#and i thought. what if wash's last name starts with w so his initials are dw (dean winchester) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 1 year

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UNDER THE COLLAR. -l.sm

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so... how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

pairing; lee seokmin x gn!reader. (he calls reader pretty once but that is all<3) content; fluff / some mild angst towards the middle / pining / friends to… still friends but with some ~tension~ and a snuggle? w/c; 4.6k and a smidge. warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption (offscreen), drunkenness, some suggestiveness (MINORS DNI), reader has some hard thoughts, a bit of affectionate touching but nothing deliberately sexual? seok is needy and cuddly (and a terrible flirt). let me know if i've forgotten anything! note; this was originally gonna be part of a mini-series/multi-chap situation but!! i ended up hating the full thing and only being attached to like. two parts of it lol so here we are! there could potentially be a second part to this? if people want it? i don’t know yet! but this kinda just works as it’s own standalone thing anyway i think~ happy sunday <3

The first text comes through just after you finally set your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes are dry and have started to sting from a long evening staring at screens, your bones feel impossibly heavy, and you think maybe you’re settling down for a semi-decent night’s sleep when you hear the buzz of a notification. A buzz you initially plan to ignore. It can’t be anything that important: who would be trying to reach you at this time of night, anyway?

You roll away from the device and snuggle down into your pillows, pulling the sleeves of your — his — jumper down over your palms and resting them just in front of your face. This particular garment stopped smelling like Seokmin after the second time it went through your washing machine, but there’s a familiarity in the slightly rough inner lining that makes you want to wear it to sleep in every night, forever. He never liked it when his hoodies were too new, too soft, leaving balls of fluff all over his t-shirts and vests; you don’t know when you started to feel the same way, but you’ve realised recently that you do.

Your eyes flutter closed and your body relaxes, head starting to feel fuzzy in that calm, white-noise, lovely way. You haven’t felt this tired and genuinely sleepy for… months. It’s bliss.

And then your phone buzzes again. You squeeze your eyes tighter, determined not to lose this warm, comfortable feeling, but your phone vibrates and vibrates and vibrates and with an audible groan, you sit back up, reaching over to see what, exactly, is so damn important at 02:23 in the fucking morning.

Seokmin’s contact name flashes up on the lock screen and you see that there are seven unread messages from him in the space of the last 3 minutes. Instantly, your brows draw together: he’s seldom shied away from a double text, but you’ve never known him to pull a septuple, and you can’t feel but feel a little bit of dread in your stomach as you read through them.

> seokmin: yn

> seokmin: ynnnnnn

> seokmin: i lied

> seokmin: i didmt go homr yet

> seokmin: can you come get mr

> seokmin: mr

> seokmin: m e

You shoot back a message instantly asking where he is, turning on your bedside lamp and already swinging your legs out from under the covers. You keep hold of your phone in one hand, waiting for it to buzz again to tell you he’s given you his location. With the other, you search for and pull on some sweatpants, sliding into a pair of sneakers. His replies come simultaneously too quickly, and entirely not fast enough.

> seokmin: u knkw the bar in town with the bear statiiue oitside

> seokmin: lol

> seokmin: do you think i ciuld beat thsi bear in s fight???

> y/n: christ. okay, wait inside for me. i’ll be there in 15.

> y/n: also, no. you couldn’t. x

Your veins feel alive with adrenaline and worry as you grab your keys and head down the stairs to your car. The drive is quiet — you don’t even waste the few seconds it would take to plug into the AUX and pick a playlist, leaving it up to the radio to keep you company on the way. It doesn’t take too long: soon enough, you’re pulling up alongside the infamous bear statue to find your best friend sitting on the curb, propped up against the marble base.

“I thought I told you to wait inside?” you chide, rolling down the passenger side window so you can announce your arrival. It’s like he’s moving in slow-motion, or maybe your words just take an extra few seconds to reach him? Either way, he doesn’t lift his head until a silence has settled between you, and he doesn’t smile until his slightly glazed-over eyes land on your face.

“Y/n!” He cheers, lifting himself off the floor and staggering upright, pushing a hand through his hair. “Hi! Yeah, I know — but look, it was too hot in there. It was so hot. And I didn’t want you to wait-…” Hiccup. “To have to wait for me.”

He slides into the passenger seat with a contented sigh, a mess of long limbs he can’t quite control, adjusting the vent in front of him so that the cold from your air-con breezes against his flushed cheeks. As he settles, you reach over him, pulling his seatbelt across his chest.

“I was getting to that,” he whines, pouting his pretty lips at you, and you click the belt in place with a laugh. History tells you that when he’s drunk, Seokmin doesn’t always believe in the power of the seatbelt, among other things, so you think maybe you could be forgiven for not believing him this time.

“Okay, dumbass. Sure you were.”

He reaches down into the passenger footwell for your AUX cord, bumping his head on the dashboard and letting out an exaggerated hiss as he sits back upright. Nonetheless, he plugs his phone in and presses play on his own night-driving playlist, holding the device between both of his hands as you start off towards his place.

“So…” you prompt, because he’s staring blankly out the windscreen with a tiny smile on his lips and you’re concerned that maybe, this time, he has actually managed to drink himself stupid. He rolls his head over to look at you, and fond bliss is written into every line of his face. “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, still just… staring at you as you drive. Staring, even though every detail of you is committed to his memory already. Staring, even though he knows how your eyelashes flutter when you blink. Even though he knows how the muscles in your throat bob as you swallow the saliva on your tongue. Even though he’s sat in your passenger seat enough times to remember exactly how the late-night glow of the street-lamps overhead catch and illuminate the curve of your nose, how they highlight the point of your chin. He knows all this, but he can’t help himself. Staring is… indulgent. So, so indulgent. But he is pretty drunk and he can get away with it when you’re focused on the road — at least, that’s what he tells himself.

When he does attempt to speak, just as you slow to a stop at a set of traffic lights, the sparkle in his gaze falters. He faces forward again, shoulders rising and slumping in a meek ‘I don’t know’.

“She was… perfect, I think,” he tries to explain, and you glance across to look at him; his lips are both non-existent, pulled between his teeth and he has worry lines creasing up his forehead. With the hand not holding the wheel, you reach over, pressing your fingertips to where his eyebrows have scrunched to try and get him to relax the muscles there. It sort of works, if only because he releases an involuntary breath of a laugh.

“Not perfect,” you gasp, dramatic and teasing even though it stings a little to hear him say that out loud. “I mean, that definitely explains why you were out drinking, alone, three hours after you told me you were heading home.” He turns his head fully away from you, now, letting your hand drop dangerously towards his lap. You pull it back to yourself before it collides with his jeans, clearing your throat. The traffic signal changes to green, and you drive ahead. “I’m kidding. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, despondent, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure you’ve seen him acting like this since you were teenagers. It’s a strange twist away from your usual, very easy-going banter.

“Seok...” You try again. “I won’t stop for nuggets if you don’t tell me.”

“Don’t stop, then.”

“Seokmin…”

“Don’t-…” It comes out quickly, the vein in the side of his neck popping until he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Y/n. I’m tired, I just-… I don’t wanna talk about it. Can you please just… take me home?”

He’s still struggling with his words, but he isn’t abrasive in the way he speaks; that’s something you learned about Seokmin very early on in your friendship. He doesn’t raise his voice at you. He doesn’t get deep and gravelly when he’s pissed off. He just… seems to let himself feel things super intensely for a few seconds at a time and then he short-circuits, goes flat. It might be convenient for him, but it gets frustrating for you. Especially when he encourages you to open up to him as much as he does.

His head is bowed and cradled in his hands when you pull up outside his apartment block, and you unfasten his seatbelt for him which jolts him upright. You stay facing front, though, guilt coursing through your veins at the thought of maybe having pushed him too far. You just want to understand. Why was his date being good such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you tell him, and he scoffs, but quietly.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his crown falling against the headrest; he reaches over to you, places a hand just above your knee, and you try to ignore how it feels like someone has crashed their car into you from behind. How your heart lurches forwards in your chest. How your adrenaline spikes.

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I’m sorry.”

He chews this over for a moment, but he doesn’t remove his hand, and you find that maybe you don’t want him to. Not yet, at least.

“Will you help me get up the stairs?”

“Of course I will.”

With one of his arms over your shoulders, your own supporting his waist, the pair of you begin the obnoxiously long ascent up through his building to his apartment. He’s lived here for a year and a half, and you think maybe the elevator has been working… for a total of about a week, since then? God forbid he ever got injured and couldn’t climb six flights just to get himself home. The climb is bad enough as is.

Somewhere around landing number four, Seokmin pulls away from you, mumbling something about having the spins and needing to sit down. You ease him to perch on one of the windowsills, sitting down next to him with your arm still around his hips to keep him balanced on the narrow ledge.

“You should’ve taken me back to your place,” he grumbles, doubling over with his elbows against his knees and his fingers linked behind his neck, taking deep breaths.

“Get your feet flat on the floor. Look at your shoelaces. Breathe slow. It’ll help,” you coo, and he shuffles a little so that he can do exactly that (not without wobbling and almost landing on his face, and he thanks you and your “super strong arms” for keeping him from such a fate). After a few more seconds of deep breathing and grounding, he lifts his head. Crisis averted.

“Are you-… like, a witch, or something?” he asks out of nowhere, and you snort so loudly that your throat hurts. He keeps staring at you, waiting for you to answer. Apparently your laugh wasn’t response enough.

“What are you talking about, Seok?”

He rolls his eyes at you, as if you should just know. “How did you know how to fix me? It’s like magic.”

“Because I know you, stupid. Come on. Two more flights and I’ll get you into bed.”

“S’that a promise?” he asks, grinning to himself as you haul him back to standing, and he stumbles slightly against you, hands braced on your ribs. Sweating a little, you manoeuvre yourself away from him, landing a gentle, playful hit to his side.

It doesn’t make your heart flutter, hearing what can only be a drunk rendition of his bedroom voice. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“Save it for your next date with Ms. Perfect, would you?”

“Agh. You’re the worst.”

“I know. Now come on.”

After a few minutes of fumbling through Seokmin’s pockets yourself for his keys (it’s as if he’s forgotten how both hands and pockets work in his now very giggly stupor), apparently brushing every single one of his ticklish spots on the way, you’re inside his apartment and on your knees, untying his shoes for him, easing them off his feet. You don’t think he can be trusted to lean down to do it on his own without breaking something.

Or himself.

“If you go get ready for bed, I’ll bring you some water?” you suggest, sitting back on your heels, smiling up at him. There’s a weight in the gaze he’s looking down at you with, in the way his tongue darts out over his lips, and how his mouth doesn’t fully close after. You tell yourself he’s definitely only looking at you like this because he’s drunk, because you’re helping him — the boy doesn’t know ass from elbow, right now — but there’s no escaping the fact that your stomach drops a little at his intensity.

“Okay,” he strains after a moment, and you stand up and away from him, kicking off your own shoes. He heads in one direction towards his bedroom, and you move in the other towards his kitchen.

Stop it, you tell yourself, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water from the faucet onto your face. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your best friend. Stop it.

But… shit, you can’t get those big brown eyes out of your head. The way he looked down at you, the softness of his brows, the heat radiating off him. There’s nothing you can do to stop the way your thighs press together standing in his kitchen, in clothes that— you realise now— are entirely his. The hoodie. The sweatpants you pulled on. They’re an old pair that he let you steal just after your most recent breakup, when you’d stayed on his couch for a week straight just so you didn’t have to look at how ugly and empty your own apartment was. Everything. Even down to the socks.

You thought it was hard enough hearing that he was going out for dinner to your favourite restaurant with someone who wasn’t you; nothing could have prepared you for standing in his kitchen at three in the morning, hot under the collar over five seconds of tipsy eye contact, knowing he’s getting undressed behind the door you’ve been staring at for… minutes, now. Actual minutes.

Oh, you think, feeling your blood run cold.

Oh.

I want him.

More minutes pass as you stew in this information — in the knowledge that you’re fucking desperate for the man who has been there for you through everything important enough to remember, and probably everything you’ve forgotten, too. The boy who took you to all of your school dances and was the perfect date, the perfect gentleman, the perfect partner. The man who has sat next to you in the doctor’s waiting room more times than you can count, waiting for results and sitting outside appointments that he told you that you were brave enough to book. Seokmin, who has been under your nose this entire fucking time — you want him, the man who went for dinner with his dream woman, today, and he said she was perfect. Acid burns the back of your throat as you fight not to run all the way back down to your car.

Fuck. It gets astronomically worse. I love him.

“Y/n?” you hear, and his whiny, gentle voice glides across the apartment like it’s been mounted on a cloud, blown straight into your ears. It floats around in your brain in the most beautiful way, and you think there could be love-hearts in the reflections on your eyes even despite the stress you’re now under. It occurs to you that his faucet is still running, and you still have two empty glasses sitting on the counter. How long has it been? Get it together.

“Just a second,” you call back. Your voice breaks as you say it and you can hear him fucking giggle from behind the ajar door to his bedroom. The fluttering in your stomach worsens, and by the time you’ve shut off the tap and you’re walking through to him, you’re wondering if it’s possible for people to grow butterfly gardens inside themselves without noticing. No-one has ever made you feel this nervous, before.

Breathe, you tell yourself as he comes into view, already snuggled down against his pillows with the top of his bare chest and shoulders visible in the low light.

Fuck.

This is the last thing you needed.

“Hi,” he greets you, pushing to sit up with eyes softer than the glow of the setting sun. “I missed you.”

You stand corrected. That is.

“You’re such a loser.”

You set his glass down on his bedside and crouch next to him. “Did you brush your teeth?” you ask, and his face transforms from a stupid childish pout at being teased to a devastatingly bright grin.

This running joke you’ve shared between yourselves since your first night on the town together illuminates him, and he nods, proudly, his hair falling down over his face. You reach up to push a few strands away from his eyes, despite yourself.

“Sure did,” he tells you, and you believe him but you raise a brow anyway. He’s so pretty. With his playful smile, tongue held between his teeth, his nose a little scrunched. Fuck, how can anyone be so pretty?

“So if I go check your toothbrush, right now…” His smile turns into a laugh, his head lifts into your lingering touch until his cheek is fully rested in the palm of your hand. Stupidly, you tell yourself that this could mean something. Maybe he wants to feel you more.

“You could find out another way,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave as his already heavy eyelids blink slowly at you. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees because that tone could have you sinking to the ground in a split. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth fleetingly and you think you’re one more line away from melting into the floorboards.

“You’re so out of it,” you murmur, shaking your head at him. “Did she make you get the oysters? Are you high on aphrodisiacs right now?”

He groans again and rolls onto his back, a hand dramatically coming up to cover his eyes.

“Stop talking about her,” he whines. “I’m with you. I don’t wanna talk— I don’t wanna think about her right now.”

“Seokmin-…”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, lolling his head to the side, looking at you through impossibly long, dark lashes from between his fingers. “Please.”

You’re not sure what the pull in his voice is in aid of but you force yourself to let it go, pushing yourself up to your feet before you can fall forwards into him.

“I’m gonna head home,” you say, the quiet between you laying thick and heavy against your skin. “Text me when you’re awake tomorrow, okay?”

He contemplates this for a second, frowning; he doesn’t say anything as you start backing towards his bedroom door. Then…

“Please don’t.”

He says it so quietly. So hushed, you think you might have misheard. So delicate, you hold your breath just in case you somehow manage to shatter the moment.

“Don’t what?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. He breathes deep and props up on one elbow, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t go.”

Glued to the spot, you stare at him. You feel your head tilt to the side without really controlling it, and an eyebrow creeps up your forehead, slowly.

“I left some lights on in my apartment,” you say feebly, and even though it’s true, a selfish part of you hopes that he’ll still keep trying to talk you around. It won’t take a lot to convince you. It never does.

“So?” he asks, the duvet slipping just a little further down his upper half, baring more of his chest to you. “Please. I don’t want to be-…”

You swallow, waiting. The cogs in his inebriated brain are surely rotating at a few hundred miles a minute, his eyes almost desperate. Certainly glossy. Absolutely breath-taking.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Your already fragile resolve snaps under the pressure of his words and you’re moving towards his bed before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you say, offering him one last out if he wants it, but Seokmin just shrugs and peels the duvet back for you to slip in beside him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, and you gesture for him to look away so, at the very least, you can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He does, and you do — a few seconds later, with the garment in question folded neatly on the floor by his bed, you’re pulling the sheets over your legs and burying down against his cushions.

His breathing matches yours inhale for exhale and the more you let yourself think about this, the worse you feel even though maybe you shouldn’t. How many times have you drunkenly shared Seokmin’s bed, or how many times has he shared yours? This isn’t new. Even sober, you’ve been curling up together on the couch to watch movies and sleeping with your heads in each other's laps for years. There’s no reason for the guilt that’s burrowing its way deep into your brain, but you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n?” he asks after a few minutes of you lying stiff as a pair of boards, a few inches of cold mattress between your wide awake selves, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You hum an acknowledgement, and he clears his throat. “Can I hug you?”

Your heart does something you’re a little bit afraid of, but you nod in the dark anyway, before you realise he can’t really see you now all the lights are off.

“Drink some water first,” you tell him lightly. “Then you can.”

There’s something undeniably nerve-wracking about the sound of him obediently swallowing a few mouthfuls from the glass you brought him earlier, even more-so in the way he sets it back down on his dresser. The bed rustles a little as he moves towards you, the sheets shifting over your bare legs, and then he’s got an arm slung over your waist, his head is on the very edge of his pillow, right next to your own… he slides a leg over one of yours, slotting it between your calves, and before you know it, you’re completely wrapped up in him.

He’s warm, and soft, and his fingertips gently soothe circles into your waist where they’ve slipped just underneath the hem of the sweatshirt you’re still wearing. You hum gently, moving your arm so that it snakes beneath his neck, curling up to wrap around his shoulders. This close, you can smell the cologne he will have put on before meeting his date. It makes you dizzy, slows down the neurons firing away in your brain. You wonder what’s going through his own head — what he’s thinking about, being curled up against your side like this. Does he recognise the slight stuttering in your breathing? How cold you are in contrast to him? Will he even remember this, in the morning? Or will you just wake up on opposite sides of the bed tomorrow, all this just a weird, foggy memory in the dark?

His head burrows slightly closer to you and all of a sudden, you can feel him breathing. Every exhale fans against your neck, right where it feels sweetest; Seokmin breathes through his nose when he’s sober, but through his lips when he’s drunk. You’ve never noticed before. It’s maddening.

“Comfy?” you ask, your voice dry and unsure, and he wriggles a little with a nod to affirm that yes, he is. Something about that makes your cheeks go hot.

“Always sleep better with you,” he murmurs, and your face grows even warmer. You tell yourself he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just drunk. It doesn’t help.

“Then sleep,” you say as his hand moves just slightly further up beneath the hoodie, the tips of his fingers gently tickling your lowest rib. You have to fight back a whine. “I’m here. You can sleep.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he breathes, and you turn your head: now your eyes have adjusted to the low light, you can sort of make out his features, so very close to you. This proves to be a mistake almost instantly, but you can’t look away. His eyes are closed now; you’re glad. He looks too sweet. Too peaceful.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“Seokmin…”

“No, I mean — everything.”

You move your hand up slightly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the top of his neck, and he whimpers softly at the touch. You freeze, and he nuzzles back against your hand to beg you to keep going, so you do.

“You can’t thank me for everything,” you tease him, and he chuckles breathlessly, his palm now laying flat across your rib cage, curling around your side. Holding you. Claiming you, just for now.

“Can,” he protests, and you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh. Against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“My rules.”

“I didn’t know you had rules.”

“I’ve got hundreds,” you tease, threading your fingers through his strands and gently massaging his scalp. Another whine from him, but you don’t stop. Especially not when he hugs you closer, arm and leg both tightening around you.

“Hundreds?”

“Mhm. Maybe even thousands.”

“Well. Fuck.”

You breathe a laugh at him, and he laughs back; within a few seconds, you’ve both dissolved into giggles, and Seokmin has squirmed even closer until he’s half-covering you, actively chortling into your covered collarbone.

“You’re s’posed to be getting to sleep,” you sigh as his own laughter picks back up following a few seconds of deep breathing and quiet.

“I can’t!” He says. You can feel the pout in his own voice, even with his face hidden. When did he end up practically on top of you? When did your arm slip down to around his waist?

“You have to. You’re gonna feel so shitty tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I know. M’probably gonna feel shitty anyway, though.”

“Come on. Close your eyes. Count back from a hundred. You can do it.”

It falls silent again, and you delusionally tell yourself that maybe it’s working. Until…

“Can you lie on your side?” He asks, and you sigh dramatically but nod anyway: as he peels himself off you, you roll over, facing the wall in the foetal position. He’s right back against you in a blink though, legs tucked up behind yours, trying to find your hand under the quilt.

“S’this okay?” He asks as he accidentally brushes your thigh in his search, fingers lacing through your own when he finally succeeds. Your now joined hands work their way into the hoodie’s front pocket, and everything starts buzzing when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” you swallow. “S’good.”

“Good,” he mumbles. A few deep breaths later, his voice rumbles against your earlobe again. “You looked so pretty for me tonight, y/n. Dressed up in my clothes — you’re so pretty.”

“Go to sleep,” you whimper, grateful at least that at this angle that he doesn’t see how your face scrunches up, how wide your smile is, how ridiculously good he makes you feel.

Euphoria. This is euphoria; you never want it to end.

“Count for me,” he asks, dropping his head down so his brows rest against your back, now. So you do.

“A hundred… ninety nine… ninety eight… ninety seven…”

His breathing is slow and his grip on your hand is slack by the time you reach eighty three. You doze off too, not very far behind.

thank u for reading all the way to the end!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always appreciated<3

#dk fluff #seokmin fluff #lee seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #j writes.#*#(in case we wondered: i am not better at tagging things this time around heh<3)

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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

Text

five hearts on the line | pjs

i know that i said last chapter that this one wouldn’t be as angsty but then i started writing and it sorta just happened? so there’s some angst in this one (forgive me again my loves 🥺)

Hope was never a plan, only a direction. After all, you could hope for money and with that hope make a plan to get it. Or you could hope for your parent’s approval but actually getting it was a different process for everyone. Jay had hoped for a future with you and Ni-ki, he really did. It was the direction he saw the rest of his life going towards, you and him as the parents of three boys. He knew it was foolish of him to hope of such things when so much chaos had happened and it was still too early since you never actually put a label on the relationship, hence, why he was going to ask the “what are we?” question that night.

17 days, 20 hours, and 30 minutes was how long it had been since you last saw each other face to face. But who was counting? At this point, he was entering himself into self-given heartbreak and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The scent of your shampoo still lingered on the fibers of his pillowcase but he couldn’t bring himself to wash it away. When he closed his eyes he could still feel your head resting on his chest and your fingers trailing random patterns on his arms. Some days it seemed like he could still hear Ni-ki’s giggles mixed in with Sunoo and Jungwon’s. The boys were doing ok, they still talked to each other at school, and Jay would bring them to the bakery if they wanted something. But he no longer went inside. He’d tell his boys that he needed to take a call or send a quick email and instead would wait for them in the car but really, he was just too scared to see you because he knew that the second he saw you he’d fall back in love all over again. Or maybe that love never left and he’d instead be forced to acknowledge its existence. The door to his office opening brings Jay out of his thoughts, sounds of excitement from his sons greeting his ears.

“Thanks, man,” he said to Jake with a small smile. This situation felt familiar to him and it didn’t take long for him to realize that it was because the first time he heard about you was when Jake brought the boys to his office and you defended him against Minjoo’s grandmother.

“Can we sleepover at Ni-ki dongsaeng’s place tomorrow?” Jungwon asked. Tomorrow was Saturday meaning that he’d drop off the boys Saturday morning, see you, leave, pick up the boys Sunday morning, see you, and leave again.

“I’ll text his mom tonight.”

Later that night after the boys were put to bed and he was laying in his, he found himself constantly typing and deleting what he had initially written out. To his surprise, you had texted him first with a simple “hey” to which he responded the same. While sorting out the details of tomorrow, Jay couldn’t help the slight happiness filling him now having a reason to talk to you again.

