#Journey was a much better band | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letorip · 2 months

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somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

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pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega

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luvfy0dor · 3 months

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“I Like Shiny Things, But I'd Marry You With Paper Rings ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings; None! ♡⁠˖

Description; Drabbles about BSD men proposing

A/n; Any commentary on the pink theme? I like it, as of right now it's only gonna stay until Valentine's day. This is my in-between requests post, another request will be posted soon! ♡⁠˖

⑅ Dazai Osamu ⑅

♡ Dazai is the type of guy to keep the ring on him at all times. He proposes when he thinks the moment is right, there's no set date for when he's going to do it. He has times when he'd like to do it, but he doesn't force himself too if it doesn't feel like the best possible moment. Or he might just do it impulsively, who knows?x

ೃ⁀➷

You sat bored in the living room, folding a small square of paper into as many little origami shapes as you could. You made small hearts, cranes, and paper rings. You slid one of the recently-made rings onto your finger and smiled, deciding to make a matching one for your boyfriend, who had yet to come back from the grocery quest you sent him on. As you made the first few folds, you heard some banging on the door. It startled you a little, your breath hitching. The voice that followed calmed your nerves, though.

"Babe, can you let me in? Please?" He had a small impediment in his speech when he spoke. You sighed with a smile and got up, unlocking and opening the door to see Dazai with grocery bags hung up both of his arms and one hanging out of his mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed a little and you took roughly half of them into your own hole. "I sent you for a couple things, what's all this?" You ask. He just shrugs and kicks off his shoes, still standing with you at the doorway. "Just some stuff I figured we needed. Trust me, you'll thank me later." He tells. He heads to the kitchen and starts putting things away with your help. He shares tales of his journey to the grocery store and back, making sure you know every detail of the trip. He seemed to be particularly enthused about some coupons he found in the cart he grabbed, which explained all the extra groceries. After putting them all away, he joined you back one the couch and examined your origami art.

"Wow, you're quite crafty." He says, picking up the paper crane and bending it's neck back and forth. "Yeah, I got birds, hearts, and rings. I was about to make a matching ring for you, but then you bashed your head against the door instead of setting stuff down to get out your key." You playfully jabbed. He scoffed. "Like you wouldn't do the same thing." You shake your head, your tongue sticking out of your mouth while you focus on perfectly bending the paper to form the shape of a heart-ring. It became increasingly difficult when Dazai grabbed one of your hands oh-so gently and observed the ring made from a yellow sticky note. He thought about how much better a legitimate wedding ring/band would look on your finger, an idea suddenly occuring to him. "We should exchange rings once you're don't with mine." He pitches the idea to you with a grin.

You hum in approval. "Alright, I'm almost done, it'll only take another minute." He nodded, taking the ring off of your finger and setting it on the table. "Okay, I'll be right back." He says, rising from the couch and going to your shared bedroom, digging through the various items in the nightstand drawer to find the small, black box. He slipped it into his pocket and returned to your side, placing a hand on his back and kissing the side of your head and eventually leaning into your warmth. You held up your paper ring proudly when you finished. "Alright, are we exchanging them now?" He nods, his hand fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket, opening it and extracting the ring into his balled fist. He grabs the paper ring from the table and holds out his other hand for you.

"Here you go, my beloved husband." You tease, a smile on your face as you sit unaware of what's about to come. "Thanks, babe. Here's yours." You smiled as you watched him push the actual engagement ring onto your finger before it fully processed in your mind and your jaw dropped. "This felt like the perfect moment to ask...will you marry me?" Your heart flutters in your chest and you choke up a little, nodding and hugging him tightly. "Yes, yes! Oh my gosh, it's so pretty, Osamu!" Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat with excitement as your boyfriend chuckles at the sight of you intensely observing the ring. "I'm so glad you said yes." He says through his smile, hugging you and running his hand up and down your back. "Why wouldn't I?" You said, brushing your hands through your new fiances hair with euphoria. "I know I'm pretty irresistible, so I didn't expect you to say 'no', you just make me nervous. In a good way, ofcourse." He pridefully says. You chuckled and kissed him sweetly. "You're such a dork, but I don't mind." You said. You both filled the rest of the evening with laughter and excited discussion of possibilities for the wedding itself. You couldn't help it, you just loved being immersed in conversation with your fiance more than anything.

⑅ Chuuya Nakahara ⑅

♡ Chuuya plans the proposal out. He'd really like to propose on a beach at sunset, something cliche like that. Some people might think it's corny, but he thinks it's romantic. He's got rose pedals, candles, you name it.

ೃ⁀➷

Chuuya scattered the rose pedals on the sand in the shape of a large heart, having picked the least windy day of the week to avoid the flowers blowing every which way. The heart shape was illuminated by pretty faux candles, their fake fire flickering on the darkening beach. The sunset painted the sky a beautiful pink, just like the rosy pink you made his face anytime you complimented him, even years into the relationship. The butterflies in his stomach were very much alive and well, even if he played them off with false annoyance. They were there now as he scattered the final petals, waiting for you to text him that you were pulling up to the beach to start walking to the close parking lot. His hands reached down into his pocket to grab his phone with one hand and fiddle with the ring in his other. As he was about to press the power button, his lock screen lit up with your notification.

He felt his heart in his throat as he started walking up, having to steady his breathing once or twice. You saw him first, calling out his name and waving. "Chuuya!" You picked up your pace, shoving your phone onto the back pocket of your shorts. He smiled, his teeth showing through his parted lips. He immediately embraced you, his arms falling loosely around your waist, pulling you into a kiss. It was just a peck, but it spread a more-than-welcome warmth throughout your chest. The smile didn't leave your face while he walked back with you slowly to the beach. "Have a good day, doll?" He asks, grabbing your hand and giving it a small squeeze. Your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunches. "Yeah, I guess. It was really boring, but not bad." He hums in understanding, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. "But you got through the day." You nod with a grin that mirrored his on your face.

"So, uh, I have something I wanna ask you about." He said, avoiding eye contact and instead looking at his feet. You raised an eyebrow, tilting forward to look at his face. "Hm?" Your head fell to rest against his as you started to walk through the sand. The large, candle-lit heart caught your eye and you couldn't help but swoon. He was blushing and drew his hand up to his face to cover it, but he guided you to the center of the heart, his free hand holding yours. "Chuu, this is gorgeous." You murmur, taken back by how pretty everything looked. Ocean waves rolled against the shore quietly, setting the mood. Onlookers stared, but Chuuya only looked at you. "A gorgeous scene for a gorgeous person." He whispered. He took both hands and squeezed them tightly, swallowing the reoccurring lump in his throat. "Y/n, you know how much I love you and how long I've loved you- it feels like it's been forever in the best way possible. I never want it to stop, so.." he takes a deep breath and fishes the ring box out of his pocket and kneels down.

You could almost feel the world stop spinning and your heartbeat in your ears. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you waited to hear the words you had wanted to for a while now. Chuuya brought your knuckles to his lips before asking. "Will you continue to make me the happiest man ever and marry me, Y/n?" You could barely squeeze a 'yes' out of your throat and nodded vigorously. He smiled from ear to ear and took the ring/band out of the box, sliding it onto your ring finger. You immediately throw yourself onto your new fiance, tackling him into the sand and hugging him tightly. "Chuuya, this was the cutest thing ever, thank you so much." You pressed a soft kiss to his exposed collarbone and ran a hand through his hair. "Anythin' for you, sweetheart." He says, still on a high from your response. He pressed a kiss to your head and the two of you just played together for a while, basking in each other's presence, the ocean and sunset wonderfully adding to the atmosphere.

⑅ Fyodor Dostoevsky ⑅

♡ Fyodor, like Chuuya, plans it out. He much prefers a restaurant setting to a beach, though. Candle lit dinners ended with applause from onlookers and a smile on your face is a more than satisfactory way to propose.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor had been mentioning bringing you out for a nice, candle-lit dinner recently, and he finally got to take you out on a saturday evening. His hand rested on your thigh while he drove, which didn't usually happen, but it wasn't an unwelcomed occurrence. Your hand was on top of his while you told him about a book you had read, excitedly filling him all the details about the characters and their romantic sparks. He followed along with that beautiful soft smile on his face, nodding and 'oh'ing, but it wasn't a dismissive 'oh', it was an intrigued one. He related the book you were talking about to one he had read in the past, and you listened just as he did. He loved that about you, your interest in whatever conversation he had to offer. His hand lifted from your thigh as he pulled into the parking lot, finding the closest spot to the entrance. He looked kinda sexy when he drove, the way his thin and nimble fingers loosely held the wheel made your cheeks heat up. You let out a giddy breath when he opened his door and made his way around the car to open yours for you. And they say romance is dead.

You smiled and took his hand when getting out, keeping it in your hold while your you walked in and he told the hostess about your reservation. She led the both of you to a table and gave you menus, leaving to give you some alone time with your boyfriend. His hair was pushed back behind one of his ears and his eyes scanned over the drinks printed om the laminated paper. "What are you going to order, Moya Lyubov?" He asks, looking up at you from across the table, his foot brushing against yours underneath the surface. "Maybe a margarita." You say pensively, putting thorough thought into your decision. After deciding that nothing on the menu sounded better in the moment, you settled. "Yeah, a margarita for sure." You sat the menu down on the table and crossed your arms. "Mm, that's a good choice." He says. "I think I just want water."

The waitress soon arrives at your table to take your orders for drinks, and it doesn't take long for her to return. She sets them on the table and you both murmur appreciative 'thank you's and take a sip. She offered to take your order for a main course or appetizers, but you requested more time to look over the menu. Fyodor reached over and gently pried one of your hands from the side of the gatefold booklet, holding it. "Your hands are so warm, my dear." He says, eyes soft and loving. "I love you, so, so much, and I plan to show you just how much that is tonight." He says, kissing your knuckles. Your face immediately warmed and you laughed softly. The restaurant had soft classical music playing in the background, which paired nicely with the soft chatter of the people. "Yeah? Well, I'm not sure I'd need you to prove how much you love me, but I'm not opposed to it if you want to." You says, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

Fyodor nodded and his mind drifted down to the ring box that patiently sat in his front pocket, waiting to be gifted to you. "I always want to display my love for you." He confesses. After a moment, you both pick a main course for yourselves and the waitress takes the order. Fyodor wanted to wait until you were ready to leave to get down on one knee so it would be less expected than him standing up in the middle of dinner, and that he did. He watched your every reaction to his words throughout the meal when it was delivered to you. He subtly dropped some hints, although you didn't seem to be picking them up. He didn't mind, it just added to the element of surprise when he did finally pop the question.

The conversation flowed smoothly as it always did, his hand almost always holding onto yours across the table. His laugh was so charming, as was his smile. Everything about him seemed so soft, like the warm toned light on his skin and the way his hair fell just above his shoulders. You are your food happily, paid the bill, and gathered your stuff. He assisted you in putting your coat, turning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips while holding your hands. "Mmn, myshka..." He slides his hand into his pocket and withdrawals it, holding it out and getting down on one knee. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a breath, your posture suddenly straightening. Peoples heads all over the restaurant turned towards you and your soon-to-be-fiance.

"Y/n, do you remember our first date being here?" He says, opening the ring box to show you the beautiful jewelry piece. "I believe things come full circle. We've had one new begining here, and I thought I should start a new chapter in the story of us here, as well." He said, never breaking eye contact until you looked down, giddy with excitement. "So, will you marry me, Y/n?" He asked. He was confident you'd say yes, but he still held his breath. People around were watching with intrigue and excitement.

"Oh my god, yes." You said, the dorkiest grin on your face as you hugged him. The people around clapped and let out small aw's as you and Fyodor exchanged a sweet kiss. His hand was placed on the back of your head, his lips pulled upward in a grin similar to your own. "Ah, I love you, Myshka." He pulled away and slid the ring onto your finger while his other hand slid down to the small of your back. You admired the jewels embedded in the metal and kissed his cheek one more time. "Ready to leave, my dear?" You nod, kissing his knuckles. "Yeah, thank you so much for tonight and just...everything." You appreciatively thank him with your head on his shoulder. You couldn't be more ecstatic about the proposal, and you knew your lover was feeling the same way.

A/n; THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT IM DHAJEKWKS I CANT WAIT IM PROLLY GONNA MAKE A SEPARATE POST ABOUT IT BUT I JUSR DJSJJKSJD I'm a little sad I didn't get one of the deluxe CDs, but it's whatever I guess. I should really focus on getting debut, rep, and fearless TV, those r the only ones I don't have rn 😭

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shanaraki · 1 year

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I love how we're seeing the different emo bands takes on nostalgia.

Brendon Urie is out there ruining himself 'cause he wants to keep the concept of Panic! At the Disco alive like some violently murdered corpse whose limbs and hair are clipped to the body, now more a memory than a solid thing.

MCR is making fun of just of that, of the way the industry is selling a distorted version of the events of their past. They are mocking the way people expects them to stay frozen on a time when they were miserable, just because that's profitable for the music industry, just because their suffering is entertaining. But MCR won't do that, they won't back down after all they've gone through, after all they have won (because they fought hard for it!), after all the improvement. They have the right to live now, create new things.

Paramore reminded everyone of how that past? The one they so badly want back? That past was full of racism and misogyny and homophobia !!!!!Bands like MCR and FOB and Paramore were not enough because they were too queer or too black or too femenine. They are "heroes of the scene" NOW not because the scene has always loved or embraced them, but because they all refused to disappear, to give up, to give in. The real triumph is for them to enjoy, because now the scene is crying and begging for them to be back (but not them just the image of them) and they can say "fuck you, this is for my bandmates and the fans!".

And now FOB is back, with Pete Wentz spitting poetry about how nostalgia can be such a strong feeling, but there's more than just it. You cannot stay for the memories to consume you, not when there is so much to see, so much to do, so many details happening right here and now for you to enjoy. You need to acknowledge your past with all it carries and you need to move forward. You can't stop, because nostalgia can and will try to kill you, but why would you let it? Why are we supposed to live from the past? FOB have been called sellouts their whole time they've been here, so why would they listen now to the noise? It's just them, their fans and the people they love on this journey.

I love MCR I love FOB I love Paramore because they won't be used to manipulate the audience into believing the past was better. It was not. Now is better, the future they've made, the future they fought for. Now is theirs and ours. They win now.

#Mcr #My chemical romance #Paramore #Fob #Fall out boy #Fob8

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easy-there-leftovers · 7 months

Text

I See You, Darling (3)

[Astarion x reader] As I mentioned in a previous post, this came along surprisingly easier than the last one. The same can’t be said about the quality though maybe– sorry for that. :,DDD|Word count: 2.6k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, one sex joke (lol), the normal warnings that you’d associate with the game

Part 2 here!!

Next Part here!!

As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.

Alternatively: Reader can't catch a break from anything, can they?

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Being resident camp caretaker was surprising, for lack of a better term. You were away from the stresses of technology, corporate assholes, and disappointing family with your choice to pursue unpractical careers. Instead living the “cottagecore lifestyle” of foraging for food and cooking with a cauldron that those from the digital world claimed to be the best. What they failed to mention were the incessant pests coming in to nibble through rucksacks if you were not careful, and the occasional swarms of ants or flies coming in to nip at your flesh.

The experience was a mixed bag, so it would seem. But the tired smiles that the group would give you when you greet them with a warm and filling meal was always a comfort that you would have.

And it would seem they needed it now more especially than ever.

Your band of misfits planned to venture out and defeat the goblins at their camp in order to aid the tieflings’ journey to Baulder’s Gate. Per your instruction, you convinced the more solipsistic members of the benefits of eradicating the sect. Namely, they wouldn’t hinder you as much in the future if they were taken care of. Hence your plan to slightly increase the amount of portions for supper tonight.

By twilight, you had a good broth steeping in your cauldron. The camp having returned just a few moments prior from an earlier excursion. You were making a pottage that the others have expressed their enjoyment for. A stew of sorts that you had made when you had quite the number of items that would have spoiled before consumption had you not done anything about it. A mixture of fruits and meat, stewed in a consomme of a pig’s head and various mushroom caps.

This time around, you’ll be using fresher ingredients to hopefully lift their spirits.

As you’re chopping up fruits, you think about all that’s happened to you and possible explanations for why your character suddenly ceased to exist in order to make room for you. What’s more is that no matter how many nights pass, you never end up waking from your dream. Which you fear is lasting longer than your usual ones.

Your working theory is that whatever force, be it magic or fate, tethering you to this world is also responsible for removing Tav. Astarion claimed that he couldn’t remember the finer details when you had confronted him. And so you settled with that hypothesis. That like how a thread that unravels opens a seam in a garment, a new thread must be used to darn the cloth together again.

