt your head spring up from his lap, causing him to abruptly put down his book and look at you with concern. Before he could ask what was wrong, you squealed with excitement.

“It’s snowing!”, you gasped, while your head flipped back and forth between the falling snow and your boyfriend. “Spence! It’s snowing!”. You ran towards the window, eagerly looking out at the light dusting of white that was accumulating across the ground. Spencer’s chuckles at your vivacious excitement rang throughout the room, as he got up and followed you to the window.

“Yes it is”, he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. You admired the snow for a moment longer, before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Let’s go outside, come on!”. You threw your boots on and opened the door before Spencer could begin to protest.

“(Y/n), are you serious?”, he called after you. You giggled down the stairs, hearing him struggle to put on some shoes behind you.

“I want to feel the snow!”, you called after him, running outside. When you made it to the outside of your building, you closed your eyes, breathing in the cold air. You spread your arms out and let the snowflakes delicately fall onto your body. You heard the door to your apartment building open, followed by the heavy breathing of your boyfriend.

“(Y/n), it’s freezing”, he scolded, placing your jacket around your shoulder. You opened your eyes and turned to him, watching as he put on his own jacket. You looked down, seeing in his rush to follow you outside, he had put on two different pairs of shoes.

“You know I loved the mismatched socks”, you said looking down at his feet, “but, I’m not sure if the whole mismatched shoe thing will catch on”. He grimaced slightly as you laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, well, if someone hadn’t ran out here in their pajamas like a crazy person, maybe I wouldn’t have had to grab the first two things I saw”. He shook his head, laughing at the innocent smile you gave him.

“But come on”, you smiled, “it’s snowing. Isn’t it magical”. You looked around, taking in how the flurries lightly coated your surroundings. Spencer admired the way your hair glistened while dusted in snow and couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his lips.

“I suppose so”, he amused. You turned back around, looking him in the eyes.

“You suppose?”, you joked, smirking at him.

“Well, it’s pretty magical because you’re here with me”.

“Aw, Spence”, you cooed. His cheeks flushed, partly due to the cold, but mostly because of the way you looked at him with all the love in the world. You stepped towards him, placing your hands on his blushed cheeks. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him and connecting your lips.

The kiss was soft and tender, neither of you feeling the need to deepen it. You cherished the feeling of the other, the warmth of their breath, and how nice it felt to just be together.

“But you know what’s even more magical?”, he mumbled against your lips.

“What?”, you whispered, smiling into the kiss.

“Radiators”, he deadpanned. You pulled apart, neither of you able to contain your laughter.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get you out of the cold”, you giggled. You linked his arm with yours and started making your way back inside. Spencer pulled you into his side, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Sorry for making you rush out here”, you looked up at him. “I’ll try to contain to contain my excitement next time”, you smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare”, Spencer said, looking at you seriously. “It’s one of the things I love most about you”, he smiled softly. You gleamed up at him as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “Just, um, maybe wait until we can put on something warmer”, he teased. You lovingly rolled your eyes, opening the door to your apartment.

“I’ll try”, you smirked, taking off your boots. You started to make your way back towards the couch, but you felt Spencer grab your wrist. You turned towards him, but were met his lips latching onto yours. When he pulled back, he placed another quick kiss on your nose.

“Sorry”, he whispered while lost in your eyes, “you had a few snowflakes on your lips, and I didn’t want you to get cold”.

“Thanks”, you said, biting your top lip. “I think you still have a few snowflakes on you as well”, you smirked.

“Oh, yeah?”, he teased. You shook your head and hummed in response. “Care to show me where?”, he smiled.

“Gladly”, you smirked, leaning back in towards him.

Although Spencer wasn’t as much of a fan of the cold as you were, he wouldn’t mind moving to the arctic if it meant getting to spend all of his days like this.

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sixtyfourk · 3 years

Note

May I suggest an AU where Don Paolo finds the Golden Apple first and adopts Flora instead of Layton? :)

Absolutely!! Thank you so much for asking! This turned out to be... pretty long, actually, almost 2000 words :'D I'm going to post it here under a cut, but I also put it in Puzzles Left Unsolved if you'd rather read it on Ao3. Thank you again for the request; it was a great chance for me to write for Don Paolo for the first time!

...

“Welcome to the Future.”

Dr. Allen smiles broadly, throwing open the clock shop’s door with careless abandon. Flora can’t hold back a gasp at the sight before her. Yes, the scenery in front of her is Midland Road, but it’s unmistakably changed: worn down, and dirty with ten years’ worth of grime. The bus stop is gone, and tall poles mounted with loudspeakers tower above the ground.

Could they really have travelled through time? It seems impossible, but then again, the evidence seems too solid to brush aside. Flora’s still reeling from the trip through the “time machine.” Between the rocky ride down here, and the changed London that she sees before her now, she’s almost convinced that she truly is in the future.

Hesitantly, she looks toward Paul, hoping that she can take a cue from his reaction to what Dr. Allen referred to as “The Future.” Her mentor looks almost as dumbfounded as she does. Then, he seems to notice her gaze. He clears his throat, calming his expression, and turns toward Dr. Allen. “For ‘Future London,” it’s not all that futuristic, is it? Where are the jetpacks and the robots?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m so sorry that the future isn’t completely what you’d hoped it would be.” Dr. Allen shrugs nonchalantly. “Now. If you’re done gawking, then we can begin discussing business. Follow me.”

As they follow Dr. Allen through the streets, Flora casts a questioning glance up towards Paul. “What do you think about this?” she whispers.

“Feh. It’s all a trick. Although I’ll admit it’s a good one.” Paul waves his hands dismissively, then brings his arm to his mouth, stifling a theatrical cough. “As bad as the air quality is in ‘present’ London, it’s nowhere near this horrendous. Coupled with the yellow sky, either the Apocalypse happened within the last ten years, or we’re underground.”

Flora’s half-disappointed, but half-not. An underground city, particularly one that so closely mirrors an existing city, is almost as fascinating as a future one—and, as Paul had said before, now that she thinks of it, she’s a little disappointed at the lack of futuristic technology. “So there’s still a chance for the jetpacks, then,” she says thoughtfully.

Paul chuckles. “If you get started on inventing them tomorrow, then there’s a slim chance that they’ll be around in ten years.”

“You could invent them too, you know,” Flora says mildly.

“Let’s stay focused on the present, my friends,” Dr. Allen says lightly. “Right this way.” Turning the corner, they enter a large tunnel, and Flora stares up in awe at the sloped roof above them, the beautiful stone-tiled road, and the pretty shops lining the walls.

“A pretty little arcade, isn’t it?” Dr. Allen says proudly, leading them toward a restaurant built into the wall of the arcade. “It’s a pity that it has no counterpart in the present. I hope this restaurant is to your liking. My partner is very fond of the place, although I don’t entirely trust his judgement.”

“You’re paying, right?” snorts Paul as the group steps through the door.

Dr. Allen raises an eyebrow. “Of course; you’re my guests. Paul, you wound me.”

“My name is Don Paolo, Allen.”

It’s strange to hear Paul reacting adversely to being called… well, Paul; Flora’s grown so used to calling him that over the last several months. Yes, he wanted to be called “Don Paolo” at first, but after the first ten times she’d called him so, he’d grunted that it was “too formal, and that she should call him “Paul” instead. Flora’s secretly glad of that; the name had always struck her as funny, but she’d hate to offend him by giggling by mistake.

Dr. Allen shrugs, and the three of them take a seat at the table, the cook coming to take their order. “Just coffee for me,” he says nonchalantly, “but give these two whatever they like. I’ll be paying.”

Paul gets a coffee as well—a smart move, Flora thinks; he wants to seem like an equal match to Dr. Allen. Flora would do the same, but upon further consideration, she just gets water; she’s not sure that she could handle anything more right now, with the amount of butterflies in her stomach. Her nerves are frayed, and being seated here, in the Future, in front of the man that summoned them here, is only exacerbating her anxiety.

“I supposed I was careless, Paul,” Dr. Allen finally says, as the coffee arrives at the table. Once again, he raises an eyebrow, glancing in Flora’s direction. “I never thought to tell you to come alone, simply because I never thought there’d be anyone who wanted to come with you.”

Flora blinks. What a rude thing to say! But now that she thinks about it, Paul really doesn’t seem to have any friends, except for her. He doesn’t often leave their flat, except when they both go to the lab to work on their engineering projects. Occasionally he’ll go off on his own, but he never talks about seeing anybody else.

Of course, there is his archnemesis, Hershel Layton, but they certainly aren’t friends, not with how Layton hurt Paul in the past! Paul never talks about what that man did, but Flora doesn’t want to force him to tell her, as curious as she is. Whatever it might be, it must’ve been traumatic, and she wouldn’t want to make him remember anything painful. But other than Layton, Flora can’t think about anybody else that Paul even knows.

Well, there is that framed picture of that pretty lady with glasses on his work desk, but Flora doesn’t even know her name, let alone if she and Paul are friends.

“If you want to know who she is, you can just ask,” Paul scowls.

“I’m his apprentice,” Flora chimes in eagerly. “I’m studying engineering, and disguises, and robotics, and… and lots of things.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Dr. Allen chuckles. “I never thought you had it in you, Paul. I knew you were good with disguises, but masquerading as a mentor is a new one for you.”

