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eliemo · 4 years

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Heart of Ice

Summary: Virgil quickly realizes the light sides had some kind of unspoken rule about touch. Which would be fine, if it didn't just apply to him.

TWs: Brief panic attack, touch starvation and mentions of its affects, self esteem issues, angst with a happy ending

Taglist: @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

Virgil got it. Really, he did.

He was the villain for a long time, an unwanted nuisance everyone hated, and understandably so. He would never hold any hostility against them, not when he knew he deserved it.

Now...maybe he wasn’t a villain. Still a nuisance for sure, but a tolerated one. He’d been getting closer with the other sides, Patton’s smiles more frequent and genuine, Logan taking a real interest in what he had to say, and Roman’s annoyance quickly turning to fond affection.

So maybe they were friends. Or they were getting there at least. Virgil knew he cared about them more than they would ever care about him, but that was ok. He wasn’t outright despised and that was more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Sure, their affection could just be to keep him from ducking out again since they’d found out how easily he could ruin Thomas by leaving, but...but he hoped it was more than that.

It was a mix of conflicting emotions and desires, Virgil never quite able to understand if anything was genuine or not.

But they didn’t hate him. That was the important thing. It would be selfish to want anything more when he was so utterly unlikable, right?

He needed to get over himself. It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. It was completely understandable that they didn’t want to touch him.

But did they have to act like he was some kind of disease?

They were all touchy feely people. Roman and Patton hugged countless times a day, and even Logan would absentmindedly clap their shoulders or squeeze their hands in passing.

Virgil watched them lean up against each other, lace their fingers together, pat each other's back in greeting and praise. It all came so naturally to them, clearly some kind of unspoken language in their little family.

And Virgil wanted that. He wanted it so badly it hurt. His chest squeezed whenever he saw Patton squeeze Logan’s hand, the loneliness crushing when Roman would pick Patton up in a crushing but safe hug.

Virgil...couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been touched. He’d grazed a shoulder in passing once or twice over the years, and he and Princey had accidentally held hands for half a second during a video, but other than that he came up blank.

And he’d definitely never had a hug. He knew that for sure. No one had offered one because...because why would they? Who would want to hug Virgil?

It was amazing enough that they were willing to be in the same room with him. All three of them were trying so hard to be friendly in the last few weeks since he’d told them his name and...it was incredible. It was like a dream.

But it was so unbearably obvious how careful they were not to touch him. Like he was something disgusting to be avoided. Like he would burn them, taint them beyond repair.

They would swerve out of his way when passing through a room to avoid brushing his shoulder, quickly pull their hands away if their fingers were about to brush his, carefully leaving as much empty space as possible if sitting beside him on the couch.

It went on for weeks, and it didn’t stop. No one commented on it, or bothered to avoid physical affection in front of him, and Virgil decided the best course of action was to try and ignore it.

If he brought it up, it would just turn into something awkward, and nothing would change. He’d rather just avoid the subject completely.

Virgil could handle that. He could ignore the ache in his chest and push down the thoughts of how desperately he just wanted a hug.

Everyone at least had the decency not to make it a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal.

Until...until it kind of was.

It had been a stressful few days for all of them, but obviously Virgil was taking the brunt of Thomas’s anxiety. They all knew that, and he appreciated how attentive and gentle they’d been with him lately.

Thomas was waiting on an important phone call, a confirmation that would give him a green light on his latest project they’d all been working non-stop on.

Virgil didn’t know the specific details of what they were waiting for, he’d lost himself to his panic immediately after hearing the words “important phone call” but he knew it was a yes or no answer, and that Thomas was incredibly anxious about it.

He and Patton were waiting in the mindscape’s kitchen, mugs of untouched hot chocolate sitting in front of them, Patton idly chatting to keep Virgil distracted.

And then Roman and Logan were suddenly rising up- the Prince with a dazzling grin on his face and Logan with a relieved sort of smile.

“He said yes!” Roman announced, and just like Virgil’s shoulders sagged, all the tension seeping out of his muscles. Thank god.

There were still more things to worry about now that the new project was actually underway. They would have to work out a new schedule, make sure they had enough time to perfect their scripts, and then of course there was the problem of nobody liking the finished product--

But that could wait. Right now...it was just nice to see everyone so happy.

Patton was already jumping up to give Roman a hug, reaching over to squeeze Logan’s hand, and Virgil quickly turned away before the ache in his chest, the feeling that longed for something similar could turn into the cold throbbing pain he occasionally grew familiar with.

He grabbed the mugs of now cooling hot chocolate to distract himself, smiling to himself as he tried to focus on the relief instead of the sorrow, and carried them over to the counter.

He set the mugs down, turned back around, and suddenly Patton was in front of him, pulling Virgil into the first hug he’d ever received in his life.

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Patton was warm up against him, solid and comforting, arms wrapped around Virgil’s back like the softest thing in the world, and for just a second, for the first time, everything was perfect. Everything was ok, and the ache in his chest was gone.

It lasted less than two seconds, and suddenly Patton was pulling away like he’d actually been burned.

“I--”

Patton stopped whatever he’d been about to say, staring warily at a completely frozen, speechless Virgil. The warmth had seeped out of his body almost immediately, the ache returning with a vengeance, the want for touch even worse than before.

Logan and Roman were staring, eyes going from Patton to Virgil, tense and panicked like they were expecting some kind of violent reaction.

God, was touching him really that bad?

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quickly, glancing back at the others before turning back to Virgil, who quickly averted his gaze. “Sorry, Virge I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I just got excited.”

“Right,” Virgil said, glad that at least his voice didn’t betray how it felt like his heart was crumbling. “I get it.”

“Virgil,” Patton said softly, and Virgil’s heart sank when he took a step back, putting even more space in between them. “I didn’t mean to, kiddo, I...it won’t happen again.”

Of course it wouldn’t. Virgil shouldn’t expect it to. They didn’t even want to brush shoulders with him, so why the hell would anyone ever hug him voluntarily?

“I know,” he said, already moving towards the doorway, grimacing when the others stepped away to give him extra space. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at how obvious all of it was. Come on, it wasn’t like he was infected. “It’s whatever.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, for the first time allowing himself to feel angry over this whole stupid thing. After weeks of tirelessly working to be better, after being accepted in every other way, they still wouldn’t…

He’d thought he was getting better. They’d called him family.

“Virgil?” Logan called, but Virgil ignored him, really not in the mood for any half-hearted excuses or lectures on why he should just be happy with what he got.

It was selfish to ask for more. He was greedy and awful and he would never really be one of them. He should know that by now and stop filling his head with fantasies that they might actually love him as much as they loved each other.

Virgil didn’t bother looking back to see if any of them looked even a little bit guilty. He pulled up his hood, hurried up the stairs, and locked himself in his room. It was probably where they wanted him, anyway.

Virgil collapsed at the end of his bed, head in his hands, well aware it probably looked like he was throwing a tantrum. They all probably hated him even more now.

But...but could they really blame him for being frustrated? Yeah, he didn’t expect them to be entirely comfortable around him, definitely not as physical as they were with each other, but he was really trying.

They didn’t need to make him feel like some walking virus.

Well. He’d gotten a hug, at least. His first and last real hug. He thought he might do anything to have that feeling again.

But no one wanted to hug Anxiety. Patton had said so himself- never again.

When Virgil allowed himself to be coaxed out of his room for dinner a few hours later, he noted with some sense of relief that the others seemed determined to pretend the incident in the kitchen never happened.

Good. While it didn’t undo how humiliated and disgusting he felt, the sooner they all forgot about it the sooner Virgil could continue ignoring how badly it hurt.

He shouldn't be upset. He needed to calm down and get over himself before he started causing issues.

He did, however, wonder if it was just his imagination that Roman’s chair seemed farther away from him today.

“So...movie night tonight, right?” Patton asked suddenly, voice chipper as he set down his fork. “I think we could all use some relaxation.”

“A splendid idea!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil managed not to flinch at the volume of his voice. “You’ll be joining us right, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil startled when the attention suddenly turned to him, suspicion and hope waging war at the soft encouragement in Prince’s voice.

Was this...a guilt thing?

“I- I mean I guess,” he said. “Maybe. If you like, want me to.”

He’d always known they did movie nights at least once a week, all cuddled up together on the couch, but Virgil had never actually been invited to one until he revealed his name. He’d attended a couple of them now, and they were...nice. Even if he always ended up on the armchair.

“Of course we do!” Patton said. “We always do. You’re our family, kiddo!”

Well, they certainly had a funny way of showing that.

Virgil quickly backtracked, pushing away his own dark thoughts. That wasn’t fair to them. Aside from the lack of any physical touch, they had welcomed him almost completely. In every other way, he was treated like one of them.

Besides, he’d clearly done something to warrant the unspoken no-touching rule. It wasn’t their fault he was too stupid to figure out what it was.

“You are a large part of the reason Thomas succeeded today,” Logan added, and Virgil felt a bit breathless at the praise. “You stayed vigilant and cautious, and made sure there were no mistakes. I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

Virgil ducked his head, surprised when glancing at the other two showed only kind smiles and honest appreciation in their eyes. They were...actually being serious. He’d done something right.

“It...it wasn’t...I was just--”

“Doing your job,” Logan finished for him. “And doing it quite well, I might add. As you usually do.”

It wasn’t anywhere near as intense as the feeling Patton’s hug had brought, but...but it was close, warmth spreading over his chest. Virgil let himself relax, and offered a small smile in return.

“Ok,” he said, because he still was absolutely useless when it came to voicing his thoughts. “Thanks. Uh, you...you too.”

He might have missed it if he wasn’t always so attentive to people’s body language (sometimes overly so), but Logan’s hand was suddenly moving forward like he was going to pat Virgil on the arm.

It never made contact, of course. Logan caught himself in less than a second, the logical side sitting up ramrod straight and quickly pulling his hand back to his lap.

He offered an apologetic smile, Patton and Roman quickly clearing their throats and turning back to their dinner plates, and Virgil was forcibly reminded where he stood.

He’d done what he was supposed to do, keeping Thomas safe and helping him reach his goals, but that didn’t just magically change things.

Right. No touching. But he could survive off nothing but words of validation and verbal affirmation. That was just as good.

Except…

Except between the accidental hug and the rush of anticipation that came with Logan almost putting a hand over his own, Virgil had never felt the longing for any type of physical touch so strongly in his entire life.

He’d gotten used to having nothing, to being alone, just periodic glimpses of the warmth he would always be left out of. He’d adapted to it, learned to live with the cold ache in his chest, and moved on.

And now...

Now it kind of felt like he was dying. Like the cold loneliness was wrapping around him, all powerful and suffocating, his breaths coming faster and faster--

Patton stood to begin clearing the table, and Virgil was moving before he even really processed what he was doing.

“I got it,” he said. He was trembling slightly, and he was almost positive they could all hear it in his voice. “I can do the dishes. I’ll do them.”

It was a stupid, stupid thought that had crept into his brain, but right now- as desperate as it was- it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Patton blinked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I- well thank you, kiddo but that’s ok, I think I--”

“I can do it,” he insisted. “You can- You can go relax, I- I got it.”

That was what he needed to do, right? He couldn’t be left feeling this empty and cold all the time. He would never give up what he had with the others but being this close to them all the time had awoken something in him. Nobody ever touched him and he couldn’t keep going like this.

He’d done well today. He’d been good and Logan had almost, almost set aside whatever personal bias they all had to touch him. It had been so close.

So obviously...obviously he wasn’t good enough. Not quite. He was still just horrible enough that no one could bring themselves to close the distance between them.

But that was ok. He could do better. He could be better. And if that didn’t work, then...well, then verbal praise was the next best thing, right?

Unfortunately, he must look even worse than he felt because Roman was suddenly reaching for Virgil’s plate, pulling it out of his reach.

For a second, Virgil thought about reaching for it under the small flare of hope that their fingers might brush.

“I don’t believe that is the wisest idea,” Logan said. “You’re clearly agitated and distressed. I recommend you wait on the couch while we clean up tonight.”

Virgil shook his head, though logically he knew the dirty dishes would end up slipping right through his shaking fingers if he tried to clean up right now.

But he couldn’t take the thought of just sitting on the couch, a useless hindrance they would only grow to despise more and more.

“I- I want to help--”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Ever since you began regularly eating meals with us, there have been exactly three times you have not helped with the clean up. Two of those were because Thomas summoned you, and the other was due to your fatigue after a recent panic attack.”

“But I--”

“You have had a long day,” the logical side continued. “You’re exhausted, and you need to sit down before you end up hurting yourself. Nobody is going to be angry if you take a break today, Virgil. Please accompany me to the living room.”

And Virgil knew there was no way to argue with any of that. Not when Roman and Patton were nodding encouragingly. Not when Logan was motioning for him to follow and he thought maybe, maybe he would put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder to guide him into the living room.

He didn’t.

They both ended up on the couch, Logan counting out familiar breathing exercises to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. He did his best to focus on calming down, eyes cast stubbornly down to the ground.

There was a good couple inches of space between them, enough that Logan wouldn’t accidentally bump into him if he moved his arm too fast. Of course.

“I assume what happened earlier today has made you jumpy,” Logan said after a few moments. “I assure you, Patton really is sorry. Hugging you was never his intention, sometimes the others can just get...over excited when it comes to physical affection. Patton can’t always control himself.”

Virgil bit his lip, forcibly biting back tears that threatened to rise because this was really not helping. He understood that no one ever planned on hugging him, he didn’t need it shoved in his face all the time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Despite everything, Virgil had actually managed to calm down a bit by the time the others joined them for movie night, Roman plopping down on the other side of Logan, Patton shuffling around to find the remote and set down popcorn bowls.

Virgil knew trying to leave would only invite more worried frowns and gentle questions he didn’t know how to answer (besides, he didn’t particularly like the thought of being all alone up in his room right now), so he just took a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm, shoving everything aside for the moment.

And then Patton moved to sit down with the others, and visibly hesitated at the end of the couch.

There was plenty of room for one more person. It wouldn’t even be particularly cramped, not with the way Roman was already invading most of Logan’s space.

But, of course, it was just enclosed enough that it ran the risk of Patton’s leg brushing Virgil’s when he sat down.

Virgil stood up before Patton even had the chance to open his mouth and stalked over to the empty armchair, not bothering to hide his irritation. He might not blame them for it, but that didn’t mean he had to act happy about being so repulsive to everyone.

“Aw, you don’t have to do that kiddo,” Patton said. “You can stay on the couch, I don’t mind.”

“It’s whatever,” he said, and it was like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, the sudden distance separating Virgil from everyone else making him shudder, and his reply came out a lot more curt than he’d meant it to. “This is where you want me, right?”

Patton had lowered himself next to Logan and was peering at Virgil curiously, worried smile dropping to a slight frown. “You can sit wherever you want, kiddo. You know that.”

Virgil couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped. “Right. Just as long as it’s somewhere you won’t accidentally hug me again, right?”

The room was plunged into an uneasy silence. Great. He’d managed to make movie night awkward and the television hadn’t even been turned on yet.

“Kiddo, I--”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, guilt coiling in his gut. “It’s...sorry. I didn’t- I know you didn’t mean to. Just...long day.”

“We’ve all had a long day,” Roman snapped, sitting up from where he’d been leaning against Logan, and Virgil inadvertently found himself wondering how that would feel. “There’s no need to be rude to Patton, Negative Nancy.”

He was the one being rude? Him? After weeks of them treating Virgil like he was contagious and not even bothering to offer an explanation?

“Right,” he muttered. “I’m the asshole. Like always.”

“Virgil,” Logan spoke up, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, and Virgil deflated. “We...understand your uneasiness. But between the three of us, physical contact has become something of a habit. We have been careful not to extend that to you, but habits take time to grow out of. And mistakes will be made.”

And Virgil...Virgil was pretty sure if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to burst into tears. They’d never actually talked about this before. He’d never heard them acknowledge that it wasn’t just his overactive imagination.

“I get that,” he said, voice painfully strained. “I do, I’m...I’m not trying to fight I just- just...do you guys have to be so obvious about it?”

Virgil risked a glance up, all three of them staring at him now with some form of hesitant uncertainty.

Logan cleared his throat and echoed Virgil’s request. “Obvious?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You guys don’t...I don’t get why you’ve all decided touching me is somehow the worst fucking thing in the world. I know...I know you won't touch me and it’s not like I blame you- trust me, I’ve met myself- but...you could at least maybe try not to treat me like I’m carrying the goddamn plague!”

His outburst was met with silence, the other side’s expressions unreadable, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized his vision was becoming quickly clouded with tears.

He quickly started to backtrack. “I mean, I’m...sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to...it’s ok you guys. Really, it is. I get it, I’m...I’m Anxiety. Nobody wants...obviously you guys aren’t ever gonna--”

“Virgil,” Logan cut him off, and the logical side sounded...panicked? “I believe we may have had a very large misunderstanding. You...would you like us to engage in physical contact with you?”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, frantically blinking away tears. “I’m not...I’m not gonna make anyone...you don’t want to, and that’s fine. Really. I’m not mad, it’s ok.”

“Honey, no.” Patton sounded breathless when he spoke up, frantic. “That’s not it at all! We thought you didn’t want us touching you!”

Virgil froze, everything around him screeching to a stop, and for a moment he thought he must have misheard.

“I- you...what?” Why would they... how could they think that? He’d actually thought it was fairly obvious how badly he wanted it.

Roman stood up from the couch and crossed his arms. “Why on earth would we go out of our way to avoid touching you if it wasn’t to make you comfortable?”

Virgil blinked, suddenly completely lost. What the hell was going on? He’d thought they’d made their intentions pretty clear.

“I...why wouldn’t I want you guys to--?”

“Well, you certainly acted like it!” Roman snapped, and Virgil knew the Prince well enough by now to know he wasn’t angry, just stressed. “If you didn’t mind being touched, you wouldn’t act like we were trying to electrocute you every time we got too close!”

Patton reached up to put a hand on Roman’s arm, steadying him, but his gaze never left Virgil.

Virgil was starting to think this was all some kind of twisted dream his touch-starved mind had come up with, flipping everything around for the sole purpose of confusing him. This was...this was a joke, right? Some kind of excuse?

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ignoring how bad the tremble in his voice had gotten. “I didn’t...guys, it’s ok if you don’t want to touch me, I-I’m not gonna force you obviously, I just...never understood why it was a big deal. That’s all.”

Patton was shaking his head, hands moving to cover his mouth as Virgil spoke, and the moral side turned warily to Logan.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “We clearly could have...handled this differently. We’ve been purposely avoiding physical contact because based on your body language, we... I concluded that it made you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn't just you, Specs,” Roman said, his voice softer than when he’d been talking to Virgil. “We all clearly misunderstood. I- I still don’t quite...understand.”

The room was spinning, and Virgil did his best to blink away the dizziness washing over him, furiously wiping away a few stray tears that made their escape. He hoped no one noticed.

“I thought you just...didn’t want to. Because it’s...you know. Me.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

“What did I do?” he asked, suddenly terrified as to how he could have misread the situation so horribly for so long. “To...to make you guys think that?”

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing as he scrutinized Virgil from behind his glasses, and all three of them looked oddly confused by the question.

“I...Virgil, it’s been fairly easy to pick up on for some time now. Even before we learned your name.”

Patton frowned, taking a small step forward. “You got...really tense whenever someone would go to touch you, kiddo. Like you thought it was gonna hurt.”

“Earlier on, one of us moving like we planned on touching you would result in a flinch,” Logan added. “Later, as we got closer, we noticed you going very still. Like you were afraid. It wasn’t hard to avoid touching you before learning your name, but now…”

“We had to be more careful,” Roman jumped in. “Clearly that...wasn’t what you wanted.”

God Virgil was so stupid. This whole time he’d thought...for once he hadn’t even done anything wrong. And now all he’d managed to do was make everyone stressed and confused. He’d fucked everything up without even realizing.

They’d...they’d tried to touch him before? Before even learning his name? If he’d just been normal he could have avoided years of that cold, longing feeling settling in his chest?

He wondered if things would change now. Probably not, Virgil reasoned with himself, his throat tightening at the thought. He blew it. They’d just be upset with him now.

“I am...I am so sorry,” Logan said, and Virgil was having a difficult time following what was being said. “After getting to know you and your behavior patterns, I had concluded that your aversion to touch stemmed from sensory issues that can often relate to anxiety. Clearly, I should have asked you for confirmation.”

Logan sounded genuinely guilty, while Roman and Patton were looking at him softly. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d been wrong. They didn’t hate him, he’d just stupidly misunderstood their intentions.

But it was all cleared up now. It didn’t matter. He could suck it up and move on, just as long as he could keep the annoyingly persistent tears at bay for a little bit longer.

“It’s ok,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and hunching over himself when his breath caught in his throat. “It’s...i-it’s fine.”

God, he was so pathetic. He was pathetic. Why would anyone ever want to touch him?

“Obviously it’s not, sweetie.” Patton was suddenly in front of him, kneeling in front of the armchair. “We didn’t mean to hurt you, Virge, but it’s ok to be upset with us.”

Virgil shook his head, voice refusing to cooperate with his racing mind. He quickly wiped at the fresh tears, refusing to fall apart over something so stupid.

The next moment happened in a frantic blur, but everything clicked into place when it was over.