You laugh at the disgustingly poetic analogy you created in your head. You fear that you’re becoming more and more deranged as—

“My, aren’t you busy?” The intrusive voice causes the knife to slip out of your hand a bit, thankfully only cutting off a portion of your index finger’s nail. Your shoulders, that were raised in alarm, release their tension after feeling the sudden chill leave your body.

“Astarion,” Exasperated, you put the knife down on the cutting board to catch your breath for a while.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped sneaking up on me when I’m doing something dangerous.”

The high-elf offers a mischievous smile in response. “Very sorry, pet. But it’s hardly my fault when you’ve barely been paying attention to me.” There’s regret in his words, but not in his tone.

Because while perhaps it’s an odd interest, he enjoys hearing the quickened pace of your heart. The pulse getting louder, as it stays that way for longer.

“I’d feel sorry for doing so if you were too, but you’re not.”

You laugh out, breath still shaky but steadying slowly, as you pick up your knife again.

“I heard you’re part of the encampment that’s finishing off the goblins by midmorn.” Chopping the rest of the fruits, you feel his presence move from behind you to off to your side so you can see him from your peripherals.

“Hm? Yes. Although I would have preferred if we didn’t do this at all. It’s too much work, and the goblins could be entertaining! Killing useful spoils seems like an awful waste.”

This must be the reason why he approached you, to persuade you to call off the hunt. And his unfading smile supports that thought. When you voice said thought, it earns you a playful scoff.

“Don’t you have anything else on your mind other than the parasite lounging in it?”

The mood is light as you say this, the banter welcomed by you both.

And as you continue to converse, a few eyes begin to follow the two of you. They’ve never really seen Astarion interact with you for this long, at least not away from your private spaces. And even less without hushed voices. The interlocution is definitely a welcome spectacle to them.

“On my honor, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust.” He says, proudly. Gesturing to himself with one hand, and the other held high like he was swearing an oath.

Your closed mouth drops into frown, eyes wide, and your eyebrows skew upwards. A very undignified, but small, squeak coming from the back of your throat. You swore you heard someone groan in disappointment from far away too.

You know full well that the look of shock that you were sporting was by no means attractive, but the flagrant revelation, though not at all out of character, was shocking to have directed towards you. You’ve been trying to romance the elven vampire with your character, only to end up nowhere. Therefore you are completely unsure if the dialogue he was spewing was completely a figment of your imagination, or is, indeed, canon.

The elf in question has seen this expression of yours before. Quite often, too. And while he doesn’t think it a, “pleasant sight,” it is rather… charming to him.

Whether it be on purpose or not, people have the tendency to be on guard around him, preserving any twitch and sound that could give them away to themselves. Not that much had ever evaded him before with his naturally cunning behavior. But this clearly unscripted response, with the blatant confusion swimming in your eyes, is a rather refreshing sight to see.

“I see–” you clear your throat to lower your voice back to its normal octave. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to uh, bring those thoughts into fruition! Uh–,” You slide the rest of the cut fruits off of your cutting board and into the stew.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me? Something I should know?” You turn to face him. He laughs at first, but then his brows furrow in question, as if he did have something to say and forgot about it or thinks it is no longer an appropriate time to ask. He shakes his head and says something along the lines of, “letting you do all the hard work” and returns to his tent.

But you are not left alone for long as another member of your little ragtag team joins you to ask about dinner. To which you ask them for which meat would be better to toss into it.

—————————

After dinner, your little rapport concerning the plan and new findings with everyone is adjourned. Some thanked you before they left, and others simply walked away. From what you have learned from them, the Archdruid that was taken prisoner by the goblins was named, “Halsin.” He was a topic of interest as they said he might be able to aid you in your search for moonrise and understanding the Mindflayer worms.

Wyll had also approached you alone after dinner and offhandedly mentioned a dead boar being on the road. He had planned to return to camp with it if it could have been useful, but he had claimed that the animal had been unnervingly light. As if half of its weight was no longer there despite seemingly just keeling over for no reason.

You take note of that in one of your many journals, including additional information about the Archdruid and their kind in general. The book appearing more and more like the game’s quest booklet, with the exception of a few crossouts and colored ink to emphasize each quest’s urgency and relevance to finding a cure. When you successfully rescue the druid of the grove, it seems you will have to move out quite soon after, so you fixed up your pack just a bit to make it easier later on.

You look around, everyone seems to be in their respective areas. Doing whatever it is they usually do with the exception of Astarion. Though he has been known to either sneak off or hide away from time to time in his tent, so you think nothing of it.

You return to the communal chest, tallying up the remaining supplies and inspecting the wares. You sort the tradeable objects in one rucksack and appraise its worth. The chest also has pieces of gold, some that others have placed, and others you picked up and added. You prefer to let the others keep what they think is valuable to them, and only place what they want to share in the vessel.

If the party’s gold ever runs out, you think that the rucksack is worth a few nights of food when you travel out again. Assured by this knowledge, you placed your writing materials back in, closed the chest, and turned in for the night.

Maybe this time, you’ll wake up. But you also don’t really want to. Not just yet.

—————————————

As you slept, you wondered about the longevity of your knowledge of the media. You hadn’t finished the game, and although you’ve accomplished a fair bit of it, you worry about how you will face the events to come. One of the only reasons why you haven’t flinched so much at the terrors that occurred was because you had anticipated them. Braced yourself for the dangers ahead.

You fear what might happen when you no longer have that power at your disposal.

Perhaps it's the worry, perhaps it's the stiff, compact ground that you have yet to be accustomed to sleep on despite the bedroll, or perhaps it's the presence of something suddenly cool that stirs you awake.

But what you did not expect was Astarion’s face hovering over yours to be the reason. Fangs bared, and ready to bite. Your eyes go wide and you let out a small gasp, hands moving up in a gesture akin to clawing at yourself.

The elf realizes that you’re awake now and he curses. Moving away as you scramble upright just like you did all those nights ago. The look of genuine fear at the prospect of being bitten is apparent on your face, and he feels almost guilty to be greeted with it.

“Please, I wasn’t going to hurt you— I just needed, well, blood.” He says it in a panic. Worried that you might run off, losing his only sure chance, and possibly enraging the rest of the camp.

In this moment, you realized the error in your ways. Astarion had been hunting nearly every other night in the same area. And if you were progressing through the events like how the game did, he couldn’t have had the time nor energy to venture too far after feeding from most of the creatures in the vicinity.

‘The exsanguinated boar…’ You remember.

“You’ve been feeding on animals for the past few nights, haven’t you?”

“It seems like word got around then.” Although unknowingly, he’s referencing what Wyll delivered to you earlier in the night.

“I’m not some monster, I feed on boars, deer, kobolds– whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. And with the damned excursion,” He stops himself, complaining is only doing worse for his condition.

“It’s not enough. I feel so…weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” You’re conflicted. You had no problem offering yourself as your character for him to feed on, but even witnessing that through a disconnected screen was enough to make you feel uncomfortable imagining it. You care about him, want to give him what he deserves, but this…

What’s more is that you know what he’s saying is necessary, not at all overstating how dire his need to satiate his hunger is, making it all the more difficult.

He needs to convince you, if he wants to continue on, that is. Without the presence of the illithid, he resorts to more practical means of doing so. Similar to what he did to many.

Noticing the slight tremor of your hands, he takes the chance to slowly kneel down on your bedroll. Closing the distance between you. He takes your hand, now rougher from the work you do, and meets your shaken gaze with his dark eyes.

“Please. I only need a taste, I swear.” He had meant to tell you before dinner, had he not felt the eyes of the others on the two of you. This discovery is not lost on you. He needs you specifically. And you realize it's out of convenience because you’re an expendable resource. If you pass, the group can venture on, but he also still needs you alive for whatever reason. He can’t have the others finding out, not until they trust him.

He needs you to trust him. And this is the only way you can help him in this moment.

With that, you strengthen your resolve.

“I…I trust you, Astarion. But no more than what you need.” A dangerous bet, but you hope it would be worth it.

“Really? I–”

“Can I trust you on that?” The shock on his face fades, and he agrees.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” You lay down, preparing yourself to faint during the process and allowing your blood to flow throughout your body. He observes the rapid movement of your eyes as he drapes himself above you. Your sight flitting from anywhere but him and then returning all the same. No doubt that you fear being at his mercy.

He feels almost sorry that you have to do this for him.

So he graces you with what mercy he can give.

The bite is quick. You would have felt the flesh of your neck parting for him, had he not done so. You feel tears prick at your eyes and start to feel the area from your neck and upwards go cold.

A momentary, sharp pain, that lulls to a chilling numbness in what seems like a matter of seconds.

You feel his body start to grow warmer at your expense and you feel satisfied knowing that you could help him.

When he doesn't stop, you start to worry.

Your breath catches in staccato beats, pulse quickening in tandem. You try to stop him, hands coming up to push or tug, but the heavy sensation that washes over you only permits them to find purchase on his form.

You try to speak, but it seems as if the common tongue does not reach him.

Your mind goes into overdrive, all of a sudden it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore and genuine fear courses through your veins.

You need him to stop, and you try to think of more efficient ways of doing so.

But your mind starts slowing as well. The pain has certainly faded, but the presence of the vampire at your throat reminds you in case you’ve forgotten.

As a last ditch effort, you try to use whatever might appeal to him, to break him out of the trance that he was in from finally replenishing himself.

“Isalhal–” One of the few Elvish words you recalled.

The effort thankfully makes him pull back in shock, stopping him. Your eyes finally close, thankful for the reprieve you're finally granted. You hear a distant, “thank you,” and a more distant “shit” before rest takes over.

You worry about waking up tomorrow.

But for now, you’re thankful that Astarion will be able to fight well.

For himself and for everyone else’s sake.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, and @auszimbo for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #aware!astarion #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#bg3 x reader

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projectionistwrites · 1 year

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moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

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parkerslatte · 1 year

Text

Right Person, Right Time

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Y/N is friends with The Six, but she is a little closer to a certain bassist in particular. She can always sense that something is wrong. When Eddie has a conversation with Camila, Y/N is there to reassure him that she is always there for him and it puts things into perspective for him.

Masterlist

***

Eddie: There’s a lot to say about Y/N.

Karen: We all met Y/N around the time we started our first tour. She was just starting out as an actress.

Warren: Y/N? Y/N was great,man! When she wasn’t on set she would join us at the studio. I tried teaching her drums once.

Eddie: She was…the best person I’ve ever known.

Y/N L/N stepped through the threshold of the house she knew and loved so much. Everyone was expecting her so she dumped her bag near the bottom of the stairs and walked through the house. It was eerily silent. Typically she heard shouting and arguing or the sound of instruments.

“Hello? Guys?” Y/N called throughout the house.

Y/N turned a corner and was surprised with the sound of yelling and streamers being thrown in her face.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed.

Eddie, Karen, Warren and Graham stood there with smiles on their faces. Y/N smiled at them and raced over to hug them. Warren pulled her into a hug first and held onto her tight, next was Graham, who’s hug was short and sweet before he took his place next to Karen. Next was Karen.

“I can’t believe you left me alone with these boys!” Karen spoke and she hugged Y/N.

“Next time come with me, escape the testosterone for a bit.” Y/N joked with her.

The final person to give her a hug was Eddie. He stepped up to her and gave her a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her up from her feet and spun her around.

“Eddie! Put me down!” Y/N exclaimed as she gripped onto him.

Eddie smiled and placed her back down on her feet. Y/N smiled at Eddie and he slowly released her and stepped back.

“How have all of you been? It’s been months.” Y/N questioned.

Warren steps closer to her and slings his arm over her shoulder leading her through the house, “You’re the one who’s just home back from a big movie set, tell us about it.”

“It was great! It was a lot more tiring than I thought it would be though.” Y/N responded.

“Just think about it, Y/N L/N, Oscar winning actress!” Warren said as they sat on the couch.

“That’s a goal for later in life.” Y/N laughed.

Eddie sat down next to her and Y/N unconsciously leant into him.

“But if you do go to the Oscars, I’ll be your plus one right?” Warren questioned, taking a sip from his drink.

“Hey, why do you get to be her plus one? I’m the one who invites her to all the rehearsals.” Karen cut in.

“She met me first!” Graham exclaimed.

As the three began arguing, Y/N sat back and watched, an amused smile gracing her face. Eddie looked down at her.

“You’d bring me, right?” He asked, bending down to whisper the question into her ear.

“No doubt about that.” Y/N resplied, turning to face Eddie.

Eddie smiled and reached to take a sip of his drink while the three continued to argue.

Eddie: That same year I was at the Oscars watching Y/N make her speech for best supporting actress. I was so proud of her.

Warren: I still can’t believe Y/N didn’t take me.

Eddie: It wasn’t long after Y/N won an Oscar before we were on tour. I asked her to come with us. Having Y/N around always made me feel better. But she was going to work on another film.

“Call me when you get the chance. I want to hear all about the excruciating bus journey.” Y/N says as she hugs Karen.

Y/N hugs the rest of the band members one by one until she gets to Eddie. She reaches up and locks her arms around his neck, giving him a tight hug. Eddie reciprocated the hug and held her tightly.

“I’ll miss you.” Y/N mumbles into his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“You’ll be fucking amazing.” Y/N says and she pulls away.

With one last wave at the band, Y/N steps over to allow Camila to say goodbye to everyone. Camila bids goodbye to everyone, however once she gets to Eddie she simply gives him a smile before walking over to Y/N. Y/N furrows her eyebrows for a moment, thinking the interaction was strange but the thought quickly leaves her mind as the buses pull away.

Eddie: She could almost always tell what I was feeling. That’s why she surprised us on the tour I think.

When Y/N walked through the doors to the party, all eyes turned to look at her, including the eyes of the people she had come to surprise.

“Y/N?” Warren exclaimed and rushed forward to greet her, “What are you doing here?”

“I have a few days where I’m not wanted on set so I’ve come to surprise everyone.” Y/N shouted over the music.

“This is a great surprise!” Karen said while passing Y/N a drink which she accepted gratefully.

Y/N slumped down on the couch and fell into conversation with her friends. Despite having close friends outside of this group, she never felt at ease as she did when she was surrounded by them. Falling into conversation was easy and didn’t ever stop until the early hours of the morning.

Y/N hadn’t even finished her drink before another one was thrust in her hand. She quickly finished off her first drink before starting on her new one.

“Where’s Eddie?” Y/N questioned upon noticing that she hadn’t seen him yet.

“Not sure,” Warren replied, “He wandered off a while ago.”

Y/N looked around the party, “I’m going to look for him.”

Y/N got up and looked around the room in search of Eddie. Many people dragged her into conversation as she looked around and she had to find the most polite excuse to end the conversation before she got sucked into it.

Looking around the room once more, she found Camila quickly walking away from the balcony doors.

“Hey Camila!” Y/N says, weaving her way through people, “Have you seen Eddie anywhere?”

“Um,” Camila says, looking around, never making eye contact with Y/N, “No, I haven’t, sorry Y/N.”

Y/N eyes her suspiciously before nodding, “Okay, if you find him, let him know I was looking for him alright?”

Camila smiled at her, “Will do. See you later Y/N.”

Y/N smiled at Camila before the woman left her. Y/N’s eyes drifted up to the balcony doors which were firmly closed. Before she even knew it, Y/N’s feet were taking her over to them. Y/N pulled the doors open and stepped out onto the balcony and into the cool night air.

“Y/N?”

Y/N looked to the source of the voice and smiled at the sight of the person she had been looking for.

“Eddie.” Y/N says, flinging her arms around him, careful not to spill her drink.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked.

“I have a few days off from shooting so I came to surprise everyone.” Y/N responded, pulling away from the hug to take a swig from her drink, “I was sitting with everyone before I realised you weren’t there so I came looking for you and- are you okay?”

Y/N cut herself off to ask Eddie that question. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and he looked like he was trying his best to hold back tears.

“I’m fine.” Eddie lies.

Y/N’s eyes softened, she reached up to Eddie’s face and wiped away the single tear that slipped down his cheek, “Eddie, I’ve known you for years, I can tell when you lie to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Eddie says, “At least it is now.”

Y/N placed her drink down on the floor before she wrapped Eddie in a hug, “Does this have anything to do with Camila?”

Eddie didn’t answer but that was enough of an answer or Y/N.

Y/N pulled away slightly, placing her hands on either side of Eddie’s face, “You don’t have to tell me anything Eddie, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m just a phone call away.”

“That’s the problem,” Eddie says, “You’re a phone call away but I wish you were just here with me or I was with you.”

Y/N leaned forward, resting her forehead against Eddie’s, “Eddie, I wish that were possible but you and I both know it isn’t.”

“I know, but I miss you.” Eddie says, closing his eyes.

“I miss you too,” Y/N says, her voice barely above a whisper, “So much.”

Eddie gave a tight lipped smile before pulling Y/N closer, he buried his head into her neck and the two stood like that for a while.

Eddie: I think that was the night that put everything into perspective for me.