“As far as you know.” Paul shrugs. “It’s not as if we were ever best friends or anything. There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.”

“True, true.” Dr. Allen leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. “But at least there was one thing that we had in common. And that’s what I’d like to talk about today.”

A shadow crosses Paul’s face. Is that… sadness in his eyes? “I’m not really in the mood to reminisce, Dimitri.”

“Maybe not. But perhaps you’re in the mood to help me make those precious memories reality once again?” There’s a feverish light in Dimitri’s eyes, despite his serene expression. “What if I told you that my time machine—”

A time machine?

Flora’s mind starts racing. A real time machine? Could it really exist? How does it work? What—

“That’s what killed her, Allen.” Paul’s harsh voice cuts through Flora’s daydream. “You’re delusional if you think that it’ll actually work, or that I’ll waste my time helping you.”

“I don’t think I’m delusional,” Dimitri says calmly, but Flora can see pain in his face. “But even if I am, at least I’ve got a plan. What are you going to do if you don’t help me? Continue living in your delusion of thinking Layton cares one iota about being your ‘archnemesis?’” He stands slowly. “I’m giving you a chance to help bring her back. It’s up to you if you’ll take it. I’ll give you five minutes to think it over.”

Before either of them can say anything, Dimitri exits the room.

Flora avoids looking at Paul, staring into her water glass. She feels like it isn’t her place to say anything, as curious as she is; she should wait for—

“I suppose you want to know what in the world is going on.” Paul grunts, crossing his arms, and stares into one of the paintings adorning the wall.

“If you want to tell me,” Flora says hesitantly. “I mean, it’s not really my business, is it?”

“Well, you are my apprentice, so it’s at least partly your business. Especially since you’ll be helping me make my final decision.” Paul sighs. “You’ve seen that picture on my desk, right?”

Flora blinks. “That pretty lady?”

A small smile colours Paul’s face. “Yes. She was… well, she was a friend. Well, she… she died almost ten years ago.”

Flora bites her lip. So that’s why he takes such good care of that picture. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Paul shrugs. “It was a long time ago,” he says dismissively, but Flora can hear the sadness behind the words. “She worked with him,” he says, gesturing dismissively toward the door, “building a time machine, and she died because it malfunctioned, exploding and killing her and nine other people. I… Well, I blamed him for a while, even though it wasn’t only his fault. I felt like, since he was lucky enough to work with her, he should’ve been there to save her. My only satisfaction was that he blamed himself too.” He chuckles wryly. “You probably think I’m awful now, don’t you?”

“N-no, not at all!” Flora hurries to assure him. “I… I understand why you reacted that way.” It’s all too easy to search for a scapegoat when there’s nobody else to blame. She remembers how much she hated and feared Dahlia for replacing Mama, when Dahlia really did nothing wrong… but it’s too late to mend that. She pushes the thought to the back of her mind. “But there’s a chance to bring her back, then isn’t there? If he’s got the time machine working, now.”

Paul snorts. “No way that he’ll ever actually get it to work. Not after it failed so spectacularly last time.”

Flora shouldn’t feel so disappointed at his words, but she does. She wants to find out more about this time machine. Before today, she’d hardly even thought of the concept, but now that she knows it’s something that could plausibly exist, she wants to find out more. But Paul so easily dismissed the idea. Maybe he’s right about that; after all, it did fail ten years ago. But that doesn’t mean it will fail today.

(What if she could bring her parents back?)

(What if she can bring Paul’s friend back to life?)

“Shouldn’t we give him a chance?” she asks tentatively. “Maybe he can tell us exactly how he plans to do it, and then we can make a more informed decision.”

“The only thing he’ll inform us with is more of his delusions.” But Paul looks at her curiously. “You’re really excited by this time machine thing, aren’t you?”

Is it really that obvious? Flora flushes, staring into her drinking glass once again. “Maybe a little bit. I just… I just think that if there’s a chance that it works, then we should consider all our options.”

She waits in silence for Paul’s reply. Finally, he sighs, chuckling. “Why is it always so hard to say no to you?” He stands, heading towards the door to let Dimitri back in. “Fine, fine. We’ll listen to him ramble for a few more minutes, and find out what he wants from us, and then we can decide what we’ll do.”

Flora smiles after him. “Thanks for listening to reason, Paul,” she says jokingly.

Paul grins back at her. “Don’t mention it.”

#professor layton #don paolo #flora reinhold #dimitri allen #layton AUs #my fanfiction #this is the first thing I've completed in more than a month so I'm kind of rusty haha...#but I'm really glad i managed to complete something finally

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chat-noir-always-here · 3 years

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Debunking “Adrien is perfect”

To voice a rather non-Marinette-like opinion of Adrien: He’s not perfect. He’s never been perfect. He has, in fact, been riddled with flaws from the very beginning. Part of the reason Chat Noir gets hate is because he serves to exaggerate Adrien’s flaws and make them more obvious, destroying the perfectionism façade. And the sooner Marinette tosses the “I love the perfect Adrien” filter in the trash where it belongs, and starts actively recognizing and acknowledging his faults, the better off the endgame relationship will be.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts, cuz i’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of texts like these.

First of all, flaws are just one of the many things that happen when someone either learns something the wrong way, spends too much time in the wrong environment, lack any decent role models... really there are a plethora of causes. What i mean is character shortcomings aren’t necessarily reasons to hate the character themselves. They’re more or less internal obstacles put there to be overcome in order to portray character growth. Of course spending an exaggerated amount of time with these characters without seeing them overcome particular shortcomings is frustrating it does not necessarily mean they will never be redeemed or developed and are/were deserving of hate.

Except for Gabriel. That creature belongs behind bars.

Most of Adrien’s flaws come from his toxic home situation:

The Miraculous Wiki puts Adrien at fifteen. Meaning Adrien has only been actively leaving the house (for public school and the occasional social get-together) for about a year. His fourteenth birthday was one of the earliest episodes and im assuming his fifteenth birthday happened off screen between the s3 finale and the new york special.

Regardless the majority of his life was spent in isolation and his only company was his immediate family, Nathalie, Felix and Chloe. None of whom are particularly good role models except for Emilie. Maybe.

He’s rather overworked for a 14 y.o. boy. On top of school, he has fencing, piano and Chinese lessons. This leaves him with very little time for himself.

He lost his mother. In Feast, Adrien expresses Emilie was a source of joy in his life--”Only Mom can make me laugh like that.” Felix marked the one year anniversary of her disappearance. Worse still, we’re led to assume all Adrien knows is that Emilie disappeared. Did she abandon him? Was she kidnapped and killed? He doesn’t know. He has no closure regarding her absence.

On top of losing his mother, his only remaining parent is an emotionally manipulative and abusive prick. Gabriel has denied Adrien a birthday party, threatened to take Adrien out of school just because he can, never lets him have friends over for any reason, hardly ever makes time for Adrien and only once in a blue moon will actually sit and eat a meal with the poor kid.

And on top of all of this he’s not out of the woods yet. He’s still living with his abusive father. He’s still not allowed to see his friends outside of school much. He’s still got a packed schedule. He still doesn’t have closure regarding his mother’s “disappearance.”

Looking at it like this paints Adrien in a rather sympathetic light.

Marinette doesn’t know Gabriel is Hawk Moth either, but she does understand Adrien is lonely, isolated and in need of a source of love and comfort. She also understands to some degree that his heart is delicate, so she constantly handles him with kid gloves and looks on him with a perfection filter.

We see how Mari reacts to upsetting Adrien in Malediktator when she softly whispers an apology after Adrien expresses his sorrow over everyone celebrating Chloe’s departure. She’s seems pained and distraught over causing him to be upset. Thus the reason Marinette calls Adrien perfect isn’t that she never sees any of his flaws--she just cannot acknowledge or process them under these conditions. Shes too busy trying not to hurt him. She also has shown some signs of having extreme anxiety, which messes with ones head and makes it difficult--nearly impossible--to think straight. She wants to be the source of love and comfort he desires (and already is in a way) so his faults go unprocessed.

But what are Adrien’s flaws?

1. He has trouble standing up for himself.

He’ll take a stand for others.

He stood up to Chloe on Mylene’s behalf in Horrificator and on Marinette/ Cheng Sifu’s behalf in Kung Food. He stood up to Lila in Oni-chan and Ladybug. He stood up to Gabriel in Simon Says--but as Chat Noir, not Adrien.

There have only been two-ish instances of Adrien, not Chat Noir, standing up for himself. I say -ish only because he was kinda standing up for Lila in the first and Chloe in the second.

First in Volpina he stood up to Ladybug for how she handled the situation with Lila. He personally believed she handled the situation poorly (which she did--there were/are serious consequences for that. still) and although he was kinda wishy-washy in conveying that it was only because he was scared of sounding too much like Chat Noir. Her partner. Her chief-of-staff. Who can and will call her out on such behavior.

Second in Malediktator, when he more or less told Marinette she was wrong to be happy about Chloe leaving. Granted this was partly him standing up for Chloe, but aside from her—he, Adrien, was deeply upset chloe was leaving on such bad terms and made sure Marinette understood that.

Abused children tend to be somewhat submissive/agreeable/etc. They have trouble speaking out when they’re uncomfortable or don’t want something or think a particular action is wrong. Usually because they are anticipating some kind of punishment for speaking out or afraid of offending the other person to the point that said person wants nothing to do with them anymore, or both.