Patton carefully reached forward, moving to rest his hand on the anxious side’s knee, and Virgil’s heart squeezed in desperation and hope for the gentle, grounding touch he’d never been able to experience before.

His body ended up reacting differently, completely against his will. He tensed up completely, wide eyes locking onto Patton’s hand, his breathing stopping completely.

Patton noticed, of course. His face fell at the reaction, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

Oh. Virgil supposed it did look like he was scared rather than desperate. “S-sorry. I--”

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Patton said, but he sounded hesitant. Disappointed. “It just...seems like you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s...it’s not that,” Virgil managed. His voice was horribly unsteady, but he needed them all to understand that it wasn’t them- he was just too useless to control his own reactions. “I didn’t even realize I...I just have never had it before so I don’t...I don’t know how to--”

“Wait a second,” Roman said, Virgil quickly snapping his mouth shut. “What do you mean you’ve never had it?”

They were all staring at him, probably baffled and annoyed by his inconsistent rambling, and Virgil curled tighter in on himself, his cheeks burning.

“I...I’ve never, uhm…” He suddenly didn’t want to say it, all too aware of how little it mattered. This conversation should have been over a long time ago. “I’ve never been...you know. I-I’ve never...done it.”

Great, now it just sounded like he was speaking nonsense. But the others seemed to have some idea of what he was talking about, judging by the looks they were suddenly throwing each other. Roman was the only one who eventually spoke up.

“You- are you just talking about touch?” The Prince demanded, and Virgil shrank back. “Virgil, you’ve never been touched? At all?”

Virgil shrugged, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I mean, yeah. Not...not really. Other than, um, other than Patton hugging me today.”

But he’d seen Patton hug the others, and he knew what he’d gotten could barely count as one. Not that he had any right to complain. He’d be lucky if they didn’t shun him for the rest of his life after today.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the silence stretched on far too long to mean anything good. “I know, guys. I know it isn’t a big deal, I’m really really sorry for making it one, I just--”

“Virgil.” Patton’s voice came out more choked, more anguished than Virgil had expected, and then…

And then there was a hand on his face, cupping his cheek and brushing away the falling tears, and Virgil couldn’t breathe in the best way possible.

Patton’s hand was warm, enough to startle Virgil out of his spiraling panic for the moment, but his breath still hitched when he met the moral side’s watering gaze.

“Virgil,” he said again. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

Virgil blinked, still partly convinced this was a dream, heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t find his voice, eyes glued to Patton’s, but he managed a tiny nod.

It all happened so fast- suddenly Patton’s hands were wrapped around his own, pulling him off the chair and onto wobbling legs, and then he was being pulled forward...

Oh. Oh.

He fell against Patton’s chest, his head resting in the crook of the moral side’s neck, Virgil’s legs threatening to give out beneath him when Patton wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Virgil was sobbing before Patton even started rubbing circles on his back, rocking them both gently, hushing him softly.

He had no idea if he was doing this right, practically limp in Patton’s hold. His arms were just uselessly hanging there, hands wracked with violent tremors. But even if he did know what to do, he doubted he could force his body to move right now, only able to melt into the embrace as the living room filled with his miserable sobbing.

“Oh baby, it’s ok.” Patton was talking softly, his breath warm against Virgil’s ear, and he finally forced his hands to move up and clutch the other side’s shirt. “It’s ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you now. You’re alright.”

There was another hand cupping the back of his head, running fingers through his hair, and he caught a glimpse of Logan pressing up against them both. The movements of his fingers were slow and precise, burning Virgil’s freezing skin like the most pleasant fire, his words of reassurances lost to the sound of desperate cries.

And then Roman was there too, briefly meeting Virgil’s eyes with a sad but hopeful smile, suddenly moving around to join in and hug Virgil from behind.

He quickly realized that this, as overwhelming as it was for his first time, was the single best feeling in the entire world. He was certain that he would crash to the ground in a trembling heap if the others weren’t supporting his weight.

Virgil had never felt so warm. The brief hug in the kitchen had been nothing compared to this. He couldn’t stop shaking despite it, overwhelmed and so, so relieved, wanting nothing more than to melt into the embrace and never let go. He could stay here forever, wrapped up in safety and warmth, the rest of the cold, lonely world forgotten.

But eventually he cried himself out, sobs dying down to hiccuping gasps as he fought to get a hold of his breathing. Patton and Roman loosened their grip, Logan’s fingers slowing, but none of them pulled away just yet.

Virgil took in a shuddering breath. “I’m s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patton said. “You don’t need to be sorry for a thing, kiddo.”

He clutched Patton’s shirt tighter, sucking in a breath when Roman moved to put a hand over his fist. “I- I thought y-you...you all--”

“We should have asked,” Patton said, pulling back enough to see Virgil’s face. “We should have realized you were hurting, honey. That’s our fault.”

“Not yours, Virge,” Roman agreed, leaning forward slightly to press his forehead against Virgil’s temple. “I can’t even imagine how isolated we must have made you feel. But that’s over now. We can fix this. We will fix this.”

“I do want to offer my sincere apologies,” Logan said. “We had all misread the behavior, but I was the one who enforced it after learning your name. I should never have jumped to conclusions so quickly.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it quickly proved to be impossible with how tightly he was pressed against the others. He didn’t mind at all.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet, despite the way his stomach twisted at the guilt Logan didn’t deserve to be feeling, a dark part of his mind whispering that once he pulled away, the warmth would never come back.

“It’s ok,” he said, voice still raw and hoarse. “It was just a s-stupid misunderstanding, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, I- I know it’s not a big deal. It’s just a hug.”

It was a lie and they all knew it. Silly as it was, it meant the world to him. He would do just about anything to make this feeling last forever.

“Virgil, no.”

Patton was moving away, and Virgil felt a rush of blinding panic before Logan suddenly took his place, holding Virgil’s face in his hands, eyes wide and intense. Patton didn’t go far, his hand moving to clutch Virgil’s arm, and Roman only tightened his hold.

“It is not stupid, Virgil,” Logan said, tilting Virgil's chin up. “Not at all. I can assure you, it was far from an overreaction.”

“Logan--”

“Physical touch is essential for one’s mental health. Especially for those who experience heightened anxiety. I should have known... depriving you of any physical contact your entire life has left you incredibly touch starved, likely only worsening any symptoms you would naturally experience.”

Usually, Virgil found it fascinating listening to Logan, the way he so naturally took on a teaching position, spouting off information like he was reading from an invisible book.

Now, the dread and panic were clawing at his throat, and Virgil swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “Am I...am I hurting Thomas?”

The terror was overwhelming, doing all it could to convince him that the others would hate him, that Thomas would want him gone for good. But it didn’t last long, Logan shaking his head with an unbearably gentle expression.

“I am not talking about Thomas’s mental state.” He reached forward to brush away some of Virgil’s hair, looking oddly relieved when Virgil leaned into the touch. “I’m talking about yours.”

“Oh.”

Roman finally dropped his arms, but just like Patton he didn’t go anywhere, his chest still brushing Virgil’s back while he reached for one of his hands. Patton took his other one, both running gentle patterns over his knuckles with their thumbs.

Virgil felt like he was going to melt right here and now. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Since it seems you're comfortable with touch,” Logan said, and Virgil almost wanted to laugh. He was a little bit more than comfortable. “I’m hopeful we can undo any damage that has been caused. Tonight is already a good start.”

And that...that sounded amazing. It sounded more than amazing. It was all he’d wanted this whole time, years of bitter, icy cold loneliness already paling in comparison to the warmth and love he’d felt in the last ten minutes.

But...

“I...thank you. Thank you so much, but...I-I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t--”

“Kiddo,” Patton said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from hugging you?”

“All of us,” Roman added. “I’ve lost track of how many close calls I’ve had. I thought it was good you didn’t seem to notice how badly I wanted to, but...apparently not. But we love you, Virge. We love you so much.”

“We do!” Patton squeezed his hand. “We really, really do. You’re not forcing us into anything, kiddo. You’re family.”

Virgil kind of wanted to pinch himself to make absolutely sure this wasn’t a dream. But there was absolutely no way he could make up something this good.

“Ok,” he said, still wincing at how weak his voice sounded. “That’s...that’s good because I...I don’t think I could go back. Uh, to how it was. After...after all this. I-if this was just a one time thing, I don’t know what I’d do. And I know that’s dumb, this is literally my fault, but--”

“None of that,” Logan said, firm but not unkind, and Virgil fell silent. “This is far from a one time thing. I believe you’ll start having a hard time getting away from the hugs now.”

Virgil laughed, not really caring when it came out as more of a strangled sob. “I think I’m ok with that.”

“It’s still early,” Patton said. “You kiddos think we should take this to the couch? We can still watch some movies if you’re up to it, Virgil.”

As soon as he nodded, Virgil felt arms wrap around him again, one under his knees and one behind his back, lifting him up from the ground.

“Princey!” He wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders by instinct and froze, suddenly terrified he would be yelled at. But, he reminded himself, Roman was literally holding Virgil in his arms. Nobody found Virgil repulsive. “I can walk, dork.”

Roman grinned down at him, taking them both back towards the couch. Virgil found he really didn’t mind being carried when it ended up with him put down in the middle of the couch, still curled up in Prince’s hold with his head against Roman’s chest.

The others joined soon after, Patton grabbing the popcorn and sitting on Roman’s other side with his legs propped up on Virgil’s lap. Logan sat directly next to Virgil, his hand squeezing the anxious side’s shoulder before dropping his head to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil shuddered, tensing against his will at the rush of sensations, but no one pulled away when he didn’t quite know how to reciprocate.

“Just relax now,” Roman said softly, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s hair while Patton got the movie started. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, only vaguely aware of himself drifting in and out of consciousness, still held safely by the others on the couch, an old familiar Disney movie playing in the background.

He thought his position might have been changed, but he still felt the rise and fall of Roman’s chest beneath his head, someone’s hand running gently through his hair.

For the first time, he felt safe upon waking up and let himself keep his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Is he asleep?” he heard Patton ask, the hand in his hair slowing for just a moment. “He really wore himself out today.”

“Indeed,” Logan agreed from somewhere nearby. “Not to mention a common side effect of touch starvation is difficulty sleeping, nightmares, stress, a lower sense of self worth, dep--”

“But he’ll be ok now,” Patton said, thankfully cutting off Logan’s worryingly accurate description. “He’s got us, and he’s my kiddo. He never has to feel that way again.”

“It will take some time. And eventually we will have to have a talk about consent and boundaries- I don’t ever want him feeling overwhelmed. But you are accurate, Patton. He has us now. He will be alright.”

Virgil had to force himself not to smile, not quite ready for this to end for the night. He knew eventually he’d have to head back to his room, but the thought of being alone again, even just for the night, was--

“I don’t want him to wake up alone,” Roman whispered, like he could read Virgil’s mind. “Is it alright if we stay here tonight?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

“I am perfectly comfortable where I am.”

True to their word, none of them seemed inclined to leave the comfort of the couch, the movie’s volume eventually turned down to a faded hum.

Virgil sighed, relaxed and content, letting himself smile as he fell back into the first truly restful sleep he’d had in a long time, followed closely by warmth and love.

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Text

Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area�� is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

#uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #uta x reader #tokyo ghoul x reader #uta tg #tokyo ghoul oneshot #tokyo ghoul re #tokyo ghoul anime #anime #one shot #request

189 notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 4 years

Text

All For You

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After the incident on the train that night, David returns to the apartment replaying different scenarios in his head had things gone wrong; specifically, one with you involved.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual and unprotected sex, snuggle-fuck, vaginal penetration and fingering, breath play, some roughness and dirty talk). Infidelity. Language. Sad vibes.

Disclaimer: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers. This may effectively spoil episode one if you haven’t watched the show. This is set towards the beginning of the episode, but before the rest of the series plays out.

Title Inspiration: “All For You” by Night Riots

A/N: 1) The song mentioned above is beautiful. Please give it a listen. It sets the mood for this piece. 2) Here’s to our fragile babe.

It was late when David made it back to the apartment. The room was dark, all the lights were shut off, but there’s a considerable amount that shone out from the window of the city, illuminating his path around, and there was a faint smell of food that filled his nostrils from the half empty box of cold pizza laid out on the coffee table in front of the television.

The small details sent a warm feeling throughout his body. Countless memories scrolled in his head as he looked over at the empty couch, thinking back to all the times he’d watch you eat food there while your favorite show that season was on, him joining you to cheer on your hometown sports team, the both of you falling asleep during a movie. He swore y’all dined more at that coffee table than the table in the kitchen.

He lifted the lid of the box and thought if he was really hungry or not. It had his favorite toppings on it, but no matter how appealing the dish was, tonight’s events were too fresh and powerful to brush aside.

He had successfully foiled a terrorist attack on the train taking him and his kids back home. David had been through a lot during his term in Afghanistan, but he’d never been more scared in his life than when he thought about all the things he’d be robbed of had Nadia pushed the button on the trigger of the bomb strapped around her.

Ella and Charlie always came first in his life. His children meant the entire world to him. As much as David loved the time he had with them even if it was the dreading moments of having to send them back to their mother, he cherished every single second. The weekend the three of them spent at his mother’s was what he needed to help him clear his head. It’s insane to think just how quickly life can turn around.

After properly storing the food into the refrigerator, he shrugs his jacket off and sets his footwear against the wall and out of the way before heading towards his room except he never goes inside. He looks over to the room across and he can see you tucked and in bed from the slit of your opened door.

So many thoughts run through David’s mind, he feels like he could explode at any minute. The world was a mess enough as it is. The war didn’t do or leave him any favors. His unpredictable moods left him and his wife Vicky estranged. He couldn’t be there all the time for Ella and Charlie as they had to bounce back and forth between each parent. The only light in all of this was knocked out in the next room.

Aside from his comrades, not a lot of people stuck around long enough to tolerate the new version of himself that returned from the war. The relationship between David and you was something that never reached its potential. It was one of those never in the right moment sort of things. You met during your days at University. You had loved another before him and when studying abroad proved a long-distance relationship wasn’t possible, by the time you came back to graduate David was in love with someone else.

Soon enough, he was married with two children. You held no distaste for Vicky at all. You felt for her when she divulged to you about David’s episodes. The pair of you still communicated and you often found yourself watching over Ella and Charlie while she or David were busy with work.

When David’s PTSD started to get really serious and he profusely refused to get help, Vicky no longer felt safe with him in the house, she had no choice but to kick him out. You knew she was only doing it for the sake of Ella and Charlie, but secretly you already knew she was moving on.

You welcomed David into your apartment and let him stay for as long as he needed granted you had a spare room he could occupy. There was no sense in denying you always loved him and would support whatever his heart desired whether that meant helping him repair his relationship with Vicky or not.

It doesn’t go without saying that there have been casual slip-ups. You had both kissed before, felt one another, and even satisfied the other, but all that still didn’t define the relationship. He was still legally married to Vicky. The topic of their relationship was almost forbidden. You knew David held a high amount of respect for you and you couldn’t blame him for not knowing where his heart stood.

It hurt to see how much torment he got left with from trying to defend his country and you’d experienced first-hand those very episodes Vicky talked about and more. Time after time, there’d be arguments enough to deduce you to tears from his booming voice and ill words when the proposition of him seeking professional help arose. Then other times he’d break down right in front of you.

Grateful he hadn’t exhibited any violent behavior yet, as much care as you could offer to him, you knew that you still had to watch out for yourself too. Again, you’d always love David, whatever version of him. The same one you fell in love with was still in there. Your heart had ached for David’s well-being. If you could heal him with just your touch, you’d do it. Everything you did was all for David.

The room that offered him a preview of you compelled him enough to slip through the crack. It wasn’t uncommon for either of you to slide into the other's bed at this point. He removes his shirt and jeans, setting them on a nearby chair, and gently sits down at the end of your bed.

Given the events of the past 24 hours, the last thing he wanted was to be alone. If things had gone wrong, you would be alone.

The only sounds that could be heard were of the bustling city outside and if he paid close enough attention, which he did, your soft sighs of slumber were also audible. He leaned his elbows on top of his knees and stared straight into his reflection in the mirror of your vanity that was set in front of him.

David couldn’t help but think of all the possible outcomes that might’ve happened had he not been able to stop the attack.

First, he thought about Ella and Charlie and their safety foremost. At only ten and eight years old, they had so much to live for. If they were taken with him and the other passengers, he hated to imagine how Vicky would feel.

Vicky was another thought and how broken beyond repair they were at. He had felt so stupid thinking he could try and make a move on her hours ago. She was already adjusting to her new life without him. He also felt guilty and ashamed because he felt as if by that advance he was betraying you.

You were a thought in of itself. The second his life was in danger and he came face-to-face with the suicide bomber, he knew he was going to leave this world without ever setting things straight between you two. All the things he shared with Vicky, their wedding, their honeymoon, the birth of their children - all of those life moments he once dreamed of sharing with you, without him, you’d end up sharing with someone else.

There’s nothing stopping you from doing that right now with him alive actually. He could lose you regardless of the outcome on the train, but when life flashes in front of your eyes and the main source of your survival and happiness are at the forefront of your attention, you want nothing more than to seize opportunities at the second chance you’re given. It was a wakeup call.

David diverts his eyes from himself and over to your sleeping figure. He studied the peaceful aura you radiated, with the rise and fall of your body and soft breathing, you were quiet in a world so full of noise. While he held so much admiration for you, he also envied you. You had your life under control, at least enough to let you rest at night. However, David couldn’t hold that against you because you tried tirelessly to help him.

By some miracle, he was able to coax Nadia into trusting him and surrender. He lived to see another day and perhaps this was the world telling him this was his chance with you. Aside from his doomed relationship with Vicky, there was really nothing in the way of you two being together this time. He survived a war and tonight...and you were right there. Could he really live a life without him proclaiming his love for you? And that was it for David. He’d had enough.

He moves over to the space behind you, your back facing him. He carefully draws the blanket draped over your body up so he could get under them with you. The covers settle in their new spot on the lower halves of your bodies, just barely above the hips, and David starts to run his hand on the smooth skin of your exposed arm.

The contact stirs you awake, but your eyelids weigh too heavy to open them in your tired state. You’d fought for as long as your body could allow you to, waiting for David, before succumbing to sleep. You revel in his tender touch, the warmth of his body transferring onto yours, and not realizing your body starts to rub up against his until you feel the puffs of his hot breath behind your ear along with a string of small incoherent noises.

By now, the front of his body is flushed and parallel behind yours, his legs tangled with your legs. The hand that was previously caressing your arm had snaked its way around your midsection resting on your abdomen, cheekingly on the patch of skin that wasn’t covered by the ridden-up camisole. You reach down and grab that hand to bring it up and place it at your breastbone, allowing him to feel the beat of your heart, with your fingers interlocked. Never had either one of you felt perfectly fit with another than with each other.

Featherweight kisses are stamped all around the back and crook of your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine, creating a domino effect that rippled through your body as your legs, still weaved in his, start to tousle with one another. The top of his thighs occasionally brushing the underside of your panties increasing the friction and your grip on his hand grows tighter. When his tongue licks along the shell of your ear, you let out a breathy response from being caught off guard by his actions.

You’re not in control of your body anymore as your hips buck backwards and grind rough up against his groin on their own. You loved to hear him, whether it be his ragged breathing or the sultry moans or the filthy words that spewed out of his luscious lips - whatever because it was you that caused it.

The hand that was held hostage by yours against your sternum, trapped between each breast, broke free. Now in control, it snuck underneath the thin clothing material, and back to its previous position in front of your breasts before grabbing a handful of flesh. Your shirt twisted and stretched from the movements, and all your hand could do was go along for the ride as he kneaded your breasts.

When he had his fill, his hand wandered all over your body, abandoning yours, as it ran along your ribs, your curves, your hips and then slithered into the front of your panties. The palm of his hand ignites a tingle in your lower region until his fingers glide along the slit of your pussy, and in an up-and-down motion gathering some of your arousal. Once his digits are wet enough, he settles them on your clit and begins rubbing small, delicate circles. Your breathing increases and your free hand reaches out to grab a hold of the bed sheets due to the pressure he applied every now and then.

He switches up the routine by taking turns rubbing your clit and teasing the entrance of your opening, to gradually and expertly slipping in and giving a curl or two inside of you.

“You feel that?” He asks, his finger hooking inside, “I can feel you,” he says before extending the digit to dive in deeper. David comments huskily in your ear, “so wet,” then teasingly nibbling on it, “so warm...and ready for me.”

Your arousal overflowing, slicking your thighs and staining the bed. His fingers were beginning to move faster, running off course, and just begging for the dam to break. The lewd wet noises mixed in with the moans, you choke out a gasp, no longer able to keep hold of the reservoir as you come from his handy work. His wet hand grips your waist in an attempt to hold you still all while you’re drowning in the pleasure.

You mumble swears into the side of the pillow while also trying to wipe the sweat that had built up around your forehead on the fabric. You’re not sure what brought that on, but who were you to complain? His release is your pleasure. Whatever he needed to work out, you were more than willing to be at his disposal.