Karen: Everyone could see that something was happening between Y/N and Eddie. Graham and I were taking bets on it.

Warren: Honestly I thought they were screwing long before the tour.

Eddie: I realised that day that night that Y/N was the one I wanted to be with. That feeling I would get when I was with Y/N was love. I was in love with Y/N and I hadn’t realised it. There was a point where we didn’t have shows for a couple days so I went to see Y/N. Billy wasn’t happy but I didn’t care, the only thing I cared about was her.

Y/N lay in her garden, enjoying her final day off before she finished shooting her movie. She flipped the page of her book while taking a sip from her drink.

“Y/N?” A voice broke the peaceful silence.

Y/N turned and came face to face with Eddie. Her eyebrows pulled together confused.

“What are you doing here? You should be on the other side of the country.” Y/N says, getting up from her chair.

“I needed to see you.” Eddie says.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked concerned.

Eddie nodded, “I just need to tell you something.”

“You do know that phones exist right?” Y/N joked but once she realised that Eddie was serious she stepped closer to him, resting her hands on his upper arms gently.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Y/N questioned.

Eddie: As soon as she asked me that the second time, I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed her.

Y/N let out a sound of surprise as Eddie’s lips connected with hers. His hands held onto her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N didn’t do anything, she was shocked.

Eddie pulled away and looked at Y/N, her face remained expressionless. He was afraid he had just messed up another friendship.

“Y/N…” Eddie mumbled, “Please say something.”

Y/N didn’t, her thoughts were running at a million miles an hour. Y/N slowly reached up and rested her hands on either side of Eddie’s face.

“Y/N, please.” Eddie said, barely audible.

Y/N leaned forward and connected their lips once again, her fingers ran through his hair. Eddie gripped onto her waist tightly and pulled her close until there wasn’t a single gap between them.

Eddie: (laughs) I still remember that day like it was yesterday.

Eddie tapped Y/N’s thigh and she jumped up wrapping her legs around him. Eddie carried her into the house and set her down on the kitchen countertop. Eddie pulled his lips away from Y/N briefly.

“Y/N, I love you.” Eddie says, his thumbs brushing across her thighs.

Y/N smiled, “You want to know something, Eddie? I had no clue I felt this way about you until you kissed me. It just feels right, like we should have been doing it all along.”

Eddie smiles and Y/N swears it is the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

“Well then, let’s make up for lost time.” Eddie says and connects their lips once again.

Eddie: I proposed to Y/N six months later.

Y/N L/N: Over twenty years later I still feel like the young woman I was when we shared our first kiss and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

__________

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones and the six #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #Daisy Jones and the six x reader

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lovifie · 2 months

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Her Royal Highness Pt.5

Masterlist

Prologue — Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

The people of the city turn out to be delighted, elated to be visited by the Princess. And you feel glad because they don't look at you with the fear the guard had, they look at you with happiness in their eyes, joyful the Princess finally left the castle.

They are so happy, that they don't seem to notice the mysterious men that follow you. Not literally, they remained on a table inside the inn, but you can feel their eyes on you at all times.

It is a nice thing they do, because after a while you start to feel dizzy. People keep pulling you in different directions, wanting to show you places and introduce you to people. You can see the guard from the journey, and he looks ready to pull his hair out every time someone grabs your hand, afraid that you are going to suddenly turn into a tyrant like your late father.

You won't, of course. Getting a taste of what a kingdom that likes you feels like, you don't want to experience the opposite. At some point, the guard loses his patience and peels your hand away from the people, guiding you to the table where everyone else is eating.

“Ooh, the Princess finally resigned herself to sit with us. Such an honour, your Royal Highness.” Gaz exclaims, standing up just to do a dramatic reverence, with Soap doing exactly the same.

“Sit down, you muppets.” The king orders next to you with a teasing note in his voice. So he can be nice. That's how he sounds when normal.

“Yes, my dear King” Soap says, doing a second reference before sitting down. Price snickers beside you at Soap's antics, if only you could get on his good side like that.

Around the rectangular table, you are sitting beside the king on one side, with Gaz, Soap and Ghost sitting on the opposite. Ghost and you are the ones sitting the more far away from each other, which is why it surprises you to see him staring at you.

You maintain eye contact, not wanting to back down first, and surprisingly it's him who does. But only to look at your hand, his eyebrows raise, remembering something. You look at him curious as he gets his hand inside his pocket and pulls something that slides across the table in your direction.

Five heads look at the object, and soon realize what he throws at you.

A ring.

A simple small gold band.

For a second, you think that it is just a weird gift from the Prince; a peace offering. But when you look at him, he looks at you expectantly as if waiting for you to answer and it clicks.

Your soon-to-be husband, is proposing to you.

“That's it?” You ask picking it up to check it better, disappointment clear in your voice.

“We're you expecting rubies?” He laughs. “I thought you were more humble than that, princess “

“It's not about the ring…” You say looking at it. “I thought you would at least ask me, indulge me a bit and trick me into thinking I had a choice, you know.”

“If you were expecting me to kneel, you may be more stupid than we thought.” He chuckles drily.

You ignore him, the insult falling on deaf ears at this point and focus on the ring. Just looking at it you know it's not going to be your size, and when you try to get your finger in it, it is so much bigger it could fit two of yours. You realise then, that they didn't even bother to find an actual ring, and just used one they had themselves.

“It doesn't fit.” You comment, still looking at your hand.

“Close your fist then.” Ghost answers. “Better not lose it.”

You should hit him. Shove the ring down his throat until he chokes. But you don't, instead, you stand up, ring in hand, and walk up to the room they lend you without saying anything else.

Some of the maids quickly follow you as you walk upstairs into the room. Your luggage is already there, and you take out the nightgown even though the sun is still out. But your chances are going down to the king and putting up with their passive-aggressive remarks or going out and getting hurt or kidnapped by people's kindness.

You are far from being used to dealing with this many people on a daily basis, so the silence of the room when you get out of the bathtub makes you want to go to sleep.

So you step into the room, looking at the ground and closing the door behind you. When you look up to your bed, the bed looks back at you. Well, not the bed, but Simon.

You gasp when you see the behemoth of a man, laying down on his back on your bed without his mask and cape. In his hands, he is playing with a garment you can figure out at first.

Until he smirks at you, and then you realize is the undergarments you were wearing today. “Simon!” You exclaim, completely scandalized by the violation of your privacy. “That's not yours!”

The fact that he entered your room while you were bathing becomes a second offence, and you walk up to him ready to take it back. Except it looks like that was exactly his plan because when you extend your hand to try and grab it, he grabs your wrist pulling you on top of him.

You shriek out of the surprise, in part surprised by his strength; able to hold you up by the hand on your wrist and in part, surprised by his lack of decorum. He is so close you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, he is looking up at you with such a condescending look but it is the eye contact of his golden brown eyes that keeps you in a trance.

Trance, that gets suddenly broken by a sharp pain in your ass when Simon slaps your ass. You slowly look back at him and slap him back on his chest. “You did not fucking do that!” You exclaim, and he raises his eyebrows. “Princess!” He says covering his mouth with his free hand. “Language!”

You manage to get your hand free and get back on your feet. You point to the door and say: “Get out!”

He barks a laugh sitting up at the edge of the bed, and at a surprisingly fast speed, he hugs your waist pulling you tight against him again. You manage to get your hands on his shoulder, pulling some distance between him and you.

“But I need to check your wound, Princess.” He says looking up through his eyelashes. “The wound is amazing, Simon. You can leave.” You answer, still trying to pull back.

One of his hands moves up to your waist, and with his thumb and index, he presses over your wound, hard, drawing little droplets of blood and making you wince. “That does sound amazing, but I don't think your wound is.” He says pulling his finger back and licking the blood of his thump while looking at you. You can feel the heat in your ears, an obvious sign of your flush, completely uncalled for.

You're supposed to get warm with gentle touches, grazing hands and kisses on the cheek. Not by this brute, personification of strength, licking your blood.

“Let me see it, Princess.” He says sternly looking at you. You feel trapped, like in a cage… a really warm cage. So you start to pull the gown up, and you can feel Simon's eyes drag up the newly exposed skin, you are not wearing anything under the nightgown and he notices his eyes widening slightly. One of your hands remains between your legs, making sure only the outside of your leg is exposed as the other rises the gown up to right below your boob where the wound is.

Simon sets his hand on your knee engulfing it, and apparently, he needs to move his hand up your tights, your hips and up to under your boob just to check the wound. He touches the wound, moving his thumb across it and his fingernail grazes your underboob causing you goosebumps. You turn your head, unable to keep looking at his face, letting a sight escape your lips trying to play it out as a sight of annoyance.

“You were right, it looks good.” He murmurs, when you feel his breath against your skin you whip your head back to look at him, just to see him lick a strip right under the wound, causing a whine out of you at the heat of his tongue.

You slap his shoulder this time, taking a step back and putting the nightgown down. “Why did you do that? You are gonna get it infected!” He simply laughs at your face and adds: “Sorry, Princess, I just wanted a taste. It was too tempting.”

“You are a really weird man, Simon Price!” You exclaim, moving back until your back hits the wall, putting as much space as possible between him and you.

He looks at you confused, before standing up and walking up to you. “Why do you say that, Princess?” He asks, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm?”

“One second you do these… things. Next second you don't even look at me and treat me like trash.” You say looking at the floor.

He chuckles, cupping your face making you look up to him. “Is this because I told you I wouldn't kneel? Now, Princess. I already gave you the ring, why else do you want me to kneel for you, hm?” He asks getting his face close to yours, for a second you panic he would kiss you, but just before reaching it, he moves to your ear and whispers: “Naughty, girl.”

Putting his hands on your hips, he turns you around leaving you staring at the wall. “Better to check the exit too.” He murmurs against your neck. “Do it quick, and leave.” You order, trying to remain calm.

Instead, he takes his time. Crouching down, knee almost touching his ground, and he grabs the hem of the gown, and slowly, really slowly, as if time has stopped and therefore he had all the time in the world, he starts to raise it, with his fingertip gracing the skin of your leg, fingernail scratching just at the verge of pain.

Goosebumps spread as he rises, up your calf, up your thigh, up your arse, which he touches with no remorse, and up your back. With one hand, he holds the gown up, and with the other, he caresses your hip.

You don't feel his eyes on your wound, you feel them lower. And if you have the courage, you would confront him; but coming face to face and he proudly admitting, because he would, that yes, in fact, he was staring at your arse, it's not something you could bear without blushing and therefore feeding his ego.

“How is it?” You ask, growing impatient with his lack of sounds.

“Amazing, indeed.” He answers immediately, and you know he is not talking about the wound, but that'll do for now. So you take a step to the side, getting out of his hold and let the gown back down, covering your body.

“Great, then you can leave.” You say, crossing your arms unable to look at him.

“But why? I'm enjoying myself in here, Princess.” He says chuckling at you.

“Precisely!” You exclaim and grab his wrist, him obviously letting you drag him. You open the door, ready to throw him out when you come to face with Gaz who looks ready to knock at the door. He looks between Simon and you, before gasping loudly.

“Premarital encounters?!” He asks smiling widely, and making you roll your eyes, pushing Simon out of the room and slamming the door. Hearing the two men laugh loudly on the other side.

The next morning, a quick breakfast is eaten. The ring is not on your finger, too big to be comfortable to wear; instead, it is hanging from your neck with a threat. It rests on the center of your chest, so everyone can see it.

“Princess, I had an idea last night.” The king breaks the silence. “Once we are back at the kingdom, how about we arrange a joust? To welcome everyone that will help arrange the wedding. I'll help everyone to cheer up a bit.” He asks, looking at you.

“A joust?” You ask a bit surprised by the offer. There is still a sour taste on your tongue, it is only for the wedding, so people like him more. But again, he is asking you. Not for your consent, he would do it anyway. But to make you feel like you are actually heard. His voice saying “We are more powerful together than against each other” comes to mind, and you decide to play along: “Sure, that sounds fun.”

Hii! 💗

Sorry for taking so long to update this series, the Lift me off my feet completely took me away. Thank you so much for being so patient with me ❤️❤️❤️

TagList: @kristalhi @strawberrygato @ghostlythots @dumybitch @infpt-zylith @jupiternighties @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @whos-fran @darkangel4121 @thevoidwriting

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months

Text

Lunch

Summary: Javi's rough start to the work week is turned around when he finds a surprise from his daughters in his lunch

Word Count: 3.1K (oops)

Paring: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: Literally nothing but sweet, sickening fluff, Javi being so in love with his family, Javi being the ultimate girl dad, a lot of glitter (?)

A/N: Our favorite family is back! I am a firm believer that Girl Dad!Javi keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters give to him and has a wall at his office dedicated to all of their drawings and crafts because he refuses to get rid of any of them 😭 I love them so much, they make me sick, your honor 🫡 unbeata bc that's just who I am, apologies in advance for the mistakes

Series Masterlist. Never Too Late Masterlist

4 hours into Monday and Javier Peña was already counting down the hours until Friday. It seemed like this week was going to have no problem giving Javi a swift kick in the ass back to reality after another blissful weekend with you and the girls, a grumpy frown falling upon his face, wishing he could rewind back just a few hours to when the biggest problems he was trying solved revolved around which book his daughters were picking out for bedtime, rather than strategy meetings on how to solve the better half of the southern drug trade still ranging in Mexico.

Rubbing his hands over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Javi let out a sigh, grumbling low in his chest before running his hands through the dark curls of his hair, praying that the closed door of his office was enough to give his co-workers at the Laredo Sheriff's Department enough of a clue to let him at least try to enjoy his lunch in silence.

Shuffling and stacking a few stray papers left out on his desk, Javi cleared a space for the brown paper sack he mindlessly pulled out of his work bag, plopping it in front of him without a second look. He shuffled through the pocket he knew he had an extra fork in somewhere, considering he was at the point of eating his lunch with nothing but his hands before venturing out to the common kitchen where the rest of his co-workers were, ready to disrupt the sacred silence and peace that was his lunch time.

“Of course I forgot a fucking fork…” Javi grumbled to himself, abandoning his search in his bag after a few minutes, letting out another disappointed huff, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the speckled tiles of the ceiling. Javi was just about to get up, bracing himself for the perilous journey for a plastic fork he was about to embark on, when the corner of the lunch bag perched on his desk caught his eye.

Was that… glitter?

As his gaze shifted down the rest of his bag, Javi’s impatient and bothered demeanor had quickly shifted, a soft smile growing between his cheeks, picking up the lunch sack that had very clearly been given a makeover by his daughters before disappearing into his work bag this morning.

What was once a plain brown paper bag had somehow been turned into a hodgepodge of arts and crafts- glitter, pink and purple hearts, several stickers from separate collections of puppies, Star Wars, and unicorns, doodles and drawings from each of the girls, and a stray Batman band-aid that Harper must have added, considering the 17 she had covered herself in last night for fun.

Quietly laughing to himself at his girl’s creation, Javi spent a few moments thoroughly examining all sides of the bag, his heart melting to read “Daddy’s Lunch- From Lucy, Elliot, Harper and Mommy” scribbled across the front.

Carefully, Javi opened the top of the crinkly brown paper, revealing a plethora of surprising goodies inside, the first being a tiny stuffed cow and a fruit-by-the-foot that he obviously had no recollection of packing for himself last night. Setting the things down on his desk, Javi shuffled through the next added layer, this one consisting of another fruit-by-the-foot and a half eaten granola bar, which one of the girls clearly had gotten into before his lunch had departed from home.

The last thing hiding lunch was a piece of paper that had been folded several times to fit inside the bag, Javi gently removing it with the rest of his surprise treasures. As he unfolded the now somewhat crumpled paper, the grin on his face began to grow wider and wider, seeing the colorful crayon creations doodled on the page. Before him, sat a paper with drawings of each of the girls done by themselves, perfectly embodying their tiny personalities. Lucy’s was neatly sketched and colored, and then outlined in a darker color to make the inside colors pop, Elliot’s had crazy scribbled hair and was holding a hockey stick in not one, but both hands, and Harpers was done in every color that the Crayola crayon box had to offer.

As if their adorable self-portraits weren’t enough to have him in a puddle, in the middle of their artwork was a drawing of Javi standing between them with the words “We love you Daddy!” etched in big, pink bubble letters above them.

Javi had been so enamored by the art his daughters had made him, taking in every stroke and scribble on the page, he hadn’t noticed the smaller note that had fallen to his desk, your neat and careful handwriting etched across the paper.

Jav,

3 little munchkins were very insistent on re-making Daddy’s lunch last night, and even more insistent on decorating your very boring brown bag. They told me that they were adding a few surprises to your lunch, so this is me apologizing in advance for any half eaten snacks or stuffed animals that may have ended up in there. I hope you have a great day, we all miss you lots and can’t wait to see you later.

Love you lots,

Osita

Even though it was nothing but a few words scribbled down on a piece of paper and a drawing similar to one he had seen a thousand times before, it never failed to surprise Javi how something so small really did mean everything to him.