For Adrien to fix this particular flaw, he needs to prioritize himself and his own wants more. However he also needs someone who doesn’t chastise him for doing things he likes, tending to his own needs and setting boundaries. Kagami is not that person--she’s actually quite demanding of him and cold. Her understanding of relationships isnt great either, which is why these two really aren’t that great for each other.

2. He puts his faith in the wrong people

Adrien’s fucking household is about as toxic as it can get (please don’t take this as a challenge, S4). On top of his immediate family consisting of his abusive, toxic, terrorist father, there’s his cousin Felix. Felix who squished cheese under Adrien’s pillow, stole his phone, pretended to be him and sent an outrageous and awful video to his friends.

There’s also his mother Emilie whom, despite his love and adoration of her, lied to him for who knows how long and messed around with a broken miraculous to the point it forced her into an indefinite coma and left Adrien at his father’s mercy. There are theories that she did this for her family but nothing concrete or canon has been proven--all we know is that Emilie had been having frequent dizzy spells while she was still awake and using the peacock miraculous, and that she anticipated her fate and Gabriel apparently promised to save her.

There’s Lila, as well. “She’s not dangerous. She just craves attention.” Wrong, Adrien, she’s very dangerous. She is conspiring with your father to spy on you, attempted to get Marinette expelled from school, tricked you into leaving Ladybug alone with a supervillain whom she personally requested to kill Ladybug, pinned Marinette against a bathroom wall and almost got her akumatized, actually got Marinette akumatized and nearly cost you both the Ladybug Miraculous and TIkki. She isn’t just dangerous she is an actual threat, whether or not she is the future Hawk Moth who sent Timetagger after you when you were children with time-sensitive powers. Adrien has a slightly better understanding of that after the events of Ladybug and Oni-chan, so hopefully he will be on his guard at least in regards to Lila.

The reason for Adrien’s overly trusting nature may lie in the fact that literally everyone closest to him, everyone for the first thirteen years or so, was toxic and/or a liar. You know what happens when you can’t trust anyone around you? You live with it. You accept all these bad people as they are, without making any effort to establish healthy boundaries. Adrien certainly lived with it--how’s an abused, isolated boxed-and-sheltered son supposed to know what healthy boundaries are when he’s lacking any healthy connections? I bet he can just barely endure all the anguish but he can’t stand to be alone so he just tolerates it. Not to mention the most guilty is his father. Where else is he supposed to go?

Like a frog sitting in a pot of water, you don’t realize you’re in trouble until the water is too hot. So you just accept it--all the bad feelings--you accept it, live with it and it still hurts but you rarely complain. Because anything is better than being alone.

I think Adrien understands, deep down, that the love he is clinging to, the love provided by his relatives, isn’t really there. But if he looks at it too long and lets this knowledge sink in he’ll lose it. He really did lose it in Chat Blanc-- just that sky-crashing-down-on-him realization that he didn’t have his fathers love, hadn’t had it for a long time, just completely ruined our boy.

Of course the knowledge is there. It’s literally right there in front of his face and it’s only a matter of time before he is forced to turn and look and face the music. At which point I hope Marinette knows who he is and has a plan to save him otherwise Chat Blanc is just going to happen again.

3. Yes, he takes the flirting too far sometimes

No--that doesn’t make him toxic.

Yes, Adrien overreacted to Ladybug never showing up in Glaciator. He shouldn’t have been upset with her in Frozen for not accepting the rose. He should have told her the damn truth about being forced to leave the city at the same time she was in the New York special.

However, he also apologized for overreacting in both Glaciator and Frozen. And again, abused kids live in anticipation of punishment for their mistakes. Adrien’s father has taught him that the slightest mistake can result in loss of freedom or trust, even if its circumstances beyond his control. And he now understands that Ladybug isn’t going to blindly punish him for being honest with her, which he now knows to do.

He makes mistakes, apologizes for them, and learns from them. That’s not fucking toxic--it’s natural, human and allowed.

He’s flirty and suggestive, yes, but the minute she signals she doesn’t want it or isn’t feeling it he stops. He has had immense trouble with not flirting with her, despite her telling him she isn’t interested multiple times. That much is true. But he truly and deeply cares for her and he would never force himself on her and it isn’t because he knows she’ll kick his ass if he does. It’s because unlike the vast majority of his family, he’s actually a decent human being.

He has even begun to “flirt platonically,” toasting their partnership and friendship rather than offering a romantic relationship she can never say yes to. If that isn’t the most soft and respectful fluff I don’t know what is.

4. He is leading Kagami on

Did he cheat? I’m actually not sure. Thomas is being vague in his tweets and won’t give us a decent answer (because he likes “watching fandom burn”--i mean MOOD but clarify please).

Here’s what we know and have observed: 1. Chat Noir told Ladybug “I have a girlfriend” 2. He immediately followed that up with “It’s not good at all. I just said that to make you jealous” 3. He allowed Kagami to kiss him in the new york special 4. but he has trouble telling girls not to touch him--been a problem since episode one. Yes its generally cheek kisses chloe gives him but sometimes its not and he looked downright uncomfortable in a lot of cases of physical contact with her and with Lila 5. he seemed rather comfortable with kagami kissing him--except he did say no to her kissing him in the finale 6. but he’s also trying to move on from Ladybug and be with Kagami 7. If he were in a relationship with Kagami, he’d likely keep it a secret because both of their parents are controlling of them and may not allow it 8. His understanding of relationships and girls is kinda dreadful due to not having his mom around for advice and his father’s general lack of a concept of what healthy romantic relationships and boundaries are, and, as Nino put it, not being able to understand signals very well

Adrien’s current relationship status is up in the air. I’m about eighty percent certain he’s dating Kagami--but there’s still that twenty percent chance he’s not.

Putting aside the question of whether or not he and Kagami are official, Adrien’s been attempting to move past his feelings for Ladybug. Which--won’t sugarcoat it--he kinda sucks at. At the same time, Kagami is aware he is in love with another but lacks the understanding that his moving on will take time.

The main issues here is that Adrien knows who he wants but can’t have her. Kagami is a wonderful person herself and he wants to get to know her better, but they aren’t really a good match and they are both going to get hurt in the end (Love Victor anyone???). Until that happens we are going to have some questionable moments in the show, and we just need to remember that Adrien is a child with a poor understanding of relationships, and not an evil person. Kagami doesn’t necessarily have a great understanding of them either--”Your indecision hurts me Adrien,” “Adrien you and I are perfect for each other!”--and she has flaws of her own she needs to unlearn.

For the time being, Adrien is leading Kagami on (it needs to be said--even if they aren’t dating he’s flirted with her, given her roses etc.) I say leading her on because, no matter how much Adrien believes Marinette is just a friend and they weren’t flirting in New York, loyal boyfriends who wish to be monogamous don’t dance with other women.

Or look this happy when that other woman touches them

Does this make Adrien a deceitful and hateful character? No. Does this make him an unworthy character? No. It makes him an abused child with little to no concept of healthy relationships.

Also Adrien’s friends, including Marinette, have no reason to believe he is dating Kagami. They know he is interested in her and she in him, but as Nino said, Adrien has a hard time picking up signals and understanding their meaning. Not to mention the boy is fifteen. Flirting skills, understanding boundaries, and other relationship concepts are a challenge even for ordinary fifteen year olds in healthy environments to grasp--case in point: Marinette.

Adrigami and Lukanette are simply not going to end well. The Love Square is the endgame and ultimately both Lukanette and Adrigami are going to fall apart to make that happen--I knew that going into the possible Adrigami and Lukanette territory that the finale created.

Kagami is a strong, intelligent person--she’s likely going to be the one to end it given what we’ve seen. I don’t like to think about what might happen then--she may be akumatized and Chat Noir would feel rather guilty and may not be able to fight her. But they will both come out of it with something they needed--Kagami will understand (as Marinette needs to) that Adrien isn’t her perfect soul mate incapable of making mistakes. Adrien will understand relationships better.

Its unfortunate that this has to happen in order for Adrien to learn due lessons, given that he actually does have someone who can talk to him about girls and relationships and loyalty: Nino.

Given what Nino wasted no time in scolding Mari for spying on Adrien and Lila when she confessed doing so in Chameleon, as well as how he treats Alya, I undoubtedly believe Nino would be the one to come out and say “You can’t dance with Marinette when you’re with Kagami.”

Assuming he is with Kagami.

In conclusion: Adrien is flawed but not deserving of hate. He is a traumatuzed child stuck in a toxic household who lacks proper mentors. Marinette, Alya and Nino are out of the loop about his potential relationship with Kagami. And Marinette and Kagami both need to acknowledge Adrien is imperfect. Nino and Adrien need to do guy talk like two seasons ago.

Also Marinette probably has some intense anxiety issues. But more on that later.

#long post #adriennette #love square #miraculous ladybug #mlb new york #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

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Adventus Everlark

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Special request: Everlark celebrates Advent by focusing weekly on hope, peace, joy, and love. [submitted by @hutchhitched]

Rating: T (for suggestiveness and a trigger)

Trigger Warning: Mention of physical abuse.

Author’s Note: This story will have both religious (Catholic/Christian) and secular elements. This is part 1 of a 4-part ficlet series. To be continued on A03 at a later date. Thank you. I hope you enjoy!