Shuffling noises could be heard behind you, but you’re still recovering from the first orgasm. It’s not until the crotch of your panties are being pushed to the side and you feel the tip of his bare cock, the velvety skin rubbing harshly between your folds, when he pushes in your eyes snap open. There’s a slight sting at the intrusion with every inch of his thick cock sinking in deeper and deeper, stretching you out. He’s got almost a death grip on your hips as he basks in the warmth of your walls. His hand loosens its hold only to hoist your leg up, as it now rests on the bed, giving him more room to properly fuck you. All you can hear is his jagged and warm breaths pounding at your eardrum.

The force of his thrusts pushes you little by little away from him, he has to wrap his arms around you to keep you in place. Now unable to escape his embrace, you hold onto his forearms tightly as hip hips continue to collide into yours.

“Oh-oh my...God,” you can barely muster up a full sentence, “Fuck! Dav-...you’re-...it feels so good, David,” and it sounds as if the words are being knocked out of your mouth with each thrust. He liked hearing his name spill from your lips and as if you read his mind you give him that until your throat is dry and the intensity of his actions render you unable to do so.

Your hands itching to grab a hold of any part of him, you release your death grip on the bed sheets and reach behind you, over your head, and fist a handful of his short dark hair. It’s hot and sweaty, but you don’t care because the noise you pull out from deep in his throat ignites a new spark in the pit of your stomach and your walls to involuntarily squeeze his length.

He reluctantly pulls out of you and presses your body down to lie flat on your back. The fervor coursing through his veins causes him to pull your underwear all the way down your legs, a light snap could be heard from the rough tug indicating the damage done. After he peels off the sweat stained top off of your body and rids himself completely of his boxers, David settles in between your legs, braces one hand on the side of your head to support himself as the other cradles it.

David brushes the matted hair away from your face. It’s still considerably dark and only the moonlight that peaks through the slit of the drawn curtains help his eyes settle on you and take in the vulnerable look on your face; both bare open for the other. You can feel the ridge of the head of his cock glide against your clit and you wonder why he’s taking so long to finish what he started.

“David, please,” you plead softly. Your hand had come up to trace the outline of his jaw, the first signs of an early stubble pricking the skin on the palm of your hand.

He nods in response and slowly slides his body down a few inches to glide right back in. Your back arches and presses up against his, your hardened nipples poke into the soft faint tresses of hair on his chest. David’s hips ground into yours in wavelike motions, hitting deeper and deeper. He dips his head down closer to you, your mouth hung open in ecstasy, allowing him to tug your bottom lip with his teeth then sucking on the full muscle. David runs his tongue along it to soothe the swollenness before dipping in the cavern of your mouth.

Your tongues instantly collide with one another’s. Your eyes shut tightly, wetness pooling at the corners from the ardent passion radiating from both you and David’s actions. He felt so damn good. You wished you could have this, be like this with him, for the rest of your days, but the reality of it all wasn’t going to just hand it to you so easily. His children, Vicky, his profession, his PTSD - despite all those, you’d go through it all. All for David.

You pull your mouth off his for some air. You open your eyes to see him staring right into you. The bright blue eyes turned a deeper shade, almost black in the night and from want, but you could still make out the sadness behind them. The tears that had run down the side of your face for him burn your ears. Now more than anything you wanted to make him feel good, even if it was only temporary. He needed this release.

“It’s okay,” you’re still struggling to communicate, trying to block the pleasure so you can speak properly, “it’s okay, David...you can use me,” finding one of his hands in yours and finally giving him permission.

David stills, eyes never leaving yours, he’s looking for confirmation that he heard you right. Why would you want him to do that to you? His heart swelled at the notion that you trusted him, but he couldn’t trust himself. He didn’t want to hurt you.

You see his mouth open and close, but nothing audible comes out, so you take the initiative and grab the hand that wasn’t supporting him over your frame. You crane your head back, baring yourself to him, and then place his hand on the column of your neck, his fingers settling themselves around it naturally. He shakes his head in protest, you start to feel his hand slipping away, but you’re quick to reposition his hand back on you.

“Are you sure? I might not be able to stop,” he says hesitantly. Your eyes silently let him know you’re certain. This time he nods and leans in for a bruising kiss to your lips, the close proximity of his face momentarily blocks your airway. When he pulls away, he gives you a few seconds to transition.

The quick and sharp thrusts don’t make it easy because that alone knocked the wind out of you, yet you won’t deny the sweet sensation of his dick probing your spot. The pleasure is almost enough to do the job on its own until the pressure from David’s fingers around your throat tightens gradually.

You’re rendered helpless underneath David as he gets back into rhythm. He maneuvers his legs to get him into a slight kneeling position, lifting your hips up, your legs dangle off his thick thighs, but this allows for him to use the hand previously supporting him to join the other on your neck. The realization of him kicking it up a notch sends a warning signal to your brain and you suddenly start to get scared. Sure, you trusted David, but that didn’t block out the fact that he still wasn’t stable.

You struggle to swallow down any fear and even to widen your eyes as his grip grows tighter and tighter. You can’t even gurgle out a whimper of protest. You’re lucky enough to raise your arms and bring your hands on his and desperately attempt to pry his fingers off you. You stare right back at David and notice his empty eyes. He wasn’t in control anymore and you didn’t dare think who he was seeing in front of him instead of you.

In a heat of frenzy, your legs kick up wildly, frantically trying to push his body off yours. Your efforts prove successful as David’s body falters, however only letting his full body weight collapse on you. Before your vision turns black, you manage to pull one hand away from your neck, creating a sense of ease to creep back in, but the hard look on his face crushes your hopes when you think you’ve lost him.

“Dav-“ you attempt to speak, “David,” his name comes out choppy, but you’re able to get something out. “David, it’s me…,” you plead, hoping that’s enough to bring him back.

“David, please,” the grip of his hand might as well have been iron shut around your neck, you’re like an animal clawing at a door. So just when you think that wasn’t enough, that you weren’t enough, you use the last bit of oxygen to admit your feelings, “I’m sorry, David…” you swore you saw his eyes blink, but nothing changed until your next three words, “I love you,” that all movements ceased. You’d given up, but he stayed hovered over you in shock. Then he instantly lets go allowing oxygen to start flowing through you regularly again.

David slides out and off of you, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed in a sitting position with his back to you once more, a hand over his mouth. He can’t believe he’d actually lost control of himself around you. He saw you had trusted him, but he knew he wasn’t well. He should’ve never let you go through with it. He could’ve unintentionally killed you.

You greedily sucked air back into your system and rubbed the soreness on your neck before looking over to David. His sobs wreck his body and you can tell by the slight whimpers and sniffling sounds. You pull yourself up, paying no mind to any modesty, and scoot closer to him. You cautiously lie your head against his back. You feel his body stiffen a bit, so you begin to softly trace the lines of battle scars that scattered his back, delicate touches on the soft tissue, hoping to calm him down.

“David, it’s okay,” your voice is a little hoarse, but it’s still audible and clear, “I’m okay,” you assure him. He finally turns his body around to face you and your heart breaks at the distress on his beautiful face. You feel guilty you let him do this, but you’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself too long because David wanted to talk about something else.

“You love me?” He questions and your mouth hangs open, at a loss of words, because you’ve already forgotten that you let that slip. There’s a forlorn look of hope etched along his features and your heart stops. There’s no sense in denying it any longer. If it hadn’t been clear before it sure as hell would be by the end of the night.

You nod and confirm, “always...I’ve always loved you, David.” There wasn’t a need to explain for how long. The admission of feelings alone were enough for David to forget about all the wasted time as he dove in, his lips in search of yours again.

He keeps a hand at the back of your head to keep you close, more “I love you’s” spewing from your mouth each time your lips separate for a split second before reattaching themselves. The declaration never goes deaf on both your ears, hearts beating faster and faster.

With your lips resisting to pull away from one another, you manage to crawl onto his lap, straddling him, the moment reignites the fire inside you. You rise up on your knees, giving you a slight height advantage, you brace one hand on his shoulder, the other reaches down between your bodies to grip his still hardened cock. It’s hot and heavy and slightly sticky in your hand as you rub the tip of the head along the pathway to your entrance, effectively coating him for an easy route.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” you say with bated breath and focused only on him, “please.” Not much convincing was needed, and David’s cock slips back in your wet heat with no protest. You sink all the way down, grinding your hips in circular motions, your clit rubbing against his skin and ensuring he’s bottomed out.

“Oh, you feel good,” he says, voice growing deeper, and at first he’s cautious before laying his hands back on you, but they settle on the sides of your hips and begin to help guide you up and down his cock, “too good,” he growls when you quickly catch on with the movements.

He’s able to drag your bodies to the center of the bed, but when the boiling point rises back up, you push him down, lean back with your hands on his legs to support you, and head thrown back. David picks his head up and the position allows for him to see not only your naked body but how your pussy engulfs his cock repeatedly sending him into overdrive.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” David chants each time his cock is hidden inside you and he resorts to chewing on his bottom lip to contain the expletives.

You feel his hand reach behind you, grabbing a handful of your ass, his strength pulls you in closer by the hips so he’s in all the way once more, you can feel his balls pressed up tight against your bottom, then your body topples over his. You brace your palms of his pecs to prevent you from falling headfirst into him, but his other hand is already at the back of your head bringing your lips back to each other. David’s hips start bucking up into yours to get you back into the groove, but the ache in your legs don’t allow you to perform at 100% anymore.

David rolls your bodies over, with you underneath, and his hips quicken in pace. Your body heaves uncontrollably as you’re close to the edge again and the sweat glistening on your skin has David’s mouthwatering.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he comments sliding a hand down your slick body from between the valley of your breasts and to the top of your mound. He wants to say I love you so badly but feels the moment he does he’d break down once more. He knew he loved you and always had too, but in his mind, he didn’t want to give you the hope of having to live with his damaged self. You didn’t need to hear it though because you could feel it.

“Come on, baby,” you encourage him, “give it to me, David,” and your hands finding a new spot on his firm ass to pull him in deeper, “I want it all,” you resort to a begging tactic. It deems successful when you start to feel the sting of each brutal thrust of his hip bones knock into yours causing you to hiss and your nails to dig into his buttocks as he chases sweet euphoria.

He tackles it at the finish line, stilling deep inside of you, and the feeling of his cum spraying straight into your spot, spurts in different intervals, is more than enough to help you tackle your own release. Your legs keep his body locked in, waiting for the aftershocks to subside, he’s quivering from your walls uncontrollably contracting tight around his cock and he does so much as to let out groans in gratification.

Once the waves of pleasure die down, your limbs drop, and he carefully pulls out. He doesn’t know if it was a mistake or not watching his sensitive cock emerge from you, covered in a glossy coat from your release, and his seed spilling out of you slowly then slide down your sore lower half and stain the bed sheets because it begins to elicit more dirty thoughts, but both of your heavy breathing and aching bodies help suggest to put those ideas away for now.

In these rare moments, you were enough to help him block out the world’s harsh realities. He doesn’t regret Ella and Charlie, but never stops wondering how it’d been like if he had kids with you first. Had he waited just a little bit longer for you, but what was the point in dwelling in any of that now? The internal conflict in his mind caused droplets of tears to splash against your cheeks and you start to notice his hurt.

All you do is wrap your arms back around him to pull him into your loving embrace, him nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and you placing kisses on his head while also running your fingers through his hair. Both of you can feel each other’s heart beats returning to its regular cardiac rhythms. The heavy breathing starts to fade away and the faint sounds of the city start to take over once more as you both begin to drift off.

David would work. He’d work on himself for you. You deserve the best version of him. It was going to take a lot of hard work and willpower, and there would sure to be many obstacles, but now that life presented him with a second chance and allowed him the privilege to be loved by you, he desired nothing more than to return the same compassion. All for you. It was always there within him to love you but locked away when it found no hope or chance to be fulfilled.

He didn’t dare think about what the following morning at work had in store for him or what would result in the catalyst of it all because in that moment he had you with him.

A/N: There are only two shows I’d willingly have my memory wiped of just for the thrill in rewatching: Prison Break and Bodyguard. I’d have said Twin Peaks, but that’s always going to lie a mystery within. & maybe GoT, but that ruined my life. Anyway, give this some love for our fragile babe! Thank you for reading!

#mrwinterr writes #david budd imagine #david budd smut #richard madden imagine #richard madden smut #david budd x reader #david budd x y/n #richard madden x y/n #david budd x yn #richard madden x yn #bodyguard imagine

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yuzukult · 3 years

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i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin @crescent-iak @ncttboo @byunbaekby @jinfizz @doyoungyoung @ahgayeah0305 @doyobun @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr @m1ss-foodi3

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If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

#doyoung smut #doyoung fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #doyoung x reader #gyukultfics #doyoung #kim doyoung

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axoxtxhxh · 3 years

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Not Without Trying - Chapter 6

Summary: Reader is upset and struggling to cope with learning about Reiner being the armored titan so Levi steps in to help.

LevixFem!Reader Angsty/Fluffy

Warnings: A little blood

Word Count: ~2,800

“You’re not going to eat?” Levi asked, frustrated. “Again?”

“I’m not hungry.” Her already red eyes started filling with more tears. He sat next to her. The mess hall had been empty for a couple hours now, everyone already in bed.

“Y/N, please.” He held a glass of water in front of her. “Please just drink something.”

“I’m sorry…” She looked down at her hands, tears falling into her lap. “I’m making this so hard on everyone.”

“No…” He reached for her hand. “No. Stop blaming yourself.”

“But it’s my fault.” She looked at him. “Levi, I was probably the only one that could have figured it out, but I didn’t see it. How could I have missed it?”

“What would you have done if you knew?” He took a napkin and roughly wiped her face.

“I don’t know… I just could have done something.” She looked back down, crying again.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He stood up, pulling her arm to follow him.

“What are you doing?” She asked, stumbling over her feet. He made his way to the stairs and continued pulling her.

“You need to stop feeling bad for yourself.” He reached the top of the stairs and continued down the hall. “I’m not going to pity you.” Her room was at the end of the hall, he opened the door, hauling her into the room and through to the bathroom.

He finally let her go once they were inside and turned on the bathtub, testing the water to make sure it was the right temperature. The steam from the hot water sent a chill down her spine.

“Get undressed and get in.” He directed. “Leave your clothes by the door so I can wash them.” He headed to the door, but stopped and turned around. “If you don’t do it yourself, know that I will come back and force you to do it.” And then he left.

Y/N crawled over to the tub and watched the water pour out. She put her hand in and felt the warmth that started at her fingertips then ran throughout her body. She stood up and started getting undressed. She couldn’t remember the last time she changed her clothes. Her shirt and pants were stained with tears and anything else she came across in the last couple weeks. She set them by the door and climbed in the bathtub. Feeling the hot water on her skin felt nice. She took out her hair and dipped her head in the water, fully submerging herself, then coming back up. She sat in the tub, watching as Levi’s hand peeked in from the doorway, grabbing her clothes and disappearing again. She leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes, letting her mind think of nothing for a while.

She must have fallen asleep at some point because she opened her eyes, confused where she was before she remembered she was taking a bath. She sat up, noticing Levi sitting to her right, sleeping. He was resting his head on one arm on the tub’s edge while the other arm was hooked under her arm, keeping her head above the water. As she moved around, he woke up.

“Sorry.” She said, leaning forward and hugging her knees.

“For what?” He sat up, leaning his back against the sink. “How do you feel?”

“Pretty good.”

“I’ll let you finish.” He said standing up. “Just don’t fall asleep again.”

“No, stay.” She looked at him. “I don’t really want to be alone.” He looked at her and sat back down. They were silent for a little bit before he spoke up.

“Your clothes were disgusting.” He stated.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He complained. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know, but—”

“No but,” He said, “No one is telling you to apologize. This was a shitty situation. It happened, you deal with it and move on. That’s all you can do.” She nodded slowly and he watched her.

“…We made plans to get married.” She stared at the water, her mind lost in a memory. “And have kids…” She shook her head. “He lied to me. Not just about being a titan or about hurting people. Those are bad enough, but he lied to me about our future… about what we were. He acted like he loved me. I don’t even know what for.”

Levi stared at her as she spoke. Not wanting to interrupt her.

“What’s even worse is that I still want it.” She rested her forehead on the heel of her hands. “That life that he made me imagine, I still want it. It’s like he gave me these hopes and dreams, things I had never thought I could have and then he took it away when he left.”

She laid her head on her knees and looked at him.

“It’s bad enough I had to say good-bye to him, but to also say good-bye to a dream he told me I could have… I’m so stupid.” She looked back down at the water. “… I thought I could do so many things, but I can’t. I thought I could make it work, dating a cadet. I failed. I thought I could make my family proud, they aren’t even here anymore. I thought I could be a good captain, but all I did was let everyone down.”

“You’re pitying yourself again.” Levi finally spoke up. Y/N looked up from the water. “You keep doing this. You start to feel better and then you bring yourself back down. You remind yourself of all your failures, of everything you’ve ever done wrong and then you sit there and mope about how terrible you are at everything. You pity yourself until you’ve dug a deep enough hole, burying yourself in your own criticisms and disappointments. And once you manage to crawl out of it and try to be better, you start back over.”

She was about to speak, but he continued.

“You’re too strong for this, Y/N. You’re so strong that there isn’t anyone here that can hold you back so you just hold yourself back instead. And you are so damn good at it.” He shook his head. “You really need to ask yourself, how long do you want to keep doing this? There’s enough evil in this world, enough people trying to knock you down, you don’t need to be doing it to yourself.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but didn’t know what to say and Levi leaned in closer to her.

“The only person dissatisfied with you as a captain, is you.” He continued. “Erwin has someone else to strategize with. With more experience, you could honestly be commander. Hange has someone who actually cares about titans, someone they can talk to about science shit. And Miche… well Miche is happy anytime there’s more women.”

“…And you?”

“The fact that I can tolerate you for more than 20 minutes says a lot.” He moved even closer. “Stop beating yourself up because right now… everyone else is rooting for you.” Her eyes started filling with tears.

“… Okay.” She tried smiling, but it ended up just being her pressing her lips together. Levi reached up to wipe her cheek and felt how cold she was.

“What the hell?” He dipped his hand in the water. “This is ice cold, why didn’t you say anything?”

He quickly stood up and grabbed her a towel, lifting her up and pulling her into it.

“I’ll let you get dressed.” He moved to the door and stopped, speaking just above a whisper, “I really want you to win, Y/N.” Then he left.

Y/N stared at the door where Levi was for a bit, thinking about what he said. After a while, she dried herself off, put on her pajamas, and crawled into bed.

…..

The next morning was different from the past few weeks. Y/N woke up, got dressed, and made it to the mess hall while everyone else was still eating. She had almost forgotten what it looked like when it was full. The room got quiet as she walked down the stairs.

She grabbed some bread and turned to find a seat, freezing, thinking about the last time she went to eat. She always sat with the same person, a person who wasn’t here anymore. She looked down, about ready to drop her food when an arm came from behind her, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the end of the first table where Erwin and Miche were already sitting. Levi let go of her arm and sat down and she sat down with him.

“So you finally bathed.” Miche said. Y/N gave another one of her pressed lip smiles. “I’m proud of you.” He smiled at her and kept eating his breakfast.

“We’re doing hand-to-hand training with the cadets today. If you’re feeling up for it, I’m sure they would love to work with you.” Erwin mentioned, gauging her reaction.

“I don’t know…” Y/N mumbled and took a bite of her bread.

“You can at least watch.” Levi took a sip of his tea. She lightly nodded at that.

Everyone finished up their breakfast and headed out to the training fields. Y/N took her time and was the last one out there. She stayed near the building next to Erwin and Hange while Levi and Miche went out to give instructions. After about twenty minutes they both came back and let the cadets work.

The cadets had really grown so much. From their first day of tripping over themselves, to now being able to spar. It reminded her how much she appreciated her part in guiding them.

“Can you help me carry some stuff?” Levi asked her, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Sure.” She looked at what they would be carrying. “Is this necessary?” She lifted up one of the leather straps from the box.

“They will need it soon.” He explained. “Can you help me or not?”

“Okay.” She grabbed one of the boxes and made her way out to the field. “Where am I carrying this to?” She walked out to the field and turned around when she didn’t hear an answer. Levi was standing there without any boxes. “Where’s your box?”

“Fight me.” He told her.

“What?”

“Fight me.”

“What are you talking about? Where is this box going?” She looked around for a place to put it.

“Forget the box. I want you to hit me.”

“I’m not doing this.” She said, dropping the box on the field and walking away.

He swung his leg to the backs of her legs, tripping her under her feet. Her feet flew up and her body fell backwards onto the ground. All of the cadets gasped and stopped their training to watch. Y/N laid on the ground trying to figure out what happened. She sat up and turned to look at Levi, glaring at him.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Levi.” She stood up and brushed off her legs. “Just leave me alone.” She turned around to continue walking. Levi ran up and kicked her from behind, this time planting his foot on her butt, forcing her body forward onto the ground. She stayed there for a second, on all fours, hot tears forming in her eyes.

She jumped to her feet and faced him.

“I’m not kidding!” She wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve, brushing her loose hairs out of her face. Levi didn’t even give her a second before he was on her, pushing her backwards until she hit an empty carriage, the wind being knocked out of her. The cadets slowly started following the fight, abandoning their training entirely.

Y/N tried her best to push Levi back, but he continued forward. She managed to grab his shoulders and pushed him off, but he came rushing back, this time with his fist and hit her clear across her face, a small cut appearing under her eye. A loud gasp came from the cadets again, but this time they caught everyone’s attention. Hange, Miche and Erwin stepped outside and were watching. Levi pushed Y/N against the carriage again, trying to knock her off her feet.