Years ago, still working for the DEA, in the midst of chaos and corruption in Colombia, one of his former agents had always insisted on carrying his “lucky” drawing from his son in his back pocket on every mission he was sent on. Back then, the idea of carrying a colored, crumpled piece of paper in his jeans for good luck seemed like a somewhat ridiculous notion, but now, as Javi stared up at the bulletin board next to his desk, overflowing with drawings, paintings, and projects from his 3 daughters, he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t hold any gift from his girls so near and dear to his heart that he ever dared to let it go.

Overlapping his newest artwork over the most recent crafts given to him to hang in his office, Javi hung today’s drawing at the front and center of the board, your note nestled next to it, beaming with pride at the love and and joy at how full his heart felt from a few simple pieces of paper.

Admiring just a little longer before reaching over to the phone at the corner of his desk, Javi began to punch the familiar pattern of your home phone number on the receiver, patiently tapping his fingers as the line rang, the other hand grabbing his actual lunch food out of the flamboyantly decorated bag.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby, it’s me.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?” You questioned cautiously, somewhat surprised by his mid-day work call.

“No, everything is-” He paused, smiling back his lunch bag, “everything is great. I just had some time during lunch and wanted to see if the 3 stooges are around so I can say thank you for my lunch.”

“Oh God, I almost forgot that was last night’s surprise project. How bad was it? I was only there to supervise lunch bag decorating because they were adamant they were more than capable than packing extra snacks for you.” You snickered, Javi practically almost able to see the hysterical look plastering your face through the phone, laughing right along with you at the adorable gifts they had left behind for him.

“Well, I got…” Javi stopped, reaching back over in his pile of goodies, “two fruit-by-the-foots, a stuffed purple cow, and a half eaten granola bar that has Elliot written all over it.”

“Is that Daddy? Did he get our lunch?! Did he like it?!” A chorus of little voices squealed in the background.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You snickered, the muffled and muted sounds of the phone being passed off to the girls rustling through the other end of the line as Javi nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to open up his food as he waited for a response from his daughters.

“Hi Daddy!” The 3 shouted through the phone in unison.

“Hola, pollitas! (Hi, little chickens) Thank you so much for my lunch today!”

“Did you like the bag, Daddy? It was my idea to make it look pretty because the brown is so boring.” Lucy boasted, in her lovingly know-it-all tone, making sure her dad knew she was without a doubt, the ringleader of the lunchtime antics.

“I added the extra snacks!” Elliot chimed in, making sure her voice was well pronounced through the phone ensuring that Javi could her her contributions.

“I helped-ed too!” Harper interrupted, trying to butt in over her sisters.

“Well, Mommy helped a little bit too, but it was mostly us!”

“Was it a surprise, Daddy?”

“Best surprise I’ve had in a very long time. I already put your drawing up on my board so everyone can see your beautiful artwork. I think everyone at work is gonna start thinking I have professional artists that live in my house.” Javi’s cheeks were already sore from the goofy grin that was only getting wider every second he listened to his daughter’s sweet little voices on the phone, the girls erupting in a fit of giggles at his compliment. “Los amos mucho, morritas (I love you so much, kiddos).”

“Hey Boss, you gotta second, I-” Agent Carter half knocked, opening Javi’s office door, stopping in his tracks as he met Javi’s cheerful grin turned death glare upon his arrival, slowly retracting his steps while Javi let out a scornful sigh, holding his hand out to get Carter to at least let him wrap up before dealing with whatever bullshit was coming his way.

“Hey pollitas? Daddy has to get back to work, but I’ll see you in a little bit when I get home, okay? I love you so much. Can you pass the phone back to Mom?”

“Okay, bye Daddy! Mommy! Mommy, Daddy wants to say goodbye!”

“The gremlins said you wanted to say goodbye?” You laughed over the clatter of the phone being handed haphazardly back to you.

“Yeah baby, I gotta go back to work, but I just wanted to say I love you and thanks for helping them with lunch, it was really fucking cute. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“The cutest 3 stinkers that I’ve ever met. I love you too, Jav. Bye, babe.”

“Love you, bye.”

As the dial tone went silent, Javi hung up the phone, taking in a deep exhale, still holding his hand out at his co-worker to preemptively prevent whatever what stupid remark was about to come out of his mouth.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Carter winced, holding up his hands in defense at Javi’s death glare, trying his best to hide the sly smirk spreading between his lips. “…. I just never really struck you for a rainbow glitter type of guy.”

“Fuck off, Carter. Give me 10 more minutes to try and eat my lunch in fucking peace.” Javi groaned, trying to shoo him back out the door he had barged in from.

“Okay, okay, message received! I will say…I do think the glitter really does capture your bright and sparkly personality though, the unicorn stickers are really a nice-”

“Carter…”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving! “

As the door clicked shut, Javi let his annoyance slip back to content, letting the colorful sparkle of his lunch back serve as his beacon of hope for the rest of the work day, thankful for the extra piece of home he got to keep with him until he got to see his girls again.

“Hey, I’m home!” Javi’s familiar voice rang through the hallway, barely 3 steps through the front door before the girls were rushing through the house, barrelling towards their dad to attack him with the biggest bear hugs their little bodies could muster.

“Daddy!” They screeched, wrapping around every free inch of Javi’s body that they could reach, giggling as he crouched down to greet them, peppering them with ticklish kisses all over their faces.

“Hola, Pollitas! Oh, I missed you guys! Did you guys have a good day today?” Javi grinned, now letting the bags he was holding in his hands drop to the floor, collecting his daughters in his grasp, wrapping them up in the tightest hug he could manage through their excited squirms and wiggles.

“Yeah, we went to the park with Mommy and then we came home and played soccer and then ran through the sprinkler!” Lucy beamed, her sisters nodding in happy agreement, excited to tell their dad about today’s shenanigans while he was at work.

“I scored two goals on Mommy!” Elliot added, her face lighting up with pride at her accomplishment.

“No way! Nice stuff, Ellie Bellie!” Javi grinned, holding his hand out for a ferocious high-five from Elliot, pretending to shake his hand in pain at her strength, making the girls snicker at their dad’s overdramatics. “Hey, can you tell me where Momma is, I gotta go say hi to her too and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day, okay?”

“She’s in the kitchen making dinner!” Lucy replied, giggling as Javi pressed a long kiss into the top of her head, nestled between her messy hair.

“Mommy’s makin’ ‘pisgetti!” Harper cooed, Lucy and Elliot trying their best to keep from laughing at their youngest sister’s inability to pronounce spaghetti.

“Thanks, lindas (cuties). Why don’t you guys go clean up your stuff and then we can help Mom with the rest of dinner?”

“Okay!” The three agreed, dashing back through the house and disappearing down the hallways, Javi laughing to himself as he kicked off his shoes and picked up his bags, heading into the kitchen to find you at the stove, happily humming and swaying your hips to the radio playing in the background as you cooked, so wrapped up in what you were doing that you hadn’t realized your husband’s presence.

Quietly setting down his bags on the counter, Javi rested his hip against the stone ledge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you work, wondering to himself if he would ever get over how even the simplest things like watching you make dinner made him fall more and more in love with you, the familiar warmth of home and you creeping through his cheeks in a soft smile.

“Hi, Momma.” He smirked, making you squeal in surprise as he snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. “I missed you guys today.”

“Hi, handsome. We missed you, too. The girls haven’t stopped asking when you were going to be home since you called at lunch time. They were so excited you liked your lunch. Sorry if it was a little obnoxious. I tried to tell ‘em to go easy on the glitter, so hopefully none ended up in your food.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of the finished lunch bag that had made its way to work with Javi this morning. You turned around to face Javi, his hands still resting on your hips as you draped your arms over his shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his, his mouth lingering just a little longer than usual as you felt his smile growing amidst his kiss. “What was that for?” You blushed, butterflies swirling in your stomach as his lips gently pulled away from yours, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin in the space where your t-shirt and shorts parted.

“I love you so much. You and the girls, I just- I’m just so thankful for all of you.” Javi grinned, the soft brown of his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light, looking you up and down as if in awe of the fact that you were the woman he got to hold in his grasp at the end of each day for the rest of his life.

“I love you too, you goof.”

Before your lips could meet again, the happy giggles of your girls flooded through the kitchen, their little pitters and patters of their feet tumbling the hallway to greet the both of you again. Peeking over Javi’s shoulder, you cocked your head in confusion at the plastic bag your girls were now rummaging through on the counter, wondering what Javi had been shopping for on his way home.

“What’s in the bag, Jav?”

“Well…” He paused, making his way over to the kitchen counter with the girls, picking up the bag and tipping it over, shaking its contents out in front of them, “I figured, since the munchkins did such a good job with today’s lunch bag-”

“STICKERS!”

“GLITTER PENS?!”

“PUFFY PAINT!”

The girls shrieked, picking up the various brightly colored craft items Javi had brought home with him, along with a pack of brown paper bags, making the reason for his pit stop abundantly clear, and making you smile even wider than you already were.

“...I figured, I still have 4 days of lunches left, and you guys did such a good job with my lunch today, that you could decorate the rest of my lunch bags for the week.”

“Really?!” The girls squealed, their faces lighting up in excitement.

“Really, really.” Javi beamed, reaching his arms around the girls to pick them up, the 3 laughing and squirming in pure joy, your heart bursting at the seams watching just how much Javi loved his little girls and the silliest, smallest things he would do just to make them smile.

“Mommy, can we start right now!? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, Elliot and Harper joining in with their silent plea of sweet puppy eyes.

“Let’s help Mommy with dinner and then we can-”

“It’s okay, I think spaghetti can wait a little longer.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

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bipp-bopp-time-to-stop · 3 months

Text

Far More Than Just A Mask

I'd like to thank @cloudninetonine for giving me the confidence to come out of the shadows and start posting the fics I write. I haven't really posted anything before, so I'm still figuring out how to use the Tumblr posting format. I'd also like to shout out @yanderelinkeduniverse @neverchecking @gliphyartfan @luimagines @yourlocaltreesimp and @wayfayrr as I was also inspired by their writings and content in general. To whoever stumbles across my fic and enjoys it, please go give these amazing people some love! With that being said, I'd also like to express my gratitude towards @linkeduniverse for their amazing work as their comics are what this fic is based off of. I hope everyone enjoys!

TW: Yandere themes, blood, possession, creeps be creepy

Your entrance into this journey filled with world hopping and a band of men all dubbed strange and woefully bad nicknames was… interesting. Thankfully enough, it wasn’t a truck send off level of isekai but it wasn’t the go to sleep and then wake up somewhere else type either. No, it was deciding to venture out at night for a rather dumb reason, immediately get lost, stumble across a strange portal, proceed to be chased into said portal by a pure black shadow with red eyes, and then stumble around in a forest you very much didn’t recognize. And then, of course, you stumbled across them.

They had dubbed their group The Chain since they were all Link (based on the expressions made when you were informed of this, it was clear who did and didn’t like the idea). After the initial shock based, you were suddenly bombarded with questions about… everything, really. The sheer amount of attention, combined with knowing a lot more than you should (in their eyes but they didn’t need to know that to the full extent), caused you to freeze. Well, internally freeze. As cooly as you could, you tried to answer the many questions thrown your way as truthfully as you deemed necessary.

“What’s your Hyrule like?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one? What does that mean? Are you before Hyrule exists or did your Link… fail?” “I just don’t have one. It… never existed. A lot of what exists for you doesn’t for me- not outside of fairy tales, that is. Magic, fairies, multiple civilizations of different species, and more.”

“Why are your ears clipped? Is it a sort of fashion statement or a punishment?”

“Neither. I’m not Hylian, I’m human. Humans are similar to Hylians but we don’t have pointed ears and are usually a little taller than the average Hylian.”

“Why are your clothes so… weird…”

“They’re not weird to me. You guys certainly are, though.”

And the questions continued. After days of asking questions, which quickly broke past barriers and dug deeper than you were comfortable with, The Chain relented a little. It was clear as day that they didn’t trust you, not a bit, but they still “added” you to their little entourage. Dark Link, or Dink as they called him, had still pushed you through that portal like it did for the rest of them. Meaning, somehow, that you were fated to be a part of the Chain even though you were very far from being a Link. In truth, you knew probably half of them believed you might be colluding with the entity and were simply keeping tabs on you. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, as they say.

Thankfully, you weren’t a complete dead weight. You didn’t mind doing chores since you surely couldn’t battle. Despite some of your “exotic” looks (largely your ears, they’re still getting over that), merchants and townsfolk seemed to open up a bit easier to you. Plus, a lot of creatures from the mundane to mystical quite liked you for whatever reason. Were you not in the Champion’s Hyrule, that may not have stuck out as much as it did. On top of that, you knew first-aid better than most of them did. You were no genius in medicine, but you knew enough about the human body (thank you Forensic Files). You also had the “remedies” your Nana often chose over medicine- a lot less helpful in your world, but far more useful in nearly any Hyrule given the more mystical nature of, well, everything.

It took nearly two weeks for the mock friendliness to turn genuine and nearly a month and a half for everyone (including Legend, though he’ll deny it even if he were six feet under) to have a bit of trust in you. It wasn’t like the bonds they had with each other nor the ones you had with your friends back home, but it was something and that something showed. That fact certainly helped you sleep a bit easier during the night.

So now, here you sit around a campfire with the Chain after yet another day of traveling. Despite sitting in a circle, everyone was still a little grouped up and remained chatting in that group. Hyrule, Wild, and Wind were all conversing with each other in semi-hushed tones which made you believe some level of tomfoolery was sure to happen in the coming days. Sky, Four, and Wars were simply chatting about random things. Legend and Twilight were off on patrolling duty at the moment which was a bit of a balm for you given just how… prickly the Vet was in regards towards you at times (you knew it was mostly show, but that didn’t stop it from being aggravating). All of this left Time and you sitting beside each other in silence as one surveyed the camp and its occupants with a well-trained eye and the other lightly zoned out.

Although semi-zoned out, you weren’t entirely oblivious to the world. Your eyes drifted around and loosely observed the scenery although it was regarded as little more than static to your brain. By chance, your eyes drifted downwards and caught eye of a trinket that often sat on the hip of Time- a mask. Not just any mask, though. You hadn’t played Majora’s Mask before but you saw snippets of it and knew what the Fierce Deity mask was. You noticed from day one that Time- rather foreign in your eyes given the design you were used to- partly had the mask’s markings on his face. You had many guesses as to why that was, but you didn’t ask any.

“No- you can’t try it on,” Time speaks up as he quickly notices your stare at the mask. It jolts you a little as you didn’t realize just how long you had been staring at the aforementioned trinket.

“Oh? I wasn’t going to ask to but… well, now I’m curious as to why you don’t want me to. Is it special to you? I’ve never seen anyone else touch it before,” you ask as you stare at the mask in partly feigned curiosity, avoiding Time’s stare. Faking ignorance had grown to be second nature by now.

“Because everyone else knows that it’s good to stay away from it lest you risk tragedy. It’s a magical mask but the power it holds is… potent. Rather, who it holds,” Time cryptically answers with a small grin. It brings a little grin to your face as well that the mask wasn’t too sore a subject for the Old Man, but it was best to tread the waters lightly.

“Who it holds? There’s… a person in there?” You ask.

“Not just a person- a god. It’s called the Fierce Deity Mask as it holds a god of war within it. Put on the mask, and you become something of a vessel for him to use. Naturally, doing so is dangerous- extremely so- so don’t expect to be seeing it in use any time soon,” Time answers with a lit of strictness at the end.

“Can I… at least touch it? Or hold it?” You push, curious about many things in relation to the mask. What did a magical mask feel like in your hands? Could you feel the power of Fierce Deity wanting to be released? Could you maybe even hear him? Would your heart begin to pump loudly, as if trying to sync with a war drum? Time can practically hear your unasked questions, it seems, as he detaches the mask from his belt and hands it to you.

It’s weighty in your hands. Not heavy, but weighty. Its texture is smooth and makes it feel a little bit more like fine pottery than wood. Despite that, you knew you wouldn’t be able to break it by accidentally or purposefully dropping it (could it ever be broken? What would happen if it was?). Despite the chill in the air, the mask was warm. Something that could easily be attributed to being nearly sandwiched between your’s and Time’s body, but you felt like that wasn’t the case. Aside from that, the mask was almost… underwhelming. “What? Expecting something grand to happen?” Time lets out a short and breathy chuckle at the puzzled expression that must be on your face at the moment. “Yeah… I guess so,” You mumble, still holding the mask and looking at it in the eyes- or rather eye sockets. Randomly, you hold the mask up and away from you as if it were someone face to face with you.

“Hello, Fierce Deity, I’m (Name). A… pleasure to meet you? At least, somewhat…”

A beat of silence. And then another. And then another. And th-

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! D-Did you seriously just introduce yourself to a mask?!”