______________

If Katniss knew anything about her boyfriend, Peeta Mellark, she knew he loved this time of year‒the Christmas season. He loved everything about it; he was practically giddy as a child over it, and he’d been eager to share his traditions with her for some time. Truth be told, Katniss didn’t always understand or share Peeta’s excitement for this time of year, but she loved to see it, and she loved him for it.

Having grown up in a Catholic household, Peeta celebrated Christmas in the traditional Catholic way‒with Mass, prayers, and the lighting of Advent candles. Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, presents, a big dinner, and tons of baking‒Peeta was a baker, and came from a long line of bakers, so there had to be.

The Everdeens, by contrast, weren’t expressly religious; although, they were open to the possibility of a greater power in the universe, and they would partake in the typical holiday activities around this time of year. Katniss had gone along with those activities for years, even tried to replicate them for her beloved sister, Prim, after their father died and their mother suffered from a crushing depression, but she’d never gotten the joy out of it that Prim did.

Or Peeta.

Peeta was a lot like Prim. Maybe that was part of the reason why she loved him so much. The two were kindhearted as they came and fresh as raindrops, both giving, loving, and selfless individuals. Too good for Katniss, in her opinion. They even looked alike, with their light skin, pale blond hair, and blue eyes. Honestly, Prim looked more like Peeta’s sibling than her own‒she with her olive skin tone and gray eyes.

Another thing Prim and Peeta had in common was their faith. Despite growing up in a secular home, Prim held strong beliefs, similar to Peeta’s.

For Katniss, faith was a challenge. It required a great deal of trust and devotion, things which she’d always struggled to give. At least, that’s how she felt about it. But Peeta said otherwise. Peeta always said he saw Katniss for who she truly was, even if she didn’t see it herself. He said he saw a loving and compassionate woman, dedicated to caring for and providing for her entire family.

She’d argued that it was because they were family. It didn’t make her compassionate; it was just the way it was supposed to be. Directly after, she’d felt awful for her statement. Families were definitely not created equal when it came to love and affection, and Peeta was proof positive of this.

When Peeta first told Katniss about some of his childhood experiences, particularly his mother’s physical abuse, she was furious. She couldn’t understand how he could have anything to do with his family, let alone uphold their traditions as he did, and she wanted nothing to do with them, either.

Katniss had put off meeting Peeta’s family for that very reason. Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d stand being in the same room as his mother. If she even looked at him wrong, Katniss was certain she’d go off the deep end.

But Peeta assured her that his family wasn’t all bad, nor had his home life been. In fact, he’d mentioned a lot of good memories with his brothers and his father. And regarding their holiday traditions, those were the ones he held closest to his heart.

Peeta was so good, almost too good.

If anyone could be a religious prophet come to earth, it would be Peeta. But maybe she put him on a pedestal because she loved him so much.

No, Peeta was not perfect, and sure, he did things to annoy her, like the time he jokingly called her pure. She’d gotten huffy about it and refused to talk to him for about two days. In hindsight, her reaction was a bit extreme, but they’d made up, and then some.

Besides, if anyone was pure, it was Peeta.

Not that he was a saint; there were certainly things he…bent the rules on, such as them sleeping in the same bed before marriage. She was glad for that one, because she hated not sleeping in his arms.

And Peeta felt the same.

One time, after a particularly nasty fight with his mother over what she suspected to be an ‘improper arrangement’ between them, Peeta had told Katniss, “I don’t care if she thinks it’s a sin. Now that I’ve slept with you in my arms, it’s impossible not to. I’m not going back.”

“Sometimes you do,” she’d said cheekily. Considering they weren’t ‘officially’ living together, she did occasionally sleep at her place.

“I know, but those times are unbearable,” he’d responded, leaning in for a soft peck. “If I had to do it all the time,” he whispered against her lips, “what kind of life would that be?”

Katniss concurred.

Of course, the whole sleeping together thing had started innocently, when they were still just best friends. It all began with Katniss’s nightmares…

One night, after an especially bad one, she’d called Peeta, who lived in the same building, hoping he’d talk her to sleep. On a whim, she’d asked him to come over, and she’d asked him to stay. He did.

After that, they shared a bed frequently, and it was all very innocent. But the more they slept together, the harder it became to fight temptation, especially after revealing their true feelings for one another.

It was sort of a mutual confession, but Peeta had been hinting at how he felt for a long time. Then one night, in bed, he’d asked her directly, “You love me. Real or not real?” This was a little game they played.

Without hesitation, she’d answered, “Real.”

This would be Katniss and Peeta’s first Christmas as an honest-to-goodness committed couple, and they were both thrilled. Peeta usually went to his family’s for Christmas, but this year, he’d said that he wanted to spend it with just her.

And they’d decided to celebrate Advent together by focusing on hope, peace, joy, and love.

Week 1: Hope

On the first Sunday of Advent, which fell this year on November 29th, Peeta taught Katniss about the lighting of the Advent candles, and they lit the first candle on the wreath, one of the purple ones. Peeta explained that it was called The Prophecy Candle and symbolized hope and God’s forgiveness of man’s sins. They proceeded to light it every night, together, and Katniss even prayed with Peeta, or at least remained by his side, holding his hand.

Her favorite activity during the Hope week so far was when they spent an entire evening wrapped up in each other on the couch under the blankets, eating junk food and talking about their hopes for the future, their own wishes and those for their loved ones and all humankind.

At first, Katniss had been fearful about speaking some of her own because she didn’t like to think too far ahead. To think ahead was to ultimately be disappointed, in her mind. She was so afraid that if she spoke aloud what she hoped for, as with one of those elusive birthday wishes parents talked about, it would never happen, or be taken away.

But Peeta reassured her.

Something else Peeta had been doing for Advent, which he hadn’t expected her to do was fasting. It wasn’t a complete fast; he was still eating, but he wasn’t eating between meals or having meat on Fridays or any sweets.

First, we fast; then we feast, was what Peeta had told her, referring to the period of penance and preparation leading up to the Christmas celebration.

Peeta was being really good about it, so good that she worried he might waste away to nothing at this rate. And she liked a little bulk on his body. Healthy and strong like an ox, that’s the way she liked him.

Of course, she wasn’t making things easy on him.

Katniss imagined it must be difficult for him to bake up all kinds of treats for her this time of year and not eat any himself, so she’d offered to fast with him. But Peeta refused, saying he enjoyed the act of baking, which she knew, and that he enjoyed serving her. She also knew that. And naturally, he had to bring up her cheese bun and Christmas cookie addictions.

He was right, though.

What could she do but thank him and kiss him, then prop her head between her hands and watch him bake?

As creepy as it might sound, she loved watching him. She enjoyed seeing the muscles of his forearms twitch and pulse when he whipped a mixture. And she enjoyed watching his long, pale golden eyelashes flutter in concentration when she got close while he read over one of his recipes (also when he sketched or painted).

Presently, Katniss was seated on the edge of the counter watching Peeta boil fudge in a saucepan. God, she loved fudge.

Peeta was multitasking today, so he also had a batch of cookie dough laying in wait in a mixing bowl. When he looked over and smiled at her, she smiled sweetly back. And then, partly to freak him out and partly because she wanted it, she scooped a bit of dough onto the mixing spoon and brought it to her lips.

“Katniss!” He tramped over and smacked her hand lightly like a child’s.

“Hey, watch it,” she said, grinning. She’d been asking for it, though. She knew Peeta hated when she licked the raw cookie dough batter. Something about salmonella. Although, she’d done it as a kid and never got violently ill from it.

“But this was one of my traditions.” She cocked her head and licked the very tip of the spoon in a seductive manner, hoping it’d get to him.

It didn’t.

Peeta simply sighed. “Fine, go on and eat it if you want to end up in the hospital.”

Poking her lip out at him, she put the spoon down in its bowl. He smirked over at her, then returned to the oven to check on the fudge. After a few seconds he turned back, spoon in hand. “By the way, trying to entice me while I’m baking isn’t going to work.”

“No?” She was honestly surprised.

“Nope. You should know that when I bake, I go into a zone. And as you’ve seen, I have some self-restraint.” He smirked impishly. “But nice try.”

Katniss pressed her lips together.

“Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m gonna carry the image of you licking the spoon with me the rest of the day, minus the unsafe cookie dough, and later…I might have big plans for you.” He winked at her.

“You mean big, big, big, big plans?” Katniss imitated Miss Trinket, their ‘eccentric’ (to put it mildly) neighbor with the wild, colorful wigs and affected accent.

“Yes, very big plans.”

“Can’t wait.” She bit down on her lip and reached for the spoon again as if her hand was magnetized.

“For all that is holy, please stop eating raw cookie dough!” Peeta exclaimed.

“Okay, okay.” Katniss dropped the spoon back in, the corner of her lip twitching. “But you might need to give me something else to snack on.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

With that, he walked over purposefully, placed his hands on either side of her face, and captured her lips. Sofly, but insistently his mouth moved across hers, sending a pulsing sensation straight down.

“How’s that?” he asked as they broke apart.

“Hmm…you think a lot of yourself, Mellark.”

He raised a brow then kissed her again, longer and slower.

“Better,” she said, slightly breathless. He began feathering hot, wet kisses down her throat, and Katniss sighed.

With a low growl, Peeta gripped her hips, causing her to let out a small squeal. He tugged her closer to the edge of the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her pelvis into his. She could feel his excitement growing, and just when she was sure he was about to carry her off and take her upstairs, he disentangled himself.