You couldn’t really place a name on the feelings coursing through your veins when you woke up on Saturday morning. Nerves, slight anxiousness, maybe even fear? While you were glad to be able to spend time with Sunoo and Jungwon, seeing Jay was a different story. The thought of seeing him again left you restless which led to constantly tossing and turning in bed, ultimately resulting in a sleepless night. When the morning came, you heard a knock on your door and upon opening it the boys greeted you before quickly rushing to Ni-ki’s room, leaving you alone with Jay. He looked like a mess, hair slightly messy, eyes somewhat bloodshot red, and lips chapped dry. You probably didn’t look any better either.

“Are you ok?” Upon saying it you realized what a dumb question it was. Only a little over two weeks had passed and two weeks wasn’t nearly enough to get over what happened. But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get over it.

“Still processing, you?” Jay replied.

“Yeah, same here.” There was a sort of longing look in Jay’s eyes. That kind that told you he felt as if he wanted to say something but chose not to.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” was all his reply before leaving.

Spending the day with three boys like Sunoo, Jungwon, and Ni-ki meant that they were eager to do whatever it was that you had planned for them. You had decided to try out new cake recipes and in the process using them as your little helpers and taste testers. While it did result in the boys getting cake mix all over their clothes and a little on their faces, their smiles of happiness and giggles of joy were well worth the cleanup after. When night came and you were tucking the boys into bed, you felt a hand grab yours. Seeing that it was Sunoo’s, you smiled,

“What’s up, bubs?”

“I don’t want Appa to pick us up tomorrow, I wanna stay with Eomma.”

“Eomma?” you asked. He nodded with a pout,

“Minjoo said that living together makes you a family and we lived together which makes you our Eomma, not our Noona! But because you and Ni-ki left he said you and Appa got divorced and you chose Ni-ki instead of me and Jungwon.” Tears started to fall from Sunoo’s eyes as he continued, “Wae, Eomma? Can’t you keep me and Jungwon-ah too?”

“Sunoo, I…” what were you even supposed to tell him? This was a conversation you shouldn’t be having with just the boys alone, after all, Jay needed to be here since they were his boys. Jungwon ended up waking up and crying too at the sight of his hyung crying which led to a confused Ni-ki. As you hugged the boys and rubbed their backs, your ears were met with blubbers of “Eomma” and “Eomma stay.” You didn’t know how long it took for them to calm down and finally head to sleep but once they did, you knew that you needed to talk to Jay now. Your hand trembled a little when holding your phone but as you heard Jay’s voice, you felt somewhat calmed.

“Everything ok?” he asked, sounding like he had just woken up. Letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding,

“Can you come over?” Hearing some shuffling from his side of the line,

“I’m on my way.”

When Jay got to your apartment it was nearing midnight. Without thinking, your hand took his and you led him to your room so that the boys wouldn’t wake up. Looking up at him,

“We need to talk.” He brought a hand up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously,

“I figured.”

“Sunoo and Jungwon called me eomma.” Jay’s eyes went wide,

“They what?”

“Minjoo, remember the kid with the nosey grandma?” you looked at him and saw him nod then continued, “He told the boys that living together makes you a family. Since me and Ni-ki lived with you guys that led them to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be called Noona, I’m their Eomma. Because Ni-ki and I don’t live with you anymore they thought we got divorced and that I chose Ni-ki over them. Jay, what do we do?” Silence washed over the room as Jay furrowed his eyebrows until finally,

“I lied,” Jay said. Looking at him confused you wanted to ask what had he lied about but he continued, “the night that your mom called. I lied and I’ve been regretting it ever since,” he finished. You racked your mind trying to remember what went on before your mom called and then you remembered. It was the conversation you two had about “like-liking” each other. He had lied then?

“W-what?” you can’t stop the stutter that escapes you as your mind tries to process that Jay lied to you.

“I lied.”

“That night, you asked me if I like-like you and I said yes. But I didn’t because what is this, high school?”

“Oh.” It came out just barely above a whisper out of millions of words to exist in the world, “oh” was the only thing you could bring yourself to say.

Was it a lie every time he called you love?

Was it a lie whenever he’d hold your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze?

Was it a lie the nights he’d run his hands through your hair and talk about how happy he was you were with him?

Had you been led on this entire time?

Then you couldn’t but think that maybe it was karma.

You didn’t think about how Sunoo and Jungwon would be affected with your presence there only for it to be gone after a few weeks.

You didn’t think about how to explain to Ni-ki the whole situation with K and instead downplayed it.

You didn’t think at all because you were too damn caught up in feeling.

Maybe it was your fault for hoping.

Jay’s next words are enough to get you out of your thoughts and back to reality. As they make themselves known to your ears, your eyes are near to tears.

“I lied because how the hell was I supposed to tell you that I love you?”

“Jay, you can’t be serious? Y-you can’t just love me!”

“I didn’t,” he sighed and brought his hand up to rub his forehead, “I didn’t say it just to hear it back from you. But we both know there’s no damn way we’ll ever go back to being normal or just friends because we never were in the first place.” Jay was right and you knew it. If anything you wanted to laugh a little at how foolish it was for the two of you to just somehow develop feelings so early on after meeting each other. Though neither of you had actually said the l-word out loud until Jay did just now, you had felt it in so many ways. It was exchanged in all the stolen glances and late-night cuddles. It was there the mornings you and Jay rushed to get the boys to school and the nights they’d plead for “just one more” bedtime story. It lingered on through the hopes you had for what one day could be your future like surprise visiting Jay’s office during lunchtime and bringing food using the excuse of, “I tried some new recipes and wanted you to taste it before I sold it,” or even one day having the privilege of being called Sunoo and Jungwon’s mom. But those were fleeting moments and hope wasn’t a plan, it was merely a direction.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” you muttered.

“Give us a chance.”

“What happens if we break up, Jay? What happens if Won and Sunoo want to stop by the bakery for some cupcakes but they can’t because you and I can no longer face each other? What happens when it’s not just you and I heartbroken, it’s the kids too? There are five hearts on the line here.”

“And I’ll do everything in my power to protect each and every one of them.”

“What happens if you can’t?” You felt Jay hold your hand and after missing his touch for so long, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“What happens when I can? What happens when this lasts just like I believe it will? What happens when,” you feel his thumb rub your ring finger and hear him take in a deep breath as he continues, “I put a ring on this hand and the two of us are facing each other at the altar? What happens when the five of us are taking trips to Brunei and Japan in the summer and all the other places we wanna explore together?” You wanted to believe Jay, wanted to one day fulfill all of the things that he talked about. But you couldn’t put this want into words and instead chose to answer him through action. Bringing a hand up to his shirt collar you pulled him closer to you and met his lips with yours. Unlike your first kiss with Jay or the brief ones you exchanged from time to time that were filled with passion, this one was filled with possessiveness. You could feel it in how his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as if he were scared that you’d fall into a black hole if he let go. You displayed it in how one hand of yours clung onto his shirt while the other cupped his face in hopes of keeping him here. Hope was never a plan, only a direction. But as you close your eyes breathing in Jay’s scent and reveling in the taste of him, you were desperately wishing this would be the right direction.

↬ a/n (2/2):

the end. JKJK this chapter isn’t the finale it’s the next one & i have no clue how i’m gonna wrap this story up-

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | next | series masterlist

unable to tag: @smileyjimvn | @tubaotter | @babychangmin | @snghnluvr

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siswritesyanderes · 3 years

Note

Will you write a second part for the Tom Riddle with mother issues one shot? I was kind of curious on how it will end up . Btw, I like your writing. <3

Thank you so much!

Part 1 is here.

Okay, round 2! This one’s a bit more graphic than the previous, so let me know if you’d rather I reel it in or if you like it this way.

(N S F W) (TW: non-con) (TW: pseudo-incest) (not actual incest)

The amount of leeway Tom allowed you for protestations on the first night did not last.

When he returned the next day, there was no dinner waiting for him, and you immediately raised your wand and told him to stay away from you.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if you’d just performed poorly on a graded assignment. As soon as he reached for his wand, you tried to speak the word to disarm him, but the locket suddenly tightened around your neck, cutting off your air at the last second, and Tom’s cruciatus curse hit you square.

Pain lanced through you. You hit the kitchen floor, too tense to writhe, your eyes tightly shut, your scream filling the air.

It was only for a few seconds.

You knew that, because the locket had ensured that you were unable to take a breath before the curse, and yet your scream hadn’t run out of fuel by the time Tom let up. Panting, you opened your eyes and found that he was sitting on the floor, now. Cross-legged and straight-backed, over your sprawled form. He set his palm on your cheek and wiped at your lips with his thumb. You were embarrassed to find that they were wet; the saliva hadn’t stayed in your mouth, while you were screaming.

“I don’t like hurting you, Mother,” he said. “If you could learn to be more loving, I wouldn’t have to do this.”

Your wand was still in your hand, albeit loose in your grip. You managed to point it at him, and your mouth sluggishly formed part of a spell: “Expel-”

“Crucio.”

You screamed anew, and you felt your voice give out as incomprehensible pain filled you. Once again, it didn’t last longer than a few seconds. The first thing you felt, when the agony abated, was the cool tile under your face; you had rolled over at some point, as if some instinctive part of you had thought you were on fire and hoped to put it out. You couldn’t see Tom, but you felt it when his hand descended on your head. You winced, but he only stroked at your hair. Soothing.

“We didn’t enjoy this, did we?” he asked. “We don’t want to keep doing this.”

You could feel your wand still in your hand, but no part of your mind could form a compelling argument in favor of using it. The fact that he hadn’t taken it from you, given so many opportunities to, had been the initial writing on the wall.

“Now, I want to be a good son. But you have to be a good mother, first. Are you going to be good?” He gingerly flipped you onto your back, again. He moved your hair out of your face with his wand hand. “Will you be good for me?”

You managed to nod.

(Unnecessary suffering was for Gryffindors. You weren’t subjecting yourself to more of that kind of pain just to prove a point that Tom would never accept anyway. If defying him would ever be the right choice, it clearly wasn’t now.)

Tom smiled pridefully and kissed you- a long, lingering press of his lips against yours, just on the surface, not mining your mouth like he had last night. When he pulled back, he asked, “Who are you, then?”

Keeping him satisfied gave you some measure of control over your fate. You were smart enough to keep him at bay, if your head would just stop spinning. “I’m your mother,” you answered him. Hoarse from screaming.

Tom eased forward and sank his weight onto you, his body spread over yours so that his head was tucked under your chin and his legs and feet extended past yours, on the floor; he was taller than you. Feeling him on top of you again, and feeling the way both of his legs had slotted between yours (implicitly preventing them from closing), caused a dull panic to spread inside you- dull, because what was there to do about it?

“Mother,” he sighed contentedly, and he smiled against your collarbone for a second. Then the second passed, and the smile fell away. “I didn’t like it when you tutored the other students, at school. Why didn’t you just tutor me?”

Oh, Merlin. So it wasn’t enough to play nice now; he also wanted you to retroactively explain away past infractions. And judging by the petty plaintiveness of his tone, you would be on the hook for those infractions until you gave an explanation that he deemed adequate.

“Well, you were already brilliant, Tom. You didn’t really need a tutor, did you?”

Though his enjoyment of the compliment was palpable, it didn’t seem to quell his dissatisfaction. “All the more reason; they were wasting your time.” His fingernails sank into your arms, not giving the impression of a deliberate punishment, but rather as if he was distressed that his grip on you wasn’t strong enough.

So flattery wasn’t enough. “I was just trying to teach you to share,” you said innocently. “All children should learn to share their things.”

His reaction to this was the inverse; he seemed not to enjoy it, but it satisfied him. He relaxed. Retracted his claws. “I don’t like to share,” he said. “Mother is only for me.”

So he liked to be flattered, but he preferred to be convinced. Not a good sign, that he wouldn’t just let you owl it in with mere praise; he wanted credible mothering behavior.

Awkwardly, you reached up and rested your hand on his head. He moaned and nipped at your neck, and it made you utterly sick, but his affection was still better than his torture.

“You shouldn’t be so tense, Mother,” he murmured. “Not if you love me.”

Relaxing your body, at this point, was like physically lifting a heavy weight, but you did it.

His teeth kept gently chewing at the skin of your neck; he kissed and he sucked, and you were wondering whether it was better to just do nothing or if you should suggest that you would make dinner and see if that got him off of you. Then his hand went to your right breast, and he started kneading at it through your clothes.

“Please don’t,” you breathed.

His hand went under your shirt. He took your breast in his hand and gripped it tightly. “Why not?” he asked, in a manner that could only be described as a dignified whine. “Don’t you love me?”

“Yes, I…I love you.”

“And don’t I deserve all of you? Don’t you want to give me all of you?”

You could feel his hardness through his trousers, pressed right against the natural seam between your thigh and…and…He was deliberately grinding it against you, now: subtle, minute movements that caused your dull panic to abruptly sharpen. Even through both of your clothes, his rubbing against that part of you was like an electric shock. His hand was still molding at your breast.

“Doesn’t Mummy love me?” he whispered, almost deliriously. “Don’t you want me?”

“Y-yes,” you lied, sick and wet and fighting the ever-climbing wave of terror.

“I love you so, so much. I want every part of you. And you want every part of me, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched; his technique was not as clumsy and desperate as it had been last night. Not by half. His every move seemed perfectly calculated to make you incomprehensible. “Yes, but…we haven’t had dinner,” you managed to get out. “Y-you’re a growing boy. You need to eat, so you can…grow big and strong.”

“Mmmm.” Again, he seemed displeased but satisfied by your explanation. You were annoying him in the approved way. The way a mother annoys a son. “You didn’t have dinner ready when I got home, so I get to decide what I want to eat. That’s the rule.”

“Alright,” you answered, indifferent. He could eat at the most expensive restaurant in the land with your Galleons, if that would get him off of you.

Before you could get too relieved, you heard “Immobulus,” and a blue light washed over you. The Freezing Charm was different from a Full Body-Bind; Petrificus Totalus would have made you stiff as a board, but under Immobulus, you merely lost the ability to move. More accurately, you lost the capacity for voluntary movement, which was why you could still breathe and your heart could still beat.

Tom sat up and began systematically undressing you, and for lack of anything else to focus on, you became preoccupied with the tantalizing feeling of your wand still in your hand. He didn’t take it from you, even once you were fully nude on the kitchen floor. In fact, he took care not to let it fall out of your grip as he moved both of your hands to rest on either side of your head.

He spread your legs and lowered his face to-

Oh!

“Oh!”

Another thing about Immobulus was, by preventing voluntary movement, it made it impossible to control involuntary movement. Keeping in your reflexive vocal responses to Tom’s ministrations would have required you to have control over yourself, which you did not. You could not keep the noises inside you, or moderate the volume, and it only made the situation more pitiful and mortifying: lying on your own kitchen floor, naked, wand in hand, helpless as a would-be Dark Lord fresh out of Hogwarts ran his tongue mercilessly and expertly between your folds, and plunged it within you (wringing blinding amounts of sensation out of every motion), and you couldn’t even restrain the whimpers and shrieks and moans and sounds for which you had no name- sounds which certainly had never escaped you before in your life.

He did not stop or even pause to speak until after you had come in his mouth. Even after that, he continued lapping at you relentlessly for another few minutes. When he did raise his face again, licking his lips lewdly, you were a clammy, whimpering mess.

He watched you for a while, and you hated that you were all shiny and short of breath, but you couldn’t control your breathing any more than you could control any of it. There was no way of disguising his effect on your body.

After he had apparently had his fill of looking, Tom stood and wandered the kitchen. He was doing something (You could hear as much.), but you couldn’t move your eyes to see what.

Another minute passed.

Then, he scooped you up into his arms- still making sure your wand stayed in your hand, the smug git -and set you down across the kitchen table at which the pair of you had shared tea just yesterday. Your head fell back, and you saw what he had been doing as he wandered the room: he had been opening all the windows.

Tom dragged you so that your rear end was at the edge of the table, spread your legs and bent your knees so that each foot was almost flat against the table’s surface, and then arranged your head so that you could see him. He was still fully dressed, but he had opened his trousers and pulled them down a few centimeters, freeing his organ. He set his wand down somewhere on the table- a carelessness that came with power -and placed both of his hands on your thighs.

“I enjoyed my dinner, Mother,” he said conversationally. His voice was only slightly breathy, to betray either his earlier exertion or his present excitement. “Thank you for making it so warm and tasty for me.”

He punctuated his coy mockery by rubbing his full length along your slit, and you had to let out a loud moan, and your heartbeat raced as a new level of humiliation filled you. Was this why he had opened the windows? So others would hear?

“You should get a reward for taking such good care of me, don’t you think?” He hooked his hands around the backs of your thighs, then, to pull you closer; your pulse stuttered, at his sudden tug, fearing that he would spear you with his member right then, but he did not. “I even thought about what you said about sharing. I liked hearing how much you…enjoyed” (Another surface thrust, another helpless moan- this one embarrassingly high.) “giving me my dinner, and I want to be a good boy and share those nice sounds with everyone.”

He gave no further warning before he lanced your entrance, and as he proceeded to thrust, to withdraw and advance, you were in equal parts humiliated by your own keening, yearning wails and his revolting exclamations: “Oh, oh, you take me so well, Mother! Mummy wants me so much! Mother, I’m going to come inside you! I’m going to fill you right up with all of my babies; you want them so much!”

Your orgasm was likely audible in at least a two-house radius. Your eyes were leaking rivulets of tears, and your hair was everywhere, and your lips were wet with spit again, and still it was at least another full minute before Tom came, himself.

Every breath you took was a whimper. You managed to turn your eyes away from Tom (the effects of the spell finally wearing off), and you started when you saw a face at the window: some mustached neighbor standing outside, watching.

Tom followed your gaze, picked up his wand, and made a lazy, matter-of-fact slashing motion. You saw a red line grow across the man’s throat before he fell out of view with a sound like a bag of rocks dropping to the ground.

“I said they could listen, not look,” Tom said, as if that was the part he had to justify. He finally pulled out of you, and he fastened up his trousers. “Haven’t I been a good son today?”

It was clear that you were expected to answer him again, despite being spent. Your vision blurred with more tears. “Mm-hm,” was the best you could do, but it was apparently sufficient.

Tom left the kitchen, wet a rag, and came back to gently clean the sweat from your face. By the time he returned, you had managed to close your legs; you were curled up like a shrimp, with your arms covering your breasts. His touch was much too loving, as he ran the rag over your cheeks. “Did you like sharing?”

You shook your head stiffly.

“Then that’s something we have in common,” he said brightly. “How about this: I won’t share anymore, if you don’t. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, just as stiffly.

He lowered his mouth to yours and gave a more invasive kiss than before. “I know that you’re tired,” he said generously. “I’ll draw you a bath, and I’ll make you some tea.” He dropped a peck on the tip of your nose. “You can prove how much you love me tomorrow.”

...

(Okay! I hope this came out good. Let me know what you thought.)

#yandere tom riddle #lemon #possessive #obsession #male yandere #yandere voldemort

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jaesqueso · 3 years

Text

Busted (m)

pairing: best friends brother!kai x fem!reader

summary: you thought nobody was home until you see something you never imagined you would

word count: 1,455

warnings: mentions of porn and masturbation, oral sex (receiving), fingering, protected sex

a/n: this is basically a re-vamp of something I wrote back in 2013 for aff (so cringe), I initially wrote this as idol!au but I’m not really interested in writing that anymore so I altered it, also changed the smut scenes a bit because yeah they were not very good... anyway, do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Damn were you unlucky at games. You should have never let your roommates trick you into betting to clean the whole apartment for a month if you weren’t able to win this stupid game you’re pretty sure they made up. At the time the cocktails you had assured you it was an easy win but your hangover the next day just called you an idiot for believing it.

Your class ends just before noon and you decide to treat yourself to a nice meal before you go home and start the deed. Your two roommates/traitors/best friends still had classes in the afternoon so since you had the house to yourself you would go ahead and clean before they had the brilliant idea to mock you around for falling into their tricks once again.

As you get home you walk straight to your room to drop your bag. You look around and notice the crazy amount of clothes that desperately need to be washed. You grab a basket you had laying around and put your dirty clothes inside. As you walked to the laundry room you decide to stop by the other rooms to see if your friends also had some clothes to wash.

As you’re about to place your hand on the doorknob of the last room in the corridor you hear a noise coming from inside the room. Did Areum forgot to turn off the stream she spends hours watching on her computer? But then as you step closer it sounds like someone was moaning.

Nobody’s supposed to be home right now, so you try to take a sneak peek inside and you see a man sitting on the chair in front of her computer. You look at the screen and gasp when you realise the person is watching porn! With his hand down his pants! But who the hell is he?

You are so confused you don’t even notice you dropped the basket of clothes on the floor until his head snaps in your direction. You panic and close the door. Was that Areum’s brother? She had mentioned last week that he would be coming to town to spend a few days but you didn’t know he was already here. You pick up the basket and gather the clothes that fell out as quickly as you can as you hear steps inside the room getting closer to the door.

“Y/N?” You hear his voice as you were about to talk away.

“Jongin! I-I didn’t know you were here.” You try to play it cool even if you’re dying from embarrassment.

“Yeah I arrived last night…” You actually went to bed early the day before because of your morning class so it makes sense you hadn’t noticed.

“Cool, cool, cool.” This couldn’t get more awkward so you decide to turn to leave. “Well I’m gonna do some laundry now, see you around-”

“You saw me didn’t you?” He grabs your wrist preventing you to go.

“W-What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about-” I tried to pretend like it was all good but he knew.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s just…” he looks down. “I thought I was alone and it’s been a while since I’ve had some release…”

You widen your eyes at his words. You couldn’t imagine a guy like him not being sexually active. Jongin is smart, he is super nice and friendly, and of course so hot. You might have a little crush on him since the first time he came to visit when Areum moved in. You’d never seen someone as handsome as him. But he was unreachable. First of all he’s done with college and is working in another city miles away, not to mention he’s way out of your league. Oh and of course he’s your best friend’s brother and that seems to be a dangerous line to cross. But then you look down and accidentally glance at the bulge on his pants.

You look back up as he does too and your eyes meet. You feel a heat running through your body when he leans in and places his lips on yours.

“I’m sorry,” he steps away from your mouth, “it’s just that you’re beautiful and I’ve been wanting to do this forever.” Wait, did you hear that right? “Plus I’m so horny right now…”

This time you kiss him. This could be your only chance to be with Jongin and it would be dumb of you not to take it. It had been a while since you had some action yourself and one hand washes the other right? Nobody needs to know. Specially his sister.

He pulls you into the room, never breaking the kiss and pushes into your friends bed, hovering you.

“We don’t have to do this Y/N,” he looked into your eyes looking for permission to keep going, “I can stop-”

“Please don’t Jongin,” you pull him closer “I need you right now.”

You kiss him again running your fingers through his hair. He moves his mouth to your neck while he takes your shirt off. His lips keep going down to the mounds of your breasts as he snakes a hand behind your back to clasp your bra. With that out of his way he attacks one of your nipples making you let go of the moans you were keeping in.

He kept kissing down your body until he reaches your bottoms. He looks up at you and the way you’re biting your lip in anticipation gives him the ahead to remove your pants dragging your drenched panties along.

“You’re already this wet?” He says as he spreads your legs and runs a finger between your lower lips. “I barely even touched you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been wanting to do this.” You smirk at him.

“Glad to know.” He smirks too as he lowers his head between your legs.

He starts liking your clit and you throw your head back moaning. He adds two fingers inside of you that slid right in lubbed with your juices. He pumps his fingers in and out as he keeps sucking on your clit and you take one of your hands to his hair as the other grabs onto the headboard. He then adds a third finger trying to really stretch you out. You start to wonder how thick he must be for him to be so focused in all that prep.

“Shit, I can’t hold it anymore.” he gets up removing his fingers from you and goes to his wallet that’s on your friends desk.

He throws a condom at the bed, walking back to you and taking off his shirt. You help him get rid of the rest of his clothes and gasp as you see his hardness standing tall and proud. Ok, you definitely needed all that preparation but it will still stretch you out even more once he’s inside you. He takes the condom and rolls it down his length hovering you again.