Your face burned crimson at Wind’s howling laughter and remark. Many others shared his laughter, including Time himself. Naturally, you looked straight down at your lap and didn’t even resist having Time take the mask back. So caught up in your embarrassing action, you and everyone missed the slight vibration the mask gave off. The second Time put the mask back on his hip was the moment you decided you’d turn in for the night.

Of course, your luck was little and fickle so some of the boys decided to poke at you further come the next day. While you settled beside a stream to wash clothes, it didn’t take long before Hyrule hopped over with a little grin as he propped up the Fierce Deity mask beside you. He made a little comment about how you appeared lonely before practically running off. Unsure of whether to snap at Hyrule or almost pity the god within the mask, you simply chose to go about your chores. You had a gut feeling that a few of the Links were likely lingering close by, so you did your best to stay tight lipped beside the mask. Which was hard since chore time (especially when it allocated some space between you and the boys) was also welcomed alone time. More often than not did you talk to yourself. Safe to say that having such time and space intruded upon left you a little… pent up for the rest of the day.

When the next laundry day came by, the same stunt was pulled (by Wild this time) but you couldn’t keep your silence. Camp was located a little further from the stream than it was at the previous site, so you felt a little more secure.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled out as you began to wash the pile of clothes beside you. By now, you’ve long grown used to the awful smell of them and you were thankful that, despite having a sculpted nose, the mask didn’t have nostrils. After a few moments of silence, you continued. “I, uhm… I’m sorry for the way that they’re treating you. Perhaps seeing the way I interacted with you that night caused them to grow a little too comfortable around you. I just ask that you forgive or at least tolerate the behavior- it’s an outlet for a handful of them. I know you’ve been with Time for awhile, so I know that you know full well the stress and trauma these boys have. It may seem like little to you given your rank as a deity, but I’m sure you’ve grown to understand mortals a bit better after hanging off the hip of one for years.”

After that, it felt like a dam had broken. Anytime you were off doing your chores, the Fierce Deity mask was there beside you. To the Chain it was a recurring joke that turned into a slight routine (something Legend hated since having something so powerful be near you was always something he despised). To you, it was finally a chance to talk- to vent without being judged. Well, you’re sure that Fierce Deity was judging you but you couldn’t hear him. Honestly, there were parts of your life that you likely sooner shared with the mask than you did with anyone else. It’s not like he can spill your secrets, anyway.

You wondered what he must have thought of you. An annoyance? A break? An interesting or perhaps strange mortal? Or did he just not care at all? Was he curious about your ramblings that described your passions, your home, your world or was it merely buzzing in his ears? You didn’t know and likely never would. At least, so you thought.

And it all started with a simple, and seemingly logical, decision from Time.

“I’m sorry- what? You’re wanting the Outsider to have the mask with them? Time, what the fuck?! We’re your sword brothers and we’ve hardly been allowed to touch the damn thing but now it gets to hang off of that witch’s hip?! What happens if we need to use it? Or what happens if they use it? We’re all screwed!” Legend practically screams as Time tells the Chain of his decision. You want to stand tall and face Legend, but you knew that his comment wasn’t entirely based off of his prickly personality (despite what may come out of his mouth). No, all of the boys were likely fretting over you having the mask given what it did to its wearer. If it could take down even a Hero of Courage, then what could it do to you?

“Enough!” Time snorted as he stared down the pink haired man. “The mask is not some secret weapon, let alone a toy (Wild, Wind, and Hyrule flinch), to be used at your leisure. That’s something this ‘outsider’ realizes better than seemingly all of you. As such, I’m entrusting it into their care to make sure it’s not abused. It is only for the worst case scenarios, do I make myself clear?”

“But the past few monster hordes have gotten stronger! I understand that (Name) acts as a field medic to the best of their ability but they stay away from battle when they can. It’ll be inconvenient and risky to let it be away from us for multiple reasons. What if a battle goes south fast and we can’t get to it in time? What if something tries to steal it from them? What if they have no choice but to use it and potentially lets Fierce Deity go on a rampage? I can guarantee that it’d hurt them,” Wars argues with a much more put together and logical rebuttal than Legend. That still doesn’t save you from the ever present glare the Vet has aimed at you and the mask.

“I’ve thought of all of this but I still believe this for the best. Besides, the hordes feel stronger because we’ve been dealing with smaller and weaker hordes for over a month now. Dink has been trying to soften us up a little and I can see that it’s worked based on our combined performance in the last battle,” Time huffs and deepens his scowl. He gives the Chain a thorough stare down before speaking again. “Anyone else want to pipe up?”

The only thing that spoke for about the next ten seconds was the breeze. After that short but tense “talk” was over with, the Chain was back on the move. Safe to say you were distracted as you and the boys traveled, though not by the gazes you felt on your person and on the mask. Rather… it was due to the mask itself. During the argument, it had been on your waist the entire time. With everyone focusing on whoever was taking their turn arguing with Time, they were all blind to the way the mask was reacting. Due to your close proximity to the mask for some time now, you knew full well that Fierce Deity could hear and see what happened around him from his wooden prison. He couldn’t speak, but he could make the mask buzz. He did it seldom, but seldom was not the word you would use for moments ago. Given how a lot of the boys still regarded him as an object, it must have pissed him off. Or, maybe, he was also a little pissed at how his new carrier was being treated. It was likely the former but you at least hope you’ve rubbed off on Fierce just a little bit by now.

…

‘On… put the mask on…’

Okay, maybe you’ve rubbed off on him a little… too much.

The freaky occurrences began to happen nearly a week after you were appointed as Fierce Deity’s new carrier. You didn’t notice the whispers at first as they were quiet and usually spoken while the boys were speaking. You also didn’t notice how the mask would move just a little bit whenever you set it down. Naturally, you couldn’t ignore it for forever- not as the mask only grew more active in regards to your ignorance.

The calls from the mask were getting closer by the day. It’s whisper- his whisper, grew louder for every night that passed. His voice was low and rumbling like a distant thunder, like an approaching storm. You’d put the mask on the other side of your tent (much to the displeasure of whoever you were sharing the tent with at the time) but it’d still end up only a foot or two away from you when morning came. Your once rather passive regard for the mask and the deity trapped within it was becoming… strained as the days went by. The boys noticed it, to the point you wondered if Time planned to take back the mask, but they (aside from a seething Legend) never commented on it. It should have come to the surprise of no one that the rising tension would eventually snap.

“You did pretty good out there today, Wind. I didn’t expect you to take out those three lizafols so quickly,” Wild complimented the young lad as he joined the group around the campfire.

“Ha, naturally! With my rate of improvement, I may even surpass the Old Man one day!” Wind puffed up his chest and grinned. The sight of his youthful happiness and high esteem caused the other men to either chuckle or feel a touch of nostalgia.

“Careful- we’ve seen what praise like that does to one of us,” Legend tsks as he side eyes Wars. The knight rolls his eyes but doesn’t clap back for once.

“It’s well deserved praise, Legend. Wind is truly improving- there’s no harm in letting him know,” Hyrule claims. The man opens his mouth to add more but is stopped when Twilight springs up from his spot and stands stiff as a board. The aura surrounding the rancher is tense as he eyes the tent farthest from the campfire.

“Uh, Twilight? What’s wr-”

“(Name)?” Twilight called out as he took a few steps towards the tent you were currently sleeping in. Due to his heightened senses, he could hear muffled grunts and whines of pain. Could you be having a nightmare? No, if it was a nightmare why did he feel so… worried? Scared, even? Based on the tense men around the campfire, they were starting to feel that as well.

Twilight walks, almost stalks, towards the tent. The wolf within was howling and snarling in the back of his mind, that something bad was happening. An almost shaky hand grabbed the fabric of the tent and… he stalled. Why? Why was he stalling? Why did it feel like he shouldn’t open the tent when he knew that he should? That he has to? That his friend- their friend- was in trouble? Why-

“Leave, Hero of Twilight. This is a private moment and you are not welcome.”

Twilight nearly flung the tent into the field.

A thrashing body was pulled from the tent and pinned down to the ground. Wild reached for the mask stuck to your face and tried to pry it away from you but it wouldn’t budge. While you weren’t transforming into the Fierce Deity, that didn’t mean you weren't under his influence at the moment. His voice had come out of your mouth, after all.

“Dammit! (Name)!” Time bellowed, kneeling beside the scene with an equal mix of anger and worry. Worry because he knows- Hylia does he know what that mask can do and angry at himself. He should have taken the mask back the second it started to show signs of attachment. He should have never let you have it- never let you even touch it.

Suddenly, you went limp. Grunts stopped on the tip of your tongue as you let out a drawn out breath. As if it wasn’t just stuck to your face like glue, Wild yanked off the mask with ease. Aside from some redness and even blood on the outline of your face due to the struggle, your face was largely unharmed. In fact, it looked eerily… peaceful.

Your arms slowly closed in and you hugged yourself. In gentle motions that appeared strange to the Chain- as if it wasn’t really you moving your appendages- you rubbed your arms. Your face settles into a more so neutral expression as you eyes flutter open for just a moment to reveal almost entirely white eyes.

“Shhh… you’re alright now, I told you that it would only hurt for a moment. Shhh…,” Fierce Deity gently spoke out of your mouth before your eyes returned to normal. With a tiny groan, your head lolled to the side as you blacked out.

Safe to say that it was absolute chaos when you woke back up.

Strained voices were arguing somewhere nearby and it didn’t help soothe your forming headache. With wobbly arms, you tried to push yourself up but failed as strength seemingly refused to return to you.

“(Name)? Thank the goddesses you’re awake!” Four pipped up in what sounded like absolute relief. Such relief was short lived as you watched Four get up and run off. You tried to sit up again in your sleeping bag but the weakness in your body persisted. Why? Why were you so weak? You went to bed early, dammit!

A baritone chuckle rings in your ears.

“I apologize for that, dear one. Your lack of strength is due to my actions last night.”

The voice was a shock to your system. You frantically looked around for its origin but couldn’t find it. Your confused actions caused the voice to nearly coo.

“Be not afraid, dear one. I am here, with you. That is why you can hear me.”

Light flooded the tent as what seemed to be a multitude of Links trying to force their way in. Time, thanks to his bulk and armor, was the one who managed to force himself to your side. His grip on your face was almost harsh as he looked over your face with a scrutinizing eye. His hardened scowl made your heart drop into your stomach. Buried fears of the Chain turning on you started to surface as nearly everyone gave you heated glares.

“What did he do? What did Fierce Deity do?” Time questioned as he still held your face, not letting go.

Fierce Deity- of course, how could you forget? Your panic that night as you rolled over and into an awaiting mask. The fear as he grabbed onto your mind despite his gentle tone.

“The mask… I… I rolled over and then it was on my face,” You answer meekly, unsure of what words to use because Time looked like he was about to blow a fuse. Anxious and a little frightened by the Old Man, you rambled on. “I swear that I put it on the other side of the tent! I promise I would never put on the mask like that! I-I… I… I’m going to ask you to unhand their face, Hero of Time. Scaring them will not grant you answers.”

Time let go of your face like it would burn him. A few of the boys behind him instinctively reached for their swords but paused. Even with the blank, white eyes staring back at them, this was still their friend’s face.

“What have you done? Why have you possessed (Name)? How?!” Wars interrogated Fierce Deity as he stared back at him.

“I have not truly possessed them. I merely created a bridge between our minds. It will not let me control them like this for much longer. I can only do so because it is still… fresh,” Fierce Deity explains, a ghost of a smile present in his voice.

“Really now? I don’t believe that for a second! Why else would you create this mental bridge if not to have them as a vessel?” Wild piped up as he tried to get close to his friend’s body. He failed to do so as Time practically shielded you from him.

“Personal reasons. I needn’t explain them to you, but I will assure you that I will not harm them. No, I would never force these innocent hands to slaughter. Not unless they were without choice,” Fierce Deity claims. As he speaks, he rubs your hands together as if enthralled with how gentle they felt compared to the calloused and aching hands he was used to guiding.

“And what, in your mind, is ‘without choice’?” Time pressed, grabbing your hands with a scowl.

“Conflict follows this group like a pack of starving wolves. There have been many times where death nearly sunk its teeth into their neck. Times I wish they would have donned the mask so that I could protect them and get them to safety. Unfortunately, they still believed in the half-truths you all told them were the full truth,” Fierce Deity rumbles as he stares down at Times grip with a less than pleased expression.

“I am not comfortable with what you’ve done to our friend. I don’t know if any of us may grow used to or comfortable with this, but… we also have no way to remove you from them. That does not mean we will not look or try. Don’t grow comfortable with this… this bond. It. Will. Not. Last,” Time threatens as he doesn’t bother to hide his disgust or displeasure. With a motion, he orders everyone else to leave. The Chain leaves the tent one by one, but not before speaking their mind. Once alone together again, Fierce Deity lets his hold slip. One or more of the heroes would come back, with more questions, and they would do so soon. So he would enjoy this little break while he had it.

“They are gone for now, dear one. No doubt they will return shortly, so let us enjoy this piece of quiet while we can.”

You lay on your side, feeling dizzy from Fierce Deity suddenly grabbing the reigns of your mind. Although he backed off once the Chain left the tent, his presence within was close. It was almost as if he was laying behind you, wanting to wrap his arms around you. Wanting to hold you close and only stopped by his lack of physical form.

“I am glad you do not have a heightened sense of smell. Their worry, rage, and envy- oh their envy- would have burned your nose. Ah, but… let us dwell on that no longer.”

Your hand was puppeteered to reach down to your side. Your were made to unclasp the mask from your belt and bring it up close to your face. Rather than putting it on, Fierce Deity touched his “face” against yours. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and almost mouth to mouth.

“Mmm… so soft, as always. If I had need for sleep as you do, then I would not rest unless this is the sight that’s before me. And even then, I may be too enchanted to close my eyes.”

Phantom hands rubbed at your arms, your back, and then your cheek. They weren’t real, but with Fierce’s control of your imagination, they were. And you prayed that is was his influence, and not your own heart, that found it comforting and warm. You wanted to push back and take control but, due to the “fresh” nature of your bond, you would likely be at the mercy of the god for days.

“Rest, dear one. Rest your mind and body, you must still recover from our bonding last night.”

Those phantom hands circled around you and you feel as though you’re caged in an embrace.

“I will deal with the heroes should they come to disturb you. Know that I will not let them part us- not unless they’re looking to stir my rage.”

A kiss. It wasn’t real- it wasn’t, but the rough lips upon your forehead tempted your heart to will that they were.

“And I promise that one day, we will not have to rely on this spiritual bond. No, I will make up for these ethereal affections tenfold when I find out how to return to the material plane. No matter how long it takes. Not that we must worry about that, after all. Our time together… will be eternal.”

---

The next few days were perhaps the most tense you’ve ever experienced. Fierce Deity was a constant presence in your head, even as the bond between the two of you settled. He wasn’t chatty, but just rather curious and inquisitive. When he wasn’t asking questions about you, he was observing. He seemed to derive an almost twisted form of happiness whenever he saw how on edge everyone was around you now . He assured it was out of jealousy of him, not fear or hatred towards you. Were it actually out of new found ill-will… no, you weren’t going to imagine what the god would have in store for them.

True to his word, his hold over your mind lessened the more the bond settled in. No longer would you feel phantom hands wrapping around your own or resting on your shoulder. No longer would it feel like a large body was laying behind your own every night you fell asleep. No longer would it be his voice on your tongue to shoo away the boys should they do wrong in the war god’s eyes. No longer did it feel like he was breathing down your neck every waking moment.

In an attempt to hinder the god’s mysterious motives, you were quickly relieved of the mask he was bound to. It was once again on Time’s hip- now covered and tied up in cloth. Honestly, you were surprised it wasn’t buried into the storage of Wild’s Sheika Slate to create even more distance. Even with what happened, it seemed that Time didn’t have it in him to simply discard the mask. Perhaps he hoped to keep the deity in check, like he had done before you accidentally stirred the entity into action.

And it would seem that that is exactly what Fierce planned on him doing.

It was supposed to be a quiet night. The area was secure, dinner was cooking in the pot, and everyone but Time was idling around the fire. Wind chatted with you about every and anything that came to mind which pushed your focus onto the young man. With your distance from the mask and not thinking about Fierce, you felt nothing from the bond. You felt calm for the first time in awhile and everyone seemed to feel the same.

“Any idea when the Old Man is gonna be back?” Wars asks aloud, looking for nearly anyone to answer him.

“Soon. Dinner’s almost done and he’s not one to miss it. At least when I’m cooking,” Wild hums. It was a simple answer to a simple question, so no one said anything else. Still, it unnerved you. Time sought to set an example, so potentially being late to dinner was unlike him. Curious, you probed on the bond connecting you to Fierce. Even if he’d huff at you checking up on another man before him, you knew you’d get an answer. You always got an answer.