“That’s self-restraint,” said Peeta smugly.

Katniss felt like whipping a ball of deadly cookie dough at his head like a snowball. “Tease.” She groaned, shoving his chest. “Sadist.”

“No, masochist, sweetheart. Trust me, this is a lot harder for me than it is for you.” Katniss chuckled, and he pecked her cheek.

Just then, Katniss’s phone began to ring. She fished it out and took a look. “Oh, that’s Prim calling.” She hopped off the counter and prepared to tap the green button. “Hey, Peeta, what do you think about inviting Prim over for Christmas Eve?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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iambrooke · 3 years

Text

Rope. (2)

Masterlist.

Opening the door to the mess hall you walked over to your friends. There sat Hange with her normal toothy grin flashing. The moment she saw you she called out your name, her ponytail bouncing lazily as she spoke.

"Y/N! Come here," she yelled in excitement, standing up and waving her arms around.

That made a smile crawl upon your face. Although it was quite embarrassing you still smiled. There on Hange's wrist sat the bracelet that you had made her.

You had made her that when you just started training. Jean was in the middle of hand to hand combat with you when it got a little out of hand.

You had hit somewhere that obviously hurt him, badly. The next thing you knew he had his strong hands around your neck. You had clawed at his hand and face but it was no use, you were stuck.

Hange had seen what was happening out of the corner of her eye and defused the situation not so peaceful. She had grabbed Jean by the scuff of his neck and threw him to the ground with a thud.

She was angry, unbelievable angry. She had straddled him and started beating the living day out of him, that was until you pulled her off of him.

He had been grateful for that.

You now made your way over to the wooden table where Hange sat. She pulled out a chair for you, eager to get you to sit down. As soon as she also sat down she started blabbing.

You didn't listen to most of it as you were eating from the plate that was already there before you had gotten there. You weren't paying attention until she mentioned something, something that definitely caught your attention.

"So, I saw Levi with one of those bracelets that you make," she had said it so casually it was unbelievable.

"Hm?" You questioned, partly coughing as you had choked on your food.

She just turned her head to look at you and wiggled her eyebrows. The mischievous look on her face made you flush a deep red.

"Oh please, don't think I didn't see it. You must really like him huh?" She teased playfully. By now your face was hidden in your hands, hiding from anyone that could see you.

"I-I don't like him! I made it for him because I trust him," you stuttered, embarrassment written all over your hidden face.

She just nodded her head knowingly. It was obvious that she didn't believe you, she never did with those things.

Sure that your face had returned back to normal you removed your hands from your face, continuing to eat. Just as you were about to leave the table Jean walked over.

There on his wrist, like Hange’s sat a bracelet. Although he wasn't the nicest of people he was still your friend. He had been there for you numerous times as well as anyone else who had a bracelet. Well maybe expect from Levi.

"Hey Y/N, how are you doing?" He questioned, hitting your arm playfully.

"I'm alright actually you? I heard you got in a little argument with Eren over Mikasa," you said knowing fine well that he liked Mikasa.

"Shut up,"

That made you laugh. You stood up and walked away, feeling satisfied as the hunger that once was settled over you had disappeared.

————

You walked down the long halls making your way to your shared room with Armin and Sasha.

Walking down the silent hallway you started to him a small tune. You did that quite often although it annoyed a lot of people you knew.

It wasn't long before you found yourself standing outside the wooden door that you had opened so many times before.

Turning the handle you opened the door followed by the squeaking of the hinges. There sat Sasha with a loaf of bread, her cheeks full with food.

"Hi Y/N," she mumbled, trying to swallow the food in her mouth.

You walked over to your bed and started to remove your boots from you sore feet.

"Hey Sasha, where's Armin? I thought he would be here,"

She laughed when you mentioned Armin's name.

"What?" You chuckled lightly.

"Oh it's just that I might have hit him and well, his pants fell down," that made the two of you fall down in an up roar of laughter.

"How the hell did they fall?" You asked heaving in the little air you could get.

"Well uh he-" Just before she could finish a knock at the door interrupted her.

The two of you just looked at each other confused. You were the one to get up and open the door, quite slowly. When the door was fully opened confusion settled over your features.

"Captain?"

"Yes, I would like to see you. Outside at the stables in ten, alright?" Your captain, Levi said very robotically.

"Y-Yes sir, in ten," you nodded.

He gave you a nodded just before you closed the door. You just turned around and looked Sasha in the eyes.

"What the fuck just happened," you said, eyes widened.

"I don't even know," she replied, her facial expression matching yours.

"Well then, I better get ready, I wouldn't want to be late for captain daddy," you joked, skipping to the bathroom.

Laughs erupted from Sasha as you happily skipped away. That was a thing you did quite a lot to, not skip but made silly jokes. It never failed to make anyone laugh, well except from Eren when he has fallen out with you. Only if the joke is super funny you can get him to crack but that's besides the point.

All you did was give your face a splash of cold water and brushed your hair. After that you put your shoes on and said goodbye to Sasha.

Once again you found yourself walking down the hall. You wondered why Levi had asked you to the stables. Had you done something wrong? Maybe you hadn't cleaned them the way he wanted but you were pretty damn sure that those stables were spotless.

Just as you met the crisp outside air you wrapped your arms around yourself. Although you were wearing the small jacket that you were required to wear you were still cold.

There he stood, running his pale hand down his jet black horse's hair. You walked over almost silently, that was until you had reached him.

"Hello captai- I mean Levi," you said, correcting yourself as you remembered that he told you to call him Levi.

"I want you to get on your horse," he said very simply.

Although you were confused you did as he had told you too. You got your horse out of the stables and pulled yourself up so that you sat on the saddle.

He didn't say anything until he had mimicked your actions, getting on his horse too.

"I want to show you something," he mumbled, which was unlike him.

"Well this is a bit ironic isn't it?" You laughed a bit.

"What?" He said, sounding a bit like he was giving you a order.

"Never mind, why are we on our horses?" You asked as kindly as possible.

"You'll see, follow behind me," he commanded.

You obliged and followed behind him, wondering where he could be taking you. He had never did this with any other soldiers as far as you knew so why was he taking you somewhere.

It was impossible to know. His face was once again, unreadable. His black horses feet clanked against the floor beneath its large hooves.

"Where are we going?"

"Be patient," he replied.

"But you haven't even told me-"

"I said be patient, brat," he growled.

With that you stopped talking. You didn't want to get on his nerves even though you probably already have.

You rode for about another ten minutes in silence before he stopped. You weren't paying much attention but when the two of you stopped your mouth was open in awe.

It was a little clearing with trees that where so tall that you would have to use your 3DMG to get to the top. The light was carelessly shining throughout the leaves at the very top of the trees.

You got off of your horse and tied it to a tree. Walking over to the middle of the clearing you sat down and ran your fingers through the grass. Little yellow buttercups were littered around the vibrant floor.

"Yeah, I was right. This is really ironic," you laughed. Once again.

"What do you mean?" He questioned, confusion written throughout his voice.

He joined you on the grass, though he didn't sit down he just squatted.

"It's really nice here,"

"I know it is, why are you telling me something I already know?"

You felt comfortable around Levi for some reason. He wasn't the kindest person in the world but he would do anything to protect his fellow peers.

"I have something for you," he said breaking the unsettling silence that had settled between you two.

You looked at him, a excited look on your face. His hand pulled something out of his pocket.

A bracelet.

You reached your hand out and took it delicately in your hands, as if it was a thousand years old.

It was just plain, it didn't have anything on it. It was just the plain brown rope that you could get anywhere, even though it was very plain you loved it.

It seemed as if he had mimicked the knot that you had made on his so you put it on yourself as you already knew how to do it.

"It's lovely," you whispered.

You turned your wrist, admiring every little piece of rope that was incorporated into the bracelet.

"I though that I could give you one since you made one for me," he said staring ahead.

You didn't say anything else. You weren't sure that what you were going to would be a good idea but you still did it anyways.

Laying down you put your head in his lap. You didn't know when he had sat down but it didn't matter.

"What are you-" when he looked down you were already fast asleep, light breaths escaping your lips.

He didn't know what to do so he just let you lay there, sleeping peacefully. Although usually anyone touching Levi made him uncomfortable but this time it didn't seem to.

He felt happy knowing that you trusted him enough to allow yourself to settle with him next to you.

He was happy.

#fanfic #requests #fiction #short imagine #actors #x reader #captain levi #levi x y/n #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #sasha aot #attack on titan #aot #levi aot

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Light My Fire - CH19

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2596

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

The alarm pulls her right out of her sleep but Dean’s already awake. He doesn’t move though.

“I don’t wanna go home,” She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

“Me neither,” Dean whispers, “But this is actually the third time the alarm has gone off, so we should maybe get going and pack,”

Her eyes fly open in horror, “Dean!”

“What?” He’s chuckling, kisses her neck, “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.”

She rolls away and out of bed while Dean tries to grab her but his hands clutch around emptiness.

They pack in record time and Dean joins her in the shower after. It’s hard to just shower and not do other things like they usually do. It’s hard to not just let him fuck her.

They’re on the plane home, and she sits next to Dean. There aren’t many people on the plane and especially not in the first class. Jack’s sitting on his own in the seat across from Y/N and Dean and he has his earphones in his ears.