“I always thought I would take my time once I got a hold of you,” he rubs his dick between your folds, “But seeing you like this, a moaning mess all wet for me, I can’t wait any longer.” He aligns himself at your entrance and slowly pushes in. You grab his shoulders and roll your eyes at the stretch, he’s so thick it feels like he’s gonna rip you apart. “Shit, you feel so good I could cum right now.” He takes a deep breath and hides his face in your neck staying still for a few seconds.

“Please Jongin,” you pull his head to face you, “I need you to move.” You kiss his lips and he kisses back starting to roll his hips into you.

When he sped up his movements you had to break the kiss to moan his name. He kept going deeper inside you with every thrust, getting closer and closer to your sweet spot.

“Right there!” You almost screamed craving your nails on his back. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

Your words just made him go harder and harder chasing his high. He takes one of his hands to your clit wanting you to cum too.

“I’m gonna…” you moan.

“Me too…” he moans back.

And just like that you reach your orgasm clenching around him as he paints the inside of the condom. He leans down and gives you a sloppy kiss.

“Jongin are you watching porn again? I told you not to do this in my room-”

You two try to cover yourselves with the bedsheets as you face a shocked and speechless Areum at the door.

#kai smut #kim jongin smut #exo smut #gimme gimme feedback #thanks for reading

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ninja-scenarios · 3 years

Text

Spa day w/ Illumi ✨🐰

I started writing this a month ago so it still says “15th of Christmas” pls bear with me lol

This is part of a Illumi/Hisoka/reader poly relationship! But there won´t be any Hiso in this, sorry! I have another fic planned tho so pls anticipate it :)))

Now I can´t stop imagining Illumi with a bunny ears headband... uwu

Support me on Ko-fi | Masterlist | My AO3

„What is this?“

- „A jelly peeling.“

„And this?“

- „A brush used for applying skin masks, so you don´t have to use your hands.”

You beamed with anticipation. This year, you had decided that it was time to show the boys how to make a couple-advent-calendar. A collection of 24 enjoyable things you could do together. And here it was. The 15th, “spa day”.

Hisoka was out, so you´d grabbed Illumi and dragged him into your study in what had to be the most comfortable kidnapping in history. He actually behaved very well, and you had the slight suspicion that he already enjoyed this.

“First is a headband.”

After you´d both taken a steaming hot bath together and rose from it super relaxed, you slipped a bunny-ear headband onto your boyfriend. Illumi turned to view himself in the make-up mirror. The feeling of something restricting yet comfortable was new to the assassin. The headband wasn´t meant to hurt him or for training, just to hold his hair out of his face. It felt... good. And the light pink went beautifully with his crème bathrobe.

“Look! You look like a bunny now!”

“Is that good?”

“It means you´re very cute and I like it.”

“Ah.”

“My cute little bun bun~”

While Illumi was admiring himself in the mirror, you had to resist the urge to braid his luscious hair, simply gathering it in a ponytail and then taking a seat in front of him.

Illumi´s mind wandered to the rest of the bathroom. You really had taken the time to tidy and clean everything and even decorate. Everything smelled so good! The light-scented candles held a soothing glow and they smelled sweet, as if Illumi just had to stick out his tongue and receive candy. You had placed them on every available surface, creating a big palette of colours that put his mind at ease. The products sitting neat next to them had big beautiful names and colourful packaging. Together with the tasteful instrumental music they made Illumi feel something he didn´t before. A thrill of anticipation.

“We´re starting off with a cleanser.”

Illumi´s watchful unblinking eyes followed every step of the routine. He sat there a little stiffly in a tailor-fashion, yet it reminded you fondly of a watchful cat. Or bunny, in this case. The outfit was so cute on him! It was a pity he wouldn´t let you take a picture.

You started to apply the soap-like foam onto his face with gentle care. Your nails were cut short just for this occasion and the way you worked the product into his skin was light and even. Your touch made him want to flinch, with how light and gentle it was, yet Illumi willed himself to hold still.

When would it start to sting? Illumi anticipated the pain, yet he trusted you. Whatever would happen, whatever would come, he wouldn´t flinch away. Even if you hurt him, he would be able to take it.

“Is this okay?”

“It is.”

You watched Illumi for signs of discomfort, a little concerned since he still wasn´t able to relax. It looked like he was preparing for the worst, even though you had mobilized everything to arrange a relaxing spa day... Ye the longer you brushed over his face, the heavier his eyelids became.

“Do you like it?”

“...”

His eyes closed and he started to relax. His shoulders became heavy, his hands slipped from his thighs into his lap where they loosely intertwined.

“Lumi?”

“Mh.”

Illumi wondered, when was the last time someone had taken care of him that way?

There was a memory from when he was about 3. He had fallen face first into the mud while running. Branches and dirt and pebbles had hurt his skin, yet by this age he had already learned not to cry. Illumi tried to remember. Had he already been numb to pain then?

One of the pebbles had lightly pierced through his cheek, resulting in an ugly wound that started to bruise. His mother had started yelling, fussing over his face and ushering him inside. She´d been angry and Illumi had felt responsible, mentally preparing himself for punishment. But then she had sat him down in her room, in her high chair in front of her vanity and tended to the wound under his eye with maybe the tenderest care he had ever seen in her.

“Illumi? I said do you want to wash your face yourself or do you want me to do it for you?”

You giggled when Illumi´s dark eyes shot back to your face. He had been zoning out for a while, probably lulled in by the soothing patterns on his face. For a second he just stared at you.

At you or at his mother, who had been wearing her hair down, then. Her beautiful locks of hair were black as night, just as his. His mother´s fussing had made him feel important, cared for.

“You do it.”

There was no force between his words. They came out slowly, eyes trained on your face as you smiled. Wordlessly you took a fluffy white washcloth and dipped it into a bowl with warm water.

“Close your eyes.”

You gently took a hold of his chin, just so much so that it would stay in place, as you began cleaning off the product. Illumi´s skin felt different now. Smoother, but dry.

“Next up is exfoliating!”

With far more fun that you´d imagined, you started rubbing the gel peeling into his skin. You had seen an instruction in a youtube tutorial earlier that day. When your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones in a circular pattern, Illumi let his eyes slip shut. You kept working gently on his face, eradicating non-existent little bumps and imperfections on his perfect glass skin. It was probably owed to his perfect diet and frequent intake of water... sometimes you were so jealous of that wonderful bastard.

Meanwhile Illumi thought about the pattern you used for the massage. Half a circle...

´Illumi. Keep up!´

His father had drawn the same pattern on the mat with his bare foot when he drew it back. Illumi hadn´t known then, that he´d done it to gain force and use it to punch his son square in the jaw.

`If you can´t evade my fist, how will you defend yourself against an enemy who attacks from the front? Illumi, they won´t have mercy like me. That is your first lesson.´

It had been the first time his father had openly punched him. Illumi had trembled in pain, holding his cheek with his tiny hand while trying to swallow his sobs.

`I trusted you, papa. I never thought... I never thought you would hurt me.´

Illumi´s eyes shot back open. His hands were gripping both your wrists, thumbs pressing into your palms and tilting them back.

A little gasp escaped Illumi´s mouth. His ears still rang with the blow of his father´s fist. Only after the noise had subsided did he notice.

In the same second he released you immediately. His heart beat wildly in his chest, spurring him on to fight, even though there was no actual danger. Even though you had never done anything to hurt him.

Your hands, they were so gentle, so soothing. They had brought him nothing but joy. There was no doubt in his mind that you were harmless.

“I should leave.”

He didn´t want to see your face, he couldn´t. After all, he had brought you damage. A flaw in a perfect system. Even though Illumi couldn´t decide if the flaw was his self-control or letting you close in the first place.

You went after him, grabbing onto his sleeve in the doorway.

“Illumi, listen to me.”

He didn´t move a muscle. He should go back home. His father would fix him. That was if he could forget you.

“I know it wasn´t the best idea to sit in front of you and repeatedly touch your face while you´re feeling vulnerable. I know you. I know have those patterns.”

Why did you have to say these words? They cut right into his soul with how true you were. It was unbearable yet Illumi couldn´t bring himself to walk away. Why couldn´t he just leave?

“Illumi...I want to walk through them together with you and for us to create new ones. New patterns, new memories, new routines.”

Why had he let a civilian come into his life? The needle he´d grabbed on instinct in his other hand when he´d grabbed you had almost come in contact with your skin. But you hadn´t even noticed.

“Don´t be a fool. I hurt you. It´s like father said. He let me live my own life, knowing I´d make a mistake and realize that there is only one way.”

Slowly, you walked around until you faced him.

“Illumi. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, the black-haired man raised his gaze. His eyes looked wet with frustration.

“You aren´t flawed. You´ve been put in a system where being perfect is unachievable. But look.”

You outstretched your hands, palms up. Upon further inspection, there were no bruises. No marks. Not even a red tint from where he had grabbed your wrists.

“You never hurt me, Illumi. Your grip was so gentle, somehow you must´ve known it was me. You see? There is no flaw.”

You beamed up at him.

“For me, you´re perfect. I love you, Illumi. I wouldn´t want you any other way.”

There was no flaw... he hadn't actually hurt you. Illumi's initial frustration started dripping down his cheeks.

For a long time, he wouldn´t let go.

With the utmost care he wrapped you in a hug, burrowing his face against your hair.

"Thank you. For letting me stay."

#Illumi #Illumi x reader #Illumi Zoldyck x reader #hxh #Illumi scenario #Illumi headcanon #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #hxh scenarios

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

DATING SEVENTEEN A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Jeon Wonwoo

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Wonwoo isn’t huge on affection and aegyo, so when he does approach you with affection, it’s always special. He’ll make sure to make you feel as loved as possible as he knows there are times when you want a little more from him.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

The two of you met through a couple of the members at an event and naturally got talking. Wonwoo was incredibly shy, and so were you, which ended up being the perfect catalyst to get the two of you talking with each other throughout the whole event, much to the joy of the others who were watching you.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

Love at first sight wasn’t something that Wonwoo believed in, but he wasn’t far off it with you. As the two of you got to know each other more after the event over weeks, Wonwoo knew that he was falling for you. After a couple of months just enjoying each other’s company, Wonwoo ended up confessing to you whilst you were out and exploring one afternoon in the middle of nowhere, mainly to stop you thinking you were lost.

D ⇴ DATES

The two of you would often spend your days indoors with each other, Wonwoo wasn’t someone who was huge on going out and exploring things. He loved using your dates as a time to relax with each other, he’d often set up his games console so that the two of you could play together. Other times, your dates would just be spent laid together with a book in hand, and maybe takeout beside you, peaceful, but still knowing that each other was there which was just what the both of you wanted.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

The concept of love wasn’t something that Wonwoo necessarily believed in, so he never worried about dating. However, when he met you, he began to understand a little more about love and why people always used to tell him you’d know when you found the one. He was still skeptical for quite some time, but with the more time that he spent with you, the more he allowed himself to open up to the idea of falling in love and suddenly having one person take up such a huge part of your life.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

Wonwoo has one of the softest hearts in the world, and fighting will be an absolute nightmare for him. When the two of you argue, he’ll get very shy and quiet, he won’t ever really know quite what to say. He’ll usually listen to everything that you have to say and wait until you’re done to take the chance to defend himself. Once you’ve both said how you feel, Wonwoo will usually be the one to try and put things right and continue the discussion until you can both find a point that you agree on to move past what you initially disagreed on.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

Being able to introduce you to his family was a huge deal for Wonwoo. They often worried that he wouldn’t want to find himself a partner because he didn’t trust in love , so to be able to show you off and let them see how happy he was around you meant a lot both to him, and to them as well.

H ⇴ HOME

The two of you were very lucky that Mingyu was so understanding of you both which meant the dorm was often your home. But Wonwoo also loved to spend time at your place too. He often worried that the boys would be a bit of a burden for you, even if you always tried to assure him that they weren’t.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

When Wonwoo beat you at your favourite game, he suddenly said those three special words to stop you getting mad at him. He didn’t even think before he spoke, but he trusted in his heart and that it had made the decision to speak up. You were surprised to begin with, but when he said it again, you finally realised that he’d meant to say it all along.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

There weren’t many times when Wonwoo would get jealous, he wasn’t someone to cause a scene if there was a person around who wanted to speak to you. But, there was very much a line as far as Wonwoo was concerned, and if someone overstepped it, he’d certainly be a little more protective. He was shy to a point, but when it came to protecting you and making sure that you were safe, a wave of confidence would often wash over him to remind him that he was your boyfriend and that he had to be there for you.

K ⇴ KIDS

Having a family was something that Wonwoo had never really considered before he met you. Without love, he knew there was a small chance of having a family, but just like how he began to believe in love, he began to believe in kids and a family of his own too. He’d often find himself drifting into daydreams about what your future together could look like, but he’d never let himself runaway too far just yet.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

The two of you could often be heard by the other members giggling away to yourselves. Neither of you were loud, but you shared a very similar sense of humour which would often leave the others clueless as to what you both found so funny. Wonwoo’s laugh would always put a smile on your face, neither of you had to be doing anything, but as soon as you’d hear just the smallest sound of a giggle, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself Ron laughing too. Laughter was the thing that brought Wonwoo out of his shell more than anything when he met you, and really was the sign that made you realise that he was comfortable around you.

M ⇴ MISSING

No one would ever know when Wonwoo was missing you, he’d very much keep it to himself. Mingyu would usually be the only one who would be able to tell when something was wrong, but even then, Wonwoo would be very reluctant to tell him. Usually, Mingyu would end up getting in contact with you to tell you what was going on and how he was closing off, and ask if you’d try and give Wonwoo a call or a text. As soon as he saw your name pop up, he’d leave the room, which was also the definitive sign to the others that he was missing you, even if he’d always say no whenever any of them asked.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Wonwoo tended to just call you ‘jagi,’ as he much preferred traditional nicknames for you. It was something that would always roll off the tongue for him, he wouldn’t even need to think, whenever he addressed you, it would come.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your voice, it was very comforting for Wonwoo when he could hear you beside him or listen closely to whatever it was that you had to say to him.

P ⇴ PDA

Affection in public wasn’t something that Wonwoo was huge on. He was smart at reading situations however, and if he felt like he needed to hold your waist or pull you a little bit closer, he’d do it without second thought to make sure that you were safe with him. Other than that, he’d often hold your hand in public too.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Wonwoo was quite a fan of discussions with you and talking about random things about the world. He’d often ask you what you thought of a random topic to spark a discussion between you both and find out more about you and your views, especially at the start of your relationship.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Your game dates at home became such a frequent occurrence that the two of you turned it into a bit of competition. Whoever lost the most at the end of the month would end up buying something for the other person that they wanted. The two of you loved that they added a bit of competition to your evenings, and especially enjoyed when you won for the month and had to get the other to buy you some thing.

S ⇴ SEX

It took a little while for Wonwoo to feel comfortable with you in a intimate capacity. To begin with, he was shy and worried about not doing a good enough job for you, however over time, as he began to learn more about your body and the things that you enjoyed, he found himself relaxing a lot more. Once he knew how to make you feel good, he became a lot more confident and self assured around you too.

T ⇴ TEXTS

The two of you didn’t tend to text much as Wonwoo much preferred to call you so that he was able to hear the sound of your voice. If you didn’t pick up his call, he’d try again and again until eventually he heard you answer.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

Wonwoo never saw himself as boyfriend material until he met you. He never imagined that he’d enjoy falling in love as much as he did with you, but then he never really trusted love as a whole until he met you.

V ⇴ VACATION

Any free time that Wonwoo had would usually end up being spent at the dorm too. He enjoyed being in his own space and bubble, and best of all, he enjoyed being able to stay home with you whilst you still went out to work in the day. The only difference was he’d be there waiting every night.

W ⇴ WHINING

Whining wasn’t something that Wonwoo tended to do, if he didn’t have your eyes on him then he’d patiently wait until he got them again.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Wonwoo much preferred to kiss you then he did to cuddle you. He’d often use his height to be able to reach a part of your body that you never thought he could from the position that he was stood in. Whilst he wasn’t huge on affection, he was a big fan of kisses and how easily they were both to give to you, but also be received from you. He’d often stand before you and drop subtle hints that he wanted a kiss from you.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were a first for him for so much, and hopefully the last too.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

You’ll often end up having to push Wonwoo into bed at night. You’ll usually spot him starting to stare and become distant, refusing to stop annoying him until he finally caved and allow you to put him to bed.

---

Masterlist

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo imagine #seventeen reaction #seventeen scenario #seventeen drabble #seventeen one shot #seventeen fluff #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo reaction #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo one shot #wonwoo fluff #kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen wonwoo

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

#Itachi #Uchiha Itachi #Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader #In the eyes #Itachi x fem!reader #Itachi x you #Itachi x y/n #Itachi Uchiha #post naruto shippuuden #naruto fandom #itachi fanfiction #itachi fanfic #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #naruto #anime #x reader #x fem!reader

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karahalloway · 3 years

Text

(Un)Common Attraction: Chapter 18 - Shoot to Thrill

Series: TRR (following the events of Book 1, with some changes)

Pairing: Drake Walker x OC (Harper Gale)

Rights belong to Pixelberry, most characters and some dialogue belong to them.

Book Synopsis: Harper Gale is a small-town girl working as a waitress at a seedy New York dive bar. After a chance encounter with nobility sees her jetting halfway around the world to compete for the hand of the Prince of Cordonia, her dream of seeing the world starts to come true sooner than she expected. But as the completion heats up, Harper quickly learns that life at court is a lot more than just pretty dresses and fancy balls, and that the polished aristocratic smiles often hide deceit. Does she have what it takes to rise above the gossip and intrigue of the social season, and beat the nobles at their own games? And, more importantly, does she actually want to become the queen of a small European country? Or will her heart have other ideas?

Masterlist: (Un)Common Attraction

Chapter Summary: It’s pouring with rain the day before the Regatta, so Harper learns a new skill...

Word Count: 4,800

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing)

Chapter theme song: Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC

Please read: Author’s Note

Also available on Wattpad.

Chapter 18 - Shoot to Thrill

I wake the following morning to the sound of raindrops battering my windows. Throwing the covers back, I pad over to the curtains. Drawing them back, I am greeted by a grumpy-looking sky and a torrential downpour.

Sighing dejectedly, I make my way into the bathroom to start my morning routine, hoping that the bad weather will blow over soon, so we won't be stuck inside the whole day. While Montana may have harsh winters, at least it was sunny most of the time, so rain really had a dampening effect on my soul.

After a hot shower, I pull on some jeans, a bright yellow t-shirt (in a vain effort to inject some colour into the otherwise miserable day) and a knitted cardigan to keep me warm. Before heading out in search of breakfast, I quickly throw the clothes that I had worn since my arrival into one of those hotel-style plastic laundry bags and call up the housekeeping department to ask them to collect it for washing, otherwise I will have literally nothing to wear after the Regatta.

"Gale," nods Drake by way of greeting when I step out of my room.

"Drake," I reply, falling into step with him as he makes his way down the corridor. "Or should I say 'DW'?"

Drake flashes me a sidelong glance. "I see you've been playing with your phone."

"Setting it up, actually," I correct. "So. You gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What the 'W' stands for," I reply. "Or do I need to beat it out of you?"

Last night, I had discovered not only that Drake was one of those secretive people who saved their contacts under acronyms, but also what his initials were. And since he insisted on calling me Gale (except when he thought I was in trouble, or I managed to catch him off-guard), I was determined to find out what his last name was so I could return the favour.

He raises a sceptical brow. "I very much doubt you'd be able to beat anything out of me, Gale. Especially after witnessing your epic fail yesterday."

I flush self-consciously, remembering how he had turned the tables on me during my surprise wake-up call. "I wouldn't get cocky, if I were you," I warn. "Failure is the mother of success, after all."

He scoffs. "Or even more failure."

"I thought you were starting to have faith in me, Wilson."

"Nice try," he smirks. "But no."

"Watson?" I ask hopefully.

"Nope."

"Wood?"

Drake comes to halt and fixes me with a weary look. "Are you gonna do this the whole day?"

"If I have to," I tell him sweetly. "Or you could just spill the beans. I mean, it's your surname, not a state secret."

"That reverse psychology crap doesn't work on me, Gale. Plus," he murmurs seductively, leaning in, his face inches from mine, "maybe I like the idea of making you work for it."

"I-I could just ask Christian...or Maxwell," I breathe. He's wearing the same aftershave as yesterday, and my mind is momentarily flooded with memories of our bike ride... and his kiss.

"And where's the fun in that?" he asks with a wolfish smile. "Come on, girl. I thought you had more backbone than that."

"What are you two whispering about?" asks Maxwell, appearing behind Drake's shoulder.

A look of annoyance flashes across Drake's face as he withdraws from me. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to mind your own business, Beaumont?"

"Not that I recall," admits Maxwell with a nonchalant shrug. Turning to me, he says, "I see you're feeling better, Harper."

"Yeah, thanks," I reply, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I was just worn out, I guess. But staying in bed the whole day really helped."

"I'm sure it did..." mutters Drake under his breath, leaning himself against the wall.

I shoot him a warning glare.

He regards me coolly, as if daring me to rise to his remark.

I suppress a sigh of exasperation.

"I'm glad to hear it," smiles Maxwell, seemingly oblivious to my non-verbal ping-pong with Drake. "We need you in tip-top shape for tomorrow's Regatta."

"Why?" I ask warily.

"Oh. I thought I told you," says Maxwell, his face crumpling. "But maybe I just wanted to tell you and never got around to it because you weren't feeling well yesterday."

"Tell me what?" I demand.

"That you'll be participating in the opening race tomorrow," sighs Drake.

"I'm what?!"

"But don't worry!" adds Maxwell hastily, seeing the look of distress on my face. "It's mostly for show... Anytime a social season involves picking a bride, the first race of the Regatta is traditionally one that all the suitors participate in. You just need to wave and look pretty for the press. Bertrand told me that he has hired a crew to man your boat."

"Thank God for that!" I exclaim, exhaling in relief.

"Morning, Harper!" greets Hana, appearing as well. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thanks," I reply. "Now, as much as I love an impromptu get-together in the hallway, I'm starving, so can we move this party to somewhere where there's food?"

"Of course!" agrees Maxwell. "Right this way, my lady."

Maxwell leads us downstairs to a large dining room dominated by a massive oak table that looked like it could seat over a hundred people. A continental breakfast buffet had been laid out on one side of the room. Olivia, Penelope, and Kiara were already here, in the process of finishing off their breakfast.

"Oh, look who decided to grace us with her presence," purrs Olivia, catching sight of me as we enter the room. "I hear you've been under the weather."

"Much better now, thanks," I mutter in reply, picking up a warm plate and proceeding to load it up. "Not that you care..."

"Oh, but I do," she replies silkily. "It would've been such a shame if you had missed the Regatta. It is the gem of the social season, being the King's favourite event and all. Plus, I would've been denied the satisfaction of crushing you in the opening race."

"I thought it was just for show..."

"Oh, it's a show, alright. One that I will use to show you up!" She snickers at her joke. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have much to do before tomorrow. One cannot expect a five-star viewing party to just organise itself, after all! Buh-bye, darlings..."

I glare accusingly at Maxwell as Olivia sashays out of the dining room, Kiara and Penelope in tow.

"Erm, yes," he stammers. "Did I mention that the opening race is actually a race? With a trophy?"

"You said it was just for show," I accuse grumpily, buttering a slice of toast with a vengeance.

As affable as he was, Maxwell really was useless sometimes...

"It is, in the sense that it's for the enjoyment of the public, and it's a great photo op. But, as Olivia mentioned, the Regatta is one of King Constantine's favourite events, so winning the ceremonial race would go a long way in securing his favour. The King bestows an honour upon the lady who wins the race, so it's kind of a big deal."

"Not sure how winning a race is going to convince Christian to overlook her many flaws, but what do I know...? And what was that thing about a 'viewing party'? Is that another thing that you forgot to tell me about?"

"Oh, no," smiles Maxwell. "That, I didn't forget about! After the opening race, everyone watches the rest of Regatta from a couple of private yachts. Think of it as a floating champagne party. We don't have a yacht, so we will not be hosting a viewing party. You can just watch the races from one of the other boats."