“That’s too—” Hange started, but Erwin put his hand on their shoulder and shook his head.

Levi backed up to get more momentum, reaching his hands down to grab under her hips, hoping to grab her legs and throw her back. Y/N used the opportunity to catch him off guard and thrusted her knee into his chest, throwing him back a little. She walked forward, pushing him back as she walked. He made another attempt to charge at her, but she forced the palm of her hand under his chin, flinging his head back giving her a perfect opening. She kicked him square in the chest, launching his body backwards and onto the ground.

She walked over, grabbing his collar and dragged him across the training field. He kicked his legs, trying to get his footing, but couldn’t find it leaving his legs slipping under him. He knew she was dragging him over to the pole so he only had a short time to figure out a plan. She slowed her pace and it gave him enough leverage to pull her backwards in front of him. She landed on her back, looking up at him, her teeth clenched. Without wasting a second, he was on top of her, slamming her head to the ground. He was able to get two hits in before she lifted her leg from behind him and wrapped it around his neck, pushing him backwards. She sat up, her hair falling out of the ties.

She made her way over to him, kicking him, then sitting on his hips. She drove her fist into his cheek, blood splattering to the side of them and a small smirk on her lips. She went in for another hit, but Levi’s hand stopped her and he rolled her to the side, him now on top of her. She lifted both legs up and flung him over her head.

“Fuck!” He barked and landed on his back. They both laid there for a second, panting. The cadets’ eyes were glued to the scene, Hange and Miche ready to interfere at any moment. They all stared, mouths open at the sight in front of them. Both Y/N and Levi still lying on the ground. The only thing moving was their chests, quickly rising and falling. No one sure if they were going to continue fighting.

A smile grew on Y/N’s face. Starting with a small grin until she was beaming. Her chest still rising and falling, but this time with laughter. Her hands moved to her stomach as she continued laughing. Her laugh carried over all the training fields. Everyone continued watching. Finally, Y/N sat up, still laughing. She looked over at Levi, he was still breathing heavily. She crawled over to him and hovered over his face.

“You son of a bitch.” She smiled at him. “Are you okay?” He looked up at her. His mouth and nose were covered in blood.

“I’m doing just swell.” He groaned as she helped him up. “Damn, those kicks are no joke.” He held his ribs. They both stood up, brushing the dirt off of their clothes. Y/N stared at him.

“Thank you.” She smiled and he reached up ruffling her hair.

“Don’t make me do it again.” They put their arms around each other’s shoulders and started making their way back inside. “I was not in the mood for a beating.”

“Neither was I!”

“You took it pretty well though.”

“Oh shut up.” She pushed his head forward, laughing. The cadets were all shocked, watching as they went back inside. For the first time in a long time, Y/N was smiling.

…..

There was a knock on Y/N’s office door and Levi walked in. Y/N turned to face him.

“What’s up?” She asked, leaning back from her desk.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” He said and she raised her eyebrows with a smile. “About what you said.”

“I say a lot of things.” She smiled, her arms behind her head, “Which one resonated with you this time?”

“Ew.” He made a disgusted face. “I want to help you become the captain you want to be.” She looked at him. “Let’s train together.”

She sat up quickly, bringing herself closer to him.

“Seriously?” She was beaming.

“Don’t get too excited. We will have to train early in the morning, before everyone gets up.”

“That’s fine by me.”

Levi turned and went to leave her office.

“Levi?” He stopped, turning to face her. “Thanks.”

He smiled before walking through the door, closing it behind him.

Taglist: @levisbebe @nefelimalfoy

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 4 years

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Severus Snape x Reader- Parchment and Cologne (Part One)

"Is it wrong? Like seriously am I completely bonkers?" You laughed to your best friend.

"Having a crush on our head of house/ potions master/ evil bat dungeon swooshy cape man? I mean it's not particularly great, Y/N, is it?" She laughed back. "Besides, why Ol' Snapey Boy when you could have Professor Lockhart? Now that, my friend, is man you could do you wonders.. if you catch my drift.." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and you couldn't help but smack her with your pillow.

"Honestly, (F/N), I often ask myself how I possibly bring myself to be able to tolerate you.. I open my heart for 5 minutes and get attacked." You smirked.

"It's because you love me really.. plus, I should be asking myself the same question. My 18 year old best friend is going all heart eyes over human Scar." You looked at her quizzically before she answered your oncoming question. ".. muggle movie reference. I'm honestly going to force you to watch Disney movies one day." She swore. You rolled your eyes at her for changing the subject and slumped back in your bed.

"Honestly what am I going to do? It's beyond 13 year old me's little crush now.. ever since he started properly teaching us last year and with all the revision sessions he offered me I actually really like him.." You sighed and borderline smacked your head against the headboard.

"Why him anyway? You seem to have chosen the only man who is in love with a cloak. Seriously, he takes that thing everywhere. I'm 99% sure it's stitched into the man's neck at this point." She giggled the last part to herself but you heard it all the same.

"If you actually bothered turning up to our revision session and didn't make me be the only person that shows you'd see that he's actually really caring.. he's even cracked a few jokes every now and then" you smiled to yourself. ".. plus he's hot." You both began to burst out laughing again before you decided it was time to turn in.

"Try not to dream of your lover boy, Y/N... you have a study session with him first thing tomorrow. Don't want to be all flustered." She winked before blowing the lamp out. Honestly she wound you up as much as she could but, she was right, you do love her really.

The hours of sleep seemed to pass by within minutes as you soon found yourself wandering the great corridors of Hogwarts to the potions classroom, knocking three times on the door before entering as you always do. With simple 'good mornings' shared and a book left in your normal seat you got straight to studying. Popping in the same strawberry gum you never seemed to run out of, you chewed quietly as you got to work. Typically, Snape would stay beside you and help you answer any questions you may have whilst also asking many more of his own. In the few months of studying with Snape it was evident that the two of you created some kind of bond, whether it be him simply asking you how your day has been or letting you in to some memories of his, Snape was definitely becoming more open and comfortable around you. And you loved it.

Today however was different.

"I do apologise but I'm going to have to work on a half prepared potion that's been left at the back of my classroom. Although I say 'half prepared' in the sense that half of it is now on the floor. How Mr Finnigan has even survived this long in the wizarding world is truly beyond me." He spoke, walking to the discarded cauldron and working on the mixture of ingredients.

"And you're making it for him? Now do correct me if I'm wrong Professor but that's a seemingly nice action. Are you feeling alright?" You joked, glancing behind you and warming inside when you saw the small smile appear on his face.

"Don't lose your head, Miss L/N. I simply do not wish for this entire thing to go to waste... besides, I need Mr Finnigan to have a perfect example for him to refer to when he comes back this afternoon to write a 4 paged essay on it." The smile raised to the side of his mouth and, should it have been anyone else, you'd have dared say a slight wink followed. You felt your cheeks turn pink and turned back to your book.

"What's with the formalities all of a sudden? 'Miss L/N'? You're making me feel like a child again, Professor." You attempted to distract yourself from looking at the man behind you.

"Well then I must insist you call me Severus in such meetings as this. Of course you must understand you're only permitted to say this when we're alone, Y/N." God you loved it when he said your name but he's really allowing you to go by his own first name? Your cheeks burned more and you felt your cool hands rush to your face to calm them.

"Seems fair, Severus." You felt his name roll off your tongue and it felt right. You turned behind you and saw a shade of red begin to dust the older man's cheeks as he gave you a curt nod. Silence pursued. Minutes passed and you felt yourself begin to shiver. Of course the one day you decide to leave your robe in your room is the one day it's minus seven thousand in the dungeons. You attempted to ignore the goosebumps appearing on your arms as you read through another passage of Snape's hand written notes for you. Your concentration lacked as you began to rub your hands over your arms and you became uncomfortable. "Hey Profe-uh Severus? I'm just going to go-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before a sudden warmth enveloped you. Confusion took over before you suddenly felt like your face was on fire. Severus Snape. Had. Given. You. His. Cloak.

"You were foolish to believe it wouldn't be cold down here, Y/N. I took you as one of my smartest students and yet you clearly lack common sense." He mused, a playful undertone in his voice that let you know he wasn't being serious. You stammered out a small 'thank you' before continuing back to your work. Why had he given you his cloak? The Slytherin common room was only around the corner; you could be back in less than 5 minutes. You decided to stop questioning it and pressed on. Time seemed to drag in the newly found silence until you began to have a very very strong smell of tea. The same tea Sev usually has on his desk before every lesson, but you hadn't seen it today. Next followed the distinct smell of old parchment and? Snape's cologne? You turned your head to find nothing but Severus stirring the last ingredient into his cauldron. Weird.

"Uh, Severus? Can you smell that? It's like the library in here." You laughed a little. "And, not to sound weird or anything because I obviously don't just walk around and smell you.. uh.. because obviously that's not normal.." you began to mutter incoherently before realising you were actually mid-sentence. "... but have you like sprayed your cologne? Or whatever you use? Because it's really strong... not that it's not a nice smell because it is a nice smell but-" you were cut off by raised eyebrows staring in your direction. Before you could even mention the fact it smelt like you were sitting inside a teapot Severus cut you off.

"What did you say?" He asked, looking at you as if you were a mad man.

"That I smell old paper? And your cologne? What's so crazy about that?" You questioned.

"Nothing. Nothing would be crazy about that. Except I've run out of my cologne and all the books are in the cupboard... and I'm brewing amortentia.." It was almost as though the world had stopped spinning. He was brewing amortentia? You knew exactly what that meant.. you'd been caught out. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Your face burnt and your mouth became dry as you tried to form even a single sentence. Snape cut you off once more by taking a deep inhale of the cauldron in front of him. ".. I smell.. raspberry shampoo.. peppermint tea and... that strawberry bubblegum those Weasley Twins sell in that little shop of theirs.." You froze again. "So.. you." You felt like you were about to collapse. "I smell.. you." Good lord Y/N, Severus bloody Snape has just told you he smells you in the amortentia.. MOVE.

#Severus Snape #Severus Snape x reader #Severus Snape x You #Severus Snape Imagine #Severus Snape Oneshot #Professor Snape #Professor Severus Snape #Harry Potter Imagine #Harry Potter x Reader #HP #Harry Potter #Reader insert

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] 3rd Anniversary Love Carnival - Victor

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Victor’s Prologue: here

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here

[ PART ONE ]

The moment we step into the carnival venue, my gaze is completely consumed by a gigantic merry-go-round.

MC: What a dream-like merry-go-round! Let’s ride this as our first attraction!

When Victor sees the golden coloured merry-go-round before him, his expression freezes in place for a moment. However, he still stands in the queue with me.

MC: Eh? You’re agreeing just like that?!

MC: “I don't waste my time on such senseless things”.

I mimic Victor, channelling a stern expression.

MC: Don’t you typically say that? Why did you agree so quickly today?

I make a face at him. When Victor sees this, he furrows his brows and gives me a gentle knock on the head.

Victor: Spending my time on a pointless rejection is even more of a waste.

I turn around, glaring at Victor. However, all he does is stare back plainly at me.

Victor: Because of a certain childish individual, my tolerance levels have increased by quite a lot.

I specially pick a double-manned horse. Along with the romantic music, the horses start ascending and descending, moving in a circular motion.

Couples in the surroundings are raising their phones, taking photographs with various poses. Every screen is filled with brilliant smiles.

Somewhat influenced by such an atmosphere, I turn my head to look at Victor.

As expected, Victor, who is sitting on a black steed, looks so stern that it’s as though he’s participating in some investment report meeting.

Sensing the gaze I tossed at him, Victor looks at me.

Victor: What is it?

MC: Victor, do you want to smile a little?

Victor: Why?

MC: Because when people are happy, they’d subconsciously want to smile. In the happiest place on earth, and having such an adorable lady in front of you, don't you feel even the slightest bit of happiness?

Victor: You aren’t humble at all.

Despite what he says, I can clearly see a handsome arc at the corners of his lips.

MC: Can you appreciate the joys of being on a merry-go-round now?

Victor: That’s only if seeing you look silly counts as one of the joys.

MC: Can’t you just honestly say that you’re very happy when you’re with me?

I wave my fist at him in a threatening manner.

Victor sighs. Looking back at me, he says in resignation:

Victor: I’m happy. But it has nothing to do with the merry-go-round.

As the music gradually softens, and the merry-go-round is about to complete its turn, I realise that we haven’t taken a picture yet.

Just as I adjust the angle, attempting to include Victor into the frame to obtain a “group photo”, he senses what I'm planning to do.

Victor takes my phone, then leans down closer to me.

Victor: Look at the camera.

He lifts the phone up, pressing the shutter.

[ PART TWO ]

MC: High-altitude glass platform bridge…?

In order to try a more unique attraction, Victor and I have come to the high-altitude glass platform bridge with the direction of the guide.

Victor: Want to try it?

After a moment of hesitance, I nod.

MC: Since we’re already here!

Looking death calmly in the face, I stare at the pathway, resolutely joining the queue.

Although I’ve already mentally prepared myself, I regret it the moment I step onto the platform bridge.

MC: I can’t do this. People need to stand on the ground!

I grip the railing at the side, carefully inching forward at a tortoise’s pace.

Just as I plan to tell Victor about my regret of overestimating my confidence, I lift my head and see him waiting for me composedly.

Likely seeing that I haven’t moved after such a long time, Victor sighs softly, walks towards me, and offers me his hand.

I immediately reach out, holding his large palm.

A warm sensation sprouts from our laced hands. Victor follows my pace, walking slowly to the other end of the platform bridge.

MC; You aren’t afraid?

Victor: Why should I be afraid?

He pauses for a moment, then gives me an explanation which leaves me unable to retort.

Victor: Since it’s open for visitors to experience, there are definitely sufficient safeguards to ensure the safety of the amusement facilities.

MC: …

For a moment, I actually don’t know where I should begin.

The person is the one feeling scared. What does that have to do with the safety of the facilities?

Or should I be in awe that because of such a reason, he can overcome the fear that humans have about falling from high altitudes?

Victor: If you’re really scared, don’t look under your feet. Look forward.

While doing that, I still can’t help but mutter:

MC: During such moments, shouldn’t you say things like “If you’re scared, hold me tight”, or “If you’re scared, just look at me”?

Victor casts me a glance.

Victor: Do you think that’d be useful?

MC: Mr Victor, do you know the power and vigour comfort brings?

Victor: The next time you can’t finish your proposal, I think I could reuse this saying. You can use your vigour to increase efficiency, and not ask me to postpone the meeting.

I look straight into Victor’s eyes, the discipline of the working class enabling me to harden my backbone and face this investor even at a high altitude.

MC: Are you a monster? Must you bring up things that’d upset me at this time?

Victor looks at me, a slight smile in his eyes.

Victor: You’re so full of vigour. I think you aren’t afraid anymore. All right, you can finish the rest of the path yourself.

Hearing this, I realise that the transparent glass platform has already reached its end. The following path is lined with carpet.

In the midst of our banter, I’d actually completed the entire journey without even realising it.

MC: Victor, were you deliberately criticising me earlier to divert my attention?

Victor: I should be the one with questions. When I’m by your side, where else could your focus be diverted to?

I’m left dumbfounded. Victor chuckles, as though he doesn’t care how I’d respond to his question.

Like earlier, he walks in front of me unhurriedly, not releasing the hand holding onto mine.

Victor: The next attraction probably has a queue. Follow closely.

[ PART THREE ]

MC: I didn’t expect the restaurants in the carnival to serve pretty tasty food.

I take a bite out of a heart-shaped lemon cake, and can’t help but exclaim in awe.

Initially, I had only noticed that the food laid out on the tables for patrons was shocking.

The extremely big and bold words on the leaflet - “Carnival Special Couple Set Meal” - stirred my heart.

Without another word, I pulled Victor in, pointing at the leaflet excitedly.

I didn’t expect that no matter whether it was the presentation or the taste, they left one pleasantly surprised.

MC: Victor, should Souvenir also introduce a couple set meal in the future? Like this heart-shaped cake - I’m really optimistic about its popularity in the market! I think it can attract quite a number of people.

Victor: No.

Unsurprisingly, Victor rejects my idea.

I sigh.

MC: CEO Victor, as the most ambitious and most knowledgeable on how to advance in the market, LFG is a business miracle. What does it receive most praise for? Isn’t it how it’s bold enough to try expanding its capabilities? Also, as the manager of Souvenir, are you really not considering including such a mentality into your dishes?

On the spot, I present a report involving how to expand Souvenir, and anticipate his reaction.

Victor is the same as always. Both arms are crossed over his chest as he listens to my report seriously, then he gives his comments.

Victor: The report lacks proper thought. Rejected.

MC: Why’s that?

I feel slightly indignant.

Victor sets down his hands, signalling that I should shift closer.

I have no idea what he’s planning to do, and lean over while confused.

Victor’s fingers brush against the stray hairs near my ear, rescuing a strand of hair which has been entangled with my earring.

When his finger brushes lightly against my earlobe, I suddenly think of how Victor was the one who put on this pair of earrings for me before we headed out this morning.

Victor: Souvenir isn’t a business. Its existence is unrelated to any business models.

MC: What is it related to then?

Victor: The manager’s personal preferences.

He retracts his hand, looking at me calmly.

Victor: The presentation and image of such dishes don’t suit Souvenir’s usual style.

Regretfully, I split the heart-shaped strawberry pie, placing half onto Victor’s plate.

MC: Since the manager has already put it that way…

MC: It looks like I can only seize this opportunity, and experience the fluffy, soft strawberry pie here.

I let out a soft sigh. In my mind, I can’t help but imagine - if Victor were to make this, I wonder how it’d taste.

MC: It’d definitely be several times more delicious than this.

Victor finishes the strawberry pie, and doesn’t seem to hear my soft mutter.

After a short period of silence, Victor’s serious voice pipes up.

Victor: It won’t be an item on the menu.

Victor: But this doesn’t mean I can’t make it for you once at home.

Victor elegantly cuts the food on the plate, not much expression on his face.

Only I know the warmth underneath that quiet display.

MC: When the time comes, I’ll invite Mr Victor to appraise it with me.

[ PART FOUR ]

We walk and pause, finally ending up before the Pendulum ride.

Pointing at the attraction, where shrill cries can be heard constantly, I think of that children’s day when he had taken the “Time Traveler” ride with me.

And how time had stopped for a few seconds during the descent.

[Note] This is a reference to Fairytale Date!

MC: Want to give this a try?

I turn my head, looking at Victor expectantly.

Victor: No.

As I expected, Victor rejects me.

MC: Victor, could you be scared?

Victor: Of course not.

His expression is stern, and he looks forward.

MC: In that case, ride it with me!

While saying this, I pull him along with me and we sit down.

There’s still some time before the ride begins. The chatter and laughter from people in the queue before us continuously drift over.

Enthusiastic visitor: A friend of mine took the Pendulum before. When it was over, he calmly said that it wasn’t much. In the end, he started puking after taking a few steps.

Happy visitor: Hahahaha, the same thing happened to my colleague. He sat for the ride in another place once, and screamed until his voice was hoarse at work the next day. He had to drink chinese medicine for the entire day.

I’m somewhat tickled by the conversations.

MC: They’re speaking so exaggeratedly. How could that be possible? What do you think?

The criticism I expected doesn’t arrive.

Finding this a little odd, I look at Victor, realising that he’s strapping on his seatbelt seriously, his expression stern.

Oh…?

I really wish I could take out my phone and snap a picture of this Victor before me.

The Pendulum truly lives up to its name.

At first, I even thought it’d be so-so.

But when the Pendulum’s amplitude grows increasingly larger, till it feels like I’m being tossed around, I can’t help but scream.

MC: Ahhhhh–

This! Is! Too! Scary!

Just when I’m forced to sit through these parabolic motions, my left hand is gently held onto by someone.

Bracing against the violent wind, I open my eyes. Victor is sitting straight and quietly in his seat. His posture is tense, yet he looks as though he’s very calm.

Amid the shrill screams, I can vaguely hear his voice.

Victor: Don’t be afraid.

Stepping off the Pendulum, I immediately grasp for the railing at the side.

However, when I see Victor’s crooked tie and slightly unkempt hair, I can’t help but burst into laughter.

This time, I don’t let this chance slip by, and keep this dishevelled Victor in my phone.

I make a decision to have this picture printed out to be placed at the bedside.

Victor: …what are you doing this time?

MC: Nothing, nothing! Oh yes, what do you think of this attraction?

Victor: …so-so.

MC: If you’re afraid, you can just say so. It’s a normal human reaction, and I won’t laugh at you.

Victor: I’m not afraid.

MC: In that case…

I look at Victor, my smile growing wider.

MC: Let’s ride it again!

Victor: …

MC: You aren’t going to prove that you aren’t afraid?

Victor: Let’s go then.

MC: Eh?

Victor: Since you’re so enthusiastic about this ride, you’ll definitely experience it together with me. Am I wrong?

Seeing Victor arch his brows slightly, and turning my game against me, I respond with certainty–

MC: I’m sorry! We’ll head to another attraction right now!

[ PART FIVE ]

Perplexed and not knowing which attraction to go to next, an uproar in front attracts my attention.

MC: Eh? Did something happen?