After taking off, and after she let Dean help her over her anxiety of flying, she looks over to see how Jack’s doing, sees him looking out of the window as the plane leaves the island.

Dean’s typing away at his phone but he notices her, “Go on, you gotta spend time with him,”

“Yeah,” She smiles and stands up to walk over.

Jack takes his earphones out when he feels her presence. He opens his arms for her to loop her head through, “Hey,”

“I remember you always loved flying,” She smiles.

Jack grins, his lips curve up wide, “It’s awesome!”

Y/N has to chuckle at his enthusiasm, “Don’t get used to it, though.” With the next breath, she adds, “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. I just thought about you and your education.”

Jack tilts his head to look at her, “It’s okay, Dean’s not bad, you know,”

She looks over to where Dean’s sitting. He’s still typing something into his phone. With a smile, she says, “No, he’s not,”

When they land, they have to say goodbye to Jack because he has to take a connecting flight. She doesn’t really want to let her brother go and clings on to him, her arms wrap around his middle, while Jack rubs her back.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” She says, “I’ll come visit,”

“Sure,” Jack places a kiss on the crown of her head, “We’ll see each other again in the Summer,”

Y/N looks up to her brother with a smirk on her face. She’s trying her hardest not to cry, “What did you and Dean talk about?”

There’s a grin on Jack’s face when he lowers himself to her level, “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,”

She rolls her eyes at that and Jack laughs.

After they reach Dean’s apartment, Dean goes out to meet with Chuck and Sam. She’s left to unpack and relax but that’s perfectly okay, because she wants to mentally prepare herself for dinner with his parents later.

Y/N really, absolutely, doesn't want to go but she’s still his wife for two weeks. She had asked Dean why he didn’t tell his parents the truth and he just grinned at her, telling her that she didn’t need to worry. That he’ll tell them the truth, that he’ll come clean. That’s the whole purpose of them going there. Because he wants them off his back. They’ve been calling every day apparently, and he just wants them to stop pestering him when he has other things on his mind.

Late afternoon, Dean’s back, and he looks happy. She doesn’t ask, doesn’t really need to know. She’s doing what she agrees to do and the rest is in the hands of Dean and his team.

He takes a shower and she’s finishing her look. Not that there’s too much to finish. She wears the same dress she already wore to the restaurant when they went to meet Chuck. It’s really her best dress, something that parents would probably approve of in their daughter in law. She doubts that Dean’s parents will, but other parents would for sure.

Y/N’s waiting in the living space when Dean walks out of his room, he looks good, wearing trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, top two button loose. The white of his shirt brings out his tan. She can see the freckles, even when it’s darker. It’s a casual look, a mixture between his holiday look and his business look, and he smells heavenly.

He smiles when he walks closer and weaves an arm around her waist to pull her close, “You look beautiful with that holiday glow,”

She has to smirk when he places a kiss on her cheek, “You look great yourself, Mr. Winchester,”

There are tan lines around his crinkles.

“You ready?” He asks and pushes her towards the door, his hand on her lower back.

“‘M not.”

“Yeah,” He huffs out a breath, “Me neither,”

Dean’s parents live in a big villa with a huge driveway. There’s a light up fountain in the middle. It looks like one of the houses she has only seen in movies.

“Wow,” She says in awe.

Rich people really know how to live, don’t they? She can’t even imagine what it’s like to live here, to have grown up here. She can’t imagine what it’s like to have a butler ready to open the door for her. Can’t fathom having chefs and maids, having a driver and personal trainer.

“You grew up here?” She asks him as they step out.

“No,” Dean says, “You’re an employee. You should know about the history of the company and how I got where I am now, no?”

“Ugh, I should, shouldn’t I?” She grimaces and Dean’s full on laughing.

“Dad started from scratch and he made it grow and successful, although I made it grow even more and it’s more successful and bigger than it was under my dad’s wings.” Dean’s hands are on her waist as he leads her up the steps to the front door, “I didn’t exactly grow up poor, Y/N, but we weren’t rich either. Dad only bought this property two years ago. The home I grew up in is much, much smaller.”

“Is there something I need to know before I meet them? Something I shouldn’t say?”

Dean stops, places his hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him. He pretends to think and after a while he says, “No, you just be you, okay? I would never ask you to change to impress them. Let me speak. Only speak when you’re spoken to. That way we can avoid any unpleasant questions they might throw at you.”

“Okay,” She says, and suddenly her heart pumps faster. She’s nervous as hell.

He smiles a little, cups her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “You’ll be fine, I got you,” He pecks her lips, lingers there a little longer than necessary.

Although she wants to stay like this, she knows that Dean eventually has to pull himself away, eventually has to ring that damn door and she eventually has to face her fake fucking in-laws.

A maid opens and they step into a big hall. Everything looks so neat and flawless. It’s all white and beige marble, and she feels the urge to take off her shoes because she doesn’t want to ruin the floor.

“There you are!” A woman walks in, tall, blonde, a smile wide on her face. She assumes that it’s Dean’s mother. The woman’s dress is so nice, it puts her nicest dress to shame.

The woman comes closer and Dean leans in to peck her cheek, then he straightens himself, “Y/N, this is my mother, Mary.”

Mary takes her hand in both of hers, clutches at them tightly, “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“It’s nice meeting you, too, Mary. Thank you for having us over.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal. We were dying to meet you! Come on, John’s already waiting at the table, he’s hangry,” Mary chuckles and places her hand around Y/N shoulders to walk her into the dining room. Dean sighs and trails behind.

Dean’s father stands up from his chair when he sees them walking in, and he smiles. It’s bright and wide, almost the same smile as Dean’s. She can see that he certainly got his boyish charms from his father.

John places both of his arms on her shoulder and leans in to peck her cheek immediately, “Hello, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

She nods, repeating the same line she already said to Mary and they sit down right away. Apparently his parents don’t mess around. Maybe they want to get it over with as much as she does?

The first question comes during the appetizer, “How did you meet? At the workplace or did you know each other before?” The question came from Mary and although she looks at Y/N, she didn’t address her directly, so Dean takes a napkin and brushes at his lips before he swallows and speaks.

“Y/N used to work in the coffee shop close to the office building and she regularly delivers coffee for other offices there. I walked out one day to grab lunch and she bumped into me. I could have saved her from falling, but the collision spilled the coffee, wetted my suit too.”

She squints at the memory. It was all her fault. She wasn’t looking at that time. Dean was so pissed and she was afraid that he would lash out and rip her a new one right there in the street, but he didn’t. He was dressed so nice that day and she had to go and pour coffee all over him, ruining his suit and probably his day.

Dean is looking over to her with a small smile on his face, “And I went in there about a week later. She thought I was there to talk to her manager, but I just wanted to see if her ankle was fine because I remember her limping a little afterwards. I watched her work and saw how she reacted under pressure, saw how she behaved around her colleagues and customers and that’s when I thought that I wanted to offer her the job as one of my assistants. Ruby needed help and she already knew Ruby because Ruby was in that coffee shop quite often. She said no. But I went in every day until she said yes.” He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. It makes her face flare up. Partly from the kiss but also from the way he remembered details.

It’s true, though. Y/N remembered him telling her about a job that would be perfect for her. That she could earn much more by working for him. She had consulted with Ruby about it and after weeks of Ruby telling her that the company was really good, she finally agreed to the job offer.

“That’s a lovely story,” Mary says, “Does she have the required degree though?”

Well, Mary, she does not, but thanks for asking.

Y/N never attended college having to take jobs to hold her and Jack above water.

“Mom, a degree is just that, a degree. It doesn’t say anything about your work ethics, your integrity or willingness to work a job. I don’t think most of the people I employ have made it through college. It’s about what they are capable of. She’s smart and she’s doing a fabulous job.” Dean’s voice rolls deep. She can feel that he’s trying to keep himself together.

The maid came to take their empty plates. Hers is not empty but her appetite is gone.

“Still, it tells me that she’s not actually qualified to do her job. And qualifications are important.” John chimes in with a somewhat unnecessary addition.

“Do you have a prenup?” Mary asks.

Wow, Dean’s mom goes straight to the point. She wonders how long Mary’s been holding it back. But hey, Mary made it past appetizer.

“Mom!” Dean gets a little louder.

“Relax, Dean, I was just asking,” Mary tries to sound nonchalant but adds with her next breath, “Do you?”

Y/N folds her napkin and places it neatly on the table before she stands up, “Excuse me, where’s the powder room?”

“Tessa can show you,” Mary says, a fake small smile on her face, and then she calls out for the maid, “Tessa, can you please show Y/N the way?”

“Sure, madam,” Tessa looks at Y/N with pity in her eyes. She must have heard the whole conversation.

She follows Tessa and locks herself into the bathroom, which is bigger than her fucking apartment it seems.

After a while of watching youtube videos, she walks out and crosses the entrance section. She can hear that there’s a heated argument going on in the dining room.

“Always make fucking sure to protect your assets! I thought you had a fucking brain!” It’s John’s voice.

“Stop it, dad!”

“Damn, son! I thought you would be better prepared so not let some girl screw you over!”

“I don’t have a prenup because we are not fucking married, alright? It’s just for fucking show!” Dean’s so loud, it makes her jump and his words hurt, it really does. He’s not wrong but they hurt nonetheless.

“What do you mean it’s fake?” It’s now Mary who asks the question.