"You can join me, if you wanted to," offers Hana. "My parents asked me to organise my own viewing party on our family's new yacht. We'll have champagne, sushi, chocolate fondue..."

"Sounds fancy," I admit. "And of course, I'll join you. I'm sure your party will be miles better than anything Olivia can throw together."

"Thanks," says Hana with a smile. "And that reminds me, I should go and finalise the details for tomorrow. See you later!"

"Have fun!" I reply, as Hana exits the dining room with a small wave.

"I need to head off as well," announces Maxwell. "Bertrand had some business to attend to back at our estate, so he asked me to make sure that everything is shipshape for tomorrow."

"Will he be back to watch the Regatta?" I ask.

"He said he would be. It would be bad form for him to miss the King's favourite event, being the head of our house and all."

"I'm looking forward to his not-so constructive criticism already," I mutter, plopping a grape into my mouth.

"I know he comes across as cold and demanding," says Maxwell, "but he means well. He's just got a lot on his plate right now."

"I know," I sigh. "But even so... A smile would not go amiss every now and then."

Maxwell smiles wanly. "Anyway, I'm off," he says, heading towards the door. "There's nothing really planned for today because of the weather, and also because most people will be busy getting ready for the Regatta. But I'm sure you can find something to occupy yourself... or just take the opportunity to relax before your big race tomorrow."

"Don't worry about me," I assure him. "I'll be fine."

"Catch you later then," says Maxwell as he disappears through the doorway.

"You've been awfully quiet, Ward," I observe.

"We're still doing this, are we?" Drake asks, draining the last of his coffee. "Thought you'd given up."

"Not a chance, Washington."

Drake rolls his eyes as he gets up from the table. "You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you?"

"You said yesterday that there was nothing wrong with dogs, Webster."

"True," he acknowledges. "But you're still getting colder."

"I'll strike gold eventually," I assure him. "So, given that today's a washout, any suggestions on what one can do to pass the time 'round here?"

Drake assesses me for a long moment. "How's your aim, Gale?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, we are down in the bowels of the Palace, navigating a narrow stone corridor that looked like it had been hewn from the very bedrock of the cliff itself. I shiver at the sudden change of temperature and pull my cardigan tighter around myself.

"So, where are we going exactly?" I ask, glancing dubiously at the cold stone walls.

When Drake had asked me about my aim, I had thought that he would be taking me to shoot some hoops, or maybe for a game of pool, but now I had no idea what his plan was.

Was he taking me to the dungeons?

"You'll see."

"Don't you get tired of being so mysterious all the time, Weaver?"

"Nope. And still cold."

I sigh in exasperation.

I'd already exhausted about a dozen possibilities for Drake's surname, and I was still no closer to guessing it. But I was determined to extract it from him, even if it killed me...

Okay, maybe I was not that desperate, but I still really wanted to know.

"Wait here a sec," he tells me, as we arrive at a small wooden door that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

Drake knocks and a moment later the door opens. As he disappears inside, I catch a brief glimpse of some uniformed men sitting in front of computer screens before the door closes.

I frown. What were we doing at the King's Guard command centre?

After a few minutes, Drake emerges, carrying what look like two small plastic briefcases. "Let's go."

We proceed down the corridor until we arrive at another door, this one is much newer and made of metal. Drake taps the access code into the security panel before pulling the door open.

Stepping inside, I am greeted by a strange smell that I cannot place. I hear the door bang shut behind me, and we are momentarily shrouded in darkness, but a second later Drake flips on the industrial overhead lights.

As the space becomes illuminated, I realise that we are in an old cellar that had been converted into a state-of-the-art shooting range.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?" I ask, spinning around.

There were four ranges set up with moveable targets, along with a couple of metal tables and some folding metal chairs.

"I cleared it with Bastien," he replies, depositing the two cases on one of the tables.

"Is this where the King's Guard train?"

"Not just the Guard," he says, flipping the cases open. "But the entire Palace security team. There's an outdoor range on the outskirts of the city that they use as well."

"I'm guessing your dad showed you this place?"

"Yeah. And taught me to shoot."

"Because everyone in Cordonia is packin'?" I ask dryly.

"No," scoffs Drake, taking boxes of bullets out of one of the cases and lining them up on the table. "But growing up in rural Texas, and then serving in the Army, it was a skill that Dad wanted me and Savs to learn."

"Savannah came down here as well?" I ask in surprise.

"Not as much," he admits. "But Dad still insisted on teaching her the basics."

"Is that why you brought me here, Wright? To teach me the basics?"

"If you're game," he smirks. "And still no."

I huff in frustration. How many surnames starting with W were there?

Changing the topic, in the hope of catching him off guard, I ask, "So, West... Do you ever take girls on normal dates? Y'know, like the movies or the fair? Or is it only high-octane, edge-of-your-seat stuff with you?"

"What makes you think this is a date, Gale?" he counters, pulling two guns from the other case to inspect them.

"I just want to know what I'm getting into, Wells," I reply matter-of-factly. "Like, do I need to prepare myself for spelunking or sky diving the next time around?

Drake quirks a brow. "Why? Are those the kind of dates you like to go on?"

"I'm up for trying anything once," I admit. "I mean, I'd never been on a motorbike before yesterday, and now here I am about to shoot a gun for the first time in my life."

"Not before we go over some ground rules."

"Like, not shooting each other in the foot?"

"Yes. Now, see this little switch here? This is the safety. If you're not aiming at a target, you need to flick it on, so you don't shoot anything accidentally."

"Got it, Winchester."

"Whatever you do, do not touch the muzzle after firing, or you will regret it."

"Aye-aye, Williams."

Drake rolls his eyes. "And last, but not least, we'll be wearing ear and eye protection while we're in here."

"Yessir, Mr White, sir," I reply with a mock salute.

"Just...no," he groans. "Right, so you have two options. This here is a Beretta 92. It's a semi-automatic, which means that after you fire, the next bullet cycles automatically into the chamber, so you can keep firing without having to manually pull the slide each time. It's a solid gun that's used by military and law enforcement around the world."

"This was your dad's, wasn't it?" I ask as I examine the sturdy-looking firearm, with its well-worn grip.

"Yes."

"And this one?" I ask, pointing to the other gun.

"That's a SIG Sauer P226. It's also a semi-automatic, but it has a completely different feel to the Beretta. It's the go-to choice for several special-ops and counter-terrorism teams. I suggest you start with this one. It’s a bit lighter and sits better in your hand."

"Okay," I say. "So, we picked our weapons. I'm guessing we need to load them?"

"Yup. These are yours," he says, pushing a box of bullets towards me, and plonking the magazine on top.

"So, you just shove them in?"

"Pretty much," he nods, loading the Beretta's magazine with practiced ease.

I try to imitate him, but getting the slippery bullets in was definitely one of those things that looked easier said than done, and I'm still struggling with the first round by the time Drake's loaded all ten of his.

"A little help, please?"

"What's this, Gale? Have we found something that doesn't come naturally to you?"

"Yes, gloat all you want, Wolf," I grumble as I watch him make quick work of the rounds. "But this is your area of expertise, not mine."

"Wolf, eh?" he asks with a grin, handing the fully loaded magazine back to me. "Like the sound of that. 'Drake Wolf's' got a badass ring to it."

I take the magazine from him with a roll of my eyes. "Course you w— Oh, my God!" I exclaim, nearly dropping it. "That's heavy!"

"Wait till you're holding the gun as well," says Drake. "But safety comes first."

He extracts a pair of safety glasses from one of the cases and pops it onto my face before putting on his own. He then places some heavy-duty ear protectors around my neck.

"Okay, now you need to click the magazine into the gun, like so," he says, demonstrating. "If you need to release the mag to reload it, you press this button here." He catches the magazine in his other hand and holds it out to me.

"Looks easy enough," I admit, reaching for the loaded mag.

Taking the gun from him, I slot the magazine into the bottom of the handle and give it a smack to click it in. As Drake had promised, the weight of the loaded weapon is considerable, and I'm struggling to hold it in one hand.

"Now, before we let you loose, we need to go over stance. There are a couple of different ways to hold a gun, but the key takeaways are that you need to have your legs apart, both hands around the gun, looking down the sight," he explains, demonstrating each stage.

"Like this?"

"Not quite..." Placing his gun on the table, he moves over to me and begins correcting my stance. "Shoulders down, knees bent, elbows in. Also, keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire. You can rest it on the trigger guard if you want to."

"Who knew that firing a gun was so technical..." I mutter.

"Despite what they would have you believe in movies and TV shows, it's not just point and shoot. If you aren't in the correct stance, you'll be luckily to hit a barn door, much less a moving target, as you're not gonna be able to sight your shot properly."

"But how is this comfortable?" I protest. The unusual position was starting to cramp up my neck and shoulders, making me wonder how anyone could fire a gun from such a forced stance.

"You get used to it," shrugs Drake, picking up the Beretta again. "Ready to give it a go?"

"After you, Webber."

He rolls his eyes. "Remember," he says, moving to stand behind me as I line up to make my first shot. "Shoulders down, elbows in. And don't forget to flick the safety off."

He gently positions the ear protectors over my head before stepping back.

Taking a deep breath, I line up my first shot as best I can and squeeze the trigger. The crack of the bullet exploding from the muzzle echoes loudly through the cavernous space and the kick of the recoil reverberates up my arm, making me stagger back in surprise. Unsurprisingly, the bullet goes wide, missing the target completely and embedding itself in the wall at the far end of the range.

"Holy crap!" I exclaim, my heart pounding from the visceral experience.

"Not bad," observes Drake, moving one of the muffs off my ear so I can hear him. "But you need to relax a bit."

"Yes, because firing a deadly weapon is such a relaxing experience," I mutter dryly.

"It's very therapeutic, actually," he counters, putting his hands on my hips to twist them slightly. "Especially if you've had a shit day..."

"Call of Duty doesn't cut it for you?"

"Not when you know what the real thing feels like," he murmurs, his face a hair's breadth from mine as he reaches around me to tweak the angle of my arms. "Try now."

I line up my shot again, trying to concentrate on aiming down the barrel, but all I can think about is Drake's presence behind me as he slots my ear protectors back on.

Taking a deep breath, I refocus my attention on the target with some difficulty as Drake gently presses my shoulders down. I squeeze the trigger again and this time I see a tiny hole appear on the edge of the paper.

"I did it!" I cry. "I hit the target!"

"Most people would call that a miss. But since this is your first time, I think we can make some concessions."

"All right then, Mr Texas Ranger. Show us what you've got."

"Finally getting warmer," he mutters — almost too quiet for me to hear — as he pulls his gun out from where he had stashed it in the waistband of his jeans.

Taking up position in the lane next to me, he focuses on the target at the end of the room and his entire demeanour suddenly changes. Gone is the Drake I know, and in his place stands a fierce man singularly focused on the task at hand. Taking a breath, he raises his gun in one smooth motion and on the exhale, he fires off five shots in quick succession, barely even flinching each time the heavy pistol kicks back in his hand.

"Holy crap..." I breathe.

All his shots had clustered around the centre of the bullseye and I suddenly feel weak in the knees, knowing that if the situation ever presented itself, Drake would not hesitate to shoot to kill in order to protect those he cared about.

On one hand, it was disturbing to realise that he had such a remorseless aspect to his personality. But, at the same time, the primitive, cavewoman part of my brain found it seriously sexy that he was a man who would stand his ground in the face of adversity.

"Something on your mind, Gale?" asks Drake, appraising me with a knowing look.

I shake myself out of my thoughts. "You just love showing off, don't you, Wallace?"

"What part of that was showing off?" he asks. "And you're getting colder again."

"What else would you call hitting the bullseye five times in a row?"

"The inevitable result of years of practice."

"So, you're saying that this is another one of those important life-skills that you hone in your spare time?" I scoff, recalling the conversation we had on the night of the cronut run.

"Yes," he replies seriously. "Given the number of assassination attempts there have been on the royal family over the years, the last thing I want is to have someone die on my watch because I let myself get sloppy."

"But isn't it the job of the King's Guard to protect the royal family?"

"It may be their job, but Chris has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he got hurt... or killed, especially if I could've done something to prevent it."

"That's very selfless of you," I say softly, laying a hand on his arm. "But what about your mom and Savannah? They've already lost your dad in the line of duty... How do you think they'd feel if they lost you too?"

"Proud that I stepped up to do was necessary for king and country."

"You're just a regular patriot, aren't you?" I grumble under my breath.

“Someone has to be.”

Fixing him with a serious expression, I say, "Look, I know I'm in no position to tell you what to do, or what choices to make. Just...promise me you'll think twice before doing anything stupid. Because while you may be willing to put your life on the line, the actions you take will affect those around you as well."

"You sayin’ you'd miss me, Gale?" he murmurs, gazing down at me with the same impenetrable look as yesterday.

"Maybe you're starting you grow on me, Walker," I whisper.

Drake's eyes widen almost imperceptibly in surprise.

"Holy shit..." I breathe. "It's Walker, isn't it? That's why you said—"

"Yes, well done, Gale," mutters Drake dryly. "It only took you about a hundred wrong guesses... Plus, I gave you a massive hint."

"What happened to making me work for it?"

"Maybe I took pity on you and decided to put you out of your misery..."

"Is that your way of saying that you might be developing a soft spot for me?"

"You just love psychoanalysing everything I say, don't you?" he murmurs, mocha eyes boring into mine.

"Oh, admit it, Walker," I say sweetly, trailing my finger down his chest. "You secretly love it."

"You're impossible..."

"Now, where have I heard that one before?" I ask with a smile, tilting my face up to his.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me, Gale," replies Drake softly.

He reaches up to brush the back of his hand against my cheek, and I inhale sharply, his touch setting off a million sparks of electricity over my skin.

"Walker!" calls a male voice from behind me. "A-tu fini ici?"

I jump back from Drake, my face beet red.

Turning around, I can see one of the King's Guard poking his head into the room from the doorway.

"Deux minutes, Allard," replies Drake, clearing his throat.

"Bien sûr," nods the man before withdrawing and clicking the door shut.

"You speak French?" I ask in surprise, my heart thudding in my chest — and not just from the surprise of the unexpected interruption.

"Yeah," replies Drake, moving over to the wall to press a button to reel in the shot-up targets. "I grew up here, didn't I? French is one of the official languages of kingdom, so you learn it in school. Plus, Mom spoke it with Savs and me at home."

"Oh. Right." Duh... For some reason, I kept forgetting that Drake was half-Cordonian.

"We should get going. We don't want to keep the guys waiting."

"Guys, eh?" I ask, walking back to the table where Drake had left the gun cases. "You spend a lot of time down here, then?"

"Not as much as I would like, given the busyness of the social season. But, normally, I’m down here at least once a week. It's a chance to catch a break from all the formality and posturing upstairs."

"They're kind of like an extended family to you, aren't they?" I ask, handing the gun to Drake so he can put it away.

"You could say that," he admits, unclicking the magazine and quickly pulling the remaining bullets out. “Some of them knew Dad back in the day."

"Well, thank you for bringing me down here," I say sincerely, removing my protective gear. "Not just for the crash-course in how to shoot, but also for giving me a peek behind the curtain of your life."

"Honestly, there's not that much to see," shrugs Drake, clicking the cases shut and making his way towards the door.

"I disagree," I reply, following him out. "I would never have guessed that you had an interest in... all this, if you hadn't shown it to me."

"Walker... Demoiselle," nods Allard as we file past. He's leaning against the wall of narrow corridor with two other former-military type men, no doubt also waiting for their turn on the range.

"Allard," greets Drake. "Marquez, Schweitzer."

"I wish I had known about this place earlier," I whisper once they're out of earshot. "I could've just called down here and gotten your last name in seconds."

"I seriously doubt that," replies Drake. "Pretty much everyone down here is ex-military or law enforcement. They're not going to rat out one of their own."

"Out of respect for your dad?"

"Yeah..." replies Drake after a moment. "Anyway, lemme drop these off and then we can head back upstairs."

"And hopefully find some lunch," I add.

"We had breakfast an hour ago."

"Oh. Do you think we could make a detour by the kitchens and grab a snack? Honing important life-skills is hungry work, after all."

"I'll see what I can do," replies Drake with a wry smile, disappearing into the command centre.

The story continues in Chapter 19 - Race to the Finish

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tamagochiie · 4 years

Text

holding hands with haikyuu boys (part one)

genre: fluffy oneshots

characters: yamaguchi tadashi, tsukishima kei, & sugawara koushi

a/n: i wrote this out of pure neediness and desperation. please someone get me a boyfriend, i'm dying for some cuteness.

warning: your heart about to bURST (1/2 joke)

—yamaguchi tadashi

he has naturally clammy hands and it embarrasses him. so, when you hold his hand for the first time, you're the one who initiates it. he'll try to (literally) slip away from your grasp, but you'll only tighten your grip.

he'll apologize the whole time you two hold hands.

since then, he'll always make sure to keep his hands a little on the less clammy side. he'll wash his hands, and even carry around alcohol to rub on his hands before he gets to hold yours.

The early morning air is crisp and as clear as the sky. The flowers scattered around the neighborhood are finally at full bloom, soaking up the sunlight and basking in their soil damped by last night's rain.

Its a perfect day.

Well, it would've been almost perfect if your boyfriend had been walking beside you, holding your hand rather than pacing ahead of you.

You pout, looking down to the palm of your hand, realizing it had yet to feel the warm touch of Yamaguchi's. And the more you think about it, it only registers now that he hadn't made any attempts to hold your hand. Not even a mere, gentle brush against it.

Nearly six months since you became a pair, but not the slightest bit of effort to hold your hand. You can't help but let it urk you; and the longer you hold onto the thought, the less effort you give in to holding your tongue.

"Hey, erm, Yamaguchi?" He hums in response, his head lulling side to side as if his thoughts are elsewhere. He doesn't have to be facing you to know he's got that dopey smile plastered on his face, enjoying the spring air. "Why haven't you held my hand yet?"

The tension in Yamaguchi's shoulders are visibly seen from where you stand. The air between the two of you grows thick the longer you stay in the silence, and even you begin to feel tense.

Spinning on the balls of his feet reveals Yamaguchi with his cheeks beet red, flustered enough to be stuttering. "Oh, uhm—Well, you—you see..."

You furrow your brows, tilting you head to the side. You can't help but smile as you watch him turn into a string of short breaths and unfinished sentences.

"C'mon, Yams." You encourage him, and the sight of your smile eases Yamaguchi enough to spit it out.

"I-I have sweaty hands!" He admits, his eyes peel away from you and move to the ground.

Confusion etched in your face, your lips slightly part yet not a single sound escapes you. "What...?"

"My hands are naturally sweaty!" Yamaguchi stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, growing self conscious. "W-When you hold hands, it's supposed to be romantic, right? What's romantic about holding hands with someone that sweats more than they can talk?"

"Pfft—"

"You're being MEAN!"

"I'm sorry!" You apologize, unable to completely hold back your laugh. "But that's so cute! Oh, c'mon even you have to admit that it's a little cute!"

"It's not cute!" He argues, glowing a bright red. "I shared something deeply embarrassing!" He whines your name like a child, only making you laugh even more.

"Oh, c'mere, would you?" You motion him over and though it takes him a while, he eventually does. He treads towards you like a puppy, watching carefully.

When he's close enough, you hold out your hand to him. His eyes widen and he twists away, "No."

"Give me your hand." You insist, jolting your hand.

"No!"

"Hold my hand, damn it!"

Yamaguchi flitches at the sudden raise of your voice. You expect him to shy further away from you—runaway even. But instead, after giving it some thought, he reluctantly inches towards you.

You observe the way Yamaguchi hesitantly slips his hand onto yours. His eyes glinting in fear, but the moment his skin comes to contact with your own, you feel him melt into the palm of your hand almost immediately.

You do notice the subtle sweatiness of the palm of his hand, but you don't mind it. You completely ignore it when Yamaguchi gathers the right amount of courage to weave his fingers in between yours.

There's a tickling feeling rising from you chest, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. All the air you've taken in goes straight to your head.

Is this what floating feels like?

You think about holding your breath, hoping that it'll somehow stop time and keep you both here. But the moment ends when you feel Yamaguchi try to slip away.

"No!" You shout, glaring at him. "Don't you dare! I'm enjoying this!"

—tsukishima kei

he'll always want to hold your hand, but his inability to let go of his pride, even if momentarily, gets the way of him initiating it.

he'll drop hints; brushing his hand against yours every now and then, sometimes looking at the palm of his hand and asks you if you think his hands are too big, and when he's desperate enough, he'll pout around you until you catch what he wants.

tsukki isn't much of a fan of cold weather, but ever since he started dating you, he began to like. but it's only because it was an opening for him to naturally hold your hand whenever he could.

Though you and Tsukki sat in the library, eyes buried deep into your own books, you were very much aware of what Tsukki had been doing, or at least trying to do for the last hour.

Every five minutes or so, you'd feel Tsukki graze his hand over yours. Whether it be him trying to reach over to other side of the table for something that wasn't there, or when he'd mindlessly try to shove his hand back into his jacket pocket, you saw right through him.

You smiled to yourself, You're clever, Tsukki, but not that clever.

You noticed him growing a little agitated, tapping his fingers against the side of his wooden chair. From the corner of your eye, you saw they way his glass tilted just a little bit when he crinkled his nose, and the sudden fall of his chest when he sigh in frustration as he shifted in his seat.

For someone who was usually so stoic and unbearably hard to read, it amused you how painfully transparent Tsukki could be when he wanted to hold your hand.

You gave it another few minutes and let him grow antsy. Eventually, you took a breather. The chair creaked beneath you as you slumped against the backrest.

You twisted your attention to Tsukki, reaching over to him and tapped the against the plastic of covering of his headphones.

Flinching in place, he turned his head to look at you and in a swift motion, slipped the headset. He looked at you with a crease between his brows and a frown painted across his lips, but you kept your amusement plastered across your face.

"What do you want?" He whispered, scowling at you because you probably interrupted him when the song he had been listening to had perfectly synced with the flow of the story.

You leaned in, making him blush. "If you want to hold my hand, just do it."

—sugawara koushi

the first time he holds your hand, it feels like you've slipped into a pair of perfectly fit mittens. there's a ease in your chest and you feel like the only hand you were ever meant to hold was suga's.

he isn't shy, but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable either.

but when your sad or feeling overwhelmed, he'll hold your hand and trace little circles over your skin to help calm you down.

Suga gently tilted your head onto his shoulder as you sat there swept away by the river of the emotions you had carefully boxed shut and kept hidden in a corner.

You had spent the beginning of the week imagining the storm that awaited was still too far off to touch you. But before you knew it, it was the middle of the week and it had drawn closer. So, as an attempt to ease yourself, you had thought of yourself as a buoy, believing you could withstand the harsh winds of your parents' constant nagging and judgement, and the violent waves of tests and quizzes crashing into you all at once.

But you couldn't.

By the end of the week, the tides had finally rolled closer to home, and in one breath, you had been dragged off the shore and thrown into the heart of the sea.

But just when you thought you were too far gone, there stood your lighthouse at the very center of it all, Sugawara Koushi. Eyes full of love and hope as it searched for you, pulling you out of the water the moment he found you.

He hummed a soft tune in your ear as you cried the rest of your pent up frustration off your chest. He held your hand with both hands, massaging your palm as you caught your breaths.

Like steam, your sense of peace rose from the pit of your stomach all the way to your chest. You could finally breathe.

"Do you still wanna to talk about it?" He asked, bringing your hand up against his cheek.

You shooked your head, "I just want to stay like this a little while longer."

You felt the warmth of his skin in the palm of your hand. The weight that had settled onto your chest began to float off it when he tenderly kissed your hand.

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 7

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 7

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4184

Summary: Life moves toward normalcy for Sam and the reader, regardless of emotional turmoil.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

A few days later the Kaisers came into the bar for a nightcap and asked you and Sam to come to their house for dinner. You couldn’t think of a reason not to, and honestly thought maybe it would be nice to have something to structure the week around. It had been quiet, just barely beneath solemn while the dust settled and Sam stayed mostly silent while you moved around each other throughout the day. At least at the Kaisers’ Sam would have to talk to you, maybe even sidle up close to you during waking hours to keep up the couples’ charade. A little zap of guilt moved through you as you politely agreed to a time, that the second thought you’d had was about getting closer to Sam under this guise. In any case, the Kaisers were kind, it wouldn’t hurt to have a nice meal with someone else, and if you were going to stay here, it would be a good idea to avoid appearing standoffish. You bought their last drink and were waving after them when Sam came upstairs from changing a keg.