I pull Victor forward with me.

I see a man holding a large bunch of roses and pink balloons, kneeling down on one knee in front of a woman.

The woman’s face is red from shyness, and her eyes are filled with touching emotions and surprise.

MC: Someone’s proposing!

Looking at the scene before me, I can’t help but tilt my head and whisper into Victor’s ear as he stands beside me.

MC: It’s so sweet. I hope they can be together for a very long time!

Victor turns his head slightly, as though sensing the envy in my tone.

Victor: You’re very envious?

MC: A little.

Victor frowns slightly, looking as though he can’t comprehend it.

Very quickly, however, he seems to think of something.

Victor: Stand here and don’t move. Wait for a while.

Before I can react, Victor has already left.

I stand rooted in place.

At the side, the proposal is still ongoing. The man stammers as he takes her down a walk through memory lane, clumsily taking out a ring box.

The girl’s eyes have long since been brimming with happy tears.

I look at Victor, not knowing what he’s going to do, and not knowing what will happen next.

Under my expectant and nervous gaze, he walks over to the person selling balloons, and buys a small balloon flower.

MC: …

I knew it!

Victor: Give me your hand.

When Victor returns, he speaks in his usual tone.

Then, he holds up my hand, lowers his eyes, and ties the balloon flower to my wrist.

Seeing this childish action contrasted with Victor’s serious expression, I can’t help but chuckle.

With me, he’s done so many things that are, according to his standards, a waste of time, meaningless and utterly childish.

It doesn’t seem to be a bad thing though.

My heart is encased with a sweetness. Raising my wrist happily, I crinkle my eyes as I look at the balloon flower under the sunlight.

MC: It’s so pretty!

My gaze is completely absorbed by the balloon flower, and I don’t even notice that the crowd afar off has burst into applause. That man’s proposal probably succeeded.

Victor: You’re satisfied just like that?

MC: Hehe, the most satisfied person in the world! Let’s go, we still have to head to the next attraction.

I turn my head and prepare to leave, but Victor grabs my wrist.

MC: What…!

Pink coloured balloons and flower petals fill the air, spreading happiness all around.

And in this corner with only the two of us, a gentle kiss descends on my forehead.

Victor: The most childish person in the entire amusement park is probably right in front of me.

Victor looks at me, saying the critique that I couldn’t be more familiar with.

In his eyes, there’s also a smile and gentleness that I couldn’t be more familiar with.

The celebration and clamour have nothing to do with me.

All the happiness and clamour, all the ribbons and fresh flowers, can’t compare to a word from him.

Nor can they compare to the somewhat childish balloon flower on my wrist.

I smile while standing on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around Victor’s neck, and giving him a kiss.

MC: He’s also in front of me! Being childish with you is the happiest thing in the world.

I hear a soft chuckle, then a warm breath. Following this, my forehead feels a tender touch for the second time.

Victor: Dummy.

Fireworks event: here

#this is just a re-post of the love carnival translations!#I'm doing some mild renovations to the blog so don't mind me #the previous translations were split according to parts rather than love interest which I find really disjointed!

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1rintooru · 3 years

Text

Same Old Explosive Love

Pairing: post-timeskip Semi Eita x fem!reader

Themes: angst and some fluff in the end

Word count: 2273 - one-shot

Warnings: mention of alcohol and breaking up, swearing

Summary: You don’t know anyone that can fight like you and Semi. The rise of his music career has put a strain on your relationship and end up arguing over the same old things. Neither of you can let go of the other and so the cycle continues.

It always surprised you when you remembered how low Semi’s alcohol tolerance was. To his credit, he didn’t look like someone who couldn’t handle their liqueur. He was a member of an up-and-coming band that was rapidly gaining popularity across the globe. After months of being on the road, Semi had finally returned home where you, him and all of your friends celebrated the release of his latest single. You’d always thought that the lifestyle would have hardened him up, but as you watched him struggle to open the front door of your shared apartment, you knew nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Here, let me help,” you were already reaching for his keys before he pulled his hand away.

“Babe, I’ve got this,” he giggled as tried his luck once more. You heard the satisfactory sound of the key twist in the lock on cue with his words. You both stagger into the apartment and you couldn’t help but laugh. You were convinced that if anyone would have seen you two, they would have thought you were teen lovers caught up in a whirlwind romance. It didn’t matter how ungraceful you both looked or how loud you spoke or even how heavy Semi felt as he leaned on you for support. If it were up to you, this could go on forever.

You kicked off your heels, letting out a small gasp at the immediate relief you felt and watched as Semi clumsily tried to hang his coat. You giggled seeing him visibly deflate and grumble as the coat slid off its hanger and crumpled to the floor. He bent down to pick his coat up but the familiar jingle of his ringtone stopped him. He fished his phone out of his pocket with ease and glanced at the caller-ID before quickly sending you an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta take this. I promise I’ll make this quick; I’ll be back before you even know it.”

He didn’t wait for your response, instead giving you a swift peck on the cheek and disappearing into the bedroom to answer the call. To you, it felt like the room had gotten hotter; In reality you were actually seething. He hadn’t told you who had called him – he didn’t need to. Semi had given most of his contacts a specialized ringtone, so after a while you knew exactly who was on the other line before he would even answer. This particular jingle was one that you were only all too well acquainted with.

It was his manager.

You let out a terse sigh. While he promised he would be quick, you had come to learn the opposite to be true. Of course you were supportive of his career; you loved seeing Semi completely unravel on stage and make his dreams come into fruition. However, you’d slowly come to resent how accessible he needed to be even during his time off, whether it was for his bandmates, his producers, the fans or especially his manager.

You snuggled yourself onto the couch, engulfing yourself in a blanket. You were tired but too angry to sleep. Hearing Semi occasionally exclaim excitedly from the other room only cemented what you already believed. Even if their manager wasn’t around physically, he had still begun to feel like a third-party in your relationship. You were convinced that Semi mentioned their manager more than he even said your name.

This was also the core reason why you and Semi would fight. The couple of weeks you did spend together always came and went in the blink of an eye. It didn’t compensate for the months of separation, missed calls due to time zones or bad connection. It didn’t make up for all the nasty things you read online, whether from journalists or his own fans. Sometimes it felt like it was his world and you were just living in it. On the surface you and Semi had an idyllic relationship that most people coveted, little did anyone know that with you, Semi had finally met his match. The screaming matches you had, were fiery and explosive – you both shared a prideful stubbornness that only worked as gasoline to an already massive flame. Thankfully the fights were infrequent and would end as quickly as they started; neither Semi nor you held onto a grudge and you’d both quickly return to your gentle and chipper selves.

“Oh, you’re in here.” Semi’s gentle voice tore you out of your thoughts. You were so busy brooding that you hadn't noticed him leaning on the doorframe of the living room. His hair was more disheveled than usual, a lazy smile replaced his usual scowl and his cheeks were still flushed pink from the shots earlier. He’d even changed into a pair of comfier clothes. He stared at you intently with relaxed eyes before finally continuing, “Do you want to watch a movie or…” he paused briefly, “We can do something else.” There was a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No, not anymore,” you huffed. Your words were cutting and you were glad – you wanted them to be. Semi raised an eyebrow, his features quickly tensed up as concern replaced his formerly relaxed expression.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No Semi you didn’t do anything. I’m fine, really,” you patronized, freeing yourself from the blanket with an aggressive yank. A little too aggressive.

The jig was up.

“You’re clearly not.”

He already started to sound irritated – he hated to play these guessing games with you. You jumped off the couch, stopping abruptly in front of him as you held your phone up to his face, completely ignoring his accusation.

“What’s the time, Semi?”

His eyes flickered to the screen, then locked onto yours again. The grooves between his furrowed brows just seemed to get deeper and deeper.

“4:02”

You hummed agreeingly, turning around and flicking the television on with the remote. It was petulant, you knew that, but you felt like pressing every one of Semi’s buttons. Usually, infomercials would play at this hour – it didn’t matter though, anything was better than seeing him glare holes through you.

“Y/N.”

It wasn’t infomercials that were playing, instead the clear voice of the weather lady sounded through the room as she delivered the weather report for the following day.

“Y/N!”

You continued to ignore him, dialing the audio up until the bass made the walls tremor.

“Dammit Y/N, we have neighbors!”

He snatched the remote from your hands and quickly shut the TV off. The two of you now stood face to face. The light buzz you felt from earlier was completely gone and you could tell that Semi had sobered up as well. He was trying his hardest to stay composed; you could tell by how he was breathing – slow and deliberate.

“What is going on? You were fine just earlier.”

His face softened slightly, almost as if to plead with you. You hesitated for a moment before finally relenting. You didn’t even try to conceal the bitterness that was wrapped around every single word you spoke.

“Hmm, I don’t know Semi, maybe ask your manager since you spend so much time with him.”

His eyes widened for a brief moment, shocked by the coolness of your tone. “I didn’t think the call would drag on for that long – I can’t just not answer!”

You opened your mouth but Semi quickly cut you off, “Are we really doing this? Are we really going to fight about this again?”

“You answer his calls more than you answer mine!” you snapped back, “maybe we wouldn’t fight about this if you weren’t always working.”

“Oh my god,” he ran his hands through his hair, the clamminess of his palms made tufts of hair stand upright. If the two of you weren’t fighting, you probably would have laughed because of how odd it looked. But seeing him with his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes filled with a seething rage was no laughing matter. He continued, his voice a low growl, “this is my job, Y/N. Actually no, fuck that, it’s my dream. It’s been my dream since I was a kid!”

“I know that,” you hissed, “But you’re the one always complaining about you and the band being overworked. That one time you almost collapsed due to exhaustion, yet as soon as you get time off you start working from home. Make it make sense!”

He smiled at you – a wicked and deceitful smile – as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. You were reminded again of just how tall and imposing Semi could be. “Well then babe, tell me,” his tone was condescending, “what do you expect me to do? Ignore my manager? Ignore our producer? Maybe even block my bandmates from contacting me?”

“That’s not what I said Semi and you know it,” your words came out as pure venom.

Your body relaxed once he took a couple of steps back. But if you had learnt anything from all the other times you’ve fought, it was that that wasn’t necessarily a good sign. It only meant he was going to get louder. You breathed deeply, frantically trying to organize your thoughts. No, you didn’t actually want to fight with him. You loved Semi, after all.

“I wish that you would actually take me into consideration for fucking once, Semi. It’s always about you, but when the hell was it ever about us? I only get a couple of weeks to spend with you and you’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“Well maybe if you stopped bitching all the time, I would actually want to spend time with you.”

“You treat me like I’m an afterthought!” You screamed. At least, that was what you wanted to do. Your voice came out more like a shallow squeak compared to Semi’s wall-shaking shouts. The lump in your throat grew; no matter how much you tried to swallow it down, it wouldn’t go away. You realized that the warmth radiating off your face wasn’t from the alcohol, nor was it from the anger; you hadn’t even noticed how your hot tears rolled off your face, staining your cheeks. He shook his head, almost as if to physically shake off your remarks.

“Don’t come with that shit now. Why do you think I work so much? I’m the only one that works around here. I’ve paid for the TV, for the couch – for every single piece of furniture. I pay the bills, I pay your bills and I paid for this goddamn apartment,” he jerkily motioned to the space around him as he shouted this, making you flinch. His whole body had started to shake in anger.

“Did you already forget who paid for your university tuition fees?” He sneered. “Without me, you’d be nothing and you know it. So don’t fucking tell me to work less when it’s your life on the line too!”

“Well, maybe I should leave since I’m such an inconvenience to you!”

There was a pause. The tension in the air was suffocating as your words seemed to echo through the room. Semi cleared his throat, cutting through the deafening silence.

“Then leave. Just don’t come back.”

“You’re the worst,” is all you managed to utter as you quickly brushed passed him, avoiding his death glare as you escaped into the solace of your bedroom. You crumbled onto the floor once you heard the door slam, desperately stifling your cries into the fabric of your shirt.

He left.

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

You weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed once your eyes fluttered open. Based on the bright light that was cascading in from the window, you could only assume it was midday. The confusion you felt when you saw yourself on the floor quickly dissipated as you felt the pain in your throat and the swollenness of your eyes. Your chest ached just thinking about what happened hours earlier.

You gingerly got up off the ground and opened the door and paused. You could faintly hear the sound of a guitar. You recognized the song, making your heart race and you instinctively followed the sound of the music, it finally leading you to a separate room. You didn’t even think twice before opening the door and what you saw inside made your heart leap.

His hair was still disheveled and much like you, he was wearing the same clothes from before. His face was relaxed, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he focused on hitting the notes and his mouth had dropped into a small ‘o’. There was something incredibly enamoring about seeing him like this and it was a stark contrast to the Semi you’d experienced earlier. You liked this side of him more.

His eyes darted to yours and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards upon realizing it was you. He nodded at the empty space next to him, inviting you to sit down and you happily complied. The song you recognized was one that Semi had written for you – a confession of his love essentially. He knew, even back then, how straining his job was on the relationship and he wanted to give you something that would remind you he was always there. The words that he failed to find to describe how he felt got poured into his music. He never apologized to you for all the things he said and as you listened to him hum alongside the melody that sounded from the guitar, you knew he didn’t have to, either. You knew exactly what he meant.

You and Semi were going to be ok.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu x reader #semi eita x reader #semi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #selfmade

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

Text

Nick/Preston HCs

Request: "Hi! Happy Pride Month <3 <3 <3!! Could I possibly ask for some Nick/Preston hcs or something like that??? If you're up for it and ok with pairing F4 characters together, that is. This pairing is non-existent, but I think they'd work SO well together ^-^ (plus, Preston needs more love ;-;)" Nick and Preston are one of those couples that no one really sees coming but makes so much sense

When they first meet they fall into conversation about the current state of the Commonwealth

Nick sees a hope and light in Preston’s attitude and the way he talks that he himself hasn’t felt in a very long time

While Nick doesn’t think the Commonwealth is hopeless, he’s been around a long time, and the improvement is minute; after a while, it gets difficult to look at the muddied landscape and dream of something bigger and better, warmer and more positive

But the way Preston talks isn’t just hopeful, he’s got logic to the way he sees the Commonwealth developing

It makes Nick want to be hopeful again, too

After they part he finds himself thinking a little too much about the way Prestons’ eyes light up like no other

Maybe it’s not the way he talks about the Commonwealth that's so warm and positive, maybe that’s just the energy Preston brings with him

Before he’d left, Preston had offered him a place in Sanctuary, with the Minutemen

Of course, Sole had been more than welcoming themself, but when they’d offered a few weeks earlier, he’d turned them down as politely as he could

He figured he’d pushed his roots down, deep in the rocky, irradiated soil of Diamond City, and it was hard to see himself fitting in anywhere else, despite the way some Diamond City residents were still hesitant to accept him, even after all these years

After thinking on it, Valentine shamed himself internally for wanting to uproot his entire office to another community just so he could chase the warmth that Preston had introduced him to, and then promptly taken with him

Was it actually so wrong, though?

He’d stretched out in D.C. for enough time to build up his name and reputation; he had little doubt that if someone needed him, they would travel to Sanctuary for his services

And Preston had made sure to reassure him that there was a 0 tolerance policy about discrimination

It was certainly a thought

Regardless, Nick found himself mulling over the way Preston simply was over many weeks

That is, until Preston surprised him by turning up at his doorstep

Turns out someone in their community could use help finding a missing relative, and he was just the man for the job

Nick wouldn’t lie to himself looking back when he realized that Preston saying he was the first person he thought of for the situation made him far happier than usual

Preston himself insisted on helping Nick with the case; it would give him a new perspective, Preston insisted, something he could use in the future when it came to his duties

Nick put up very little fuss, just the basic “I’m sure you’re very busy,” but at Preston’s assistance, he caved easily

As they spent more time together- soft conversations over paperwork under candlelight, breaks spent telling lighthearted stories, Nick reaching up to hold Preston’s hand still as it shook in the cold while he tried to light Nick’s cigarette for him- Nick realized he wasn’t sure he cared enough to stay in D.C. anymore

Despite the fact that they provided his first Commonwealth home, he owed the settlement very little, and Preston reminded him of that

“I don’t want you to forget your worth,” Preston had insisted at one point “You deserve better than some of the looks they give, the things they say.”

The idyllic scenario of running away from a suffocating little town to join Preston- and Sole, of course- was too lovely to pass up

And so Nick found himself moving shop

Friends were important to him, he’d tell those who cared enough to ask

Friends

Preston shocked himself with how giddy he was with Nick’s agreement to join him in Sanctuary

Join them in Sanctuary

Nick was more than happy to be led on a tour of the settlement, a busybody place full of cheerful conversation and settlers with a helpful nature

Nick supposed that Preston’s attitude was contagious; one couldn’t resist the idea that things would get better, and attitude was everything in the Commonwealth when it came to survival

Preston suggested they sit together and chat about what Nick needed for his new office, but they quickly got sidetracked, just as they did when working the case

They moved to the couch Sole had kindly provided to face the fireplace, and eventually, Preston fell asleep with his head on Nick’s shoulder as Nick told stories about cases he had been on

It was easy, in that moment, for Nick to forget there was radiation pressing in from the South

There were no grotesque insects, no mutated people that threatened violence at the drop of a hat

Over time, Nick stopped calling Preston his friend

Not that he was labelling them, not that they weren’t close

He simply felt as if friends wasn’t right, they didn’t fit in that box anymore

Not when Preston would walk straight past Sole when he returned from scavenging to wrap Nick in a hug, not when they found themselves more often than not walking with their shoulders pressed together, hands connected, walking about Sanctuary at night

Of course, at first, they brushed off Sole's inquiries as “Night watch gets boring when you’re on your own.”

Then when they’d give them a knowing look, Nick would simply give them a lopsided grin and a nod and keep moving, adjusting his grip on Preston’s hands

There was never a moment where he and Preston sat down and decided, yep, we’re together now

Instead, it was more like puzzle pieces falling together; the right fit. Comfortable and expected

The settlers adjusted accordingly; “Oh, Detective Valentine will be in his office. If his boyfriend’s there, they’ll both help you out.” and “I think Garvey’s taking a break with Nick. They’ve been meaning to get some time to themselves, considering how busy they are.”

They make a wonderful dynamic duo; there’s nothing they can’t get done together

#Fo4 #Fallout 4 #Fanfiction #Fanfic #FF #Headcanons #HCs #Preston Garvey #Nick Valentine

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ultrafangirlishness · 3 years

Text

Fighting Sleep

What’s this? Me actually finishing some writing and being brave enough to post it? Unheard of.

This is based loosely off a dream I had a few months ago. I just wanted to try getting it out of my head and capturing its essence because it was really lovely and sweet :) Do not expect anything other than plotless, self-indulgent fluff, because that’s all this is.

Fandom/Pairing: My Hero Academia / KiriBaku (platonic or romantic)

Summary: Class 1-A is on their way to their next big training adventure. Kirishima and Bakugo get a little sleepy on the ride over.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Brief mentions of other classmates, Bakugo does one (1) swear

You can also read it on AO3!

Excited chatter filled the air as Class 1-A boarded the enormous tour bus that would take them to their next adventure. The students had been waiting all week for this: a weekend trip to a new training facility about seven hours from campus. They could hardly wait to see what was in store for them.

As Kirishima stepped into the bus, his bag slung over his shoulder, he began scouring the rows for a place to set down. It appeared about half the class was already boarded.

Everyone was dressed in their casual wear. Normally they would’ve been asked to be in uniform for a school-related trip, but since they were going to be traveling well into the night the school allowed for regular clothes.

Kirishima found an empty pair of seats off to the left and slid in next to the window. Across the aisle he noticed Midoriya and Uraraka who were seated together, and in front of them were Kaminari and Mineta. There was also Iida and Yoamomo sitting up towards the front, Todoroki and Tokoyami in the back, and Ashido and Hagakure sitting a few rows ahead of himself.

The students of 1-A continued filing in and taking their seats when Kirishima spotted a familiar scowl.

“Hey! Bakugo!” he waved his arms. “Over here!”

When Bakugo spotted him, he rolled his eyes but tossed his bag to Kirishima and sat down next to him.

“Don’t think this makes you special or some shit,” he said with a glare, “you’re just more tolerable than the others.”

Kirishima smiled despite himself. “Good enough for me.”

•••

About two hours had passed since the bus had left base camp. The sun was beginning to set, washing everything in a pink glow. The students had all settled down, keeping their talk to low whispers.

The air was beginning to feel heavy with the drowsiness of travel. The hum of the bus engine, the soft murmur of the students and the low lighting was starting to get to Kirishima, lulling him into a sleepy, half-conscious state. He could tell Bakugo was fighting it too; every few minutes his head would nod or his eyes would flutter shut only to snap open again. Kirishima wondered why he didn’t just let himself sleep, but this was Bakugo. He would put up nothing but his best fight. That, and he was incredibly stubborn.

Kirishima had just begun to close his eyes when he felt a weight drop against his side. No way, he thought. Carefully, he peeked an eye open and sure enough, a head of spikey blond hair was slumped against his arm. After an hour or so of fighting it, Bakugo must’ve finally succumbed.