“It’s as fake as it can get. I am being blackmailed and I have to pretend to be married to Y/N to get the other girl off my fucking back!”

She hears Mary gasps, “Oh, thank god,” And then his mother adds, “I thought it was real how you gushed over her. I’m so glad it’s fake,”

“Mom—”

Y/N’s heard enough.

She walks straight to the door. She wants to be quiet, but the door’s heavy and it closes with a bang. She’s halfway to the car when Dean flies out, calling after her.

Damn his fucking long legs. He’s grabbing at her to turn her around and she can’t hide it. Can't hide the tears that are running down her cheeks.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” She says, but she doesn’t look him in the eyes, “My home.”

Y/N’s angry, but she can’t quite tell him why. She can’t tell him that hearing him telling his parents that what they have is fake, hurts her because he’s actually not wrong. It’s the fucking truth and if she has a problem with it, it’s her own fucking problem. It’s not her place to be angry because everything is indeed fucking fake!

She shakes him off and Gabe opens the door for her to get in. “I need space, Dean. Give me that. Make some excuse for me.”

She expected him to lash out, to be angry at her and demand of her to hold on to the contract and make her stay, but he doesn’t. He steps back and nods, “I understand,” He turns to Gabe, “Drive her home safely and come back,”

With that, he closes the door and lets her drive a way. Gabe didn't talk the whole way which she’s glad about.

Before she gets out, she takes off her rings, figuring things were over anyway, and hands them to Gabe.

CH20

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #nathalie writes

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fayeimara · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

5. Thank Some Gods

You end up in Hyogo for a real hot minute over your winter break, thanks to your cousins Akira and Akari who decided to drag you along when they were forced to visit with their mom and older brother. Being a year older then them and already a seasoned solo traveller, the parents all thought you'd be a great chaperone. Woohoo, yay you.

Truth be told, you love spending time with them and you're really happy to be able to see your aunt and other cousin, their brother Kazuya, that you'd missed over the summer, as well. Although you did have to apologize to Tobio and his family because when you'd promised you would stay with them next, you should have specified you meant next time you were in Miyagi. Not Japan in general. You think they were just taking the piss though.

Oh right, your vulgar new phrases are courtesy of Akira, thank her very much. Spend a few minutes in the twins' company and you end up talking like them, or whatever their west coast academy friends are currently teaching them, at least. Akari has a valley girl phase going and you think Akira is gearing up for a Tarantino-inspired life. Can't see how your family is let that going to happen, but it's not your job to tell him that.

"Y/nnn, did you try this dango!" Akira runs right into you, appearing from the crowd of people on the festive street of the shopping district you're in, and locks her free arm around yours while waving a stick with round balls on it in other other hand.

"No, but I waited 10 minutes standing still in the cold and crowd so you can bet that I will. Half of that is already mine."

"Hmph," She scoffs, "No one told you to stand still and wait around, silly."

You give her an exasperated look, "You literally said, 'stay there a minute, I'm grabbing us some sweets!' and bounced off."

"Okay, okay, chill your roll, girl."

"Not sure that's a saying, girl."

"Maybe not at the snooty east side preps."

"Yo." Akira appears on your other side. "Half that's mine."

"A third. Or none at all." Akari sticks her tongue out at her twin.

He looks over at you and you nod, twisting quickly so you can grab and hold her occupied arm still while he plucks the dango from her hand.

"Hey! Looks like it's none at all!"

"No. Looks like it's half mine, half Y/n's." He bites off one of the chewy balls (okay, we all know how that sounds.. slow your roll, girl) before holding the stick in front of your face so you can grab one too. Oh wow. It is good. Why did you wait so long to try it? So many years wasted without enjoying this sweet texture.

You can see your third cousin approaching, holding onto a tray of steaming drinks, as you chew over your thoughts on the delicious dessert (see what you did there?).

"I got your coffee", he holds the tray between us so I can grab one of the cups with my free hand, but like.. Kazuya, which one is it?

"Kazuuu, they're bullying me!" Akari pouts for sympathy only for Akira to fire back almost before she reaches the last word.

"She bullied me first!"

Instead of responding to either, he rolls his eyes at their bickering but they're only having fun. You've never met siblings that have each other's backs more than these two. You think Kazuya misses it too, having decided to study in Japan and live with his mom who consequently chose to work here, while the other two live with their dad - but really at a boarding school - back on the American west coast.

"Whatever, are you grabbing your drinks or what?"

Akari only smiles at her older brother's deadpan expression, "Which one is my hot chocolate, niichan?"

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not?"

But it's Akira who answers with a snicker, "Because you don't even go here, brat. It's cringy coming from you."

"Shut up, ugly clone."

"That's literally impossible unless you're calling yourself ugly too."

Okay, you're just going to go for the cup closest to you on your left. You pick it up and sip slowly... success. The sweet, warm flavour of your white chocolate mocha slides down your throat.

Kazu is giving you an arch look now, he knows how much you live for coffee but he's still going to say something about it, right? "You know it's already dark out, I don't know how you can drink this stuff so late. Don't you want to get some sleep tonight?"

"Bold of you to assume I need sleep." You smirk at him over the rim of your cup while Akari makes an attempt at snatching the remaining dango back from her brother around you. Please don't make me spill.

"Nah, I just assume you're a robot and this is your regular maintenance or something."

You consider his words before shrugging, nothing too mean that you can call him out on, you guess. "Down the hatch then."

"Sure thing, but I'm not staying up late bingeing your crappy shows with you when you're wired."

"But you'll binge a non-crappy show?"

"Maybe."

Another smile for your favourite cousin of the minute. He did get you coffee, you know. Akari's managed to grab the third sweet off the stick with her mouth like some rabid animal, but it makes sense because the hand not still holding onto you is holding back Akari's arm. They're going to smac-

And they hit the tray that Kazu was only just holding. He somehow manages to grab one of the drinks you assume is his out of it's spot while avoiding the wreckage spill of the other two cups. He didn't even try to hold on to it, which is partly why you're laughing as both twins start simultaneously apologizing and complaining about their spilled drinks.

Kazuya's deadpan expression is actually pretty communicative for the the moment, "I'm not going back for another, this is on you guys."

"Kazu, do you like being mean to us?" They actually ask this at the same time but Kazu's not even phased.

"Yes, I want you to suffer." He's dry as ever.

You chuckle but they're so sweet, most of the time, so you'll make it up for them, "I passed a stall selling hot chocolate, since we don't need to replace my specialty coffee, I can go there to get you some."

"Me too?" Akira asks hopefully.

"Yes, you too, puppy."

He rolls his eyes, trying to adjust his expression back into an uncaring one. It's more natural on his brother currently, but you can definitely see him grow into a more serious demeanour someday.

"I'll come with you while these two stay put." Kazu gives his younger siblings a stern look.

"No need," You wave him off, grabbing the stick with the last piece of dango and handing it to him, "Enjoy this as repayment from us all for making you go all the way back into the mall for our drinks. In the meantime, I'll be right back."

"Hold on, you're going to the one next to the onigiri stand, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, straight there and back in fifteen minutes or I'll come find you. And if I have to worry, I won't be happy."

"Okay niisan." You roll your eyes with your sarcastic tone. Older brothers. No wonder he and your brother Raiden get along so well, they're under some misassumption that their younger siblings just can't help getting into trouble, as if you all only live to annoy them. And he was doing so well as your favourite cousin for the time being.

You stroll away from the benches you were waiting at by the end of the street where the outdoor stalls meet the main street shopping mall and melt back into the crowd. This festival really is something, so brightly lit with pretty twinkling lights strung up everywhere and curled around any available post like glowing, warm yellow vines. You absolutely love the vibe but you know you're on a time crunch.

You notice the onigiri stand just ahead of the drink stall and debate for a quick second before stopping in the surprisingly short line up. A piece each of sweet dessert does not a stomach fill. Unfortunately, just as you take a sip of your coffee, someone bumps into you from behind, causing it to spill over your lips and dribble down your chin but you adjust enough in time, holding the cup out and away from you, so that you're not covered in any more than that and the little bit on your hand.

You hate wet clothing with a passion, especially when it's cold outside and it clings to you with that awful chilly, sticky feel. Not so bad when it's on your coat, but on principle, that's just as unpleasant if you run the cuff of your sleeve over it or it get on the collar and then you have the tiniest bit of discomfort right by sensitive skin and that makes it all the more glaring.

You realize the person who bumped into you also reached out to steady you at the same time and is now speaking, "Shit, I'm so sorry."

It's a little quiet but you make out his apology through his thick dialect. Hm, you think that's where the odd changes in Kazu and his mom's speech are coming from, a regional osmosis of accents?

"No worries, it's pretty crowded." You only half turn while you search your pockets for a tissue or napkin, spotting a flash of grey in your peripherals. Then an arm covered in that grey reaches out to hold a napkin in your field of view and you finally look up to see who it belongs too.

And now you're just staring. Hi there, I'd like hear your voice more. Preferably while you stare at his mouth move on his beautiful face. You can't believe he just had his hand on your waist, even if it was just for a split second and over layers of clothes, and you didn't get to appreciate it.

"It's not dirty." He shakes the napkin, you're assuming because he thankfully thought you were thinking that over instead of ogling him.

You chuckle, thinking how you definitely need to send thanks to some divine power on the new year for all the interactions with some serious eye candy these past six months, but out loud you say, "I really need to thank some gods out there, huh?"