“We’re going to the Kaisers’ for dinner tomorrow,” you offered, trying to keep your voice even and making a point of not staring at Sam too long. It was a challenge; since Sam had kissed you and even more since he’d divulged that longing was part of the tangle of emotions he was feeling, it was on your mind nearly constantly, adding a murky stripe to the ever-present grief.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sam jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them. “What time?”

“They said 7:30. Don’t let me forget; I think we should bring a bottle of wine or something, so I can grab one tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that works.”

You wanted to drag out the conversation but couldn’t think of any way to that wasn’t cloying or desperate. If this (hopefully temporary) emotional distance was what Sam needed, it was unfair for you to try to take it from him. A quick nod and you returned to washing glasses.

The rest of the shift passed agonizingly slowly. Sam put on a podcast about Jonestown for the drive home.

You’d decided to walk over to the Kaisers’ with Sam the next day, bundled up on top of a presentable sweater that you hadn’t worn in a few years. Biting wind sliced through your jeans and seemed to creep into your coat even as you dug your chin inside the collar like a turtle, and when Sam noticed he threw an arm around you. His side blocked a bit of the wind and he rubbed your shoulder to warm it with friction. The impulse to curl up into his ribs was fierce, but you fought it down to wrap your forearms around the bottle of red wine that looked the fanciest of the midrange bottles at the grocery store. Where seconds before you had been wishing the walk were shorter, now you could’ve stayed out in the ice forever if it meant Sam would allow himself to be close to you again without being asleep. You’d made peace with the want, trying hard to decide that feeling crazy on top of your grief wasn’t helping anyone.

“Ready?” Sam asked with a tentative smile at the doorway. The Kaisers lived in a version of your cabin, in the sense that many of the houses in the area were log-hewn and rustic. However, they were clearly here to stay. Window flowerbeds filled with pinecones for the season and delicately carved shutters framed warm casts of light streaming onto the snow through gauzy ivory curtains, and their door opened to a tiny front porch where yours simply had a small ungraceful cement platform. For a moment, you thought about how comforting it would be to come back here at the end of a shift. It didn’t feel like somewhere as darling as this could have a half-broken boiler that rattled all day or plastic-coated countertops. This was a home and not a hideout.

You gave Sam what you hoped was a reassuring grin and watched as his long finger pressed an old-fashioned doorbell encased in wrought iron.

Mike answered the door. He had on a fuzzy pullover that made him look even more like a teddy bear than he normally did, nubbly wool spanning his belly like fur. He had the kind of rosy full-cheeked smile some jolly men combined with their booming voices to seem like the Ghost of Christmas Present, and a well-groomed beard with two starkly delineated streaks of gray-white dropping straight down from the corners of his mouth. From previous neighborly hugs, you knew he smelled like piney aftershave. He was a little taller than average, and built former-linebacker solid. You would’ve bet anything he was the perfect dad to call to help move you into a college apartment or scare an ex-boyfriend, and the thought of it made you cheerful and sad all at once. The hand not holding the doorknob had a pint of dark beer. “Great, you’re here! Babs, they’re here,” he added over his shoulder, gesturing an arm to welcome you into the home.

Sam waited for you to go first, shuffling his feet along the doormat in tandem with you as Mike closed the door. You followed Mike’s socked initiative and gently toed your boots off while you handed him the bottle of wine somewhat shyly. For all the years you’d been on your own, there was something so decidedly adult about bringing wine over to the dinner party of a middle-aged couple that felt like those first few meetings of your parents’ friends after college, when you’re not sure whether to call them by their first names or resign yourself to a life of Mr This and Mrs That. Mike seemed to pick up on it, thoughtfully appraising the bottle and squeezing your shoulder, humming about how you didn’t have to bring anything. He clapped Sam on the back and asked him how he was doing before teasing gently about how long his hair had gotten, and you took in the house.

It was bigger than the cabin you were staying in, the staircase to your left suggesting an upstairs that yours didn’t have, but what was far more striking was how warm it felt both in mood and literal temperature. A fire crackled straight through the main room in front of you, surrounded by giant river rock stonework that offset caramelly beige walls. A deep, plush canvas sofa faced the fireplace, flanked by two equally overstuffed armchairs upholstered with burnt sienna stained leather. Quick visual survey gave you a count of 4 throws in the room of various weights and patterns.

The kitchen was over to the right through the dining room. Barbie was wearing an apron covered in piglets and appeared to be basting something in the oven, turning toward you and absentmindedly wiping her hands. Fluffy, soft-looking hair was held back from her face with a pair of no-nonsense tortoiseshell barrettes. “Oh, perfect! I thought I hadn’t left enough time for the roast, but it looks about done. Can I get you two a drink?”

Sam’s soft, encouraging smile was enough to make you feel a little weak in the knees. “Sure! It smells great in here.”

“How about an old fashioned? We’ve been working through a great bottle of bourbon.”

“Works for me,” Sam agreed, and you nodded as well.

A few moments of small talk later, Sam offered to help Barbie with the food. She graciously accepted, giving him some job you knew she could’ve easily done herself as a way to make him feel more comfortable. Mike noticed you looking at the variety of pictures on the wall and started talking about their kids, putting names to each cheerful face. They were a good-looking family, the Kaisers, all big beaming smiles and limbs protectively wrapped around each other over the course of different seasons and major events. You’d had to let go of this idea years ago, long before Dean was gone, but it still made you ache in a nondescript way to see a family so happy and so each others’, not only in the way they loved but also in the way they so obviously belonged. Mike and Barbie were good people, and they deserved this. You tried to focus on the affection in Mike’s face as he talked, asking a few clarifying questions as he went. A few moments later, Sam came up behind you.

“Barbie says we should go sit down.” There was a pinkness to his cheeks and you couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of the kitchen or residual windburn from your walk over.

The table was one of those single-plank, live-edged ones you’d always coveted and knew were far more expensive than they looked. It fit the elevated rustic feel of the Kaisers’ house and the delicious, rib-sticking meal you were eating off of it. As you fawned over the roast and Barbie did the requisite Midwestern dance of ‘oh it’s nothing I’ll give you the recipe’ it was easy to fantasize about belonging somewhere like this, having parents like this, pictures of your cousins and nieces and nephews lining the walls of your childhood home. Indulgent, clearly, even more so than the rich food and smooth liquor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it.

�� “So, have you two always worked in the bar industry? That always seemed so fun to me—but I’m too old to do anything like that now,” Barbie asked.

“Oh, come on, you’d be a great bartender,” Sam insisted, always coming down on the exact right spot between flattering and politely flirtatious. “But uh, no. This is the first bar I’ve worked in for more than a few weeks, actually.”

Mike raised his eyebrows in an indication to continue but Sam artfully avoided his gaze. You couldn’t tell what the cue was—how honest was Sam planning on being? An old classic, the technically-true, seemed like the best option. “I worked as a bartender through and a little bit after college.”

“Silly me, I guess I had always thought that’s how you two had met; you seem like such a good team there! How did you meet, then?”

You artfully popped an entire fingerling potato in your mouth to force Sam to take over. “Uh, our, ah, families were friends.” In the sense that Bobby had been like an uncle to you both, maybe. A complete non-answer that sort of encompassed the barebones of the situation if you squinted at it right, but neither Mike nor Barbie seemed to recognize the opacity of it.

“That’s great. I bet your parents were excited then, seeing you get together,” Mike suggested before taking a sip of bourbon. Both you and Sam smiled affirmatively—not together, many of those parents long dead before we had even met—and hoped the moment would pass. “How long has it been, then? Since you got together?”

That one you couldn’t even guess what the right pretend answer would be and prepared to joke ‘too long’ before Sam said, “About two years. We knew each other for a long time before that, though.” It made sense, as far as answers went. ‘About two years’ since Dean was gone, since your lives changed, but it still ripped through you like an electric shock and sent you reeling. You could have spent an hour looking at that statement from every angle but snapped out of it when Barbie gave you a basket of rolls to pass to Mike.

“So that explains why she doesn’t have a ring,” Mike winked, playfully knocking Sam’s arm with his fork still in his hand. “Two years isn’t that long.”

Two years is a lifetime. Sam blushed and looked down at his plate. “Be nice. Kids don’t get married at 20 like they used to,” Barbie teased from across the table, smirking at her husband with so much love behind her eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would’ve looked at Dean like that across some dining room table if things had been different and your mind flashed on the kitchen counter a few nights before, silently clinking rocks glasses together over pie and wanting to hold Sam until the world got more fair.

The plates were cleared and an amazing, sticky bread pudding was brought out. Mike and Barbie coaxed each other into telling stories that made you genuinely belly laugh until finally you couldn’t suppress a tiny yawn and the final drink was poured with a joke about how it wasn’t like you were driving home, so what was the harm? You all moved to the living room in front of the fire, sitting next to Sam on the couch when Mike and Barbie took what must’ve been their normal spots in each armchair. Old cushions folded up around you comfortingly and rolled you slightly into Sam’s weight next to you, lining up the firm stretch of his thigh along yours. Warmth from the fire and Sam, the pleasant sounds of your hosts’ voices and Sam’s answers to them rumbling through you as vibrations when he spoke were so sweet and heavy under the bourbon, and your eyelids began to droop.

Sam’s hand gently covered your knee. “Ready to go?” he asked, low with a private smirk.

You made a conscious effort to sit up straight. “I’m so sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open! Where are my manners?”

Mike laughed a big belly laugh from his armchair. “Babs, we’re outlasting the bartenders!”

Everyone chuckled as you all got up from your chairs, Sam accepting a Tupperware of leftovers before the at-the-doorway conversation of people who didn’t want to go and hosts who didn’t want them to either. You’d been so nervous about the dinner and now you didn’t want to leave, honestly hadn’t really wanted to leave the sofa, just doze against Sam in the heat and company like a child. It had seemed before like maybe Mike and Barbie were just asking you for dinner because it was the thing to do, but they had been genuinely welcoming and you realized that these were the first non-hunter or hunting-related relationships you had made in literal years as you zipped your coat up all the way to the top and followed Sam outside into the quiet night.

“Man, they are really nice,” he remarked, walking closely enough next to you that your sleeves brushed together.

You could barely see his face when you looked up to him. “Yeah. We should have them over sometime.”

“Our place looks like a flop house.”

You giggled, the sound falling softly on the snow around you. “We can fix it up first.”

“No real point in fixing it up if we’re not staying here for a long time.”

“Maybe we could stay a while.”

Sam looked down at you, slowing to a stop even as the icy wind whipped around you. “You want to stay?”

“I mean, I—yeah, I think I do. Unless you think we should go somewhere else.”

“No, I just…I guess I hadn’t really considered it here, the whole “roots” thing.”

“It’s fucking freezing, can we talk at the cabin?”

Sam’s laugh rang out across the woodsy surroundings as he clapped an arm around you and shuffled you both home.

That night you tucked your cold toes between Sam’s flannel-clad legs and tried to imagine Dean as an old man.

If you’d thought December and January were bad, the intense cold snap of February sent you for a loop. Something about the months of darkness and frozen fingers was making you more stir crazy than normal; the idea of coming home to the cabin seeming less and less enticing as the days went on.

And then the boiler broke.

Well and truly broke, not just making the horrible clanging sounds it was prone to, but no heat at all. It had only been a couple weeks since going to dinner at the Kaisers’ and the experimental conversation with Sam about investing time into the cabin which had since fizzled out. A lack of heat at the border of the Upper Peninsula in winter was obviously untenable, and it forced the topic again as you grumpily helped carry in the remnants of another dead tree Sam had felled to heat the home with firewood.

“Is it worth fixing or is this a sign?” you huffed through the tiny clouds of steam coming out of your mouth. “How much would it cost?”

“I don’t have a ton of experience with boilers, but I’m pretty sure it’s the heat exchanger. And I have no idea how much it would cost to fix, but I can try to do it myself if the parts aren’t too much.” Pragmatic, genius Sam with the patience for machinery that you didn’t have. He snaked a long arm out from the bundle of wood he was carrying to open the door and hold it for you to scurry under his arm before closing it after both of you.

Generally, you thought a landlord would probably fix this kind of thing but it always felt a little scary asking him for anything, knowing you paid cash every month and the owner had never asked for a background check. It could have been fine, but every potential conflict seemed like it might be an opportunity to be unceremoniously evicted. Better to either leave before it could happen or solve the problem yourselves. You put a hand on Sam’s chest before he could go back for another bundle of wood. “Let’s talk about it for a second.”

Sam put his hands on his hips and it accentuated the broad span of his shoulders in his thick jacket. “Okay, right. What do you think?”

“Well, I mean, do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go somewhere else, or start moving again or something? We haven’t even really talked about it.”

He seemed to be weighing the options before biting his lip. “Here seems as good a place as any in a lot of ways, you know? Off the beaten path, probably not going to get spotted by anyone we know—knew—and the money is honest.”

You cut him off with a flippant wave of the hand. “Right, but I’m not talking strategically. Do you want to stay here? Do you like it here?”

A moment of silence fell as you searched his face for clues. “I—yeah, I do. I like being in the woods, I like the bar, I like people like the Kaisers and Steve and Jake. Maybe I’ll feel differently in the summer but right now I do.”

The grin cracked open your face slowly. “Good. I like it here too. Do you think the hardware store would have the stuff you need to fix it?”

“Definitely the first place I would check.”

After getting the rest of the wood inside and leaving it next to the small fire already burning to dry out, you started to follow Sam to the car before he turned around a step before the door. “Where are you going?” he asked as you almost bumped into him.

“Hardware store, I thought?”

“Nice try, we can’t both leave with a fire going.”

“Oh, I get it. So you get to go sit in the warm car and hang out in the warm hardware store while I turn into a popsicle over here.” You were half-joking, but it was genuinely freezing in the cabin, even with the fire going. Sam rolled his eyes over a smirk and strode around you, pushing the couch tight to the fireplace before retrieving the down comforter from the bed and throwing it on top. He grabbed a rinsed plastic bottle from the top of the recycling bin and filled it with water hot from the tap before throwing it in the microwave for a second.

“Unless you feel like learning a lot about boilers today, then yes.” He gingerly pulled the bottle out of the microwave and tightened the cap back on, deftly shifting it between hands before tossing it under the comforter on the sofa.

You were having a hard time holding onto your anger as you watched him make a cup of peppermint tea, still wearing his boots and coat as he moved around the tiny kitchen. Reluctantly, you shuffled over to the couch and removed only your boots and gloves before getting under the blankets, tucking your socked feet around the poor man’s hot water bottle and finally smiling only when Sam brought over the steaming mug of tea with more than a touch of affection under the exasperation coloring his face. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

When he came back, you were well into a worn paperback and had put two more logs on the fire already. “Do you need help?” you called over your shoulder from within the comforter cocoon.

“I think I’ve got it, thanks.” His words came into the room on a gust of cold air while he tapped snow off of his boots.

“Think you know what you’re doing?”

“Actually, yeah. The woman at the hardware store—you’d recognize her, Diane I think—knew a fair amount about it. I’m pretty sure I have it under control.” He brought a paper bag weighted with supplies over to the utility closet you knew held the boiler and got to work.

It was nice watching Sam in this element, always had been. As much as Dean had loved doing little projects and fixing things, both Winchesters were far handier than your average bear and Sam’s natural interest in learning lent itself well to tinkering with all kinds of things. Evidently boilers were not an exception. He shucked his coat off to lie flat on his back, looking up at something you couldn’t see with his hands gently resting on his ribcage before reaching to grab a wrench. The twisting motion raised his elbow and tugged his shirt a bit up his torso to reveal a few inches of Sam’s lower abdomen, the trail of hair tracing to his belt buckle in slightly sharper contrast to the taught skin around it given the consecutive months spent without sun. It made you blush and you quickly looked back to your book, grateful for the heat that the fireplace was bringing to your cheeks as cover.

About forty minutes later, Sam tapped your shoulder and startled you out of the goofy historical fiction of the paperback. “Wanna see if it works?”

He had a stripe of oil or something on his cheek but you resisted the impulse to swipe it off, instead nodding and extricating yourself from the heat of the blanket and couch around you. When you turned it on, the boiler clicked loudly twice in a way you thought might be a bad omen before going silent again. You let an extended beat pass and placed a palm on the side. It was already on the edge of being too hot to touch and you momentarily forgot that you and Sam had decidedly not been continuing your new normal level of comforting affection lately before throwing your arms up high around his neck excitedly. He chuckled into your ear and closed the embrace, forearms crossing your ribcage and hoisting you off the ground as he stood up in your hug. You could feel the fingers of one hand splayed out over your back and side through your jacket, the other still holding the wrench tightly.

“Okay, no promises it’s going to last, but I think that was it,” Sam offered as you released each other.

“Crank it! I want it to feel like the Caribbean in here.”

“You say that now, and in 3 hours you’re going to be whining about how hot you are,” Sam grinned, clearly feeling a little proud of himself even if he wouldn’t admit it. He tapped the wrench absentmindedly against his palm for a moment, considering whether he wanted to say something. “When I was at the hardware store she said our landlord might be open to cutting our rent if we offered to fix up the place.”

“Who’s we?” you teased, holding your frozen fingers close to the boiler like it was a campfire.

“I thought you might say that. But seriously, I know you don’t like the color of the walls or the shower pressure or whatever, could make it feel a little less…sterile.”

You tried not to remember that the last time you’d picked out paint was for a bright pink bedroom at age 12. Sam was right, it could be nice. Even more than that, it would be great to have some leftover cash around, and an extra project to kill a few hours of daylight wasn’t a bad idea.

“I kind of like the sound of that. I’ll talk to him about whether he’d be game.” Sam squeezed your shoulder before massaging your neck, admiring the boiler distractedly when you continued. “And seriously, thank you for fixing it.”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 8

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unwishablestars · 3 years

Text

amongst the waiting stars

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x f!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: Mutual Pining, SFW, Drunk Confessions, i tried my best

TWs: Mentions of alcohol intake

Summary: When Levi’s visits get more and more frequent how long until he’d have to admit he didn’t come for the coffee

A/N: this is the first fic I actually finished/properly wrote and I actually dont hate it, hopefully y’all don’t too :)

Wiping off the spilled coffee, restocking the pastries and cakes, it was a calm day for you and your co-workers. You felt a cool autumn breeze enter the room as you hear the door open and were greeted with a rather short man with a bored expression.

"Hello! Welcome to xxx, how may I help you?"

Greeting back with a simple hello, he proceeds to scan the pastries inside the case before he walks up to the counter to order tea and brownies.

With that slight intimidating atmosphere you found around him you didn't expect him to have such a sweet and simple order, emphasis on sweet, he didn't seem the type to order something as sweet as a brownie. Though, that being said, he did order a tea that was rather bitter.

"Can I have your name?" Holding the cup with a pen in hand.

"Levi"

"Alright thank you, Levi. Would you like your brownie reheated?" Asking with a soft and friendly smile "Yes, please."

After asking him to sit down you start to prepare his tea and brownie, approaching him with a black tray in your hand and his food on top of it.

"Please enjoy, Levi!" Setting the tray down and flashing him a little smile before leaving him be.

And that was it, you thought this was as close as you strangers could get.

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

A week to 4 days to 3, he started coming by regularly. Nothing special really, he wasn't the only regular, but you sure as hell didn't expect to be able to talk to him as if you've been friends for ages.

You've memorized the way he likes his tea, you know he has a sweet tooth that he wouldn't admit he has and you know that type of coffee he likes when he needs to get through a lecture.

Every 3 days became 2 then daily, he was back again. You didn't know why but it seemed to excite you to see a familiar face, his familiar face, what didn't make sense was why him? Why was he so special?

Was it the way he openly admired your focused and quick work attitude, the way he would pleasantly chat to you about his life outside this café or those sweet little banters you two have when he enters and leaves the store.

For a man that didn't smile much, he sure was a treasure to have around.

Often enough for you to notice though, he always seemed to sit alone. Asking about it, he's never really responded with anything other than a:

"I'm waiting for someone."

You've never seen this someone. A friend perhaps? A date? Whoever it may be, they seem pretty rude to never show up even once.

Leaning on your arms over the counter to ask him "Waiting again?" Levi started sitting closer and closer to the counter just to make your conversations easier.

A slight pause was present before his answer "Yeah." "Is it the same someone as last time?" Thinking for a moment, "No, it's a different friend."

"Not that is any of my business, but it seems pretty rude for your friends to just never show up like this. You could wait for an hour or so and still not be pissed, gotta say that's pretty admirable."

"It's not a big deal. I mean, I'm stuck here waiting with you aren't I? It's not so bad."

He's right, I guess it wouldn't be so bad if you waited with him too.

"How smooth, Prince Charming." Despite your snarky remark you can't deny, it was nice hear that you made his wait bearable for him.

To the untrained eye, someone could see him as a stoic and quiet man, maybe even intimidating. But with trust and patience, he was sweet and compassionate, it could make your heart melt.

Taking as sip from his tea, presumably ignoring your little banter, you could've sworn you saw the softest smile accompanied with a little blush.

I wouldn't mind waiting with you.

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

Nearing the end of the year, a cool breeze can now be present everywhere. Malls, stores and homes turning on their heaters to help with the growing cold.

Leaving his building wearing a stylish grey coat, already on his way to his personal sanctuary, his thoughts were interrupted with a loud and high:

"LEEEEVIIII"

Turning around he was met with a very much energetic Hange Zoe, stopping in his tracks to see what they have to say. "On your way already? Excited to see your sweetheart?" They said, smirking with a deeper intent than to tease.

Levi's friends were more attentive than he had thought, it didn't take a while for them to realize that he'd been leaving the campus in a slight rush. It also didn't take them long to start guessing what else he could possibly have better to do other than sit in the library or go home immediately.

"She's not my sweetheart." He absolutely wishes though, liar. With Hange and his friends bombarding him with questions like "What's she like?" "Is she pretty?" "Are you going to make the 1st move?" It left butterflies in his stomach. The thought of a confession made his stomach twirl, even if it didn't show on his face.

He often thinks about when that perfect opportunity would arise or even if something like that exists, he'd love to win your heart over and have you in his arms. The thought of you spending your days together, official, made his heart swell, yours too. But how could he possibly ask you out? Who the hell was he to you?

"Right, of course she's not.." Hange responding quickly, stretching out the 'right' to emphasis her suspicion. "Then in that case, you should invite your 'friend' to our little gathering before we leave!" They said with a smug yet genuinely joyful expression on their face, nudging his arm to the suggestion.

"Why would I want to do that?" Levi said plainly. His friends had decided to eat out and drink together at a spot not too far from the campus.

This way they could somewhat spend their holidays together before they actually have to leave for the holidays to see their families. Including Levi, who had planned to spend it with his mother (and uncle).

"Aww c'mon, don't be like that! One of you have got to make a move sooner or later. Plus, wouldn't it be sweet for her to know that you'd been thinking about her?" They argue, thinking about it, he decides to comply.

Already walking off "Fine. Just don't follow me." "Aw but I wanna see her!" "Too bad." They follow him anyway "I'll just wait outside then! Then I'll leave once I know you've asked her!"

Clicking his tongue in agreement, they both head their way to the little café he was ever so familiar with.

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

It was a busier day than usual. Though, it's to be expected due to the cold weather. It just makes people want to sit down and drink their coffee or hot cocoa, warming up their systems.

As you give the last customer in line their coffee, you hear the door open. Looking up to welcome them in, seeing who it was, a brighter smile was presented, almost as if it was an instinct.

Walking up to the counter Levi was understandably nervous, he even considered bailing on the idea now that he's here. But seeing your bright excited smile as he entered the door kept him in motion.

"Levi! Having a nice evening?" A tug at the corner of his lips made your heart pound, "Yeah." Cutting his answer short, his mind too busy to think on how he should pop the question.

"What is today?" "My usual coffee, take out, please." Nodding and grabbing a cup, you start making his usual. Looking back at Hange, they gesture him to stop stalling. You catch him looking out the door to see a tall individual with glasses.