Kirishima just closed his eyes again and smiled to himself. He must’ve fallen asleep sitting up and lost his balance with the movements of the bus. That was the only logical explanation, because Bakugo wouldn’t be caught dead leaned up against someone like that willingly; he had a fairly large personal bubble and didn’t like a lot of physical contact. In fact, if he woke up now, Kirishima was sure he’d be furious and deny such a thing would ever happen. The thought of it made him grin wider. It was all just too good.

There’d been rumors that Bakugo got cuddly when he was sleepy. Kirishima could hardly believe it. The word “cuddly” didn’t even belong in the same sentence with someone like Bakugo. Yet here he was, curled into Kirishima’s side…

Kirishima didn’t see a point in waking him or making much of an attempt to move him; he’d probably just get chewed out. Besides, he was so warm, and the faint smell of sugar that always accompanied Bakugo was nice.

He decided he could let himself have this. He only hoped Sero and Kaminari didn’t catch sight of this or it’d surely be used as blackmail.

Watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky, Kirishima let himself drift off as they rode further into the night.

•••

As Kirishima began waking up, the fog in his brain slowly subsiding, he began to take in his surroundings. There were two things that stuck out to him: first, that it was dark. Very dark. He sat up to see the only source of light was coming from the fluorescent lights of the gas station they were stopped at. Second, he realized how quiet it was. He looked around to find that almost everyone had left the bus, most likely to buy snacks or use the restroom. All that was left on the bus were a few students that had fallen asleep, Bakugo, and himself.

He checked his watch to find it was just past midnight, a few hours since he last checked before falling asleep. The stop of the engine must’ve woken him.

The memory of the events leading up to his drifting off suddenly came rushing back to Kirishima, and he realized with a little bit of disappointment that Bakugo was back in his own seat. He seemed to be awake, but only barely.

The students who had gotten off the bus began to file back in. As Kirishima watched each of them take their respective seats, he accidentally caught the eye of Mina Ashido. She looked over at Bakugo, who was still leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed, then back at Kirishima. With a teasing smile, she gave him a thumb’s up and a knowing wink, making him blush. She must’ve seen them asleep together earlier. Kirishima wanted to jump to his defense, but there was nothing to be said and she was already turned around, back in her seat.

The bus began moving again. There was still a few more hours left to go before they would reach their destination.

Looking over at Bakugo, who was still in a sleepy daze, Kirishima found himself a little bit in awe. His features were soft and relaxed; nothing like his regular demeanor. More than anything, he looked at peace.

A part of Kirishima wished they could go back to the way they were before they woke up. The problem was that he never knew where Bakugo’s boundaries stood, and he didn’t intend to overstep them. Then again, Bakugo didn’t exactly seem to be his regular prickly self right now...

How much could he get away with with Bakugo in a state like this? Surely he was too tired to put up much of a fight. Now was probably a better time than any to find out.

Slowly, without a word, Kirishima leaned over and lightly rested his chin on Bakugo’s shoulder, bracing himself to be shoved off. He was surprised to find that Bakugo didn’t budge. In fact, he didn’t even acknowledge anything had changed. He took that as a sign that he was in the clear.

Just to push it a little further, Kirishima decided to take the chance and lean his head into the crook of his neck, making himself comfortable there. When Bakugo still hadn’t reacted, Kirishima realized it was possible he was actually asleep. That, or he was too tired to care.

Kirishima risked a quick glance up and was delighted to find a light blush had spread across Bakugo’s cheeks. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it was definitely there, Kirishima was sure of it.

So he was awake after all—and he knew exactly what was happening.

It took all of Kirishima’s willpower not to say anything. Instead, he let his face break out into a toothy grin and laid his head back down on Bakugo’s shoulder. His heart swelled at the idea of being allowed this close to him in such a vulnerable state. The fact that the bus was completely shrouded in darkness and at least half the class was asleep probably helped too. He wondered if anyone else would’ve gotten away with this.

Bakugo still hadn’t moved a muscle or made any attempt to acknowledge Kirishima, who realized that Bakugo may just be stubborn enough to never acknowledge it. But, considering he didn’t appear angry, Kirishima wondered if maybe not saying anything was Bakugo’s way of telling him that it was okay. Either way, he was grateful for being allowed to stay there.

Then, just when he thought maybe Bakugo had finally fallen back asleep—

“I swear to All Might,” he spoke in a low voice so only Kirishima could hear, his eyes still closed, “If you say a word about this to anyone, I’ll end you.”

Kirishima couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Bakugo wasn’t quite as threatening in a half-asleep state. Still, he would respect his wishes. All he wanted in this moment was to cherish it.

“Sure, man. Whatever you say.”

Kirishima closed his eyes again, snuggling in closer to his friend. He smiled when he felt Bakugo finally accept the gesture by tentatively resting his head atop Kirishima’s in return. Both boys began to feel the warmth and the weight of sleep pull at them once again, and this time they let it.

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onedivinemisfit · 3 years

Photo

During my recovery, this has been my biggest project, no kidding. I looked but couldn’t find Obi’s witcher!AU body template so I sketched some Bruxa!yuki designs instead. <w< I’ll finalize and colour them when I’m well, or so I hope, unless I forget XD

Pls forgive any mistakes I’m not 100% yet. ^^;

Explanations below the cut~

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Witcher (c) Andrzej Sapkowski TW3 models (c) CDPR Art: Me

Disclaimer: I am not a tailor and as such all my opinions are based on preference and evt pushing rules in my favour XD

The main idea with her wardrobe was to underline that whatever she’s doing, Shirayuki is feminine, and wants to present feminine, hence the skirts and ribbons and embroidery. She’s also a person fond of utility, so belts, pockets, and layers that can be added or removed as she fancied, was also an important facet to add. But she’s also bruxae, monster species, so she’s got a few blind spots, so to speak, regarding what is and isn’t proper to wear in human society. But most of all, her clothes make it easy for her to use her bruxa powers to move around swiftly, silently, and with purpose

Around half of these were referenced from the witcher 3 game, with me picking my favourite garb, and what made more sense for her in different situations.

1. Huntress Outfit - this one I made myself, using only some of the basic wardrobe notes from tw3. I’ve a softness for overdresses/kaftans with splits, especially if they’re combined with tights/buckskins. Shirayuki is a poor bruxa living in the woods outside a small human settlement, so she doesn’t have access to a tailor other than on market day, or when peddlers arrive, hence she often has to redesign old/too-small clothing for new purposes. Another point was to reinforce her sleeves, to make it easier to brush away branches and undergrowth, and adding the Skelligan waist shawl, a gift from her half-sister, as recurring themes.

2. Winter Outfit - another I made myself, because I was dying to design something that included a sheepskin jerkin. The waist shawl helps redefine the jerkin and give it a feminine twist, and the wrapped sleeves both reduce noise and keeps her cuffs from leaking precious warmth. The wool tunic could have been a dress, but I wanted to focus on showing off her fur-tucked winter boots and knitted long socks. Shirayuki probably knitted them herself.

3. High Summer Outfit - another self-made design. Made so as to underline her non-humanness, borrowing heavily from witcher elven aesthetics, with lots of exposed skin, crossed fabric, and asymmetrical cuts. This is what she wears when the weather *won’t* allow you to dress decently or you get purged by the sun, basically. Again, since Shirayuki’s often short of fabric, a lot of refashioning going on.

4. Commoner Outfit - A very basic woman’s dress, very presentable, very respectable, especially since Shirayuki is trying to sell the lie that she’s a normal human woman. It’s her go-to outfit for visiting human settlements, or for performing simple chores around the house, such as cooking, sewing, or spinning. Things that keep her in or around her homestead, and not gallivanting in the woods at midnight looking for prey.

5. Relaxing Outfit - merely a dusty day dress pulled over her nightgown, for those chilly nights where Shirayuki doesn’t want to undress for bed until she’s halfway under the covers. When the chores are done and all that’s left to do is sip a cup of blood, read a book beside the hearth and wait for Ryuu to return from his late night wandering, she likes to shed all those layers and relax.

6. Throw-together Outfit - referenced from the game, almost entirely (Keira Metz’ witch model) - save the shoes and headband. After the loss of her home and her more presentable clothing thanks to witcher Obi (who will later admit that yes he does in fact owe her a new dress... and blouse... and apron...) this outfit was assembled through raiding an abandoned witch’s hut. Anything that could suffice as clothing, basically, even the old curtains. Shirayuki doesn’t personally care that some of her *assets* are pretty much on display, but she would like some linen anyway, the cotton does chafe a bit. Aside from the pearl necklace, nothing she’s wearing actually belonged to her in the first place.

7. Formal Commoner Outfit - reffed from the game, (Keira Metz’ second model) the shoes being the sole exception. A dress for special occassions, perhaps May Day, Equinox celebrations, etc. Not that Shirayuki often dared participate in such events, due to the amount of people who show up even in small villages to throw tankards together and dance around bonfires. But she does pilfer the dress from the abandoned witch’s hut anyway, thinking maybe, afterall, since it’s so pretty and it had matching sleeves to go with it... keeping it wasn’t such a dumb idea.

8. Pants Outfit - reffed from the game (juggler npc) A cross between a traveler and a city dweller, a light-weight yet very elegant outfit for strolling in the human cities. The top is presentable enough that she doesn’t look poor as a pauper, while the pants give the impression of someone on the move, a stranger. It also provides the most comfortable riding experience, the few times she does ride, as she has no need for a lady’s saddle.

9. High-Class Outfit - reffed from the game/one of my favourite tw3 modders, (New Sorceress models by Roksa) I only added the shoes and circlet. When Zen has the dress made for her, it is by FAR the most expensive thing she’s ever worn. Not a single thread of the dress isn’t well-made, the dyes are the brightest and most even-coloured, and the silk is light as a touch on her skin. While the dress itself is a demure, feminine dream, what sets the ensemble apart are the dark cat’s eye gems, just hinting at Shirayuki’s darker secrets. They’re set in gold, for obvious, unspoken reasons, as she reacts to silver much like being set on fire...

10. Evening Outfit - reffed from the game, I just changed the necklace (Ida Eméan’s Gwent card art) another very expensive dress, but surprisingly one that Shirayuki tolerates better. No stiff, itchy velvet, no heavy damask, just sheer silk with gold thread (again for reasons obvious to a bruxa) some simple sleeves, and a chain of stones, no gilded jewellry that could empty a bank vault if sold to the right people. She probably takes a fancy to this dress while attempting to woo a certain witcher, which explains the understated beauty, the most daring of cuts, one that screams “look at me, only me” and the simple-at-a-glance design. Much like Shirayuki herself.

11. Skellige Outfit - inspired by the viking-esque game design for Skellige fashion, this dress is for when Shirayuki and her family stay in the Isles, following her sister’s suggestion. A dress that signifies the matron head of a household with its pewter clasps and apron, follows Skellige fashion demanding you wear a shawl with your clan colors (Shirayuki, although clan-less, was given one by Torou) and layers. And armguards. And a split overdress. To show that this is Shirayuki’s choice wear afterall.

#akagami no shirayukihime #ans #snow white with the red hair #shirayuki #witcher!au #in which shirayuki is a bruxa #a sort of all-female vampire #and obi is the witcher #listen I have only been able to sketch so it was only a matter of time before I fell down into the rabbit hole of outfit designs again XD #let's hope I remember to render them later lolol #myart #I also tried to hint to time passing between her outfits #by using different hairstyles #idk if it worked ahahaha

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themagicalmysticalboy · 3 years

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Rarepair week, george&paul? Angst/comfort maybe? Let it be era? Hurt my soul :)

a/n: you’ve got it babe! i actually did some research for the flashback scene so it’s pretty accurate to reality, according to Ringo’s and some crew member's accounts.

Don’t Let Me Down

For as cold as it had been for the last month, the sun was shining high in the sky. A peculiar sight that brought a hint of warmth to Paul’s face but did not extend further than that. He could be in a summer's day desert and still feel the cold churn in his stomach. Looming tall and strong over him was the Abbey Road studio. The uncharacteristic beams of sunlight lit the many windows with a yellow glint. A million-eyed monster ready to tear him to shreds if he dared step closer. And he did dare. He peeled himself off his car and stiffened instantly. He’d been leaning against the passengers' door so long that when the wind hit his back it sent a shiver right through him. Or maybe it was solely his nerves. Either way, he didn’t plan to dwell on it.

A few Scruffs were waiting outside with paper coffee cups in hand and drink carriers stacked against the wall. So George was in. He had really come back. The cold churn rose to his chest. At this rate, he’d be a human popsicle by lunch.

There was a disjointed chorus of “Hi Paul” and “Good Morning” which he replied to with a courteous wave. He’d been largely turned off by the Apple Scruffs for some time now but there wasn’t really any malice. Having your house broken into was more than a bit off-putting, though. So he felt justified. George was the most tolerant of them, buying them coffees and breakfast foods every so often. They must have missed him while he was gone. Yeah. Surely they did. Because I did. Paul pushed the sentiment to the wayside. They still had an album to make. They still had songs to record and a documentary to be part of. He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him again. That had only led to an explosion.

Preparing himself with a stiffened posture and pushed back shoulders, he walked into the studio with a smile. It was almost painful to keep up but the cameraman was already in his face and he refused to let on to his nerves. He needed some inkling of control here and there was so little of that to grab hold of these days.

When he walked into the recording room, he found people scattered across the room but he didn’t find John or Ringo. It was still early in the morning so it made sense but he was undoubtedly rattled by the realization, becoming more rattled when he noticed George looking at him. Paul didn’t dare meet his eyes, drifting down to his feet. He looked soft, despite his sharp features. Cozy in his furry boots and warm jumper. He missed looking at that face and touching that body and kissing those lips. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been able to do any of that. Too long.

George gave a thin-lipped smile before turning to Billy Preston at the piano. Was that a good sign or was this small sign of grace feigned for the cameras?

Whatever it meant, it drove Paul mad. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness but he sure as hell would take it. There was no helping the intrusive memories of the aftermath of George walking out. He had done it so nonchalantly that no one was sure he had actually left until they got to the recording room and found him and his guitar missing.

Something had shifted in the room as soon as the three remaining Beatles looked at each other. John was breathing heavily with an icy glare. There was a glint in his eye that screamed danger. It was focused on Paul. Picking up the bass with a death grip on the neck, Paul just stared John down. There was a mutual understanding in the moment. The rage in both of them was bubbling over more and more by the second.

John yanked his guitar from the rack and they both plugged into the amps. No one seemed to remember the camera crew was still around. They just turned to Ringo, who was already at his drums, drumsticks in one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other. He was pushing so hard it had to hurt. And that was it. John squared up to the mic and began to scream the lyrics to a song they'd already wrapped up but they all threw themselves into it without question. Screaming, banging, and heavy riffs filled the studio. Nothing made sense and every fiber of Paul’s being hurt so much that he didn’t care. He wasn’t alone in the feeling, at least. They all felt some level of hurt.

Ringo was even mad- at the situation or at George or at Paul, it didn’t matter. He banged and slammed away like never before. It sounded so wrong coming from him but at the moment it was the only right thing to do. They sounded perfectly horrible. There was a distinct addition to the vocals and Paul turned to find Yoko sitting on George’s little blue stool, wailing along with John’s screams. Yes. Perfectly horrible.

When the song was up the energy was still poisonous and thick in the air. They weren’t done, not by far. Paul stepped up to the mic and John did not move away. With little notion of what he was doing, he went at the lyrics of another song. The words spat from his tongue with vitriol and fire.

They all needed to scream. Ringo was at the mic at some point, coming up with random words on the spot. Really just to have something to yell about.

When they finished, panting out the last seething breaths, Paul felt empty.

“Way to fucking go,” John yelled, eyes fixed on Paul. “Way to go.” his voice was drastically quieter, more tired and sad and hoarse, eyes drifting to his feet.

Paul’s bass suddenly felt a thousand pound heavier, pulling the strap down against his shoulder painfully. Maybe it was more the weight of his mistakes than the bass. Everything felt painstaking and dreadful for the rest of the day. The anger was gone and the screaming was done. There was nothing else to keep his mind from wandering into a wall of depression.

In the present, sans John and Ringo, he shyly grabbed an acoustic guitar and went to sit in a corner. He worked on one of his own songs, quietly strumming and murmuring. He didn’t like it yet, keeping it to himself. The awkward air in the studio only exemplified his need for privacy. So he stayed tucked away, only speaking when spoken to, like a good little schoolboy. George had even come over to ask about the song but Paul told him it wasn’t right just yet. There was no way he was about to embarrass himself on top of all this.

He went back and forth for most of the day. Playing several takes of various songs before turning back to his own song. There was a part on one of the songs that Paul found needed a quieter guitar part. The thought of addressing this issue to George was met with resistance. Was he really ready to address him? The guitar part could be addressed later, maybe. He could suggest another take tomorrow. But the song. It just wouldn’t be right. And maybe no one would be willing to do another take later. That struck a nerve in Paul that rang louder than the rest of his rationale.

“Maybe,” Paul started, resolving to look directly at George for the first time since he walked in. “The guitar could be a bit quieter next take, y’know? Just sounds a bit heavy.” He tacked on quickly, glancing at Ringo, “The drums too.”

Ringo gave him a pained expression. Paul looked George dead on with a weak smile, though he could see John’s cautioning glare in his peripheral vision. George’s eyes were dark and apathetic. His jaw was set tight.

George Martin came over just when he was about to respond. Oblivious to the tension between them, he clapped a hand on John’s shoulder with a grin. “That was a great take, lads. Why don’t you take a lunch break with the film crew.”

“Wasn’t good enough for Paul,” George huffed, leaving first. “But what is?”

George Martin didn’t hear the remark and walked off to talk with Mal.

“You’re really going to cock it up already?”

“What!” Paul went quickly to his own defense. “It was a suggestion, is all. I’m not treating him with kid gloves just because we had a row.”

“A row? He left the bloody band.”

“Not being a prick for one day isn’t kid gloves,” Ringo suddenly chimed in.

Paul gaped. “Caring about the songs is being a prick now, is it?”

John huffed an indigent laugh. “You’re painfully stupid.” He left with Ringo in tow before Paul could ask for any clarification. Not that he was sure he wanted any.

Stunned by the attacks, he stared blankly at George’s guitar. He had absolutely none of his friends at his side. He had managed to push them all away when all he wanted, so desperately, was to bring them together. They were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand and all he could seem to do was open his hands to quicken the fall. He’d lose them forever. It was all his fault. How long would it take? When would they figure out he wasn’t worth the trouble?

He just wanted them to be alright. He wanted to go back to how they were and just tour a bit. Play on stage like they all used to love. The band couldn’t rip apart. It just couldn’t because Paul would tear apart with it. And yet here they all were, at wit's end with one another. The connecting link to this free fall was Paul, of course. He had made Ritch leave and then George. It was all too obvious that John wanted out - surely Paul’s fault as well.

He couldn’t imagine a world without Ringo, John, and George playing at his side. He didn’t want to. It was something new and terrifying that had no qualms with keeping him up at night, even when three glasses of scotch in. He couldn’t recall the last time he slept without drinking. Even still, nightmares filled his dreams and made sleeping seem worthless and just as tiresome as not sleeping at all. What a poor excuse of a man he was becoming.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, he got up. Thankfully, the film crew had truly gone to lunch. He was mostly alone with a few straggling technicians in the booth.

There was no way in hell he could go to lunch now. Not while it felt like the world was out to get him. Not while he felt on the verge of crying. Instead, he decided to go outside for a smoke. The cold winter wind cooled his hot skin. He fell against the wall with a thud and bit his lip. His eyes were pricked with tears but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Dragging a hand down his face, he dove into his pocket and pulled out a spliff he’d rolled that morning for this very reason. His hand was caught on his chin as he eyed the thing. A beacon of hope.

He wasted no more time in lighting it. The earthy taste coated his tongue and warmed his throat. He relaxed on the exhale and repeated the process until his mind was a little numb. The carefree smoke floated high above before disappearing into the brisk wind. It would be so much easier to disappear with it.

“Stay gone too long and they’ll think you quit too.”

Tension pulled at his neck and traveled down his body. With an involuntary jerk of his fingers, the spliff fell to the concrete. He didn’t look at the newcomer and didn’t need to. The calming drawl could only be from one person.

“So?”

Paul reluctantly turned his head to find George’s steady gaze on him. Words abandoned his brain. “So,” he asked stupidly.

George’s features suddenly dropped and Paul noticed there had been a hint of lightness seconds before. Great. Already cocking it up.

“Oh, fuck you, then.”

“George! No, no!” He jumped forward and grabbed George’s wrist. “Please, love.”

There was hesitation in George’s step. He shook Paul’s hand off but did not leave. “Do you even care? Care that I left.”

His brow furrowed and his mind swirled back to life. “Of course. We were all-”

“I didn’t ask about the others. Did you care?”

It seemed like such an absurd question. There was nothing to suggest he didn’t. He was downright miserable. Was that not plain to see? Something inside him made him want to switch back on the defense. Deflect and reject. But he couldn’t let himself slip anymore. Everything was on the line now. His entire relationship was up to bat. He’d just be honest. And honesty wasn’t all that hard when your heart wrenched at the thought of this charade continuing for another second.

“Yes! I cared. I thought you’d never come back and I was terrified.” He was desperately searching George’s face for any recognition of belief. “You didn’t answer my calls for weeks and I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. If you don’t I can't even blame you at this point. Just tell me what I did wrong.”