…

“I’ll look for him,” You state as you get up and walk off in the direction of where you last saw Time. Your sudden decision startled the boys and your nervous, almost haunted, expression did nothing to soothe them.

“Then I’m going with you. I don’t want you to getting close to him,” Twilight announces as he catches up to you. His tone left you with no room for an argument but you weren’t going to.

Not when Fierce was being eerily quiet.

You and Twilight took careful steps through the forest as he tried to retrace Time’s path. You both would stop and listen to the ambient sounds of the forest whenever something sounded off. The constant stopping and going only ramped up your nerves further as it kept punctuating Fierce’s refusal to communicate.

“I’m sure we’ll get an explanation when we find him. If you ask me, he might just be getting some alone time. He always does seem to have a lot on his mind,” Twilight piped up as he led you through the woods. The man offered a small smile but the strain on his face wasn’t lost on you. “Any word from him?”

“No. Nothing. It’s like… like there’s no bond at all,” You reply. “Ever since the incident, it’s never been like that. If anything, Fierce always made an effort to feel ‘present’.”

“Maybe… he’s also taking a break?” Twilight suggested, trying to be the optimistic. You shoot him a look and that optimism is quick to falter. Twilight doesn’t give up and faces you with an uneasy smile. He gently places his hands on your shoulders and rubs them a little. You feel that it comforts him more than you. “C’mon, think about it. You’ve said that he’s not as violent as we believe him to be, so m-”

“Remove your hands from them, Hero of Twilight.”

The air is squeezed from your lungs as Twilight suddenly pulls you into a shielding embrace. His fur pelt partly blocks your vision, but you can make out an imposing silhouette between the trees. How did the both of you not notice him?

Fierce Deity was striking. He has to at least be seven feet tall and he was clad in armor similar to Time’s but it was a steely silver, not gold. The armor was lined with white fur with an abundance of it on his collar. Long, flowing locks of white swayed in the night time breeze. Fierce’s silver-gray eyes were framed by strong and downturned brows. His stare was… intense, to say the least. But your eyes weren’t on his. No, you were focused on finding out why there were splatters of blood on him.

“What did you do?!” Twilight growled. “Where’s Time? What did you do to him?!”

“I won’t ask again, Hero of Twilight. Release them,” Fierce commanded as he began to walk towards the both of you. Twilight only seemed to tighten his hold in response. This was going to end up being ugly unless you did something.

“Stop!” You exclaim as you try and fail to wrestle yourself out of Twilight’s hold. Both men head your order but the tense atmosphere doesn’t dissipate. You shoot Twilight a glare but the hero returns it as he shakes his head. True to his word from earlier, he wasn’t about to let you get close to the god of war.

A strangle cough breaks the silence as someone stumbles through the brush. Thanks to the golden armor, you knew exactly who it was.

“Oh god, Time!” You exclaim as the older man leans against a tree for support. His face is banged up and actively dripping blood. His armor was smeared with the red liquid as if he had been trying to wipe off the blood over and over again. Blood bubbled up from Time’s lips as he tried to gurgle out words. The pathetic sight was enough to shock Twilight into action as he let go of you and zipped towards the injured man.

“Ancestor! What happened?! What did he do to you?” Twilight questions as he supports the bloodied man. More gurgles and grunts leave the man’s mouth as he tries to answer the younger man’s questions. It’s clear to all present that Time is in no shape to answer questions despite the desperate need for it.

“Take him back to camp and have him healed up,” You order. The order earns you a stern shake of the head from both Twilight and Time, but you refused to budge. “Now, Twilight! I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Go take care of him,” Fierce chimes in as he looks back to the two men. “No harm shall befall them. You have my word.”

With a tough choice to make, you can see the exact moment when a hero’s instinct takes over Twilight. He lifts up Time and barrels through the forest back to the camp. In the blink of any eye, you’re suddenly left alone with the very person who had to have harmed Time. You’re so out of your league in the current situation that you probably couldn’t even see the playing field on the horizon, but you weren’t about to back down.

“My dear-”

“What did you do to him?” You confront as you stand up as tall as you can. It’s nothing compared to the towering deity, but you weren’t about to let that stop you. Fierce seems amused by your actions. He leisurely walks towards you with his hands by his sides and a small smile on his face.

“Nothing too rash, my dear. Just a broken nose and some scraps to the face. Head wounds tend to bleed quite a lot, as you know,” Fierce answers vaguely.

“Why did you hurt him?” You continue to question as you start to back up. You wanted to keep distance between the both of you in case you had to turn heel and run. Not that’d you’d get very far, but you could only hope.

“I didn’t mean to hit him hard. He came at me and I punched him, simple as that,” Fierce assured as he continued his approach. “Surely, my dear, you believe me? You know I would not hurt another without reason.”

“The mask- how did you escape the mask?” You press as you do your best to keep your distance.

“That wooden prison was old and ready to crack. I never saught to free myself from its binds as there was little in this world that tempted me forward. Well, little until you came around. Ah, I still recall how gently you held me in your hands that night…” Fierce hummed as he closed in. It didn’t take long for him to corner you against a tree. Frozen against the trunk, you could no longer keep space between the two of you. Fierce leaned down and grabbed your hands with his own. He pressed them against his face and he stares straight into your eyes.

“Hello, (Name), I’m the one they call the Fierce Deity. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Words evaded you, as did action. You didn’t pull away nor did you do anything else than having allowed Fierce guide your actions. The god chuckles at your frozen deer response as he moves his hands under your arms and lifts you up. You cringe as he holds you close and blood seeps into your clothes and the smell of iron assaults your nose. Fierce nuzzles against your cheek and buries his strong nose into your shoulder. In your shock, you can’t tell if he kisses your shoulder or if it’s just your imagination.

“YOU BASTARD!”

A growl reverberates through you as Fierce grits his teeth. His embrace tightens as he turns to face a small group of men. A near foaming at the mouth Legend leads the party of enraged me. Upon seeing you in the grasp of the deity, the rabid man refrains from attacking but it’s clear he’s waiting for his opening. A similarly enraged Sky, Four, and Wars follow behind him and a snarling Wolfie is quick to catch up with the group.

“Quell your tongue, Veteran. They’re already stressed enough,” Fierce huffs as he rubs a hand up and down your back.

“Then let them go! Can’t you see that you’re scaring them even further?” Sky argues as he adjusts his grip on the Master Sword. Unlike Legend, he’s not still on his feet as he begins to move in an attempt to flank Fierce. Wars and Wolfie catch onto his plan while Four stays steady beside Legend.

“They are shocked, Hero of the Sky. Their senses are overwhelmed at the moment from tonights events,” Fierce dismisses the claim. He takes his eyes of the men and looks at you. His voice his low and gentle when he addresses you. “Correct, my dear? You know I’d never want to harm or scare you.”

You shrink away from Fierce and refuse to look him in the eye. The actions draw out a sigh from the god but he doesn’t force a response out of you. Instead, you feel yourself sway with his body as he begins to move. There are shouts and orders from the other men to stay still but Fierce acts as if they were little more than the surrounding scenery.

“Let’s get you back to camp. You must be hungry after all of this excitement. Can you hold a spoon? I’ll feed you if you can’t,” Fierce murmurs to you as he walks. You nod in response and the god sighs again. “Come now, my dear, what has happened to that beautiful voice of yours? Do not tell me you’re so mad at me that you’d cut me off from such sweet melodies?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Fierce slows to a stop. You can practically feel the puzzled expression radiating off of his face.

“My dear? What are you talking about?”

“Why are you calling me ‘my dear’?” You repeat as you pull away from Fierce’s shoulder. You can see his face scrunch up at your remark. You also see the men who confronted him following close behind.

“Because you are dear to me, (Name). You treated me fairly and sweetly, like I was a man- not a mask. You’ve told me more than what you’ve told anyone else. You always seemed happy to be near me for the longest time. Even after my brash actions that night, you still didn’t entirely recess into fear,” Fierce answers with a strong tone. “You may not realize it, but that is very important to me. You are very important to me and by the Golden Three do I intend on making that clear.”

Fierce resumes his large gait back to the camp. When he arrives, the reception is chilly. No one moves for their weapons but nor does anyone stay far away from them. Finally, Fierce sets you down onto the ground. You slump down to the soil below you as you take in deep breaths, unaware of how shallow your breathing had been before.

“Get a bowl of food ready- and don’t be skimpy,” Fierce orders as he stares down Wild. Wild grumbles something you can’t make out but he portions out a bowl for you. Fierce takes the portion from the cook before he can even leave the pot to give it to you. He settles himself by your side before shifting you into his lap. A spoon is brought up to your lips before you can argue. At the very least, Wild’s cooking never disappoints.

“Getting comfortable?” A rough voice breaks through the ambience of the night. A now healed but still beaten up Time stares down Fierce without a shred of fear. You immediately notice that he has both eyes open, and they’re both normal. Not to mention the fact that his face was now free from markings.

“Very,” Fierce curtly replies. He doesn’t bother to face Time as he’s focused on feeding you. The deity coos at you as your mouth is stuffed with food and your cheeks puff up as a result. The actions from the towering entity is… strange and off-putting to all present. The boys are stuck between glaring at the deity or cringing at his out of character actions. Fierce couldn't care less.

The evening passed by without much more incident. Everyone was jumpy and gave you and Fierce space despite the expressed distaste towards the new addition. There would be no knight in shining armor for you tonight, so you only hoped that Fierce would keep his word on treating you kindly.

Based on how he clung to you when it was time to go to bed, he seemed only further convinced he needed to assure you of that promise. He had shed his armor so you didn’t have to have metal pressing into you. He had also wrapped you up into a blanket burrito (something he made clear he learned from you and your ramblings) to limit the amount of skin on skin contact between you. He wasn’t blind to his intensity, so he was doing his best to restrain himself. You could only hope he’d keep up the will to do- for everyone’s sake.

“Sleep tight and sweet dreams, my dear,” Fierce whispered as he fiddled with the blanket covering you and stray strands of your hair. “I will be by your side the entire night, should you need me.”

“Okay…” You mumbled out as you wanted to do nothing more than hide away into your blanket. You closed your eyes but no amount of counting sheep would make falling asleep easy. Not with arms caging you to a man ever hungry for even your attention. Ever hungry for even a sliver of affection. By Hylia, what have you gotten yourself into.

“I love you, my dear,” Fierce mumbles as he believes you’re on the brink of falling asleep. “And remember… my love for your is eternal.”

And by the Goddesses, how do you get yourself out?

A wide and fanged smile cracks against the skin of your neck. A dark and hopefully playful chuckle leaves the god of war’s lips.

“You don’t.”

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #lu fierce deity #yandere lu fierce deity #linked universe x reader #yandere lu #Yandere lu x reader

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roseykat · 2 months

Text

TITLE: Venom Eater

SUMMARY: Moving on proves its challenges. Not everyone has the ability to accept that what happened, happened - and what was, was. So as you try to lead a new life, single and trying to heal, the journey proves to be far from easy. It’s worse than difficult and more painful than what you could’ve imagined. The only comforting source is that what will be, will be. And there’s no changing that.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of breakups, exes, angst, arguments, swearing, smut, slices of life here and there, alcohol (Jisung is drunk but there isn’t much detail on it), confrontation.

WC: 6K+

TAGLIST: @emikisses @linos-kitten @chansbabygirlsstuff @lixiespick @frogieeheart @/fuckthinking @nimx9 @/shishou1687 @inniescandy-01 @konstanceee @/rose13255 @queenmea604

Venom Biter (Part 1) | MASTERLIST

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 to Venom Biter! This was originally meant to be longer but I decided that I wanted to flesh out the plot a little bit more so things will get worse and or better who knows…

There’s never a grey area about what people do after a terrible breakup. It’s always black and white. Whether someone cuts their hair, dyes it, alters their aesthetic, or goes on holiday to escape the reality.

The gym can make for the perfect best friend to subtly take revenge on someone a person once had.

But your new best friend was Tinder. A platform of opportunities to explore and select at your perusal. Providing you with gorgeous men who were looking to fuck and nothing more than that. If Tinder wasn’t the buzz for you that night, it would be going out with friends - friends that didn’t include ones that you made through Minho.

These ones’ you would only see about once every three months then band together again as if nothing has changed in the space between. It’s not awkward when you’re around them and so far, it has taken your mind off the past two months. Since then, your connection with Minho has been one of which where-

“God fuck I’m cumming!”

Minho knows he is too when his eyes screwed shut, laying back as he lets you use his cock, “shit, so am I,” he breathes out, watching you roll your hips in a frantic craze to get yourself over the edge. You miss this.

The way that you squeeze around him is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Minho swears towards the ceiling, back arching as his dick glides in deeper. Within a couple of seconds, his vision flashes just as white as your insides that he fills.

The top half of your body flops forward onto his chest, spent from the past fifteen minutes that you’ve been riding him non-stop. Now it’s almost possible to hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat that violently bashes from within. Not wanting to stay in that position for any longer, you peel yourself back, hopping off his body.

“I need you out by seven,” you declare, picking up his sweatpants and t-shirt from the floor and then throwing them right at him.

Minho grumbles but doesn’t flinch, “seven? Fucking hell.”

“Well, I have to go to work so you’re not staying.”

“I figured that,” he fusses before sitting up. “At least let me use your gym here.”

You pause for a second to look at him, wondering where he gets his audacity from sometimes, “fine.”

“Thank you,” he replies then starts donning his clothes as you make your way to the bathroom for a hot shower.

This is what it’s been like for a while now - a pernicious seesaw effect of meeting up with Minho, sleeping with him (usually in the mornings), and going about your day as if he wasn’t in your guts twenty minutes ago.

It’s always a good feeling in the moment but after, there’s a lingering icky weight that you’re tirelessly towing along with you wherever you go. You’re not sure if Minho feels the same because even though you’ve talked to him a few times, there’s no talk of each other's feelings anymore. It’s not that neither of you are ready for that looming and tender conversation. It’s just as if there’s no point.

By the time you were out of the shower, Minho was still on the edge of your bed, fully clothed and ready to leave.

“I’m not making you breakfast,” you say to him, wrapping the towel around your body a little tighter.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to,” he responds. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until the end of the day, because I need to get ready for work.”

He groans, getting fed up, “surely you can get ready and listen at the same time.”

You rustle through your drawers for a pair of underwear and bra, “to other people maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to use the gym, go now,” you instruct sternly, hoping that he’ll just disappear.

When he detects that he can’t get through to you right now, he gives up. It’s too early to argue, so places his hand on the door handle, opening it for himself to leave and head down to the first floor, leaving you to prepare for another day’s work in peace.

After a quick breakfast, getting dressed and decent, you grab your bags and depart. On your way out, you spot Minho using the weights while you dart past the foyer, briefly thinking about how the time to cut him off is fast approaching.

You can’t keep doing this. There’s no way to move on if you’re both still latched onto each other's ankles like how kids are with their parents. That need for one another is still present.

“Who even am I when I’m not with you?” Minho asked you two weeks into sleeping with him again after breaking up. His comment sums up the reason of ‘why you decide to keep running back to each other’.

It’s not a hard statement to understand. You’ve been with Minho for a long time, you’re both still young and haven’t dated anyone else except between yourselves. It’s like being a dog that was never socialised as a puppy, unable to interact with others because it’s not sure how.

Suppose it’s the fear and anxiety that comes with separating from your favourite person.

The world and society have become scarier than it previously was and life is not as secure when you’re not with the person who can shield you from those things. There’s no comfort, only pure vulnerability, and what better way to feel protected than to return to a lover even when there’s nothing but a feeble spark that’s left over from what was once a blazing forest fire.

Seungmin challenges that particular view of yours at dinner with Felix as well after a long day at work. He wanted to see where you were coming from but also because he’s there to force feed you the icy, sobering truth when you don’t want to hear it.

“If there’s no romance, what’s the point of going back to each other?” he asks.

“They were dating for years Seungmin, you don’t just get over someone that quickly,” Felix responds instead like he was the one being offended.

Dissimilar to Seungmin, Lix will let you down gently and is afraid to hurt you with the sharp use of words that can be sometimes.

“Supposedly,” you mutter to yourself knowing full well how fast it was for Minho to just go ahead and fuck someone else after you had broken up.

“Do you still love him?” Seungmin questions swiftly.

“No,” you respond promptly.

“If there was an opportunity to get back together with him, would you go for it?”

“No,” you answer again. “I couldn’t.”

Felix blinks, not expecting that answer, “well…then…”

“Then stop seeing him if you know what’s good for you,” Seungmin continues. “Those icky feelings that you get after sleeping with him - not good. That’s the regret you’re experiencing and it’ll never feel any better.”

There’s no crack or fault in his advice. Had you not dished out the truth about the details of your messy breakup before and after, you would’ve still been glued to the same spot. It’s important to have someone humble you, and there’s no better person to do that than Seungmin.