"Is that the friend you've been waiting for all these days?" Your smile lightly calming down "O-oh no.. they're actually.." stopping himself in his tracks, air getting caught in his throat.

"I actually wanted to ask you something." "Oh? What is it?" Your attention shifting to him. "My friend.. And I wanted to ask you- if you'd like to join us for a gathering we're having. W-we'll be eating out together before we leave for the holidays." Not knowing where his eyes should look, he didn't look up until he finished his question.

Seeing your face, visibly shocked but not displeased, a bit flushed. Your eyes soften at that thought, he wanted you to come with? To spend time with you? You couldn't hold back your soft and sweet smile at his offer, what would be the point? Hiding your joy would be pointless.

Taking a look at your face, your initial reaction to the soft look you gave him. He was growing confident, maybe this wouldn't end up blowing up in his face and ruining his relationship with you.

Until your facial expression showed a bit of annoyance, a customer had fallen in line behind Levi with her kid. While the kid seemed rather patient, taking a look at the cakes in the display the mother look impatient and annoyed. "Uh- I'm sorry, Levi. Could you stand over there for a moment" gesturing to the end of the counter "I'll get your coffee ready in a minute."

With that, worry immediately washed over him. Did he say something wrong? Was he too straightforward? Did he mess up? He does as you ask and step aside, too occupied with his thoughts to realize that small flash of annoyance was in no way meant for him.

After dealing with the lady and her daughter, you walk over to Levi, his freshly made cup of coffee. "Sorry about that.. here, your coffee." Seeing his worried expression you give him a reassuring smile, your hand lingering on his as you hand him his coffee.

"Thank you so much for the invitation, Levi. That's very sweet of you." Your face showed a light flush. "It's a really busy day so- don't throw away the cardboard cup sleeve, I don't want to stop this here.." still a small bit stuck in his thoughts, he replies, "A-alright.. Thanks." Giving him another reassuring smile he heads his way to the door meeting up with the friend still outside.

"Looked like it went well!" Hange said joyfully as Levi left the café. "I don't know.. maybe it wasn't the best day to ask her, she seemed occupied." He doubtfully thought, "Huh? She seemed pleased! What are you talking about? Plus, she wrote something on your cup didn't she?" They noted in a curious tone, pointing at his cup.

Catching his attention, he takes a look at his cup and they were right, there was something written on the cup sleeve:

"I'd love to ♡ text me the details!"

was written in black marker followed by your number.

A visible yet faint blush was spread across Levi's face. He hadn't mess up, you don't hate him, you wanted to spend time with him. "Aha! See! Isn't this great?" Hange said enthusiastically, interrupting Levi's train of thought.

"..Yeah"

I'd love to♡

Yeah, this is great.

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

Standing outside by the entrance of your building you stood there waiting for Levi. Having talked about it beforehand you both had decided he would just pick you up and walk with you to a small KBBQ place, just a few minutes away from the campus.

Levi wasn't the biggest fan of smelling smoke as he ate but compared to the rest of the 'cook-it-yourself' places around, this place had better ventilation, a cleaner surrounding and a decent price.

[6:03pm] Levi: Just stay by the entrance inside your building. I'm almost there.

Y/n: Alright! :)

[6:04pm] Levi: Be safe.

He's so sweet.

The weather was nice this evening. It was calm, and the wind wasn't unbearably cold, it was nice. Seeing a familiar figure across the street turning the corner, you face showed excitement as Levi lightly waved seeing you by the door.

Exiting your building you meet with Levi outside the doors, greeting him with a smile "Lead the way!" softly smiling back at you he starts to walk, making sure you're close to him. "It's not far, stay close.. okay?"

Matching his pace to stay close to him, you walk together in tranquility, engaging in peaceful conversations, asking about how they'll spend their break. It all felt natural, makes you wish that KBBQ place wasn't just 20 minutes away.

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

Nearing the restaurant you see the silhouette of a tall, blonde man standing by the entrance. As both of you walk up to him, he greets you with a friendly smile and wave.

"Hello, you must be Y/n, right? I'm Erwin, It's nice to finally meet you." He greets to which to you reply "It's nice to meet you too!" he must be one of Levi's friends who would join us- stopping your thoughts you think back to what he said:

"..nice to finally meet you."

Finally? Has Levi been talking about you? You felt a light blush at the thought, thinking about me? It was nice to think that he'd be thinking about you, after all, you'd been thinking of him too.

"Follow me, we already have a table." Walking inside gesturing for both of you to join, Erwin leads you to a reserved table. Seated at the table were 4 people, one of which you've seen outside the café, the day Levi invited you to eat out with his friends.

As you approach the table you were quickly greeted with hello's and nice to meet you's. Sitting down next to next to the familiar face, they introduced themselves.

"It's nice to see you again! I'm Hange!" "Oh yeah, you were standing outside the café that day, why didn't you come in?" you asked out of curiosity, "Oh I promised Levi I'd wait for him outside while he asked you out!" They gladly explained, lowering their volume to just about a whisper to continue "Y'know.. I was the one who suggested to invite you, Levi can be quite a shy one." They smirked which followed a chuckle.

Looking over at Levi to see some sort of confirmation. All you saw cute pink blush that ran across his face, him looking forward to either avoid eye contact or pretend like he didn't hear, either way, it was adorable.

"Anyway, it's nice to meet you! I'm Nanaba, this is Miche and that's Moblit." Nanaba had introduced going down the line.

"It's nice to meet you all." you simply said, "though.. I can't help but notice, it doesn't seem like you guys extended the invitation to anyone else. Why extend it to me?" as much as you enjoyed sitting here with Levi and his friends you couldn't help but wonder why, couldn't help but want to know it straight, said to your face.

"Because we want to get to know you." Levi admittedly explains, though he feels he wants to get to know you more than anyone else here. His friends nodding in agreement, some smirking at both yours and Levi's oblivious interactions.

Clinking your glasses filled with alcohol the night went on filled with laughter and nonsense. You kept your alcohol intake low knowing you'd obviously still need to go home and you'd rather go home walking than slumping on some poor person's shoulder.

As minutes to hours pass by, sharing stories that brought out laughter which rang around the room. Soon enough it was nearing midnight and some of you were a bit tipsy, some more than others, though you kept yourself your little promise of not going home a blackout drunk.

You weren't drunk but you were tipsy enough to be not be embarrassed if you were to spill some truth about your feelings. After the bill was paid, stuff gathered, and as they walk their way to the door Hange proposes an idea to Levi.

"Y'knowww.. Y/n would really appreciate it if you walked her home.. can't let anything happen to her ya'know.." Clicking his tongue at the smell of alcohol in their breath "What? Did you think I was just gonna let her walk home alone? It's almost 11."

Miche budges in abruptly "Is that why you barely drank?" clearly to tease the man. Overhearing the conversation without really thinking you cling onto his arm "I'm not that tipsy.. but I'd love the company.." a light pink was present across your cheeks, you couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the blatant confession.

"Even if you were completely sober, I'd still walk you home." He'd love to.

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

There were lots of stars out, nice view. The cool breeze, the bright moon, it was all so beautiful. "When are you gonna leave..?" Catching his attention, "Hm?" "to visit your mom?" you weren't exactly sure why you wanted to know, he did say he was coming back, maybe you just didn't want the night to end yet.

"Tomorrow. I'll be leaving in the morning, why?" he asked back, "Nothing.. just curious." Looking up you see the moon in that navy blue sky, it gave you an idea. Walking into your building you were still gripping his arm, not as tight as when you were out on the street but you didn't exactly plan on letting go just yet.

"Do you mind staying for a bit?" Embarrassed to ask but you did anyway. Taken aback "What? Why? Are you not feeling well?" he asks with a flustered and concerned tone. "No it's not.. you don't have to- I just.." you could feel the alcohol help you speak the truth "..wanna spend more time with you."

It felt like his brain stopped for a moment, did she just..?, but in reality it was racing with thoughts to the point where he didn't even notice. Scared of his silence you ditch the idea just as quick as you proposed it, practically interrupting yourself. "Sorry- sorry, I didn't mean to be- I didn't mean it like that-" apologies and explanations start to leave your mouth all at the same time.

"No, it's alright. I-I know what you meant.. I don't mind." holding back his stutters fairly well the blush spreading towards his ears were as evident as ever. "What? Really?" thank god he didn't take it the wrong way, "Tch," avoiding eye contact and walking toward the elevators "you want my company or not?" "Very much.."

On your way up to your room there was a sense of familiarity and comfort, even though the signs of success were there, you weren't exactly sure what you were so nervous about. Maybe you were sobering up quicker than you thought, it's not all bad though.. You didn't exactly want him to just deal with you drunk, you didn't want him to see you that way.

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

Taking out your keys, opening the door and letting both of you in, you turn on the light and offer him a drink as you open your fridge "Sit down, do you want anything to drink?" "How the hell would I know what's in your fridge?" He says dryly

"Heh- that's fair, hot cocoa then?" Giving a simple nod at your offer you take out two mugs and start to warm up some milk. "Sorry it's just hot cocoa mix and milk." You apologize for no apparent reason other than to avoid the awkward silence.

"That's fine, how do you think I make my hot cocoa?" he asks sarcastically, "with fresh cocoa beans fresh from the tree" you retort jokingly, laughing a little. Surprisingly, he giggles along, making your heart flutter.

Looking at the clock as you pour the milk into the powder, 11:27pm, you interrupt the silence once again with an apology "Sorry.. I know you have you leave in the morning.." you remind yourself as you add a few marshmallows to your cups, walking up to him to give him his drink, "Why do you keep apologizing? I meant it when I said I wanted to be here." He reminds you as he takes the cup out of your hands, unable to hold back a smile the tension on your shoulders loosen, relaxing at his remark.

"If it doesn't bother you.." grabbing the blankets off the couch and opening the window "the nights beautiful.. and the view is better on the roof.." seeing the confusion on his face, you explain in a simple manner "don't worry, it'll be quick and the roof's actually pretty clean. Stargazing on the roof is actually pretty calming."

Trusting your rather odd offer you set your mugs on the counter next to the window to easily step out onto the fire escape. Once both of you had exited you grab both your mugs through the window and head up the steps leading to the roof

"Y'know I didn't expect having to climb out a window today." "Honestly I didn't expect to be stargazing with you, but it's not so bad is it?" "No, no it's not."

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

Reaching the roof you set 1 of the blankets down to avoid sitting directly on the roof.

Sitting down you pat the spot next to you asking him to sit down, doing as you request, he settles beside you holding onto his hot cocoa for warmth "The second blanket is for us, no secret that it's gonna get chilly." You explained, casually wrapping it around both of you, what a bold move.

You smile at him, showing fulfillment and joy. The smiled you both see around each other always show honesty, such a simple gesture can convey so much. Now under the moonlight, snuggled together close, his heart couldn't handle how lovely it felt. You could've sworn you saw his eye water a little, that or the light of the moon glistened brighter than usual.

Looking up at the stars, admiring their light and formations, sipping on your warm drink, the air in your lungs start to lock up. Exhaling a breath you didn't know you were keeping in, the comfortable silence was broken with emotions put into words.

"Other than a ball of fire a huge distance away, do you think they can be anything else?"

"I don't know." he answered with simplicity and honesty.

"You ever wonder how long the stars have been here?"

"Not really, I don't look up at the sky that often. But I'm sure they've been here for a while."

Say it.

"I'd happily wait a billion years to see you."

Taken by surprise, he swings his head to take a look at you.

"..whether it be coming to the café, picking me up, coming home from a trip or seeing you in another life. I'll be here, waiting for you to come home. You wouldn't ever have to second guess it, because I'll be here, loving every second of it."

Looking up at him, to pour your heart out. "Because every second of it, I'll be loving you."

Letting out a shaky breath, holding you closer, softly yet firmly holding onto your hand, letting out the simple truth.

"That and so much more is the reason why I can say: I love you too."

#levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #anime #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #attack on titan #first fanfic #sfw post #aot modern au

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

A Taste of His Own Medicine- Belphie

Word Count: 2708

The twins were sick, Lucifer was busier than he ever had been, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like...well...like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them...all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is that Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside. Atop the table in your room sat a candle holder, the lit flames were the only source of light in the room this time of night. With a sharp puff, you snuffed the light out, plunging the room into further darkness.

You were unaware what time it was, and the eternal moonlight never made things easier in that regard. Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and so you spent hours upon hours today making hearty meals in the kitchen. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. There was the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. Asmo left you alone for the most part, in fact, he was doing his duty to stay out of the house for as long as Lucifer would let him. You’d never really known him to be such a germophobe, but to be fair, you were learning a lot of new things due to these recent events. Mammon was practically MIA as well, with Lucifer busy picking up the extra Student Council slack, the greedy second born was able to get away with his shenanigans cleanly. And as for Belphie...well, you hadn’t had the chance to focus on him yet. Beel always assured you he had his brother looked after. With as busy as you were, you hadn’t exactly had time to focus much on yourself either.

You dragged tired feet across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you, a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some answer to your discomfort, you wouldn’t be able to. It had probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought.

* * *

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body found it hard to move and navigate through the burning hallways. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. You could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts back to reality, the dream drifting far behind you now. Another squeak of two hard surfaces grinding against each other struck your ears, and your mind pumped with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, your nerves on high alert for danger. Being in the Devildom as long as you had rewired you to always be cautious.

It was hard to see through all the black. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The little bit of natural night vision you had only revealed to you a large shadow shifting around your room. They staggered as they walked, groaning deeply. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind, it sounded like something of the undead. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up.

You had a few options bubble up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart option. There would be a good chance the monster would make a beeline for you. Besides, with the demon brothers sporadic schedule, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause this thing to be alerted to you. Also the previous scheduling reason still stood to reason. Lucifer had tried to install some sort of listening device in your room for emergencies, but he described it like a baby monitor, and you had been vehemently opposed to the idea. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, so if you timed it right, you could flee your bedroom and seek for someone to help you. Right now, it was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had, and so you settled your mind on running once it got a little closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was pounding harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! The heat coming off the creature was waving off on you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, without a purpose. You bit your lip, quietly swinging your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, it’s shape shrugging away before a hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O...w…”

The familiar voice broke through the silence, and you pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. You rushed to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. When you touched it, it felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” The relief washed over you, weighing you down as you wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. You rolled your own eyes, exasperated at your own stupidity. If the other brothers found out, they would never let you live it down. You’d been spooked by Belphie covered in a puffy duvet. You snapped out of your thoughts, remembering that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. You snatched them and tucked them away near your bed. Then returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder. You almost reeled back, your hand nearly burning against his skin.

“...anna...o...ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. He clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you pulled off of him you grabbed, draping it over his body again. His hands tried lazily pawing at it. After turning him on his back, you tucked the excess fabric around him, doing your best to pin down his arms and legs to keep him from moving. You’d remove it soon, you couldn’t let him get hotter, but you didn’t want to risk him moving more and hurting himself. Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith...Beel…”

If it could, your heart would’ve cracked right then and there, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Then you went to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were thankful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. He was panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, but his lips and mouth were noticeably dry. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you ripped the blanket back off on him, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He writhed as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead. In only a few seconds, it was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe, Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Over and over as the color in him almost refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? You debated this for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. His breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, and you tried to recall if Belphie had any previous experiences with sleep walking.

“Ahh...haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were weak and trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M...C…”

You were so overjoyed, you started tearing up. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t fully awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him. You helped tilt back his head with the brace of one of your hands, and thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. He was mostly leaning on you, and it was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. You heard him sigh, and thanks to the magical demon medicine he was looking much better, and breathing easier to boot.

With what little energy he had left, he scooted himself on the far side of the bed turning to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. With a small sigh, you decided it would be okay to leave the mess on the floor as long as no more sleepwalking demons would enter without notice. You rushed over to the light switch in your room and turned the brightness off, using the light function on your D.D.D to prevent tripping over anything. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, and instead of being burning hot, he was simply warm. A little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. He was doing his best to position his chin on your head and your face near his chest. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back. He squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, and you were left winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s magic or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me belphie #obey me belphie x mc #obey me belphie x reader

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thespoonisvictory · 3 years

Text

“Techno and Wilbur make Cave Better” Key Conversations

Hi, so I’m doing a big Pogtopida Wilbur analysis rn, mainly of this stream, and I basically decided to transcribe all major events, conversations, and quotes for the masses, to reference during said analysis.

This was such a good stream to look at, and there’s some really interesting stuff to analyze, as Wilbur interacts with almost every portion of the story and develops his character in a really interesting way. I definitely recommend watching the stream if you want to understand Wilbur’s character, or at least read this. If you like to write meta, have fun with this oh boy.

Major quotes and full conversations are bolded for clarity, timestamps are added, and names are shortened when writing dialogue. If the character is not tagged Wilbur is the one speaking (W = Wilbur, TU = Tubbo, F = Fundy, S = Schlatt, and TO = Tommy).

“Hey Techno. I’m in a better mood today. I’m in a better- do you know I’m- I’m over fucking losing Manburg y’know.” 11.08

“The revolution is coming. the only difference is I’m not gonna be sad while doing it. I’m gonna be happy, while revolting.” 11.20

“Hey Techno, do you wanna see how over Manburg I am, dude? How over L’Manburg I am? You ready for this? *reveals Pogtopia skin*” 11.25

“That filthy, dirty, coat. I didn’t wash it once, I’ll be honest with you, Technoblade.” 11.40

*Techno shows him the farm, Wilbur is concerned but a little frightened by the amount of time he’s spent on this lol*

“First, I think, I wanna make this place look nicer, cause I won’t be able to work in this cavern if it’s just like, if it’s natural generation, y’know?” 14.33

*they join vc with tubbo*

“Tubbo’s one of the few people I trust, Technoblade. Like, I’m still figuring you out right now, but, at the moment, Tubbo seems to be pretty on the ball. He seems pretty keen on the whole spying thing.” 16.13

“See the thing is, Tubster, can I call you Tubster? Cool, cool. See the thing is Tubbony, I need help, today. Tubbo, do you know anything about super smelters.” 16.53

*they meet up in Manburg to go to Pogtopia, Wilbur doesn’t feel safe coming too close*

“Tubbo. You’ve lost the revolutionary gear. I’m so proud of you man, I’m so proud of you. We’ve finally moved on. It’s the next part!” 19.32

*Wilbur is visibly upset by Tubbo wearing the suit, despite it being a “disguise” and him saying Schlatt’s name, however*

“I was sleeping last night, before I changed my clothes, and I thought to myself, I thought to myself Tubbo you’ve done so much for our great nation.”20.17

“Have you heard of the Sunk Cost Fallacy?” *Wilbur explains the fallacy* “So, in that logic, I think you are physically incapable of giving up. I think you’re physcially incapable of giving up L’manburg. Because you’ve put in so much effort! You’ve put in so much work, y’know. So that’s why...” 22.12

*Wilbur shows Tubbo Pogtopia*

“Pogtopia isn’t a nation, as much as Tommy seems to think it is. We’re a commune, now. Don’t call me Mr President anymore, Tubbo, you’ve gotta call me, uh, Wilbs... In the commune, we’re all equal, we’re all comrades. We’re all equal” 24.24

*Wilbur compares them to Russian revolutionaries*

“Except with this Russian revolution, we’re not all gonna die. And also the nation we’re gonna make afterwards will not fail.” (oh god I’m sad) 25.15

*they talk about the super smelter, wilbur and tubbo are wholesome :(*

W: “Welcome to the commune, welcome to Pogtopia. Now, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking Wilbur- Wilbur-”

TU: “I think it looks lovely”

W: “oh, see I thought you were gonna say ‘Wilbur Wilbur this looks like shit’, and I was gonna say ‘yes Tubbo, yes it does look shit’”

TU: “I mean, you obviously- I don’t think you’ve seem Manburg lately.”

Wilbur’s tone becomes serious, maybe angry “I haven’t seen Manburg lately. Why do you rub this in.”

TU: “What- no- I didn’t mean it like that-”

W: “No- I heard you man-”

TU: “No, it’s really gone quite in the opposite direction-”

Wilbur’s tone cheers up a bit. “Oh- it’s bad? It looks bad?

TU: “Yeah”

W: “Oh, that’s brilliant, that’s great news, Tubbo, thank you, I-, that means that when we go and fix it- let me show you...” 27.40

*Wilbur wants to add more people to Pogtopia, tells Techno to get more food*

*Wilbur talks about possibly exporting “Pogtopia Potatoes” to L’manburg, and poisoning them. This is never brought up again though and isn’t treated seriously*

“I wanna make sure it looks nice for when the gang gets on.” 31.35

*Schlatt joins the game, and joins vc. Wilbur is immediately panicked, telling him to make an alibi*

“How’s running L’man-Manburg going for you?” “It’s going great.” “Yeah, it’s a lovely place isn’t it, nice situation.” 34.30

*this continues a bit, Wilbur is very obviously not a big fan of this conversation. Schlatt talks about demolishing things. Wilbur’s tone is soft and somber*

W: “Oh- What are you demolishing.”

S: “The Elton John house.”

W: “Oh- that was-”

S: “I reckon we’ll take the rocket down as well, and maybe uh-”

W: “oh- ok”

S:“what is this thing, whad’you call this thing, Tubbo?”

T: “This is that cAHmrvan van”

W: *quietly* “the camARvan”

S: “The cAHmarvan?”

W: *quietly* “The camARvan”

S: “That’s a stupid name, I reckon we put a big apartment building right over it.”

*Wilbur moves away from his desk in shock, the conversation continues, Wilbur is shocked by the dress code being suits as Schlatt insults the revolutionary uniforms, leaves vc*

“Techno- I fucking hate him, Technoblade. He’s the fucking worst, you get it, you get it don’t you? He’s everything- he’s everything I cannot stand.” 37.32

*Wilbur talks about dismantling the oppressive government, and quotes Spongebob. They chat for bit, both misunderstanding anarchy dear god*

“One thing I really want to make sure of, cause as much as I’m still not entirely trustful of Tubbo, because he said it was a disguise... Tubbo said that he was wearing the suit as a disguise, right. Turns out that’s true. Turns out it’s the dresscode. So, Tubbo lied to me, which is not the best start for our political relationship, but y’know it’s cool, at least he’s actually online today, unlike- unlike one of my right hand men.”40.26

“Whilst I’m not entirely trustful of Tubbo, I would- still don’t wanna see him get hurt by Schlatt” 41.19

*Wilbur rejoins Schlatt’s vc. He’s still really bitter about being removed from Manburg. The whole Schlatt has diamonds in his furnace conversation happens. Schlatt asks where Niki lives, and Wilbur immediately leaves vc*

“Techno we need to get to the docks, this is your first mission under us, please comrade, please. armor. armor. We need to get to Manburg quickly, this isn’t a drill, this is first thing. We’re not gonna attack we’re just gonna watch, and then see what happens.”45.06

*Techno is mining, and Wilbur says he’ll get there on his own time before leaving. Wilbur arrives in Manburg and is disgusted by the apartment buildings, venturing in while Techno has no clue where Manburg is*

*Wilbur goes into Niki’s bakery* “I think Schlatt’s just mugged Niki” 49.14

“Which is why I need you here, Technoblade. You’re kinda my last resort.” 50.00

*Wilbur looks over Manburg and watches Niki, Fundy, Schlatt, and Tubbo interact. They join Niki’s vc, Techno isn’t keeping hidden well and Wilbur is stressed. Wilbur is trying to balance both of them and making all the calls.*

W: “Niki I’ve gotta go, Niki I’ve gotta go, I promise- I- look- if- we’re in too much of a hot position right now to take in everyone from every sort of like person we need into our new cave. So you’re gonna have to hold out in Manburg a bit longer. Is that ok?”

N: “Of course. I will.”

W: “Mm k.”

N: “Take care, Wil.”

W: “Thank you.”

W is obviously distraught at leaving her behind, but leaves vc. 55.05

Techno isn’t in vc, and Wilbur just softly goes “Comrade Technoblade? Is he- I’m on my own. I’m on my own.” 55.38

*Tommy joins the game and Techno joins vc* “I thought he was gone, no it’s Tommy. I didn’t think he’d be coming on, I didn’t think he’d- oh thank god!”