There was no hint of emotion from George. He had a corked brow that could mean anything. The time passing with no answer couldn’t be good. Maybe he wouldn’t answer at all and just leave Paul standing here like an idiot.

“You want to know what you did wrong?” A look of contempt screwed up George’s features. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

A weight crushed every bone in Paul’s body. He deserved this. He deserved the heartache and pain. The more it hurt the better George might feel. He just had to hold his asinine tongue.

“You treat me like I couldn’t find writing talent if it bit me in the arse.” Paul tried to interrupt, despite himself, with an explanation. “Shut up and listen!” George moved closer, sizing Paul up. “When’s the last time you took any suggestion I’ve made seriously? You’ve been screaming from the damn rooftop about staying together and getting back to basics yet you sit in your little fucking corner like a punished child, ignoring us to work alone. What’s the point, then? Just to show how much of a pain you can be? You act like you don’t want me- any of us- near your songs and then boss us around on our own.”

George was pulling in unsteady breaths. He leaned forward slightly, really looking into Paul’s soul.

“You weren’t even the one to ask me back. Had Ritch do it for you, you coward.” George pushed him into the wall and Paul took it. “And you have the gall to ignore me! Even when I came to you like a stupid loyal puppy! That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Your little puppy that you get tired of when it makes too much noise. Well, fuck you and your damn songs. Fuck whatever you think you’re doing. You’re not keeping us together and you never could.”

Just punch me. The thought was screaming at the forefront and wouldn’t settle. Too angry with himself to stop, he yelled back, “Don’t you think I know? I see everyone slipping away and turning from me and all I can do is push you further! No matter what I try or how good I think I’m doing, you’ll just leave me out cold.” Caught up in it all, he shoved George back. “And you’re not a puppy! You’re my mate. You’re- I love you, alright.”

His voice cracked and, god, he was crying. He was actually crying and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Really just didn’t think you’d come back if I asked. And if that makes me a coward then sure. That’s what I am. If being a coward is what I need to have you near, fine.”

A muscle in George’s jaw tightened. He was stiff and his eyes were damp. His voice was so soft when he said, “Why didn’t you look at me? When you walked in you wouldn’t even really look at me. And when I tried to talk you just buried your head in your notebook.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But as soon as you have an issue with a song you go in with those big eyes of yours and I don’t want to hate you. It’s not fair.”

“You’ve said it, y’know. I’m a right coward. Scared to lose you if I speak and losing you just as fast when I don’t. Shouldn’t have turned you away. I shouldn’t have ignored you. The song- the stupid song. Don’t know if I even cared about how loud your guitar was. I just wanted to look at you, I think.”

“Looking at me now, aren’t you?”

And he was. They had been staring relentlessly and it felt good, no matter how much yelling they’d done. He wiped harshly at his cheeks to clear them of tears. “I’m sorry for being a prick.”

“Aye. You should be.” The words might have hurt if the corners of his mouth didn’t twitch up. He rubbed Paul’s shoulders and arms. “Just talk to me, okay? I won’t disappear, I promise.”

His smile was sad but genuine. All Paul could ask for. He nodded but then realized he already missed the point. “Okay,” he voiced. “Talking. Always been my strong suit.”

George’s smile grew and he pulled Paul into a hug. He hugged back fiercely, balling his hands up in George’s jumper.

“I don’t deserve this.” The words weren’t meant to leave his mind but they seemed to come of their own accord.

George moved him back and Paul almost pulled them right back together. “What do you mean?”

Bringing a hand up to caress George’s cheek, he tilted his head. “I don’t deserve to have you. Don’t deserve to have this band. Wouldn’t you be better off without me? I’m just here to cock it all up.”

“You… really mean that, don’t you?” With a shaky breath, George brought him back into the hug and gently held Paul’s head to his shoulder, petting down his hair. “No matter what happens to the band, it’s not because you don't deserve to have it. It’d be because we all need space, alright?” He held Paul a little closer. “And you don’t get to decide if you deserve me. That’s my decision.”

Paul nestled into the crook of his neck, scared to ask but not willing to keep it back. “And you think I do?”

“No. No. I just fancy hugging people I hate.”

Paul smiled into his neck. “Arse.”

#beatlesrarepairweek #mcharrison #mcharrison fanfiction #the beatles #George Harrison #paul mccartney #John Lennon #Ringo Starr #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles one shot #the beatles rare pair week

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years

Text

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 16

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

Spoilers: Demon in the Woods

In this chapter: Alina explores Aleksander's scars in the bath.

Chapter 16

--WARNING--This chapter contains spoilers for Demon in the Wood--

Finally alone in his chambers with a tub full of water, Aleksander found himself running his hands along Alina’s bare body. He could not help admiring her beauty as he ran his palm over the curve of her hip. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone. “Touching, feeling, the way the connection between us flows back and forth when we are both feeling content.” He placed a hand on her side and just let himself feel her. Everything they needed to ease the ache in their chests was in their connection.

She leaned toward him and began kissing across his chest. She had always taken pleasure in kissing his scars, but today she paused. Her fingers lingered on the raised round spots that splattered across his chest. “Are these from that night? With Luda?” she asked cautiously.

He could tell from the emotional pull of their bond that she was unsure if it was okay to talk about, but she wanted to know more. Now that she knew of Luda, he was grateful to be able to acknowledge that night. “They are. She healed the internal damage, but they shot me with another round before the outside healed, and then they caught her.” He shivered at the memory, but it was good for Alina to know. Maybe it would help her understand what their enemies were capable of and why they could not let compassion influence them to make stupid tacticle mistakes.

“Have you ever thought of letting Genya heal them?”

He shook his head. “I could not find a healer for her that night. They had murdered too many of us. If she could not be made whole again, then neither could I.”

“You have the scars whether they show or not. It’s how we let them affect us that matters.” She leaned down and kissed one and then another.

“They don’t bother you?” he checked. He did not wish to have them removed, but he would do anything for her.

She shook her head and kissed another scar. “I’ve always found your scars quite sexy, actually. They show me how strong you are. Now that I know what all you have endured, they show me your strength in a new way.”

He leaned down and kissed her, softly, sweetly. This intimacy was everything that he had missed, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “There used to be more.” He held up his wrist and ran his fingers along the inside. “It scarred badly from where I had pulled against the bonds with such force. I tried to keep them, but … I could not tolerate it, not on my wrists. Every time they brushed the fabric of my sleeve, it triggered the memories of being helpless. I finally let a tailor fix them, not Genya. It was centuries ago. Some scars can be harmful, and we need to let them go.” He touched one of the raised scars near his ribs. “These are the ones I wanted to keep.”

Her hand traced along a long scar diagonally from his shoulder. “And this one?”

He had planned a break from figuring out how to share things with her, but this way seemed so natural. With her love flooding over him, it wasn’t as hard. “That one was a Fjerdan sword that tried to slice me in half. They had been raiding farther and farther south into Ravka, kidnapping all Grisha to burn on their pyres. They even took children. We decided to be aggressive and defend our country and our people. I led the charge to chase them out myself. We successfully defended some villages and had them retreating, but we followed them into Fjerda to a place they stored and tortured Grisha awaiting trial. We liberated it, but it was not without cost.” He gently touched the deep scar tissue. “We were outnumbered. I was able to use my power to keep the Fjerdans from sending in reinforcements. But the children … I had to get them out of there. My second-in-command died for following my command to free the children. I ran in myself after that. I couldn’t leave the children, not the children. The sword slashed deep into my chest, and I fell on top of the children that I was rescuing. The Fjerdan who tried to kill me turned and left us for dead to chase the rest of my soldiers. This wound let us escape. That’s how Ivan came to the Little Palace. He was one of the children who hid under my bleeding chest. His parents had been burned on the pyre. He had a twin brother who didn’t survive the torture they used to determine if the children were Grisha. I’m sorry he seems gruff and demanding of your power. He knows more than anyone what we are up against, and the cost if we don’t succeed at protecting our people.” He worried that he shouldn’t speak of such dark thoughts. It might disrupt the calm contentment that had come over her in the bath, but, then, wasn’t trying to shelter her from the truth exactly what he had nearly lost her over? Maybe this was how he learned to be more honest with her, by sharing one painful memory at a time until she knew enough to understand the harder decisions.

“Has there ever been a moment of your life that wasn’t filled with horrors?”

“When I’m with you.”

She kissed the shoulder and down his arm, then interlaced their fingers. “Perhaps, then, this is a better way to get you to share with me?”

“Promise to just keep kissing me, and I’ll tell you anything.” Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe he did. The warmth that radiated from her as she kissed her way back to his chest and down his side kept so many of his worries at bay. Her gentle acceptance as he shared his past pains with her made them less hard to share.

“This one?” she asked about the thick scar that sliced around his thigh.

“That one’s from when I was a child,” he dismissed with a shrug.

She looked him in the eye. “And?”

Could she understand that one now? Would she see him as a monster if he shared the truth or would she kiss him again as she had for the others? This one was different. He hadn’t been saving anyone but himself. “A friend tried to kill me, so I killed her instead.”

He waited for the fear and revulsion to move through her to him, but it didn’t come. “Your friend tried to kill you? When you were a child? How? Why?”

“She wanted to wear my bones for their power. I didn’t want to die.”

“Saints! Aleks!” He could feel the pain in her, but it was … sympathy? She was feeling his pain. No one had ever cared about him like that before.

“It’s nothing. It was a long time ago.”

“Your friend betrayed and tried to kill you as a child to steal your power and wear your bones, and that’s nothing?! You don’t think that maybe that has something to do with your difficulty trusting? In opening up?”

“I … I suppose? It’s just that any time I’ve let myself be vulnerable, it hasn’t ended well.”

She leant down and kissed his leg where it came up above the water. “We change that. Starting now. I want to be the one you can share everything with, Aleksander, no matter how horrible it is.”

He kissed her desperately, as if it might be his last. He wanted to be able to share everything with her, too, more than anything. He feared it was only a dream that she could know everything and accept him, but for tonight he would let himself believe that dream. “What can I do to give you what you need tonight? Alina, I am yours, for anything you need.”

Emotions ebbed back and forth between them as she lay against his chest. She sought his reassurance to speak from her soul. “The truth is that I only feel whole when I’m with you. Take me to bed and make me feel whole again? Please?”

“You’re sure?” he asked. “You know who I am, what I’m capable of. I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow. I could never do that to you.”

“You promised me a night of feeling good, a break from trying to figure everything out. I want to enjoy my night. Whatever we decide about us, I want a night of ecstasy as only you can give me. Please?”

He would not make her beg. With her assurance that she truly wanted him, he lifted her from the tub and carried her to their room.

#alina x darkling #the darkling #darklina #darkling x alina #aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan

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librapjmx · 3 years

Text

suddenly, it was love

summary: the saying that love is an unexpected visitor was right. you never intentioned of falling in love with the best friend of your boyfriend

members: namjoon x reader | yoongi x reader

You hated yourself. To the point that you wanted to end it all and it's just because of your stupid feelings towards someone. In any case, it wouldn't be a problem to have feelings towards someone but if that certain person is the band member of your boyfriend then you had reason enough to argue with yourself.

You were sitting on your couch, slowly, sobbing into your arms. Knees pulled at your body as you shifted softly due to the tears.

„No, it's just a stupid crush" you mumbled, and to be honest this could be possible, and having a crush on someone is okay, that doesn't mean to drop the love of your life. You tried everything to forget these terrible feelings towards him.

Not in any way would you want to be a cause of a close friendship to shatter.

It happened a couple of months ago and since then you were feeling like the most disgusting and disturbing human on earth. Even dreaming or thinking about it is a sin for you and you couldn't bear to stare into the pure eyes of the ones who love you deeply.

Namjoon and you argued often. It's okay to have arguments within a relationship, but the important key is to learn from mistakes, and accept the flaws of their partner or even to help them to improve. But this time it was a lot more different since it was a big fight from which both of you struggled to recover. You were afraid of your relationship shattering and him breaking up with you. But in no way would he leave you since he was deadly in love with you.

Your relationship with your family wasn't the best and after your beloved one passed away, you felt like the loneliest person on earth. Each day was becoming more stressful and depressing for you. In that time the support and love of Namjoon were lacking, and you were hoping for Namjoon to hold you whenever you feel down but it was nothing like that. Namjoon was stuck in his own world, his career, his music, and most importantly his wellbeing. He knew about your family situations and what happened. Of course, he tried everything to be next to you whenever he could plan you within his schedule, but you didn't consider his career this time. It was always like that.

You've done plenty of things for him but when it came to you, his schedule was full or he simply was too tired ‚to deal with you'. You accepted it and were tolerant multiple times but this one has come too far, and you were simply angry at him.

Your phase of depression and sorrow was already hard to deal with and you decided to lock up into your apartment and deal with it on your own, just the way you did when Namjoon turned his back at you. Min Yoongi was one of his band members who was the closest to you. You two never shared a conversation before Namjoon introduced you to him as his girlfriend. His soft smile was stuck in your head and the way his eyes lit up when he saw you. Namjoon was happy that you and Yoongi would get along pretty well. Of course, the other members were just as nice as Yoongi to you, but you happened to share similar life situations with him. When you went to see Namjoon, you made sure to give his studio a visit as well and you found yourself not wanting to leave his side. The conversations, the soft chuckles, how he gently treated you, and the way he listened to you. You felt at home.

It wasn't like he took advantage of you or anything, but he knew about your fight with Namjoon. Indeed, he scolded his band member for being so intolerant and a jerk for letting you all alone in your worst moments. Once he heard that you were left home alone, he had an idea that you, as the stubborn person you were, would lock yourself up. First, he tried to drag Namjoon to your apartment, forcing him to leave his studio and comfort his beloved one. But Namjoon simply didn't care enough since the argument grew on him and he didn't want to be the person to apologize first. Yoongi couldn't understand the ignorant behavior of his mate but decided to go and see you. It was late at night but the image of you crying in your room all alone wasn't leaving his mind.

„Go away!" you shouted through the door, thinking that the person who was ringing the bell was Namjoon. „It's me" the deep voice sent a shiver down your spine and you were hesitant of opening the door. After all, you felt your heart break since you were hoping for that person behind the door being Namjoon. Even in that awful state, he let you down... again.

„I'm okay, go away" even though you knew that the person behind the door was Yoongi, you wanted to be left alone.

„Fine! I will stay here until you open the door and even if that means waiting for days" your heart made a small jump at his words. Not even in your dreams spoke anyone caring words like that.

Your hand surrounded the cold metal of the doorknob and you pushed down, opening the door fully. Yoongi's expressions dropped as a frown was plastered on his face. He wasn't looking into the joyful eyes which he admired so much, but into red and puffy eyes that didn't stop dropping tears. It was clear that you hadn't got any sleep due to your eye bags. Your lips were plump and dry, and he figured that you haven't eaten anything properly. Without hesitation, his hands reached out for you and pulled you into his arms. At first, you were startled but once his warm arms surrounded your body and embraced you tightly, you let go of your thoughts. That's what you've longed for since your sorrow started. You just started sobbing, your hands right next to your hips, afraid of moving them and hugging him back. Your forehead was lying on the crock of his neck as he caressed your hair gently, letting you cry out your sorrow. Comfort was what you needed the whole time, caring and ... love.

He didn't say anything, and you forgot how time flew. You couldn't even tell how long you were staying in that position of him giving you his warmth while embracing you.

„I'm sorry" you muttered as you pulled away from him, rubbing your hand at the wet spot on his shoulder „Your shoulder is wet now" he let out a soft chuckle at your statement as he grabbed your hand to pull it down.

„Let me cook you something, alright" he started and shut the door, before turning to you and smiling as if nothing happened.

He knew that you weren't a person who talks about their feelings openly and he knew that in that state all you needed was comfort. Indeed, you were going to pour your heart out once you were ready to open up but now he made sure to not pressure and force you, but care for you the time being.

„Yoongi" he stopped in his tracks and stared at you, confusion written all over his face.

„Thank you so much" you whispered and he simply nodded, giving you a comforting smile before he went into the kitchen.

From that day on he never left your side. He was always by your side even though you knew how busy he was. Eventually, you opened up to him and you found yourself feeling better each day. Even though he was a lot in his studio he made sure to text you and call you. It was just that he cared so much, he never had the idea of stealing the girl of Namjoon, his friend. He was just there for her and over time he got used to her. Hearing her voice every day, asking her how she's been and if she needs anything.

You shared mutual feelings with him and you found yourself getting more comfortable around him. He was outstandingly generous and thoughtful towards you. It has always been a saying that the foundation of a relationship is love but if the foundation becomes shaky, a relationship can shatter. But if there is something that comes unexpectedly then this is always love and death. Nobody can control them, and nobody can fight against them. It was awful that you even forgot about your actual boyfriend. The arguments and how much his words affected you disappeared in a matter of time and you wondered if your feelings towards him were real. You found yourself experiencing feelings that you've never felt next to Namjoon.

You didn't cheat on him, nor did Yoongi and you hadn't a relationship behind his back. You just knew about your crazy moods next to him and you had no idea of him having mutual feelings towards you. These feelings were there and visible, but you were ashamed of yourself for expressing them. Not only Namjoon but also Yoongi would stare at you in disgust, you thought that's why you kept quiet and just enjoyed the moments with him. You were crazy, you changed, your feet were completely lifted from the earth. No one experienced what Yoongi and you experienced. As imperfect each one of you was alone as complete both of you were together. Your feet no longer touched the ground. You floated in other spheres, you flew over the clouds, nothing on earth touched you two. You lived in your own world. Your world. The world of Yoongi and Y/N. A heavenly world. A dream world.

But what happens to dreams? When you wake up they fall through and shatter.

It was the moment when your doorbell rang in the middle of the night and you expected it to be Yoongi who left his studio a couple of minutes ago, but it wasn't him.

Namjoon bit his lip as he noticed your facial expressions falling. His hand touched the back of his neck as he struggled to look up into your eyes.

"I guess you weren't expecting me..." your heart broke into pieces as you came to the realization that he was right.

"Can I come in?" he asked, stuttering half of his words. You didn't say anything, you simply were confused and irritated that you couldn't move an inch. He sighed deeply and at that moment his hands grabbed your shoulder to pull you tighter and when you were close enough he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly. Your eyes widened at his action, your hands were stuck between your bodies as you rested them without any movement on his chest. He pulled tighter and buried his head in the crook of your neck as he smelled the scent which he missed two weeks. These two weeks were pure torture for him. He realized his mistake fast, but he was too afraid of coming back to you since he didn't think about you forgiving his apology but then the days turned into weeks and he was afraid of your relationship breaking apart.

"I'm so sorry Y/N! I've been a jerk to you and you don't deserve to be treated like that-" he mumbled into your hair as he caressed your back, his hands firmly around you. Just as you wanted to open your mouth, you stared straight into two pairs of hurt eyes. Yoongi who was standing on the other side of the road and who probably was making his way to your house stared at you in awe and the way your boyfriend hugged you. A painful smile was making its way up to his lips and he stepped back, realizing his own mistake. The mistake of falling for the girlfriend of his best friend. The moment he saw you two, he noticed that he must've been an awful human being for even thinking about her in a romantic way. The two weeks went by fast and he forgot that you belonged to someone else. That only one person could embrace you the way Namjoon did. That person was no other than Namjoon himself. You belonged into his arms and in his touch, you will stay. He bit his lip and turned around, promising himself to never think about such feelings again. He had to forget you, he couldn't risk his friendship and Namjoon's relationship to shatter.

Promising himself to never come and see you again, he walked away from his dreamland to find reality again. You wanted to pull away from Namjoon and run up to Yoongi, tell him about your feelings towards him. Hug him, to feel his touch again, be covered and save in his arms but you couldn't. What if he doesn't share mutual feelings towards you and above all you were in the arms of the person whom you said 'I love you' to. Namjoon was your boyfriend.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. "Y/N, I am so sorry! Believe me, I'm an asshole for letting you down and being a careless wreck but I can't live without you Y/N. Please forgive me." His brittle voice was making you feel guilty for the thoughts you had a couple of seconds ago. How you wouldn't hesitate to let go of his hands. It was driving you insane that you weren't as happy to see him just the way he was happy. Your eyes were darted on the spot where Yoongi stood a couple of seconds ago.

"I hurt you so much, I know an apology isn't enough-" and then he started rambling. Well, for him it was opening his heart but as much as you wanted to focus on his words, you couldn't help but think about Yoongi, and then you felt ridiculous for your silly feelings.

"Namjoon..." you mumbled, leaning back as he eyed you confused, "Please give me time" and he accepted.

You wanted to be alone for the time being, sort your feelings out and then decide on what to do. For Namjoon it was hard to give in, but he didn't want to pressure you if you were turning back to him. After that day you had no calls from Yoongi and you found yourself grabbing your phone multiple times to text him, but you were afraid of him not answering so you decided to let it slide. Maybe these feelings towards him weren't even real or near to realistic and with that, you tried to think about these feelings as a crush. It's not bad to have a crush on someone it's just normal. It was probably a deep crush in which you didn't consider your surroundings. The thought of him by your side was incredibly great. He was taking care of you while you were disordered and uncertain. He definitely had no bad intentions and just wanted to comfort you or else he wouldn't stop contacting you after the day he saw you with Namjoon. Maybe that was what he aimed for. Perhaps he wanted his best friend and girlfriend to forgive each other and be happy again. How absurd it was to think to have romantic affection towards the best friend of your boyfriend.