“Just keep thinking about it, okay? On another note, Hyunjin’s coming back from France next week so we’re having a dinner and drinks,” Seungmin mentions.

Your mind briefly departs from the subject of your ex, “is he? Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, also surprised. “You’re coming right? We’re going to have a few drinks too, and catch up.”

“What time?” You ask.

“Around six,” Seungmin answers. “Does Minho know?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shrug, the thought of him returning to your mind once again. “I don’t know if he’d have any interest in going since they’re not friends anymore.”

Felix recalls that factor, “that’s right. But, if the rest of us are going to be there, we should invite him too, no? Unless it’s too difficult for y-”

“It won’t be difficult,” you reply, punctuating the rest of Felix’s sentence a little too quickly. “He and I can get along for about…ten minutes before things go sour. Plus, I don’t mind not going if he wants to. I can always catch up with Hyunjin another day.”

“You’re our friend too, remember? Don’t let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend stop you from seeing us. You broke up with him, not us,” Seungmin sends you a powerful reminder. “I’ll have a chat with him so that you don’t have to.”

He has a full understanding that if you and Minho were to attempt another civil conversation, it’ll go haywire and lead to more regret that you don’t need to be feeling right now. It just goes to prove that he’s beyond correct to even assume that fact.

The minute you both try to convey how or what it is that you’re both feeling, tensions boil over. For some reason that tension is only resolved by being bent over the nearest surface and fucking it out together.

It’s not healthy.

You go to remind Minho of what he did to you which he hates hearing, not because he denies it but because he does truly feel guilty. His only saving grace to that argument was that you had both technically broken up, meaning there were no ties to one another afterwards. Still, he missed the point of the fact that he hurt you as a result of those actions. It was too fresh to have done that to you.

Even when he recognised that factor, it was hard for him to accept that he actually caused you some form of irreversible emotional harm

However, Seungmin was right in the fact that you broke up with Minho and not your friend which enabled you to leave that dinner feeling a bit better and with a clearer judgement about going forward with a decision to cut all ties with Minho. It wasn’t something to look forward to.

But what was, is the dinner in the upcoming week. It’s the prime opportunity to see everyone again for the first time in over a month.

Despite your collection of text messages and calls from the likes of Chan, Jisung, Changbin and others, it was hard to associate yourselves with them in fear that all they’ll do is unintentionally remind you of Minho. It was the same way he felt when he was clearing out his house - not wanting to be around anyone or anything that would refresh his memory of you.

Now, all you want to do is move on.

Work had a helping hand in that process. Having been so busy with things piling up, your mind was free from Minho during the day. You were able to focus on tasks instead of wallowing and thinking about whether or not to give him a second chance

If it weren’t for Seungmin texting you the details of the upcoming dinner, work-life would’ve swallowed you up whole and made you forget.

From Minnie: 6 pm we’re meeting up, Also, just a heads up, Minho said he’s coming. Take it with a grain of salt though bc he might change his mind.

To Minnie: Thank you :)

You inhale a breath of fresh air. Going to this dinner was necessary whether it was going to be difficult or not. The presence of Minho wasn’t going to stop you from seeing your friends, and with that, you decide to get ready and head straight to the venue.

The restaurant has a separate open area for functions and tables people can book out. The dim golden lighting brings a warm and cosy vibe to the venue, coupled with a beautiful earthy aroma from reed diffusers distributed around the place and the smell of promised good food. It’s a relatively fancy setting, but not to a degree where you would be denied entry if you didn’t meet a dress code.

As you walk further down, you can already see Chan and Jisung chatting up a storm in the corner while they wait for the others. It’s a relief that not many people have made it so far in order to keep as low of a profile as possible and to not draw attention to yourself. However, little by little, they will definitely notice you’re there.

Jisung is the first to spot you, his jaw becomes unhinged as he drags himself out of the booth, speeds over with his face lit up, and throws his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. He nearly squeezes and shifts all of your organs out of place.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he exclaims loudly in your ear.

Chan laughs in the distance at his best friend's behaviour, “let her breathe Jisung.”

He releases your body for a rush of oxygen to surge back to your brain, “sorry, I just can’t help the fact that I haven’t seen you in a month!”

“You Facetimed me Jisung,” reminding him of that one and only time you accepted him reaching out to you to see if you were okay.

“That’s completely different, anyway sit down,” he offers. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Without wanting to hear any protest from you, Jisung darts off to the bar nearby, ordering a beverage or two. Chan then waves out, ushering you to come and sit before you walk towards the booth.

“If I had gone another week without seeing you, I’d probably start to forget what you look like,” Chan jokes, patting his hand down on the space of cushion beside him for you to sit.

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you respond.

The second you’re seated, you can already feel Chan’s mind trying to intrude yours. There’s no point in lying to him when he’s akin to one of those Occlumens from Harry Potter, an all knowing person who can hear every one of your thoughts at will. Regardless of the fact that he’s not, it’s his parental nature which exudes that.

“Going okay?” He asks you.

You take a deep breath in and sigh out, “I could be worse.”

“You’re still here though,” he responds wisely. “And so are we.”

Chan never wanted to ask why you never told them or came to them when you first broke up with Minho. They all had to find out through one another then needed to text or ring you to confirm that it was actually real. However, they all knew that you must’ve had your reasons. Naturally, it would’ve been tough to accept let alone leaning on your close friends for support.

“Thank you,” you respond.

“Here we go,” Jisung calls out, carefully returning with two different types of cocktails. “They’re both strong as hell so don’t try to choose.”

“Not that you’d have it any other way right?” you reply, helping him with the glasses as he sits down beside you.

He pats your head as he goes to sit down and slings his arm around your shoulder, “you know me too well. Anyway, Changbin and Hyunjin are here. He just texted me before.”

Chan sulks, “what? No! he was supposed to wait until everyone else was here.”

“To be fair, they were meant to be here twenty minutes ago so Changbin is actually on time,” Jisung responds. “Anyway, how are you missy?”

“Better now that I’m with you guys,” you answer, giving him a bit of a friendly nudge before leaning into him.

Jisung grins, genuinely relieved on the inside to hear that you are. Not that you have been able to notice, but they were all worried for you at one point. The lack of information regarding your whereabouts or even the state of your well-being was concerning. It was almost like you had dropped off the face of the earth at one point, right up until you finally made the decision to start accepting people trying to contact you.

Unfortunately for your friends, they had to learn about what you were up to through Minho, and even today, you’re not sure if what he said to them was the truth. Nonetheless, they all knew at the end of the day, if they were ever unsure or suspicious of what he was feeding to them, they were mature enough to come to you to double check. If they were able to get through to you.

“Good. Now come back and hang out with me because these guys are boring.”

Chan goes to lift a finger and point across at Jisung to object his statement before Changbin rounds the corner with Hyunjin trailing at his side.

The last you saw him was some five years ago, just before he went away to an arts’ school in France to study. Now he returns taller with much more cut and distinct features and a head of light brown hair that’s visibly eclipsed his natural jet-black colour. Despite that, he also seems softer or shy when he gives everyone at the table a half smile.

“Who’d you say was boring?” Changbin prods into the conversation.

Jisung points up with his beverage in hand, “you and Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows knit together with worry, “is he drunk already?”

A bright smile fashions on Changbin’s face when he notices you, “Y//N! Now it’s two welcome home parties!”

Hyunjin turns to look down at you in surprise, “have you been away as well?”

His question serves as a reminder that he has been relatively out of the loop since he’s been gone – not that you expected him to be fully aware of everything since he probably had better things to do. Hyunjin was still active in the group chat, but none of you prefer to communicate that way when hanging out is the better option. Whilst he’s missed out on a lot of stuff that’s happened, he hasn’t been so oblivious to other things.

“Not exactly,” you respond awkwardly. “But welcome back by the way.”

He smiles softly, “thank you.”

The get-together officially kicked off when Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix arrived just before the second round of drinks was ordered. Everyone was happy to have Hyunjin back. Even for you, it was nice to see him again after so long – it was nice to see everyone in general. The setting was reminiscent of old times when everyone banded together. Whether it was at karaoke, dinner, a bar, someone’s house, or at some event, it’s always a good feeling when you’re around them.

It leads you to feel slightly upset that you haven’t seen them in so long. You’ve missed hearing their laughs, their jokes, and the safety that you feel too. But for a very painfully obvious reason, none of it seems to be the same without Minho.

“Didn’t show up did he?” Seungmin, who had been chatting up a storm with someone at the bar, walks over and takes a seat opposite you at the cornered booth. Just about all of them were alternating from the table to the bar, and a space they’d found to stand up to talk, or in Jisung’s case, dance by himself.

“Mm,” you mumble. “Which I’m sure is a good thing.”

He shrugs carelessly but with a small grin, “for your benefit. Not that I’m an expert in relationship problems but I can speak from personal experience.”

“That’s true,” you respond, remembering that he has in fact had his heart broken a few times by the same person.

Luckily for him, he’s ceased the chase and gave an account the other day at dinner of how freeing it was to be his own individual. It’s something you can only hope to achieve at this point – to be liberated from that sticky dependency you have on Minho.

It’s not love that you feel for him anymore, you’re sure of it. But it’s similar to a violent craving. His skin, voice – oh his voice. Everything about his body has you itching under the surface to have him by your side even though things end in a fiery argument, which is usually how it goes.

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependency. A type of separation anxiety that fills you up with this icy cold feeling that won’t go away until you specifically have Minho near you. Still, deep down, you knew you didn’t love him anymore.

“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin ticks his head towards his friends’ direction.

Judging by the fact that Chan was holding a barely conscious Jisung up was a clear indicator that he definitely wasn’t okay. Never has he been able to handle his alcohol well and it was evident by the lack of control over his own body.

Seungmin looks over concernedly then looks down at his phone to check the time, “shit, I have to take him home too.”

He abandons you briefly to help out Chan. Both of them collectively agree that Jisung needs to go home or at the very least be removed from the bar to sober up. They take him to an empty table nearby and ask the bartender for some water. Meanwhile, Hyunjin turns a blind eye to the chaos and talks to you instead.

“How have you been Y/N?” He asks.

“Yeah, good. You? How was France?”

By the look on his face, it was as if your question brought back a whole heap of good memories to the forefront of his mind, “I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.”

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. “So have you graduated already?”

“Three months from now I will be,” he answers. “Why? You wanna come watch me walk across the stage over there?”

You consider his offer, “what if I said ‘yes’ to that?”

“Then I’d be over the moon,” Hyunjin emphasises then offers a brilliant suggestion that springs into his mind. “In turn, maybe I can show you around France and all the places I went to.”

“Is that a deal then?”

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” he responds and whether he was joking or not, either way, it seemed a pleasant idea.

During the last hour of the dinner, you spent having an in-depth conversation with Hyunjin. From what he got up to in France, what he wants to do in the future, then covered what you’ve been doing as well

The topic of your ex-boyfriend was difficult to navigate, but you managed it well by diverting to another subject. The last thing you wanted to talk about was Minho for fear that the more you think about him, the more you’d want him.

Then again, you’re reminded once more of the fact that Hyunjin and Minho aren’t friends. He may not have any interest in him whatsoever. But it’s not like they left each other on horrendous terms. Not like how you and Minho did. Plus, it’s hard to see this fresh shade of Hyunjin in front of you, hating anyone he doesn’t like or doesn’t know.

The Hyunjin from five years ago would’ve held a grudge, but now you can see by his shift in personality, that he’s let it go.

When it came down to having to leave, everyone seemed to have their own plans. Seungmin would have the misfortune of taking care of Jisung. Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin decided to go bar hopping while they were still stable on their feet and even encouraged you to come with them. It took a lot of convincing to tell them ‘no’ after you were set on heading home to the comfort of your own space.

Seungmin assured Chan that he was fine to handle Jisung, then thought it would be a polite gesture to accompany your side when you decided to walk home, regardless if it was only a minute's commute from the restaurant.

“How are you holding up?” Chan addresses the elephant in the room.

His question could be seen a mile away. It made you wonder if that was the reason he chose to walk you home since his place is in the opposite direction. Although he wasn’t confronting you, that’s exactly what it felt like.

“Somewhat okay, I suppose,” you answer.

“No, how are you really? We see Minho all the time. In fact, he won’t leave us alone. But we haven’t seen you,” he responds. “You can still hang out with us you know?”

“I know that,” you almost whine, especially after offering your ear to Jisung just for him to repeat the same words for over two hours. “I’ve been busy.”

“I guess being busy is a positive.”

“It’s when there’s nothing to do or I don’t feel good and I don’t have anyone around,” you respond and both come to a halt when you reach the entrance to your apartment building. “That’s the hardest.”

“That’s when you call us,” Chan says strictly. “I know you know this too, but all of us would drop whatever it is that we’re doing to come and help you. Not just Minho, even though I had some reservations about seeing him after what he did.”

The last parts of his words surprised you. Chan actually thought about cutting Minho off too when he found out what happened…

“So he did tell you everything.”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Including everything that you’ve both been up to now. Like how you still see each other now and then – and not for the reasons I had hoped. So why do you keep seeing him when you want to move on?”

Your eyes narrow at him, “how do you even know that I want to move on?”

“The fact that you still sleep with him but won’t pursue any sort of communication to get back with him romantically, says a lot Y/N. And I know that because he’s told me,” Chan answers bitterly, but not in a nasty way. “Your body might miss him, but I know your mind doesn’t.”

He’s bitten through the truth which you can’t seem to, his elderly brother-type personality forces you to see reason. You’d be offended if Minho tried to initiate a conversation about wanting to get back together, knowing that he’s not in any position to be making requests after what he did.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You ask tiredly.

“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “Yes, Minho too in some way, but I told him he needed to figure out what he did on his own because I can’t help him with that. That’s his punishment.”

You supress a laugh, “thank you.”

Your short talk with Chan made you realise how empty your cup had been since you last saw him – since you last saw all of your friends under one roof. It was rewarding and it felt like home to be near them. However, his words weren’t there for you to just defer from. You had to listen to him. He was right in saying that your body misses Minho but your mind doesn’t because the next time he came around, you swore to yourself that it was going to be the last time you saw him.

But it needed a conversation, one that you weren’t even sure if you were ready to have, too scared to rip that band aid off.

As you don your bra back on and shimmy on your underwear that Minho almost tore off, you think of all the possible ways to approach this situation, bearing in mind that it does have the potential to blow up.

“W-We need to talk,” you stammer, wondering if that’s a good way to start. It’s a start, that’s all that matters.

Minho stares at you from the other side of your bed, halfway through putting on his t-shirt, “okay, what about?”

Without any warning, you blurted out what needed to - what must be said, “we should stop seeing each other.”

Heavy silence drapes over the room, except for the cogs working overtime in Minho’s brain, trying to decode your words could almost be heard. You can most definitely see it on his deadpan face. It illuminates the seriousness of the situation compared to what it was five minutes ago.

“Can you give me some more detail about that?” He requests.

“I just don’t think it’s healthy that we continue to sleep with each other when we’re not going to get back together,” you inform him.

“You don’t want to get back together?” Minho poses the long awaited question that hurts to even conjure an answer.

“Be honest, we’d be together right now if you knew that I was serious about it,” you say truthfully. “I’ll never not love you, but I can’t love you in the way that I used to.”

The sheer surprise of the conversation made Minho realise that he’s been consuming too much of a good thing. That he actually wasn’t prepared to talk to you about this. It’s been creeping around the back of his mind since you both started seeing each other casually but ignored it so as to spend as much time with you as he could even though you weren’t with him anymore.

“Right.”

“Look, just…don’t go cold on me, because I do want to talk to you about these things,” you plead with him.

“Such as?”

“Such as our friends,” you start off. “All of us hang out a lot, but I didn’t want our…breakup to stop either one of us from seeing them. They’re your friends and mine too. I’d hate for us to be driven away from them because we can’t coexist anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

You can sense that he’s already starting to shut down. An obvious coping mechanism that’s triggered by something he wasn’t prepared to hear. But while the final shreds of his rationality are still with you in the room, you make haste, and dish out the important points he needs to know.

“We might not ever be friends again even though that’s not what I’m hoping for-“

Minho stands up from the edge of your bed, cutting the rest of your sentence off in the process, “if you’re serious about everything that you just said, then I don’t want to see you text or call me first asking me to come over. This isn’t a one-sided deal that only applies to me, you have to stick to it as well.”

“This isn’t even a deal Minho. I am telling you not to.”

“What? Telling me ‘not to’ because you can’t control yourself around me? Fine. I don’t know if you realise this, but the majority of the texts between the both of us, are mainly sent from you - you asking for me, telling me how lonely you are, or how much you miss my body. So don’t start handing out instructions when you’re not going to adhere to them as well.”