*they join vc with Tubbo Punz and Schlatt. Techno offers to “initiate order Kennedy” and Wilbur freaks out*

*Fundy joins vc*

S: “Fundy- Fundy- I y’know I wasn’t gonna do this so early into my reign, but I think you should have a promotion. I mean this is just such a good idea, this is just such a good idea.”

F: “You’re being very generous here Schlatt.”

W panics. “Don’t give him promotions, he’s too young, he doesn’t understand, he’s- he needs to learn more. No- he needs to learn more, I should know he’s my son.”

S: “I’m promoting him.”

F: “Wilbur, Imma need you to shut up for a second.”

W: “Don’t you speak like that to me, Fundy. Don’t forget where you came from, Fundy.”

S: “What’s the relationship between you and Wilbur, Fundy?”

F: *sigh* “Wilbur, he’s just a founder, and I was born here, and nothing else. It’s literally everything there is to is to it.”

W, softly and sadly: “You know that’s not-”

Schlatt interrupts: “See, it’s so great to have natural-born citizens of Manburg, taking the country direction into their own hands. I mean, I really over this purple stripe, instead of that ugly blue one.”

*Wilbur has hand over his mouth in disbelief and sadness

F: “I must agree.”

*F and S continue to talk*

W, seemingly on the verge of tears: “I don’t know who you are anymore, Fundy, I don’t know who you are anymore.” he leaves the vc and joins Tommy.

“I couldn’t be there anymore.” 1.01.36

*Immediately, Tommy tries to talk to him, while Wilbur is obviously angry and upset. Tommy is waiting for his command to burn down the flag.”

TO:“I’m stood here, by the flag with a flint and steel, Wilbur.”

W, panicked. “Tommy control yourself, control yourself, it’s not worth it.”

TO: “Do I take my shot?”

W: “Tommy do not take your shot.”

TO: “Wilbur he disrespected you!”

W, even more panicked: “He disrespected me, yes but we’ve talked about this Tommy. Tommy, if we cast the first stone-”

TO: “Wilbur, I wanna do it Wilbur.”

*now Tubbo shows up, holding a book*

W: “Tubbo, what is that book?”

TO: “I wanna do it!”

TU: “It’s, um, it’s nothing much, it’s not really anything worth worrying about.”

W, softly: “What is it. Why are you holding it.”

TU: “It’s- Schlatt has given me- It’s the papers Schlatt made me. Yeah, it’s what he, yeah.”

W: “Give it to me.”

TU: “Are you sure?”

TO at the same time: “Wilbur tell me now Fundy’s coming up. Do I light the fires of victory, of independence?”

*W is reading the book MANBURG TO-DO*

TU: “Uh- I’m gonna need that back”

TO at the same time: I could do with a clear yes or no, this isn’t a- as much as silence is-

W interrupts, suddenly angry: “Tommy burn that place to the ground. Burn that place to the ground and try to as many people trapped in it as possible.”

TO laughs

TU: “I’m gonna need that book back- oh- oo.”

*W throws the book back*

TO: “Wilbur do I kill your son?”

W, no longer distracted: “Keep him alive, Tommy.”

TO: “Again- I could do, I’m actually-”

W: “Tommy, we’re comrades here.”

TO: “Wilbur, take one look at Manburg, cause it ain’t no more!”

W: “Tubbo, take me to Manburg.”

TU: “Ok.”

TO: “I could kill Schlatt and Big Q right now.”

W: “Keep them alive, we need them alive Tommy.”

TO: “Can I just shoot em once?”

W, exasperated: “If you want.”

TO: “Yeah, I did. It’s more of my own self fulfillment.”

W: *sighs* “We’ve cast the first stone. Our little ravine is now, it’s now in a difficult spot.” 1.03.30

*Wilbur meets Tubbo at Manburg and they head back to Pogtopia*

TO: “The flags gone, and your son is corrupt.”

W: “I know he is, and I don’t need reminding of that, Tommy.” 1.06.30

*Schlatt joins vc and tells Tommy to leave Manburg, and leaves again. Wilbur tells Tommy again not to burn down the forest, and is legitimately upset at the idea. He says it’s the thing they’re fighting against. Techno rejoins vc*

“Tommy, if you don’t fix the mistake you’ve made here, I don’t know if you’re the best fit for Pogtopia.” 1.10.46

*Wilbur asks Tubbo and Techno if they’ve checked the forest, but they’re both busy*

W: “Alright well I’ll go and looking for the fucking forest, I guess. I have to do everything around here.”

*Tubbo and Techno protest.*

W: “No no no, it’s fine you two are doing much harder work than I am.” 1.12.37

*Tubbo and Wilbur talk about how Quackity isn’t happy under Schlatt, how he’s protesting a lot of Schlatt’s measures.*

“He’s a man who I thought, really cared about his nation, but, hey y’know, I’ve been wrong before.” 1.13.55

*the conversation shifts to Fundy, and Wilbur recounts what Fundy said, clearly upset. Tubbo is shocked by this*

“It’s ok, it’s ok, y’know, cause, it’s fine! I- y’know, bonds are formed in blood, not family blood, the other blood, the blood where you stab shit. Yeah, that’s where bonds are formed.”1.14.55

*Tubbo, Techno, and Wilbur chat more, Schlatt joins vc for a bit. Tubbo and Wilbur keep up the bit that Tubbo is loyal to Schlatt until he leaves. Tubbo says explained his absence to Schlatt*

“Tubbo, you’re- see with Technoblade, right, I have no doubt that Technoblade is on my side, right. Cause with Technoblade, with Technoblade, right, I know that he wants blood, and he wants war. Cause that’s how Technoblade works y’know. He just wants to fight and he wants to kill bad guys, right. Yeah, look at him, he a little libertarian- little anarchist, right. So here’s what I’m saying, right: you however- little, I can’t tell if you’re cozying up to Schlatt to help spy, or if you’re cozying up to Schlatt because you quite like how he treats you. I mean look, Tubbo, I’ll be the first one to say it, I didn’t always treat you the best, on L’Manburg, and I know I didn’t, I- I- I was somewhat of a distant ruler- I pretty much only- don’t agree that fucking excitedly, man- look I wasn’t the best ruler I know I wasn’t. Well I think I was a good ruler, but I, I- Tubbo I don’t know if you are just prefering his rule over mine, and I feel like I gotta win you over.”

TU seems to disagree, but says ok.

TU: “Well I’m making this farm, I wouldn’t be putting in this much time if I wasn’t.”

W: No I know, I know, but that’s probably what’d you be saying to Schlatt as well if you were doing work for him.”

TU: “That is- that is very- yeah that is very true, actually.” 1.25.07

*Tubbo says his excuse is that he was pregnant in the name of being transparent. They discuss plans for the farm, and the stream ends*

Wilbur, raiding Niki: “Now, Niki is currently probably the last person who I know is on our side,, who I know is definitely on our side right now. And she, basically, is just sort of trapped in Manburg, cause I can’t get her out, cause we’ve got Tubbo out that’s fine, but I can’t get Niki out for a while. She’s being taxed and she’s being watched very closely by Schlatt. More closely than Tubbo, weirdly, and Schlatt is just being a horrible person to her as you know. So I’m gonna need you to go over there and I’m gonna need you to give her some love. “ <3 1.31.52

#wilbur soot #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #technoblade #tubbo #tommyinnit #meta #long post #transcripts #this took so long my hands hurt

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Memories of Summer Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 忆夏之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

References are made to the following unreleased and likely cancelled content, so please read them before this date, or you might get lost at certain parts:

> R&S - Stunning Young Idol

> R&S - Youthhood

> Greenhouse Date (IMPORTANT)

There’s a call BEFORE the date: here

[ This date was released in CN on 21 October 2020 ]

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

MC: All right, I’ve read through the scrapbook. Are you satisfied now?

Kiro and I are sitting shoulder to shoulder, flipping to the last page of the scrapbook.

Kiro : Did you leave something out?

MC: Hm? Did I miss out an itinerary?

Kiro takes up a pen. In the blank space on the page, he draws a slightly crooked, but adorable teddy bear.

Next to it, he draws a speech bubble: “I have a secret to tell you!”

[ FLASHBACK - Location: MC’s house ]

“I have a secret to tell you”...

MC: ...

While absent-mindedly having my breakfast, I ponder on what Kiro’s “secret” could be.

A few days ago, I suddenly received a call from Kiro while he was filming outdoors. We agreed that today would be left entirely up to his arrangements.

"Ding dong--”

MC: Coming, coming!

I run over and pull the door open. Behind the door stands Kiro, wearing a baseball cap and looking very relaxed. Several strands of golden coloured hair disobediently curl upwards underneath the brim of his hat.

When he sees me, he immediately reveals a happy smile.

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready? We can set out!

MC: You haven’t told me where we’re going?

Kiro: Since it’s a secret, how could I divulge it from the start?

He shakes his head firmly, and even uses his fingers to make a ‘X’ in front of his mouth.

Kiro: This time, I’m not going to soften my heart and divulge it to you first!

MC: All right...

Seeing how he’s rarely this serious, all you can do is smile and agree.

This “secret” - it’s probably a visit to another secret haunt to view the scenery, right?

Kiro: You definitely wouldn’t be able to guess it this time!

He blinks and grabs one of my hands, his tone as lively as a dancing musical note.

Your mood is also influenced by his, and the corners of your lips involuntarily tug upwards.

MC: I’ll just wait and see then?

Kiro: In the name of donuts, I guarantee that you’ll definitely like it!

Even though the sky outside the window is filled with dark clouds, Kiro’s smiling face seems to light up all of the gloom.

No matter where we go, and no matter what view we see, as long as we’re together, it’s good enough.

--At least, that’s what I initially thought.

[ Location: Kiro’s car ]

MC: Where exactly are we going?

When I notice the car gradually ambling onto an empty trail in the outskirts, the confusion in my heart becomes more evident.

Pattering raindrops continuously pelt onto the window of the car. Outside the window are large plains of greenery which are being cleansed by the rain.

Kiro turns his head to look at me, and it’s as though his eyes are filled with stars.

Kiro: Miss Chips, I once promised that I’d give you a garden belonging just to us.

Along with Kiro’s voice, a small garden teeming with blooming flowers appears in our line of sight.

It’s only after a few seconds that I finally internalise the meaning of his words, and my eyes widen.

MC: W...what do you mean? Are you saying...

Kiro: That’s right. This garden belongs to us now.

Without waiting for me to continue guessing, he nods in acknowledgement.

Kiro: When I was filming, a friend said he wanted to dispose of a small garden. So I bought it from him.

MC: But... but...

Even after several “but”s, I still can’t think of what to say. Should I rebuke him for squandering money to buy this garden, or tell him that he didn’t have to take my words literally back then?

Meanwhile, Kiro animatedly introduces the garden to me.

Kiro: Even though the garden isn’t large, it’s pretty near the city. And it has a very beautiful glass greenhouse! The first time I saw the photograph, I felt it was very suited for us. When we’re free next time, we can have a vacation here. This is a “secret haunt” belonging to the two of us!

Noticing that I haven’t responded even after a while, Kiro slows down.

Kiro: What’s wrong, Miss Chips? You don’t like it?

MC: I...

Kiro stares at me anxiously, as though the moment I shake my head, his eyes would reveal a grieved expression.

When I think about his kind intentions, my heart softens.

MC: I like it very much. Really, I’m incredibly happy!

His blue eyes are once again ignited with a radiant light. Kiro suddenly chuckles and leans over.

Before I can react, I feel a gentle sensation on my cheek. When his lips make contact with my cheek before pulling away, there’s a soft sound.

Kiro: It’s great that you like it.

MC: [blushing] ...

In contrast to my stunned state with my mouth hanging open slightly, he looks especially at ease.

Kiro: Miss Chips, what’s wrong?

MC: [blushing] N-nothing.

You face away, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of that gentle touch. But your heart rate is unable to calm down.

And you don’t notice the widening smile on Kiro’s lips.

While talking, the car reaches its destination.

Kiro: We’re here! Let’s get out of the car!

Kiro leaves the car first, holding an umbrella. Then, he walks over to my side and pulls the door open.

[ Location: Forested area ]

Damp air accompanies the summer wind. Not too far off, the garden, which sits in the midst of mountains and forests, is reminiscent of a scenery framed in a painting.

Purplish-blue morning glories climb and entwine around bamboo fences, embellishing the curtain of drizzling rain with heart-stirring vibrance.

MC: How beautiful...

The anticipation I harbour for the garden has reached its peak. Similarly, Kiro also pulls me towards it in anticipation.

[ Location: Garden ]

When we draw nearer, we discover that the garden doesn’t seem to have been tended to for an extremely long time. Even the glass greenhouse is filled with junk, and is in disarray.

The image in our heads - a small, romantic, yet beautiful garden flourishing with blooming flowers - is shattered in an instant.

Kiro: Why does it look completely from what I imagined...

Kiro walks around the garden, frowning as he looks at me apologetically.

Kiro: I’m sorry, Miss Chips. I should have asked someone to tidy the place properly before bringing you here.

MC: There’s no need to apologise.

I place my hands on both sides of his face. Before he can react, I knead his cheeks with my palms.

Kiro: ...mm?

MC: I think it’d be even more meaningful if we decorate the garden ourselves. We can write our names on this garden together.

Kiro is stunned for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. Then, a smile appears on his face.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’re right! This is a garden belonging to us.

I originally thought that tidying up the greenhouse would be an insipid affair. But I didn’t expect that we’d turn it into a treasure hunt.

Kiro: Miss Chips, look at what I found!

Peering in his direction, I see Kiro squatting in front of a large paper box filled with various bits and bobs. In his hand is a beautiful glass bottle.

Along with the swaying of the bottle, the glass beads in it channel tinkling sounds.

MC: It’s ramune!

[Trivia] Ramune is a Japanese carbonated soft drink

I lean over, realising that the box contains several more of such bottles. They’ve been washed and stored away by the original owner.

MC: Last time, I couldn’t bear to throw the bottles away after drinking them. But I’d always get sprayed whenever I open them...

Just recalling the uncontrollable spurting leaves me with a twinge of lingering trepidation.

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. Press down on the cap for a while longer, and wait for the fizziness to go away before removing your finger from it. When I was schooling, I’d buy this whenever summer arrived.

Kiro sounds very familiar with it, his eyes brimming with longing.

His words also transport me back to my earlier years: summer days, late afternoons, and ice-cold ramune.

MC: Looks like we’re the same. Actually, it doesn’t taste that good, but the way to open it is really interesting!

Kiro and I exchange a glance, and we burst into laughter.

Kiro: Actually... I still think cola tastes better!

While chatting, we clear out the soda bottles together. There are still various things in the box: lego toys with missing parts, incomplete jigsaw puzzles...

And a metal box filled with tiny paper slips. The words on the slips are unclear, but you can vaguely read them--

“Lend me your homework”, “Why is teacher dismissing class late again”, “Let’s go home together after school”, “I’m on cleaning duty today”...

MC: Pfft...

As I flip through the slips of paper, I laugh without restraint. Curious, Kiro takes a look at the slips.

Kiro: Oh, they’re short notes! How nostalgic. Many people used to give me short notes during class last time too!

MC: Eh, really?

I cast him a doubtful glance. Kiro pretends to be indignant as he looks at me, eyes wide.

Kiro: Of course - I’m Kiro! But I didn’t respond to every single note... apart from yours. I’ll always keep the notes you write to me.

After saying this, he suddenly makes a fist with one hand and places it on his other palm.

Kiro: Oh yes, I have to find a box for them when I get home too!

I pause for a while, unable to think of any important notes you wrote to him.

MC: You’re referring to those normal memos, right?

Kiro: They’re still memories belonging to us.

He cuts me off. His eyes sparkle, reminiscent of a little squirrel which has found a pine cone.

Kiro: I can remember all the important things, but it’s more difficult to remember the more trivial ones. But every minute and every second with you - I don’t want to forget them. They could even be left as family heirlooms!

MC: How could they be family heirlooms...

Kiro: Of course they can! Next time, we’ll tell them that the box contains the dribs and drabs belonging to me and the cutest girl in the world. Each note records a story. And each story is an important treasure.

I open my mouth, but forget how to speak.

In his voice, I seem to envisage a scene from the future.

My heart beats rapidly. I hurriedly lower my head, leafing through a random sketchbook in my hand.

The sketchbook contains a drawing of a girl’s side profile done in clean brush strokes. As I flip through the following pages, I find that the entire book contains the same person in different situations.

Kiro: Ohh, he definitely has a secret crush on her!

Miss Chips: Yeah, this should be very precious to him.

The thin sketchbook in your hands seems to shoulder the weight of memories. You carefully place it at the side, prepared to return it to its owner. All of a sudden, you hear Kiro speak.

Kiro: Miss Chips, have I ever told you about my high school days?

You shake your head, recollecting the interviews and articles written about him before he returned to the country.

MC: I know a little. You attended high school in America, and even formed a band. Then, you successfully signed on with Warner Brothers... In the end, you entered Berkeley University with excellent results. All the articles said that you were an exceptionally serious and hardworking person.

Kiro: So you already knew about it... However, I wasn’t necessarily that “sweet boy” mentioned in the articles!

The corners of his lips tug upwards, his expression carrying with it an almost imperceptible playfulness and ease.

Kiro: At that time, I was actually a little rebellious. I was filled with curiosity about the world, and wanted to try everything.

Kiro: My band also tried all sorts of styles, because it’d be so boring if we only stuck to one!

Kiro: You definitely didn’t know that I secretly played truant. Pei En and I... ah, he was my bandmate. When we had performances, we’d often go out to have fun behind our agent’s back.

Kiro: I even researched how to sneak donuts into the performance venue...

The Kiro he’s talking about is a little foreign, but my curiosity is stirred up.

The Kiro of back then - was he really like that?

Kiro: ...but there was one thing I didn’t try back then.

With this, he suddenly stops and looks at me.

MC: What was it?

I blink in puzzlement. With a smile curling up his lips, he suddenly leans close to my ear. His lips brush against my ear, and I can almost feel their ridges.

Kiro: I didn’t try liking a person. Do you think it’s because I hadn’t met you yet?

Every syllable, accompanied by his breath, rushes into my ear.

The citrusy scent from the soda bottles lingers in the air - sour and sweet, just like those young and inexperienced years.

My free hand is gripped by Kiro.

Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on his fingers, and I respond without much thought.

MC: [blushing] At that time... you should have been studying!

Kiro: ...you’re right.

The warm atmosphere vanishes in an instant. Kiro releases a sigh and fumes slightly, but it disappears quickly.

Kiro: [sighs] Miss Chips, you’re really slow.

He mutters something softly, but I pretend not to hear him and continue clearing out the items with my head lowered. My face feels like its burning.

Very soon, the junk in the greenhouse are cleared away. Kiro is currently tidying the messy wires, and I’m carrying an umbrella and the items to be disposed, leaving the greenhouse.

MC: I’m heading out to throw the rubbish away.

It’s still drizzling outside. By the time I toss the rubbish at the crossing, the drizzle grows heavier. As such, I follow a small trail and run back.

Passing through the stone path to the garden, I turn at a bend and step across a puddle. When I lift my head, I see Kiro sitting at the glass pavilion.

He’s barefoot, gazing at the path I had set out on, as though waiting for me to return.

Rain patters continuously around the pavilion. The morning glories which entwine around it are encased with water vapour.

Everything is hazy. Only his colours are especially distinct.

He doesn’t seem to care at all when the water droplets pelt onto him. He looks happy and content.

MC: Kiro!

My voice shatters the picture-like image before me. Kiro whips his head around in response, shock flashing across his features.

Kiro: Eh? Miss Chips, why did you appear from this side?

MC: Because it’s much nearer. Were you waiting for me?

With a sound of acknowledgement, Kiro raises something in his hand happily, showing it off as though he found a treasure.

Kiro: Look at what I found!

In his hand is a harmonica, and the logo on it looks incredibly familiar.

MC: In junior middle high, I think I had a harmonica with the same brand...

I walk over to the pavilion. Like Kiro, I remove my shoes and squeeze underneath the tiny pavilion with him, our shoulders touching.

Kiro pulls me even closer, preventing water from the eaves from pelting onto my shoulder.

The pattering water droplets continuously pelt onto our bare feet. The relaxing and cooling sensation enters the depths of our hearts.

The rain persists even after a while. Kiro and I are hiding in the pavilion. Coincidentally, we have a full, unobstructed view of the entire garden.

I take a careful look at the harmonica in his hand. It has been washed clean, and the marks of years gone by linger on its body.

MC: Does it still work?

Kiro: Mm, I just tried it. It still makes sounds.

With this, Kiro looks at me confidently.

Kiro: I said that I wasn’t good at playing the harmonica before. Afterwards, I specially practised it! This time, I’ll definitely play it even more amazingly than the last time!

MC: Cough cough. Actually, I didn’t mention this the last time - when I learnt the harmonica in junior high, the teacher complimented me for having a natural talent!

After saying this, I have a twinge of guilt. Because since then, it’s been a long time since I even touched a harmonica.

Kiro: Really? Miss Chips, you’re amazing!

Kiro’s eyes are shining as he looks at me. I lift up my chin ‘modestly’.

MC: I was so-so.

Kiro: Boasting might make your nose grow longer.

I subconsciously touch the tip of my nose, but react in time.

MC: It’d only grow longer when you tell a lie, right?

Kiro: Is that so?

He elongates his words, widening his eyes and pretending to be silly.

Kiro: In that case, I’ll play a song first to get the ball rolling.

Without much preparation, Kiro brings the harmonica to his lips. After adjusting his breathing, he blows the first note.

“Du--”

My eyes widen in astonishment, not expecting that he really meant it when he said he “wasn’t good at playing it.”

Noticing my expression, Kiro arches one of his brows, as though telling me not to underestimate him.

At this moment, several musical notes form a smooth melody.

It’s a tune I’ve never heard before. Along with the rhythm created by the rain, it drifts over in a tranquil and mellifluous manner.

Kiro has his head half lowered, his lips moving from time to time along the harmonica. His expression has turned quiet, as though immersing himself in the world of music.

Every time I see such a Kiro, I’ll always feel that he genuinely loves music with a fiery passion.

Soon, the melody ends. Before I fully extricate myself from the music, Kiro is already turning towards me with a satisfied look on his face.

Kiro: How was it? It’s a new song I’ve been trying recently.

MC: Hold on... are you really not good at it

Kiro: After we performed together the other time, I re-discovered the joy in it!

He chuckles. He uses a tissue to wipe the harmonica clean, then hands it to me.

Kiro: Now it’s your turn, Miss Chips.

MC: I’ll start off by saying that it’s been many years since I last played.

I speak timidly, taking the harmonica.

MC: Let me see... I’ll play “Farewell” then.

Kiro nods. He holds his chin with a hand, his clear eyes gazing at me, waiting for my performance seriously.

I take a deep breath, placing my lips on the harmonica, which still has his lingering warmth on it. After a moment of hesitation, I blow the first note.

“Su--”

I subconsciously look at Kiro’s expression. There isn’t a hint of ridicule in his eyes. Instead, they are filled with encouragement and trust.

Hence, I continue pressing on, completing the simple melody.

Originally thinking that I had more or less forgotten it, memories from the past slowly surface before my eyes, enabling the melody to become fluent gradually.

My eyes flutter shut as well, basking in the delight of the moment where music and memories interlace.

After playing the final note, Kiro starts applauding.

Kiro: I didn’t expect Miss Chips to play so well even after such a long time!

Every time Kiro compliments someone, he’s always especially sincere. Seeing his awe and commendation, I start to feel embarrassed.

MC: Actually, I only know how to play a few songs...

Kiro: That’s already very amazing! Sometimes, I think about how great it’d be if I could travel through time.

MC: Why do you say that?

Kiro: Because that way, I’d be able to know you in junior middle high.

He doesn’t seem to be joking. His gaze is focused on me, as though imagining how I looked like in junior middle high.

Kiro: Then, I’d be your seat mate, and give you lots of little notes during class. In summer, I’d buy two bottles of ice-cold ramune and wait for you before heading home together...

Kiro: [sighs] I really want to participate in your past: junior middle high, high school, university... all those long years.