What?

He gives you a confused look but you catch yourself and, before he can respond and question your sanity, quickly follow up with, "Or just you. For this. Thank you for the napkin."

"S'alright. Wasn't a big favour, really, just makin' up for my fault bumpin' into ya." You're not sorry he did, though? You can't tell what he's thinking, this guy is a closed book, folks. It's kind of jarring, since you consider yourself exceptional at reading people and acclimating to them.

You finally actually accept the napkin and wipe at your mouth and chin first, then your hand, responding, "At least you didn't make me drop the coffee or we would have had a real problem."

You think he realizes you're teasing because the corner of his mouth actually inches up the tiniest bit. You're not imagining, you swear it on your mocha!

"Coffee this late?"

"It's 11am somewhere."

"Ya wake up at 11am?" What an interesting thought process he has.

"Are you not on winter break? Or do you just assume your typical hours in every conversation no matter what day of the year it is?"

"Huh." You think he sounds thoughtful? Or was it just the word and you're associating it with how you use it..

"That's not an answer, but I'll take that to mean you go the typical route." You smile again because like you said, he's unreadable and you really don't want him to think you're being bitchy. You're really grateful for the napkin. And that face. So... yeah.

You're moving up, thankfully, because you thought you were blessed but this is just turning into what feels like an awkward encounter.

"I like sleepin' in, but sometimes I get too hungry so I'm up when my stomach is."

You look back at him in surprise, obviously because he bothered to continue a seemingly closed conversation, but that quickly turns into amusement and commiseration, "Oh I know! It's mostly coffee for me because not a lot of people bother to make breakfast in my house, but if I smell something delicious cooking, I forget I'm not a morning person."

He does smile fully then and it's beautiful. "Me too, but I'm usually the one doing the cookin'."

"Oh wow, that's dedication. I can respect but never reach that ideal." You hold your hand to your heart in a silly salute but also because he's still smiling and you're trying to tell your unreliable organ to be still. Not too still though, you're enjoying the moment and want to keep living it.

"Eh, I'm used to it."

"Well then, for once, let someone else take care of your food. I'll get your order for you."

"Seriously? It was just a napkin and my fault too.."

"Yeah, no, don't worry about it! Consider it a gift in essence of the festival!"

He doesn't say anything for a moment before, "I was going to try the different flavours. That's a lot."

"No way, that's awesome! I'll do that too, I don't even know what they have available, I just stopped here on a whim on my way there." You indicate the stand next to the one you're almost to the front of with a wave of your hand.

"Ahh.. if ya like, I can suggest some?"

You happily smile at him as you accept, "That would be great, thank you so much."

The two of you step up to the counter together and you listen while he orders. While you both wait for them to place each of your requests, he explains some of the fillings and why they work best depending on personal taste and even situation. You tell him about having just tried dango, sad about having realized you missed out so long, and he actually smiles widely at your exaggerated pained expression but also recommends some other desserts, including which shops to stop at in the city.

It's starting to snow as you two talk, which is not rare but still unusual for this region, but thankfully it's not much longer before you're each handed your containers and move aside. You look over to him and laugh when you realize this guy is already munching on one of the onigiris, your breath puffing out in a small cloud before you. "Which one is it?"

"Fatty tuna." He talks around it with his own little puffy cloud and it's pretty cute actually, instead of the usual cringe when people talk with their mouths full. Oh, the benefits of being good looking. Also, he's tilted his head down ever so slightly so it's almost polite in a perfected way.

"I'm just going to go ahead and assuming you're enjoying it."

He nods while swallowing and then makes some pretty intense eye contact while speaking way too seriously, "Thank you. This is amazing."

You smile, feeling like in the minutes the two of you were conversing, you've gotten a little more comfortable with the minute changes in his expressions. "You're welcome. I'm going to head over to the drink stall now, but it was nice to meet you!"

With a laugh as you walk away, you also add, "And thank you for sharing your knowledge with me, at least I'll know where to feed myself when I'm craving different things this week."

You're turning away as he seems to stand there watching you with some hesitation, but you can't do all the heavy lifting in a conversation when you're on a time limit, so you'll chalk this up to another fun run-in with a cute guy for the books.

You're lucky there's no line up, you're really short on your deadline and your fingers are getting pretty cold along with your coffee, so you pay for the hot chocolate, they pour, and you're back off towards the end of the street where your cousins are waiting.

You can't move too fast given the bag dangling from the wrist of the hand that's also carefully holding the tray of four hot chocolates, but the crowd is also thinning out a little now with the snow. Hopefully, if you're a couple minutes behind the expected time, the diverse and sheer amount of onigiri you have in the bag you're now holding, as well as the new round of warm drinks, will bring you forgiveness.

You finish up the last, cool dregs of your coffee just as you pass by a trash can, making the split decision to quickly reverse so you can toss your cup and free up a hand. As you execute your smooth move and then turn back, you unsurprisingly bump into someone yet again. Not so smooth then, you think, looking up.

It's deja vu and for a split second, you consider that he might actually be a weirdo and followed you, because stopping in your path as an apology drops from your lips is the guy you were only just talking to, same face, same dark hair, even same height... but with a different jacket on.

It takes you all of one more second to notice the small differences like the eye colour, the way the hair naturally parts, and the slightest difference in size, not to mention the more obvious difference in openness and personality literally exuding from this one. He's actually smiling wide right away with no provocation. So not a weirdo who changed his jacket and followed you.

Also, have you ever considered the odds of multiple sets of twins being in pretty much the same place at the same time?

"Oh, there's another one of you, huh?" You're talking again before he even has a chance to respond to your apology, but you guess you feel familiar thanks to your brief encounter with his twin. "That's unfair, don't you think?"

You step around him calling out, "Anyways, sorry about that. Enjoy your night." and walk away, back towards your own set of twins.

Ugh, Kazu's going to kill you. You won't be making it in time, for sure.

Miya Atsumu's POV

Atsumu turns to follow the stunning girl's progress as she moves around him and away, catching her last words but still more interested in her previous statement. 'There's another one of you, huh?'.

People have been confusing him and his twin for as long as they've been alive and only those that know them really well can only sometimes make out the difference.

It's no longer amusing, and actually irritating enough that he and 'Samu have been considering a little aesthetic change some time next year, maybe before their first year of high school.

'Tsumu knows it's his brother without looking when someone walks up to his left side from behind him. What he's surprised by is his first words, "She think you were me? I was talkin' to her a bit at the stall."

When he glances over, he notices 'Samu staring after her as well, with a lot more interest than simple, piqued curiosity. Does he know her?

"No.." He contemplates her words again before sharing with his brother, "She said 'There's another one of you, huh? That's unfair, don't you think?' and then walked away."

He can feel 'Samu looking over at him curiously, "Did ya talk to her?"

Why is he asking? He hasn't even picked up a new onigiri from the open box in his hand. "I just bumped into her. Didn't even say a word. Do ya know her?"

"Like I said, I only just met her." Pausing, 'Samu seems to think it over before adding, "We only talked a few minutes, maybe."

The twins are silent for another couple moments, while the snow continues to drift around them. The girl is long gone, swallowed up by the crowd at this point, but they keep staring at where they last saw her retreating figure, each in their own intrigued thoughts.

Finally, 'Samu's the one who breaks the silence, "Do ya believe in coincidences, 'Tsumu?"

"No, 'Samu, ya know I don't."

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Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Tee was called out in the first thread because he doesn't use emojis often, especially not the half assed ones he used for a scenario like that so... caught slipping lmao (aw he does care about Y/n <3 Maybe more than he should?)

-Y/n was NOT expecting to get called out like that for saying she likes Oikawa when she'd literally just called him her friend... Iwa, you slick wingman ;) <3 He might bully the shit out of Oikawa (to keep him in check though) but he really is his best friend :')

-Ushi says what he means and means what he says lol, yeah, he wasn't really surprised

-Y/n's friends aren't all necessarily happy about this development; they've been aware of her various interactions as they usually are (some more than others) but... they're getting older and, well, all not sharing as much with each other as they once did

-But they're still going to call her out and roast her because they're her best friends lmao who else will? They have to keep her in check too loool

-Oikawa's last reply... <33 Take it how you will :D

-And Shin just dropping in to screenshot his cousin's embarrassing moments, hoping for a dirty delete so he can roast her all over again for the same crime lmao, probably shouldn't have warned her though... whoops

-I HC the Miyas' hair dyeing happening at/around their first year of HS, anyone know any different? It was only Osamu's jacket that was grey in Y/n's peripherals, just a little tease for us all ;)

A/N: Guys, I'm really, really sorry about the Miyas' 'accent'... you might see a couple different attempts in there but I had to edit a lot of what I tried out because it sounded just awful however I was originally trying to write it earlier. If you guys do have any suggestions, I'm very much all hears (and eyes lol - heart eyes specifically because I've seen some write them incredibly well!).

That aside, I hope you all enjoyed this one, I loved writing it so much, it just flowed once I started and I love the Miya twins, each in their own way <33 I've been dying to introduce them and the other 'main' characters but there's definitely going to be a difference in the weight of interactions Y/n has for a while. It's not favoritism, I promise; Y/n's time spent with various characters is just going to be uneven at various points due to the natural progression of her story :') but I plan for it all to even out as we move along the years (:

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot

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