There’s a viper-like sting to his words that keeps piercing your resolve. A truthful sting that seeps poison into your blood, making you feel sick and cold. He’s torn you off your high horse for a moment, bringing you back down to earth to realise that it’s not just him who needs to see reason as well.

He had a very strong argument.

Minho sighs and tails more information to his tangent, “look I will do whatever it is that you want me to do. But, if this is what you want, then you can’t deny that it will only work one way.”

There’s an efflorescence of achiness in your chest. A familiar one that you felt in the early days after breaking up with Minho. It was the same one you would feel whenever you’d have to lock the door to the spare bedroom in his house whenever he bought someone else over.

Heartbreak.

It lingers when he finally leaves with the promise of never reaching out to you again, at least for sex because there was no way of avoiding him in the future. That fact was impossible to refute. But this is what breakups consist of. Not one hairline shy off of being messy. It could, though, be much worse. That’s as much you had to be grateful for when you have to start from square one all over again.

Changing things up was necessary. You had already moved out from Minho’s, which there was no choice behind, but that meant new scenery. Different places to peruse in your own time that you hadn’t yet ever since you had moved out

It opened up new opportunities to visit some local things, especially on your way back home from work as you decide to call into a small cafe.

Soft bossa nova plays calmly in the background as you stand and deliberate on something sweet to take home with you for after dinner. If it weren’t for the many niche options to select from, you would’ve almost missed the voice talking from beside you.

“I heard the matcha bread is nice here.”

Your surprise gets the better of you, almost forgetting how to speak for a split second when you see a familiar tall figure you met once more from the other week.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Wanna sit down together?”

You end up ordering yourself a warm drink and a sweet pastry to go while Hyunjin found a small table right in the crook of the cafe. His sudden appearance was rather pleasant, allowing you to divert from your own thoughts for a bit. Plus, it’s always nice to sit and chat with a friend.

“I thought you might’ve been here to meet up with one of the others,” you say to him.

Hyunjin nods, putting his coffee down, “I just spent the last couple of hours helping Changbin buy clothes just down the road at one of the shopping centres, so that’s where I came from.”

You smile, “well he trusts you more than the others in that department.”

“As he should,” Hyunjin grins softly. “How are you?”

“I’m well, I just finished work and was heading home,” you respond.

“I’m not keeping you from going am I?” He asks politely.

“No, not at all,” You quickly exclaim. “The longer I stay, the more of an excuse I have not to do the mountain of things I need to for work.”

Hyunjin chuckles, “well, as long as it doesn’t get you into trouble with your colleagues.”

“I should be fine,” you hope.

“You know, when I think about it, you and I never really spoke that much back then,” he points out. “I only just realised that from last week when I saw you again.”

His comment makes you think back too

Hyunjin was definitely part of your friend group, but not one who you would hang out with individually or with another person. He was just there, almost like he was known to you by association. Aside from the fact that he’s well-mannered and kind, the only aspect of his personality that seemed to have changed is how boisterous he used to be.

Although, that’s to be expected when people mature and cross the bridge from adolescence to adulthood.

“True enough,” you reply and start snickering when you remember something funny. “But I have good memories of you though. Like when you threw that bottle at Jisung.”

Hyunjin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “I remember that. I could’ve killed him with that too.”

“Or when Chan had to pull you up from the train tracks because you fell off the platform and got stuck,” you add on.

“Most of those memories seem to have some type of mortal peril attached to it,” Hyunjin discovers.

“You were young,” you remind him tenderly. “They make for the best memories anyway.”

He agrees, staring into a space on the table as he reminisces, “true. So much has changed since I got back. I feel like I’ve missed out on growing up with you all even though we were just teenagers back then and adults now.”

“Maybe, but we’re still young though and some have more growing up to do than others,” you hint very cryptically at one person who automatically springs to mind. “So don’t feel sad that you’ve missed out when there’s still a lot for us out there.”

Hyunjin sits a bit more comfortably knowing that. As you both continue to talk, he realises how much you’ve changed yet somehow remained the same. You grew into your features, enhancing what was already there to a finer degree. Your looks were Hyunjin’s first impression of you when you first met as devious young teenagers.

That was before he discovered that you are as kind and cool as you come across. But you were just distant friends back then. Now, Hyunjin detected a space for that to potentially change. He wanted to get to know the friend he hung out with here and there.

Even though time threatened to cut the starting opportunity short, it was still a start nonetheless, and Hyunjin was confident that there would be other times to arrive as well. So as the baristas begin cleaning up behind the counter and around the cafe, both you and Hyunjin took it as a sign that it was probably time to head off. You both take your belongings, thank the staff on your way out and head into the night.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says to you. “We should get coffee again sometime.”

You nod, “I’d love that. I still have your number.”

“So do I,” he replies. “What way are you heading?”

“I’m just literally around the corner, not even a minute away,” you answer.

“Okay, I’ll look forward to your text then,” he says.

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know fic

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sugairsstuff · 4 months

Note

hey… 💋 was wondering if you could write something for aragorn… you know who this is. you know what i’m asking for.

@theactofknowing yes i know who this is. here is payment. (p.s. they also write!)

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

to bloom

aragorn x half-elf gn/reader

warnings: descriptions of nudity

summary: you and aragorn have known each other for years, resulting in the two of you inevitably falling in love with each other though never admitting it. though, it turns out all a love confession took was a bar of soap and you two bathing in a lake together.

Exhaustion has long since seeped into your muscles, the motion of placing one boot in front of the other becoming a rhythmic pattern you refuse to break for you know you won’t be able to pick it back up again.

Strong winds roll through the grassy fields, making a mess of your untied hair and causing your eyes to catch the billowing of a dark cloak in front of you. You raise your head slightly to gaze at the owner of the garment: reluctant heir of Gondor, unnamed leader of the little band titled the Fellowship the group of you have formed- and although commonly known as Strider, this part-elf is simply Aragorn to you.

The pair of you had been picked up by the group of hobbits you traveled with in Bree, helping them to evade the infamous Nazgûl and inevitably being brought along the daunting journey laid out for them. You had first met Aragorn years ago when he had first left Rivendell. You led a similar fate to Aragorn after you befriended him, leaving the safety of your current life for one of adventure alongside the ranger. Poets would say you were seeking meaning, you joke that you were bored.

The seed of friendship you and Aragorn had planted then was watered through the experiences you shared on your travels, the memories that wrapped themselves like vines around that bond holding you two together, and every laugh and secret you both managed out of each other in peaceful times. But then you two began to look at each softer, speak to each other quieter for the words were meant only for the two of you, touch each other in fleeting moments that may not have been accidents- and then that seed grew into a budding flower of more that you gathered up and have held deep within your chest. Though no matter how much you both watered the bond of your friendship since then, that flower has never seemed to bloom.

Aragorn finally looks over his shoulder to the rest of you, and everyone momentarily pauses as he lifts his hand to guide everyone’s attention to a forestry patch of land seated a few hundred metres south of the hill you all waited on. “We’ll take camp there for tonight. We won’t reach Lothlorien by dusk, and I haven’t seen a better place for cover yet.” he instructs. Nobody seems to disagree, not even the opinionated elf or eager dwarf who both wait at your sides. Once three of four hobbits start celebrating, enthusiastically asking who would hunt for dinner, you offer Aragorn a small smile and nod of assurance. He repeats the gesture and turns to lead the way, but not without a response to the impatient hobbits, “You all can hunt dinner for us tonight, how does that sound?” which silences them.

You hurry a pair of paces to match the long strides of Aragorn, who slows down when he notices exactly who is on his tail. “You look exhausted,” you tell him, amusement flickering in your eyes as you look to him.

“As do you,” Aragorn shoots back, his brows raised in subtle entertainment at your rather honest opening line.

You scoff lightheartedly and get to the point of your words, reaching down to the satchel at your side to unbutton the flap and reveal the contents. Aragorn leans over you to peer into the bag, finding four small bars of soap.

“From the travelling merchant we crossed earlier?” the heir asks, and you nod proudly as if this was a noble accomplishment on your end.

“I do not have confidence in myself to survive another day with the… natural aroma of our companions,” you jest, and pause, “or you.”

And to your pleasant surprise, Aragorn’s chin tilts back- outlining the sharp line of his jaw- as the man lets a genuine laugh escape his lips. “I would not say you are so innocent in the matter, either,” he says, the closed-lipped smile on his face not faltering as you send a warning glare his way.

You feel lighter as you walk alongside Aragorn the rest of the way to the tree border, smiling like a giddy child for longer than need be over the silly interaction. You and Aragorn maintain the front as the lot of you push further into the forest until Aragorn stops, glances around, and looks to you and Legolas for approval.

You turn to look over your shoulder, and when you see that the forest has become dense enough to block the border to the grasslands from your line of sight, you say, “I think we are far enough in.”

Legolas had already found perch on a fallen log, fiddling with the strings of his bow, and so you and Aragorn simply take that as a sign he agrees.

As the sun dips behind the distant hills, the shadows of the trees encompassing you all extend until the soft starlight slipping through the canopy dims them. Now, camp is set up, and the fire Aragorn once was stroking while Gimli cooked the hunted meal of the evening has been forgotten. Most of your companions have spaced out their places for the night, all but the hobbits who crowd next to their friend Frodo.

You gingerly place your things down nearby Aragorn’s, and when you offer to take first watch Aragorn’s volunteer to do the same comes not much later than yours. You both sit next to each other as you listen to the idle noises of your companions turn to quietness, and quietness to silence save for the surrounding sounds of the forest.

You catch Aragorn glance to you in your peripheral vision which tempts you to steal a glance back. When you do, you are surprised to see he has risen from the leafy floor he was sitting on and began crossing the few metres that separated the two of you. You stay sitting, craning your neck as Aragorn now stands a few feet in front of you. You tilt your head in questioning.

“There is a lake nearby, I saw it when I scouted the perimeters earlier,” his voice is low, quiet, though you see his Adam’s apple bob slightly as he swallows, “May I borrow the soap?”

Any hint of drowsiness has been stolen from your body, your heart beating rapidly as you nod to him. You do not like how the thought of the man doing the simple act of bathing makes your body blaze like a catching fire. You dig into your nearby satchel and hand him one of the square, neutral coloured bars. Aragorn turns the dry thing in his hand a few times before he turns and walks away.

You do not watch him go and rather turn back to your satchel to close the button of it, wondering why the crunching of leaves beneath Aragorn’s walking feet ceased so swiftly. Curiously, you turn to check, finding Aragorn returning your gaze.

Aragorn clears his throat. “Would you like to join me?”

You can only blink, feeling that flame return to your body as his words act like oxygen and spread its tendrils through you.

“Yes, I would,” you say, though the words come out more breathless than you had expected.

You feel Aragorn’s eyes on you as you stand, dusting off your trousers in the most awkward of ways before padding over to where he stands. He only looks down at you, the look in his eyes gentle yet unreadable before he quietly turns and begins to guide you to this lake.

“What of the others?” you ask, glancing back.

“I do not wish to bathe with Gimli,” Aragorn responds with blunt humour, looking back at you with a raised brow.

“No, I mean that we promised to watch the camp,” you correct, managing not to roll your eyes.

“The lake is not far. We will know if something happens.” he assures.

Although it may be easy for him to remain alert, you are not sure if you can trust your instincts once you are distracted with the sight of Aragorn’s bare body. Aragorn seems to see apprehension on your face, and makes a bold move of reaching back to brush his fingers against yours. Then, your fingers close around each other’s like lock and key, and Aragorn is gently pulling you until you reach a clearing.

The trees wrap around the small, oval lake like a wreath. The water is not murky, a sign that it is untouched, and instead when you peer into it you see both your reflection and the moon above.

When you turn to see what Aragorn is doing, unsure if you are welcome to begin undressing so openly, you see that the ranger has already begun to do exactly that. You heart leaps and your chest flutters so much that you think that bud in you is instead a cocoon that has just sprouted a dancing butterfly.

Aragorn already unclasped his cloak from around his neck, discarding it nearby on a rock that borders the lake’s edge. He disarms, setting his weapons on the same rock should he need them, then reaches for the hem of his tunic. The man pulls the fabric off of him slowly, revealing to you the muscles beneath that you have only been able to imagine until now. You gaze at him, following the movement of his hands until you see them stop. Your eyes flick up slightly and are met with an amused half-smirk on Aragorn’s end. That flame in you moved to burn in your cheeks as you turn your head away, seeing Aragorn slowly walk towards you in the edge of your vision.

“Do not be nervous,” he says quietly, his hand turning your jaw slowly so you meet his eyes again. You feel your heart in your ears as his attention moves lower, lower, lower, and then back. “Would you like me to help?”

You can only nod. He smiles and nods back before his hands move to the clasps of your cloak, working it undone with ease. He sets your weapons aside somewhere- too distracted to take note- before he pulls your tunic off of your raised arms. Aragorn takes a step closer, removing the rest of your undergarments before a turn of his head causes his lips to brush against the shell of your half-pointed ear, “Beautiful.” he murmurs, evoking a pleasant shiver that slips down your spine.

His hands, resting on each side of your waist, move downwards until they reach the band of your trousers. You kick off your boots in silent encouragement, and Aragorn turns his head further to look down at you properly. Then he begins to slowly drag the last few pieces of your clothing that kept you decent, and once you stepped out of them- Aragorn now kneeling before you as he set aside your aside garments- you heard both of your breaths hitch.

Aragorn rises again, your breaths heavy as you both glance in the direction of whence you came, checking that none of your sleeping friends have noticed your absences. You look back at Aragorn first and see how the moonlight betrays Aragorn as he slowly drifts his attention back to you, illuminating the red tinting of his cheeks. He takes his sweet time in simply looking at your body, and you hear him sigh softly- a gentle, sweet exhale. The amusing thought of him swooning over you like a damsel crosses your mind.

Aragorn seems to notice the light dancing in your eyes, and he takes your hand and leads you to the rocky edges of the lake. “After you,” he tells you, and you feel as his eyes never leave you as you descend into the water. You wade around, taking note that water in the area you stand reaches your middle, and watch as Aragorn strips himself of the rest of his clothing.

Shamelessly, you stare as he undos his trousers, slipping them off alongside his undergarment and blushing when he sees you looking. You offer a coy smile in return, reaching over the edge to grab the soap he left on it as he enters the water alongside you.

“You first,” you tell him, and he obeys by wading over to where you stand. As you dip the soap into the water, getting some of the substance on to your hands, you feel a little grateful that the water is just high enough to reach Aragorn’s waist. He remains where he is as you work the soap into his skin, your heart jumping each time he sighs when you press into a particularly sore muscle. His skin gleams with moonlight and sparkles with droplets of water that cling to the short strands of hair on his chest leading downwards. You wash his arms, focus on his shoulders, and when he turns around to let you do his chest your hands linger there.

“Friends do not do these things,” is what Aragorn decides to say to break the comfortable silence.

“No, they do not,” you agree, your voice wavering with uncertainty. You keep your gaze on his chest, cupping water in your hand as you rinse off the soap. You let him wash the parts of him below the surface of the water, grinning as you can’t help but steal glances. But he says nothing else, nor do you, as you quietly find a seat on a ledge in the rock. Aragorn moves to stand between your legs, leaning back so his head is nearly against your chest.

You gather soap on your hands once more, lathering the suds through his hair. You watch from above as he sighs and closes his eyes, giving in to temptation as he leans further back into you. You massage the soap into his dark oak curls, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheek and the corners of his pink lips tug upwards ever so slightly. You tilt his head back a little more as you cup water into your free hand, pouring it along the back of his head and watch as it drags the soap off of his curls that resist straightening even when wet.

Before you have the chance to climb down from your perch on the rock, Aragorn reaches a hand to your calf. His fingers dance along the skin, as if exploring, and travel up until they reach your thigh. By then, he’s looking up at you, and you are looking down at him, and his face is so close to yours you know that you both are only trying to see who caves first.

And it is Aragorn who does. He tilts his chin only slightly, which is enough to capture your lips in his as you lean over him. Your hands move to drape around his neck as his continue their journey up your thighs. He lifts you by the waist, bringing you back down to the lake floor with him so that it is he who must bend downwards to keep kissing you. You press your chest into his, standing practically between his legs as you both run your hands over each other’s bodies. Aragorn leaves a spark everywhere his fingers brush- your waist, your legs, back, chest, neck- he is everywhere but it is still not enough.

You know now what it feels like to bloom as that bud deep within your chest comes to life as Aragorn’s hands find their final place on each side of your face. His thumbs stroke gently in a lover’s caress as he finally breaks the kiss, though he does not move far. The look he gives you as you both stand together- chests heaving and lips puffy red with adrenaline pumping through your veins- tells you that Aragorn has just discovered what that feels like too, for there has been a matching budding flower in him, as well.

“We are not friends,” Aragorn finally says. You have never heard his voice so soft, “we are more.”

#aragorn x reader #aragorn #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #lotr #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship x reader #the lord of the rings #tlotr

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