It was just a phase you thought as you made your way to the entertainment building of your boyfriend. You tortured him another week and now, you decided to go back to him. Forgive him and apologize for having disturbing thoughts such as you and Yoongi. He probably was rehearsing or practicing for their next comeback. His studio was right next to Yoongi's and you pecked into the glass of the door of Yoongi's studio, your heart jumping from its place as you saw his small hands typing on the keyboard of his computers.

"Y/N?" you heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend calling out for you. His voice was stern and loud enough for the boy in the studio to hear. His heart started beating at the sound of your voice calling out for your boyfriend Namjoon.

Once your eyes met the ones of Namjoon, you felt guilt spreading your body, tears forming in your eyes because of your disloyalty towards him. Your feet were running on their own towards him and you wrapped your hands around his neck as you quietly sobbed while tiptoeing to pull tighter. He didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hug you firmly.

"Y/N, don't cry... I-" he chuckled, "I knew that you would return to me. I knew that your love towards me is just as strong as mine towards you." He leaned back and wiped away your tears.

"I'm so sorry Namjoon! I'm an awful human being" you cried, apologizing for your unfaithful thoughts. He kissed your cheek gently, wiping away the left tears. Obviously, he was unaware of your current disordered emotions.

"I missed you so much Y/N, you have no idea!" At that moment he leaned in, his lips touching yours. Your eyes widened, and you hesitated at first but of course, for the sake of your relationship you had to tug to him even tighter. Slowly, you shut your eyes and kissed back, hoping to feel the affection and love you've felt for him again.

You couldn't help but feel someone watching you, but you brushed these thoughts away. Indeed, someone watched you painfully through the glass of his doors. Jealousy surrounding his atmosphere but what was the jealousy for? After all, you didn't belong to him. He watched you kissing your boyfriend and chuckled at his absurd feelings towards you. Turning away he put the earphones around his head, shutting down and turning away from reality as he clicked on the button, loud beats were filling his ears and he closed his eyes and sat down on his chair, leaning back and trying to forget your smiles and chuckles.

For Namjoon the kiss was all he needed these weeks but for you, it was just a plain kiss. You weren't feeling flustered or as if you were lifted from the ground, the way you did before.

This will settle as well, you thought as he leaned back and grabbed your hand.

"I still have to finish something up, but it won't take long. When I'm back, I will take you out, so wait for me-" he kissed your forehead and turned around, "you can wait in my studio if you want to" he added and soon he was invisible, gone from your sight. You walked up to the door of his studio, your hands surrounding his doorknob, but you didn't go in. Instead, you tried to fight the urge to turn around and walk into his studio.

"Y/N? I haven't seen you in a while" you winced as the familiar voice brought you back to reality. Turning around you were greeted by a cheerful Jimin who was smiling widely at you. "How have you been?" he asked, and you put on a smile.

"I'm good" you didn't mean for it to come out monotonous, but you weren't really 'good' and you were a bad liar when it came to telling one how you feel. He brushed it off.

"I see you're here for Namjoon" he cheekily chuckled, "That guy was missing you a lot. I'm happy that both of you were able to settle things." You nodded in agreement. An awkward tension was surrounding you.

"Where are you heading?" you asked, trying to sound as normal as you could.

"To Yoongs, you want to come with me?" He asked, knowing that he meant to be kind but you simply shook your head. You couldn't look into his eyes. After all these feelings and thoughts about him, you felt exposed even though neither one of you did anything bad. He shrugged it off and turned to the door of his studio. As he opened the door you pecked into the room. The busy boy turned around at the sound of the door opening but he only saw you as Jimin entered. Your eyes locking together, and you had the urge to talk to him and hear his voice, but you were afraid that your crush on him would turn into something deeper and meaningful. The door closing broke your stare apart and you turned around and walked into the studio of Namjoon, your heart feeling completely delusional and wrecked as you sat down on the chair, waiting for your boyfriend to return.

You and Namjoon spent more time together than usual because he insisted on giving you so much love and attention as he could. No matter how you tried to focus on him and his words, your mind drifted off to someone else. In no way did you get bored of Namjoon, in fact, you enjoyed being around him, but you couldn't look at him with those loving eyes anymore. It happens that love turns into friendship and if that's the case then it's not possible for any romantic feelings to appear. You've concluded that you simply fell out of love with him.

He sipped on his coffee as he watched you lovingly, his hand reaching out for yours. You didn't know how he was still sticking up to you even though you were giving him cold signals. All you did was smiling falsely at him.

Your hands intertwined he walked you home in the evening. Even though you two spent so much time together, you happened to grow more apart which wasn't understandable. No matter how much he held you, how much he kissed or caressed you, no matter how deeply he stared into your eyes, you couldn't help but feel nothing more than friendship to him. You just wondered how you could be able to let go of him. Not because of Yoongi but because of your emotions which happened to vanish and in no way was that his fault. No matter how you tried to start telling him, you couldn't bear to look into his broken eyes and you made the biggest mistake in your life, you waited and led him on with your fake love.

"Do you want to come to the studio tomorrow? We will be practicing our dance and I'll need you as my motivation to not give up. After that we can hang out together in our dorms" he said, sounding as calm as possible. You just nodded as you pressed the passcode of your small house. You turned around to Namjoon smiling softly as he leaned in. Your eyes widened, and you didn't know why but, at that moment, you leaned in fast to give him a peck on his cheek rather than kiss his lips. With that you jumped inside and shut your door, throwing your back on your couch and lying down.

Everything was so silly and so wrong. You had to break up with him as soon as possible. It wasn't just unfair for you but also for Namjoon, whose love grew even bigger each day. It was cruel of you to lead him on and you had to find a way to let go of him.

The sound of a phone vibrating sent you back from your thoughts and you grabbed your phone, thinking that it was Namjoon who forgot something until you read the caller ID.

Yoongi.

Your heart was started to beat louder and with each movement of your fingers, it pounded harder against your chest. What could it be Y/N? He is probably calling because of nothing but why the hell does your body respond in that way. You thought that you forgot about your crush and that these silly feelings disappeared but with a phone call they returned. You pressed the green button and pulled the phone closer to your ear.

"Y/N" he breathed out and your world stopped. You were afraid of answering, afraid that a sound would leave your mouth because you were in a state of crying again. Smiling sadly, you closed your eyes waiting for his voice to say something.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled, halfway swallowed words and you tried to understand what he meant.

"Yoongi?" You hoped for him to recognize your voice, maybe he was calling the wrong person but why would he address you with your name then?

"I'm an awful human being" he sobbed, and you wondered if he was sober. Turns out the boy got drunk in his studio all alone. He wasn't ever the type to get drunk let alone drink alone. He cherished every moment in his life and loved to spend it together with his friends.

"You're drunk Yoongi, go home and sleep," you said calmly as he chuckled softly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I've missed your voice so much", and you wanted to agree, tell him that you felt the same but with what explanation?

"I'm sorry Y/N" he apologized again, "I'm a bad friend, right?" he chuckled deeply, his voice was strangled.

"What are you apologizing for? I, I don't understand..."

"I hate you," he said in a rasping tone and for a moment your heart fell into pieces, "I hate you for doing this to my heart!" he yelled out with simple directness. You winced at the loud sound of his voice and gulped. You were afraid of what would come next.

"Since the first day I met you, I fell for you" he suddenly said, your heart jumping from its place, pounding hard against your chest, "But how can someone fall for their best friend's girlfriend? That's disgusting, right! I mean I wouldn't complain if you hate me for that..." your mouth dropped wide open and your eyes were fixed on the wall in front of you. You weren't sure how to react even though your body already responded on its own.

"And the more I told myself that it was a crush, I happened to grow deeper feelings towards you. I know it's wrong but what can I do? I couldn't stop my feelings and heart and then I threw away my rationality and followed my heart..." he took a deep breath followed by a raucous tone, "In no way did I take advantage of your situation but the moment I saw you wrecked and down on your own I told myself to be there for you until you reconcile with Namjoon. But I have to say that each day I spent with you I hoped for Namjoon to never return to you again."

You couldn't say anything as you felt the tears dropping with each one of his words.

"I'm sorry for falling for my best friend's girlfriend" his voice wasn't steady at all and you thought that at any moment he will break down, crying.

"I'm sorry for falling in love with you" His voice was soft with affection and you wondered if he knew about your feelings. Unfortunately, these were his last words because the other line went quiet and after a couple of seconds the call ended, leaving you shocked in your state. The phone was still against your ear, not moving an inch as you repeated his words in your mind. This can't be, he was drunk and probably didn't know what he talked about. But why did he call you then? No matter if drunk or sober, these words left his mouth for a reason. And at that moment, all the feelings you tried to avoid and forget were coming back. You found yourself longing for his embrace and voice.

The next day was torture because you agreed to watch the boys practicing their dance routine. Your feet were walking slowly towards the direction of their dance studio, loud music was blasting through the room and before you went in you stopped. In no way were you able to avoid him. Nonetheless, you went in without knocking on the door.

"It's Y/N!" Jungkook called out loudly, stopping the music. Everyone greeted you and Namjoon walked up towards you. Your eyes were locked up with the ones of one guy in the room. Even as Namjoon leaned in to give you a peck on your cheek your stare was firmly on him. But once he saw Namjoon kissing you, he turned his head and investigated the mirror, moving to practice some parts of the dance.

"I'm happy you came, we will have some lunch after the practice. You can join us." Namjoon didn't even notice that you focused on one person in the room, he simply turned around and pressed the button to let the music start again.

You sat down in the corner as you watched Yoongi, he gave you small glances with each movement and noticed you watching him rather than your boyfriend.

In the morning, Yoongi found himself curled up on the sofa in his studio, his hands firmly on his phone. When he woke up to a huge headache he decided to go home but then the thoughts of yesterday returned. How he drank and how he started to look at the pictures of you while both of you hanging out. Pulling his phone out he unlocked it only to find out that he called you. It was even worse since you've talked for more than five minutes together. He tried everything to remember his words, but he couldn't and then he hoped that he didn't say anything wrong.

Your gazes were making everything even more embarrassing and uncomfortable since he was afraid of ruining your friendship.

After the dance practice, the guys showered and came back exhausted, only wanting to feed their grumbling stomach. You were walking behind the guys, your hands intertwined with Namjoon's as he walked quietly next to you. That boy was in no way oblivious. Of course, he noticed your changes and not even today but since a long time ago. He was so afraid of losing you that he kept shut and never brought it up. Instead, he tried to make you even happier each day while trying to spend more time with you and giving you the love and affection, you deserve.

While watching you stared at Yoongi in front of you. He was walking next to Hoseok and talked with him about various things which you couldn't catch. Indeed, he was feeling the burn of your stare which you bore into his back, but he was afraid of turning around. As of today, he knew that he made a mistake within the five minutes of talking. The boys were ordering their meals while you waited behind them. When you turned around you saw Yoongi sitting down on the chair which was reserved for the boys. Telling Namjoon your order, you decided to walk up to him and sit down next to him. Once he noticed you sitting down in front of him, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably and you wondered if he remembered what happened yesterday.

I'm sorry for falling in love with you.

You felt your cheeks blush in a shade of pink as you zoned out and stared at him. Namjoon turned around as he noticed your deep stare at his band member. He didn't think much of it though and walked up to you, giving you your order. Everyone sat down and ate their meals, laughing, talking, and making jokes except for three people at the table. Namjoon didn't want to think so deeply about it and in no way would he throw a rumor at your head.

After the meal, you hung up with Namjoon but after the confession of Yoongi everything was even more different. You happened to get uncomfortable with his touch and affection, you didn't even want to hold his hand anymore. It felt wrong and you hated yourself for leading him on. That's why you decided to finally tell him the truth about your feelings towards him. He walked you home and just as you reached your home, he leaned in to kiss your lips but this time you didn't even kiss his cheek but turned your head. Namjoon sighed deeply as he watched you in confusion.

"Y/N," he started, stepping back to not make you feel uncomfortable, "You've been acting weird lately", so he noticed?

You sighed, biting your lip and you were really surprised by how calm you were. You felt more confident but still, you had a fear of hurting his feelings.

"Look, I just want to be honest with you, without bringing in this bullshit like 'it's not you, it's me' because even though it's really me, I feel like you deserve a better explanation" You licked the bottom of your lip as you started to play with your fingers, feeling the nervous tension filling your body as you started to shake.

"You want to break up, right?" He helped you, taking tons of weight from your shoulders.

"I'm sorry Namjoon, I think I fell out of love with you, but this really has nothing to do with you! Not in any way." You cleared your throat, feeling the burn in your throat as you looked up into his eyes, seeing the pain in his eyes as he smiled sadly, not wanting to make you feel bad.

"Y/N, I already sensed your change and I was preparing for this moment," he stopped as his voice cracked, taking a deep breath he continued, "but I still hoped that my thoughts were wrong and that's why I tried to hold onto you even tighter."

"Namjoon, you deserve the world and in no way has my feelings changed because of something you did, I just-" and that was where you stopped, I what? I fell in love with your band member, your best friend and that's why I changed? Because your love wasn't enough? What on earth did you plan to say, you just kept shut and dropped your head in shame. He chuckled painfully, and you knew that this was the last time that you would hear his voice ever again.

"I hope that you will find a person who deserves your love" you mumbled, wanting to break the silence.

He was quiet and didn't say anything at all. You stepped back slowly, turning around and pressing your passcode before you shut the door in front of his face, leaning your back against it while sobbing quietly into your hands. Your back slid down and you pulled your knees tighter and rested your head on your knees. You felt dirty and disgusting. How in the world will you ever be able to talk to him normally? You didn't want to lose him as a friend but in no way could you be his friend after breaking up with him. It's just adding pain to him.

That's how the days went by. After that day you didn't see him again nor did any of you try to contact each other. You felt like you were bothersome as long as you were staying here. Everything you did was breaking hearts, maybe the best solution to this is leaving.

You booked your tickets. Going back home wasn't an option since the conflict between you and your family haven't come to an end yet. You booked tickets for a new start, a new you and new people. Your destination was Norway, a country in which you would settle down. You figured that you deserved no one in your life. Even the drunk confession of Yoongi was too hard to believe, he was drunk and it's stupid to build upon something which came from not sober mouths. It was stupid to think that he would like you back and even if he did how would you be able to look into the eyes of Namjoon. You would rather disappear than cause a friendship to shatter.

You were in the middle of packing your luggage, taking some clothes with you. You weren't sure of returning ever again. The thought of coming back would lead to too much damage. If you're gone, no one will ever suffer.

All of sudden, your doorbell rang, and you stood up confused. You weren't sure who the person behind the door was because you weren't expecting anyone until your departure which was tomorrow in the morning.

You opened the door and were greeted by a soaked Yoongi. The rain was pouring heavily, and you didn't even notice how fast the weather changed. He didn't say anything as he walked inside your house. You shut the door and went up to him, confused and questioningly gazing him up and down. His eyes were darted on the ticket which was lying on your table. He angrily grabbed the ticket and examined the paper.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked shocked as he read through your ticket and your destination. You grabbed your ticket out of his hand and held it firmly.

"None of your business" you didn't imply sounding rude but it just came out of your mouth. You were confused as to why he was here.

"Why are you here-", "Why did you leave Namjoon?" Both of your questions escaped from your lips at the same time, making you stop in your tracks.

"It's none of your business as to why I'm here, why did you break up with-" you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest.

"None of your business!" You mocked him and surely he wasn't impressed or pleased with your answer, "Excuse me, I forgot, you love to interfere in one's life, right?" you sounded sarcastic and it pissed him off.

"Are you going to drag me into his arms? Are you going to force me to go back to him, tell me!" you yelled and all he did was roll his eyes at you. You pulled out your arm in front of his face, showing him your wrist, "Here grab my wrist and drag me back to him" Your voice was loud and tremulous as you stepped closer while he backed away.

"Y/N, stop-" you hit his chest, making him wince.

"Stop me then!" you said, "Tell me why you're here. Are you trying to bring me and Namjoon back together? Because if that is what you want then I'm sorry, but I'll have to show you the way out of my house."

"Okay, I will tell you! But are you brave enough to hear why I'm here?" he stepped closer as well, looking down at you while you grit your teeth in frustration. You didn't even realize how close your faces were against each other, the tip of your noses was about touch. Your heart started to beat crazily as you stared straight into his eyes.

"And you?! Are you brave enough to listen to the reason as to why I broke up with Namjoon?" he shut his mouth at your words, stepping back as he realized how close both of you were standing.

"I knew it... you're not as courageous as you act like-" you hissed, as you wanted to turn around and walk away but all of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist and turned you around to himself while pulling you closer. Without any warning, his lips landed on yours. Your eyes widening as you didn't kiss back due to the shock of the sudden movement. He pulled away as he noticed that you didn't kiss back, wondering if he did a mistake. Just as he started to regret his decision of kissing you, you grabbed his collar and pulled him down, this time, closing your eyes and kissing him back.

Your hand left his collar and loosened on his chest as you grabbed onto the cloth, pressing the cloth firmly in your hands. His hands were slowly reaching out for your cheeks as cupped your face to bring you closer. His soft movement was making you flustered, but he calmed you down by circling his thumb around your cheek.

The feeling of your lips on each other's was making your hearts pound harder against your chests. It was astonishing and so rebellious. You never wanted this moment to end but just like every amazing moment comes to and you two pulled back, staring into each other's eyes and admiring each other for the time being.

"I love you" his eyes didn't leave yours and you felt the tears forming in your eyes. No matter how much you thought of this as a dream, it was the reality.

"Yoongi," you smiled, the tears leaving your eyes as you looked at him, your hand moving up to his cheek to cup it, "I love you, too" you mumbled and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He didn't pull away but pulled you even tighter, afraid of letting you go.

"Please don't leave me" he mumbled and at that moment you realized what you did. You've kissed the best friend of your ex-boyfriend. Immediately, you pushed him away and stepped back as you shook your head.

"This is so wrong Yoongi, I ... I can't do this!" You grabbed your ticket and brushed past him, walking up into your room where you continued packing your clothes. You heard the steps getting louder as he followed you, sighing desperately.

"Why?" he asked confused and you chuckled sarcastically.

"You still do ask why? Because you're the best friend of my ex-boyfriend. You just kissed the ex of your best friend. It's not like we had no past Yoongi. We can't do this to him, we can't hurt him like that-" he cut you off.

"He will understand, we have mutual feelings towards each other. I'm sure he-" you stood up angrily.

"He what? What are you expecting him to do? Ah, Yoongi my friend you fell in love with my girlfriend, wonderful, I always rooted for you two. Yoongi we weren't honest with him, we broke his trust, and most importantly we were disloyal." You sighed, going through your hair frustratedly.

"We weren't disloyal. We didn't have a relationship behind his back nor did you cheat on him with me. We happened to fall in love with each other at the wrong time, in the wrong place. We didn't do anything wrong Y/N!" he clarified and stepped closer, but you stepped back, shaking your head heavily.

"I can't do this to him and you can't as well. Namjoon doesn't deserve this. I," you sighed, turning back to your clothes, "I will leave this place and disappear from your life. Believe me, it's the best for Namjoon, you and me-" he cut you off by stepping closer and all of a sudden his arms surrounded you and he pulled your back closer to his chest, shaking his head. His hands were balled in one fist as he pressed them on your chest to pull you tighter. His warmth was making you weaker and you closed your eyes as you felt the tears coming up again.

"Please Y/N, we will find a way, don't leave me, I need you" at that moment you heard him sobbing softly as his grab loosened, making him weaker. You turned around to Yoongi and wiped away his tears as you smiled sadly.

"Believe me Yoongi, this will be the best for the three of us. Namjoon and you will find new people and eventually you will forget about me-" your voice cracked even though you tried to appear strong in front of him. He took your hands in his.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice stern as he tried to pull himself together.

"Don't worry about me. As long as you promise me to be happy, I will be happy as well..." he shook his head at your statement, trying everything to make you stop going.

"Will you ever return?" he asked.

"I don't know..." you looked down. You had to be strong to convince him of letting you go. You didn't want to cause any harm anymore. It was already hard enough to break up with Namjoon but if he finds out about the relationship between you and Yoongi, he will surely hate you.

Yoongi wiped away the left tears and backed away, "Ah, why do I even care? It's not my problem, I can have anyone I want, and I deserve the best." He tried to make you feel jealous, but you knew his intentions. He stepped back and bit his lip, trying his best to appear stronger.

"You deserve the best" You mumbled softly, leaving a shocked expression on his face.

"That's it? That's how fast you give up on us?" He asked, sounding monotonous and you were surprised by his sudden mood changes.

"It's for the sake of your future and your happiness Yoongi." This time you didn't look into his eyes, afraid of giving in the moment he begged for you to stay again. Deep down, you hoped for him to ask you again because this time you wouldn't say no. You would stay by his side until you figure out a solution, but he didn't ask.

"Alright" he took a deep breath before turning around, "Farewell Y/N" his steps were getting quieter until they disappeared fully. Once you heard the door shut, you fell onto your knees crying painfully in your position.

Sometimes love means sacrificing their own needs for the sake and happiness of their beloved one. On that day you let go of him but your heart never let go of him.

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read the sequel of suddenly, it was love H E R E

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