Kiro: Fortunately, I can still participate in your present and future.

His voice merges with the flavour of summer, and the sound of my heart beating against my chest resembles the song of cicadas, unable to be halted.

Unable to control my emotions, I instinctively want to avert my eyes. At the same time, however, I don’t want to keep avoiding things out of embarrassment like I did earlier.

I’m at a loss, so I simply lift the edges of my lips, giving him a small smile.

MC: All right, we’ll start from our garden.

And it’d span across the rest of our lives. From now till the future, everything will be given to him.

Kiro: Mm, I’ve got it!

Kiro beams with joy. He takes one of my hands in his and grips it tightly, as though he’ll never let go again.

By this time, the rain has already stopped. The summer heat in the air has long since dissipated, leaving behind the freshness of rain.

This tiny greenhouse isn’t very exquisite, but the wilfully growing plants give it a rustic charm. After the rain, the lush flowers appear vibrant.

We step out of the pavilion and into the garden. Only now do I truly feel like this garden belongs to us.

Kiro: What type of flowers should we plant next time? What do you like? Roses... daisies... freesias...

MC: They’re all fine. We can plant different types of flowers. This way, there’ll be flowers blooming in every season. We can even buy a glass tea set so we can sit in the greenhouse and appreciate the flowers over tea.

Kiro: We’ll also have a rocking chair. When we’re old, we can sit here and enjoy the moment.

Based on the garden in our imagination, we start conceptualising and planning how it’d look like in the future.

When we reach the glass greenhouse, I look at the empty door and realise that something is missing.

Kiro: Over here, we need to hang a door plate.

Suddenly, Kiro retrieves a small wooden board from behind the door. Not knowing when he did it, the wooden board already has our names written on it.

-- Kiro’s & Miss Chips’ Garden.

MC: When did you prepare this?

Kiro: When you left just now. Now, I’ll leave the important task of hanging up the door plate to you!

Looking at the familiar handwriting on the wooden board, there’s a heaviness in a certain area in my heart. Perhaps that area already stores a flourishing garden filled with blooming flowers.

I tiptoe, hanging the wooden board on a nail, then look at it from left to right.

MC: Done!

Satisfied, I clap my hands together and turn around. Taken by surprise, I see a bouquet of white freesias, their petals dotted with water droplets.

The other end of the bouquet is held by Kiro. His eyes contain a bright smile.

Kiro: Miss Chips, this is for you. This is the first bouquet in our garden!

He pauses for a while, his tone turning serious.

Kiro: Next time, all the flowers here will be given to you, and only you.

My mouth hangs open. My heart rate speeds up in an unnatural manner. The blooming flowers seem to replicate the splendour of midsummer.

[Trivia] White freesias symbolise purity and innocence, and are the most popular wedding flowers because they are symbolic of the purity of the bride as well as the trust between the couple :’D

I take the freesias, which have been tied together simply with a ribbon, holding them to my chest like a treasure.

MC: I like it very much, thank you!

Kiro: I really want to do one thing right now!

Kiro suddenly stretches out his arms, bringing both me and the flowers into his arms. The summer-like heat encases me in an instant.

While I’m still at a loss, I feel my feet being lifted off the ground as Kiro carries and spins me around several times.

MC: Whoa, hold on!

Kiro: [laughs] I can’t wait any longer!

He chuckles while setting me down. His eyes are filled with the colours of unconcealed happiness. Then, he offers his hand to me.

Kiro: Do you still remember the dance we did before?

I recall the “dance” we did the last time in a greenhouse, where I was spun around till I was dizzy. I shake my head vigorously.

MC: I don’t remember!

Kiro: Liar.

Seeing his slightly aggrieved expression, I smile and place my hand gently on his palm. Then, he playfully hooks his fingers with mine.

All of a sudden, the dark clouds accumulated in the sky are blown away by the wind. Rays of light from afar reach us, illuminating the entire garden.

The scintillating light dances on the tips of Kiro’s golden coloured hair, and my vision is completely taken over by his smiling face.

It can no longer hold anything else.

Kiro: Let’s dance!

I’m pulled closer to Kiro, and he takes my head, lifting it over my head.

MC: Are we going to dance right here?

I can’t help but laugh. Cooperating with him, I tiptoe and twirl around. Then, he draws me into his arms.

Kiro leans his chin on my shoulder. The breath he exhales stirs up stray hairs on the side of my neck.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but hear his incredibly gentle voice in my ear, imbued with overwhelming sweetness.

Kiro: Miss Chips--

[ PRESENT - Location: MC’s house ]

Kiro: All right, that should be it. The only thing left is to paste that photograph we took at the garden. Hmm... we can also consider making dried flowers using the flowers in every season, and keep them here...

Kiro sets down the pen, casting an earnest look at the mostly empty book, as though he has come to a decision.

My gaze lingers on the phrase he just wrote down.

The adorable teddy bear is waving at me from the book. The speech bubble is drawn seriously, and there’s an arrow pointing at the next page.

The ink left behind by Kiro has yet to dry completely. His voice in my memory and the short phrase blend together, creating a drawn out sweetness in my heart.

“Miss Chips, will you give your future to me?”

💐 MOMENTS 💐

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Why do you suddenly want to fulfil people’s wishes?

Kiro: Because I want to know what your wish is!

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Could I wish for three more wishes?

Kiro: If it’s Miss Chips, even a thousand or ten thousand wishes are okay.

Kiro’s Post: The person who sees this message can make a wish.

MC: Looks like I’m the first one?

Kiro: Mm! Actually, you’re the only one.

Call after the date: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #aHHHHHHUIEHAGRDJVKN #mY SOUL #IT IS CLEANSED

141 notes · View notes

slytherinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Sub Rosa [80]

ix. what you take with you

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, fighting, language.

Summary: Two unexpected people join you in your captivity.

a/n: NUMBER 80??!! HOW DO WE ONLY HAVE 20 LEFT???? LIKE W H A T? also this is one of my favorite chapters so I’m excited to share it with you!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Time passes in the cave slowly as you wait for something to happen. Anything really. But your captivity is largely uneventful after your initial escape. Most of the Children of Gabriel ignore you as they go past, moving in and out of the cave, and only once does one of them interact with you, a few hours into your captivity. She grabs your head and tugs it forward, checking for a mind drive scar, and when she finds none she informs the others and leaves you alone again.

Sometime after dark, something finally starts to happen.

There’s a commotion in the cave, and people rush past you and towards the door, some of them talking about new hostages as they go. You stand, moving as close to the door as you can, eyes trained on it as you await the arrival of whoever else they found. You finally see movement towards the entrance to the cave, and you watch two people being led inside, bags over their heads. You feel your heartbeat quicken, wondering if you know who they are, but you don't have to wonder for long because the taller of the two figures mutters, “I need to see Gabriel.”

You feel a rush of relief, and worry, at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, and you call out, “Bellamy?”

He calls your name back, and then the bag is pulled off his head, the two of you looking at each other in shock. Bellamy’s face drops when he sees the blood smeared on your face, and you shake your head a little trying to let him know that it’s nothing to worry about. You tug against your chains, trying to reach him, and he launches himself towards you, slipping from his captors grip. He rushes across the cave to you, his arms wrapping around you for half a second before he is yanked away and you’re rewarded with a hard slap. You let out a sound of pain, groaning at the familiar metallic taste washing over your tongue, and you turn and spit the blood from your mouth, before looking up with a glare, eyes landing on the person who slapped you.

You almost roll your eyes when you realize it’s Asher, who now has black warpaint smudged around his eyes. He smiles at you, clearly enjoying his torment of you. “What? Do you have something to say?”

You let your anger get the best of you and you search your head for the nickname used in Sanctum that you’re sure will hurt him, coupled with a reminder of the insult he threw your way before knocking you out. “Yeah, how’d a Null get past the radiation shield anyways? Your red blood isn't good for anything.”

The insult hurts him, as intended, but it earns you another smack, this time accompanied by Bellamy’s struggling cry of protest. You keep your sound of pain at bay this time and turn your glare back to the man, who smirks at you. “I slipped out the same time your boyfriend did, he was just too busy to notice.”

You look at Bellamy, who looks like he has a million things he wants to ask you, but you’re cut off by a voice muttering, “Ew, what’s that smell?”

You look over to the second hooded figure, and watch as they tug the bag off Josephine’s head. She looks around in disgust before her eyes find you, taking in your appearance, and she scoffs, “God, you look like shit.”

Josephine’s presence seems to remind Bellamy that there is more at stake here, and he looks at the man standing beside you. “Which one of you is Gabriel? We have information critical to your cause.”

Josephine laughs, “Their cause is a joke.”

“Quiet!”

But Josephine doesn't stop, she just continues her taunting with a smirk. “Do you think that dressing up in scary costumes helps your cause? We laugh at you in Sanctum.”

“Why aren't you laughing now?”

The same woman from the alleyway, a blonde with warpaint, pulls out a sword and points it at Josephine. She doesn't flinch, but you can see Bellamy start to worry, and he calls out, “Just wait. They can make hosts, as many as they want.”

Asher turns to look at you in shock, Bellamy reiterating the same information you initially offered him, verifying it before your 24 hours is up. You smirk at him a little and mutter, “Told you.”

He glares at you before turning to look at Bellamy. “Details, or your rude friend dies.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

The man pulls out your Grounder knife and holds it to your throat, giving Bellamy a sinister smile. “Something tells me we could make you talk.”

“Touch her, and I'll tell you nothing.” You can see Bellamy fighting against his rising anxiety, trying to seem like the one in control, despite the fact that all of you are restrained and you have a knife at your throat for the second time in the last few hours. “You don't have long before the 12 Primes are back. Gabriel gets the details, no one else.”

The man grinds out, “There were 13.” He tosses you to the ground and yells to the others, “Chain them up! If the old man doesn't respond, you die.”

They chain Bellamy to your left and Josephine to your right, and all of you watch as one of the Children of Gabriel grabs a radio and starts to speak into it, walking out the cave as he does. “Jericho to Providence. We have a prisoner that claims Primes can now make hosts. If you're out there…”

You don't hear the rest, the man now out of sight, the rest of the children dispersed, the three of you now alone. You look to the entrance of the cave in confusion, thinking of the failure all of you have had with radios up to this point, a fact that you are well aware of, despite your limited time on this moon. So how come people born and raised here don't know the same fact? You look over at Bellamy, who looks equally confused, and you voice the question you're both thinking. “Radios don't work on this moon, how could they not know that?”

“They work in one place.”

You and Bellamy look over at Josephine, catching onto something in her tone. She leans her head back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, looking anxious and afraid. “What is it?”

“If they're calling Gabriel, that means he's alive.”

Bellamy, sensing a deeper history, asks, “What's the deal with you two?”

“What? Are we gonna be friends now?”

He lets out a soft snort of laughter, “Doubtful.”

She glances at both of you, taking you in, before she turns away again, focusing her gaze on the wall in front of her. “I've been in love with Gabriel for 236 years, the last 70 of which he's been trying to kill me. You know, relationships.”

You and Bellamy share a look, glad that your relationship hasn't featured any murder attempts. Well, there was an attempt during the eclipse, but that’s not the same thing. You look back to Josephine when you hear a strange tapping sound, your eyes falling to her finger, tapping Morse Code against the cuff. Bellamy and Josephine notice too, and she nods, “Morse code, huh? She's crafty, I'll give her that.”

She focuses on the Morse Code, spelling out the translation as her finger moves. “B-o-o-h-o-o. That's harsh.”

You smile at your twin’s quip, until your brain starts to realize something. You look at Josephine with curiosity, aware that if Clarke is cracking jokes about Josephine’s love life, then she can hear Josephine talking about her love life. “She can hear us?”

“It would seem so, which means the wall separating our minds is almost gone. When that happens, she'll stroke out, I'll download, and you can say goodbye to your genocidal twin.”

“Let me talk to her.”

She gives you a condescending look, “I'd have to give over control for that, so no.”

“But she can hear me?”

“Yes, she can hear you.” She rolls her eyes at you and the hopeful expression on your face. “For God's sake, just say what you want to say.”

You think of all the things you want to say to Clarke, all the things you want to tell her in case you have to say goodbye, but then you realize you don't want to say goodbye. You can’t say goodbye. No matter what it takes, no after what you have to do, you will save your twin's life, the way she has saved yours and countless others on multiple occasions. Which is why you settle on, “I won't let you die.”

You’re serious when you say it, the words a promise to the Universe that you will do what needs to be done. Josephine seems taken aback by your fervor, maybe even a little jealous, but you see her hand absentmindedly rub her wrist, the same wrist that usually holds your twin’s bracelet. You smile for a second, but then the bracelet reminds you of Madi, who is supposed to be here right now. You turn to face Bellamy, fighting back your worry. “Wait, where are the others?”

“Back in Sanctum. Josephine cut Murphy so Emori stayed behind with him, and Echo stayed behind to make sure the others are safe. We never found Madi before we had to leave, and Jackson, Miller, and Jordan were late. We didn't have time to wait because the guards were closing in, so I grabbed Josephine and we escaped.” He moves closer to you, his chains reaching yours, thankfully, allowing the two of you to sit close. His voice drops to a whisper as he lifts his hands to caress your face, finger running across the dried up blood, brows furrowed with worry. “I didn't want to leave you behind, but when you didn't show up and the guards were about to grab us, I thought about what’s best for everyone and decided that saving Clarke is important.”

You smile at him, letting him know you aren’t upset that he left you behind. Because technically you were already out of Sanctum. “You’re right, saving Clarke is important, and it’s exactly what I wanted you to do. Clarke’s trapped in her head and her body is a ticking time bomb. I can take care of myself.”

He smiles at you, eyes falling on the blood again, its presence only further convincing him of what you're saying. “I know you can, because you’re strong. Stronger than any of us.”

The two of you kiss, his touch light and affectionate, but you pull away when someone behind you exclaims, “Oh, barf. Get a room.”

You roll your eyes at Josephine and mutter, “Go float yourself.”

“Funny, your sister said the same thing to me when we first met.”

You ignore her and slide down to the ground, leaning against the wall, and Bellamy does the same, the three of you sitting in silence for a few hours. You see no one in those few hours, and eventually the three of you fall asleep, resting the best you can on the cold hard ground of the cave, with you and Bellamy huddled close to fight off the slight chill in the air.

You wake a few hours later, sometime after sunrise, according to the small amount of light filtering into the cave, and when you open your eyes and look at Bellamy, you find that he’s already looking at you. Despite your circumstances, despite the possibility that you, Clarke, Josephine, and Bellamy could possibly die in a few hours, you feel a rush of peace looking up at his face, and the distinct feeling that everything is right in the world. Bellamy must feel it too, because he leans in to kiss you, soft and sweet, reminding you just how much you love his morning kisses. And his afternoon kisses, and his evening kisses, and his happy kisses, and his sad ones, his comforting ones, his passionate ones. Every kiss from Bellamy is better than the one before it, and you’re sure you could spend your entire life doing nothing but kissing him and you’d still die happy.

Bellamy pulls away and looks down at you with a smile. “To other people, you are the moon. The radiant natshana that lights up even the darkest of nights, but to me, you’re everything. The moon, the sun, the stars. You’re the air I breathe and the love in my heart. You are every leaf, every tree, every moon, planet, and galaxy in this endless Universe. You are everything to me, and you have completely captured my heart from the moment that I met you, though I tried to deny it at first.”

The two of you laugh softly as you remember the animosity that you shared in the beginning. Bellamy starts to sit up, pulling you up with him, both of you turning to face each other as you do. You can tell he has more that he wants to say to you, and though you don't understand why you're getting this declaration of love now, you accept it with a smile. “I have never been loved by someone the way you love me, and I know I’m incredibly lucky that I get to have this. That I get to have you. You have loved me at my best, and you have loved me at my very worst, and even when I am lost and struggling, still you’re there, loving me through it all. You have the biggest heart, one that is so full of love that you are so eager to give, and I love you for that. I love your strength, your vulnerability, your kindness, your beauty. I love everything about you, and I just want to give you the world. I want to protect you, and love you, and make you happy until I draw my last breath. And I’ve been waiting to tell you all of this, waiting for the perfect moment during our new life of peace, but I’m starting to worry that I won’t get that chance. I can't tell you how many times I’ve seen you laying beside me, injured, looking like you’re on the brink of death, and when I couldn't find you yesterday, I nearly lost it. So I’m going to do this while I can, while you’re in front of me, alive and okay.”

He reaches up to push your hair away from your face and you close your eyes and lean into his touch, smiling. When you open your eyes again, his hand is extended between the two of you, a small ring held out in his palm. It’s beautiful; a small round sapphire surrounded by a perimeter of tiny diamonds, all situated on a thin gold band. You look up at Bellamy in shock, his expression one of complete adoration as he whispers, “Will you marry me?”

You look between him and the ring, wondering if he’s joking, but when you meet his eyes again, you can see that he’s completely serious, and still anxiously awaiting your answer. Your face splits into a grin and you practically lunge towards him, pulling him into a hug before peppering kisses all over his face. He laughs, one of those bright pretty ones that you wish you could capture in a bottle and keep forever, and his voice is light with happiness when he says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You kiss him softly on the lips, pulling away just enough to whisper, against them, “Yes.”

His smile gets even wider, and he pulls you in for another hug, before leaning back and holding up the ring again. He takes your hand and slides it onto your left ring finger, both of you marveling at the perfect fit. You admire the ring, and the way it looks on your finger, and he whispers, “It was my mother’s.”

You look up at him, your eyes growing wide. “Oh, Bellamy.”

But he smiles, sadness unable to reach him in this moment. “She gave it to me before she was floated, told me to give it to the girl that captures my heart. I didn’t have it when I hopped on the dropship, but when I went back to the ring with the others, I went looking for it. I’ve had it with me everyday since I left you on Earth, carrying it with me to remind myself of the girl that captured my heart.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you start to lean in for another kiss when a voice behind you stops you in your tracks. “Ugh, again? Are the two of you capable of keeping it in your pants long enough for us to get out of here?”

You and Bellamy both cut back, “Shut up, Josephine.”

She holds her hands up in mock surrender before sitting up from her sleeping position, resting her head against the cave wall again. You see a smirk pass over her features and you give her a questioning look. “What?”

“My father was a fool for letting you people stay. All that time spent building a sanctuary for the human race, and he destroys it because of the most human thing of all...love.” She shakes her head before she smirks again, “I mean, who can blame him? I am awesome. It's just…”

She trails off, looking at you and Bellamy, still pressed close together. “Well, one look at the two of you, and he should have known how this would end. Guess I'm just saying all this because I know so much about both of you now.”

You nod your head, giving her a sarcastic look. “Oh, you do, huh?”

She hums in agreement, looking between you and Bellamy again. “Take the three of you, for instance. Now that's a weird relationship, isn't it? First, the twins hate each other when they land on Earth, and then Bellamy wants to kill both of you just to save his own ass, even though it means the genocide of your own people on the Ark. Then you two shack up, and Bellamy and Clarke become besties, all of you bonding over the actual genocide at Mount Weather.”

She lifts her hand, pretending to push a fake lever, “Together.”

You roll your eyes as she continues on, “Bellamy locks her up, she locks you both up, he leaves you and Clarke on Earth, she leaves you both to die in the fighting pits. I mean, it's exhausting, frankly.”

You snort, “Tell me about it.”

Bellamy leans his head against the wall, turning his gaze away from her. “You're wrong about how this ends, by the way. First, we get you back into your mind drive, and then we'll use it for a peace deal with your father.”

“Your belief in yourself is cute. But unfortunately, putting aside about a thousand variables, chief among them Clarke's newfound evangelical, do better-ism, making it impossible for her to accept a peace deal with those awful body snatchers, all four of us are gonna die in this cave.”

Bellamy nods, convinced that this is not where your story ends. “Yeah, okay. We'll see.”

She turns to glare at him, “Okay, now your confidence is just pissing me off.”

Bellamy looks at her like he’s about to respond, but suddenly the energy in the room changes. Seconds later you can hear the sound of approaching voices, and all three of you stand, looking towards the entrance to the cave. Asher comes in first, leading the rest, and he points his sword at you, commanding, “Gag the prisoners.”

He yells into the cave, for the others hidden deep inside, “Everybody up! The Sanctum riders are coming!”

You and Bellamy exchange a look as a few of the guards walk over to you, ready to gag you. They head to Josephine first, grabbing her harshly to hold her still, but she fights against them, yelling, “Get away from me!”

One of the men hits her hard and she falls to the ground. When they pull her back to her feet, a small line of black blood drips from her mouth, giving her status away. You whisper, “Shit.”

Chaos erupts after that, and the blonde woman starts to yell, “She's got the blood! She's got the blood!”

Asher comes over and looks at Josephine, eyeing the blood dripping from her mouth. “Put her on her knees.”

You know what’s gonna happen next, because they did the same thing to you hours ago. You look at Bellamy in alarm before turning and yelling, “Leave her alone!”

They force her to her knees and lift her hair, revealing the short scar on the back of her neck. Your stomach drops as they announce to the group, “She's a Prime! Unchain her, put her there.”

Asher motions to a flat rock nearby, and they unchain Josephine and drag her over to it, ignoring your begging, “Don't do this, please!”

Bellamy adds, “The drive in her head, it's Josephine!”

The name seems to make things worse, because the guard at Josephine’s back shoves her forcefully down, pressing her face into the rock. She mutters, “Not helping.”

“Think! As long as she's alive, you have leverage over Russell!”

Asher looks at Bellamy, his expression neutral, clearly not swayed by the thought of leverage. “This is not a negotiation, it's a war. The answer is Death to Primes!”

You and Bellamy watch in horror as he lifts his sword, fully intending to bring it down and chop off your twin's head, killing her once and for all. You rack your brain trying to think of anything to save her, and as you watch the sword start to lower, Josephine yells out, “Wait!”

The sword freezes in midair, and she exclaims, “Gabriel loves her. Is this what he would want?”

Her? The word hits you like a freight train, and you look at the blonde on the rock with a smile, hoping that the hunch you have is correct. You watch as she turns and kicks the leg of the man holding her in place, breaking it in half. He cries out in pain and releases her, giving her just enough time to dodge the sword that comes down onto the rock, missing her head by inches. She uses Asher’s surprise to grab him and swing him towards the rock, slamming his head into it and dropping him to the ground. Then she takes his sword and kills the man that is running to meet her, leaving only the blonde woman that you first met in Sanctum. But she makes quick work of her too, slicing her throat with the sword, stepping around the fallen body to look at you and Bellamy.

You look at her with a smile of realization, recognizing your twin anywhere. “Clarke?”

She smiles at you, “La lune.”

She bends down and grabs a set of keys as Bellamy looks at her in shock, “She gave you control?”

“It was either that or get her head cut off.”

She runs towards you, fumbling with the ring of keys, trying to find the one that fits your restraints. Deeper in the cave, the other Children of Gabriel have been alerted to your attempts at freedom, and you all look towards the sound of the approaching voices, watching shadows as they bounce off the wall, running closer. “I heard something! This way.”

You close your hands over Clarke’s, stilling her movements, “We don't have time, you have to run!”

“No!” She shakes her head hard, her expression pulling into one of desperation. “I'm not leaving you.”

“You have to! We’re running out of time. Go find Gabriel, we’ll come find you.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but the approaching voices continue to grow louder, and she knows you're right. She slips the keys into your hand, before wrapping one hand around yours and reaching out to wrap one hand around Bellamy’s. “Congratulations. I love you both.”

You smile at her briefly, the expression dropping when the voices are right around the corner, “Go! Now!”

She nods and gives you one last look before turning and running away, straight out of the cave and into the woods. Seconds later a group of people runs past you, heading outside as Asher yells at them, “It's Josephine Prime. Kill her before she gets to the rise. Do not let them get her back to Sanctum! Go!”

They all file out of the cave, leaving their injured leader behind, and you turn to Bellamy, who is looking at you with worry. “What now?”

“Now,” you open your palm, letting the handcuff keys hang down into view, giving him a mischievous grin as you do, “We get the hell out of here.”

He grins back at you, ready to raise hell with his fiance, ready to escape this cave and make things right.

Ready to show the Primes, and the Children of Gabriel, that they picked the wrong group of people to mess with.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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