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randomshyperson · 6 days

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My Sweet Valentine - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Delayed in planning Valentine's Day, you and Wanda try to do something together. The spider routine ends up getting in the way, but that doesn't mean the date was lost.

Warnings: (+18) bottom!wanda, enchanted strap, creampie, fingering, dry humping, very fluff and domestic, established relationship, both r and w are briefly specified to be introverted. | Words: 3.206k

A/N-> I had this idea while I was rewatching Sound!Euphonium, I didn't catch the relation to it but I ended up writing this on my phone again so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes. It's always great writing Spider!Reader, I hope you enjoy it.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

To plan Valentine's Day with your girlfriend should be an easy thing.

But for two Avengers who happen to be the most introverted antisocial people on earth - and those were Natasha's Romanoff words, not yours - the task could be really hard.

But it was you and Wanda's first Valentine's Day as a couple and you were really late on schedule.

While Natasha planned to have the most incredible and romantic trip to Greece with Maria and Tony and Pepper made reservations at some exclusive fancy Italian restaurant, you and Wanda were side to side laying on your apartment carpet. Trying to decide what you could do together by reading some flyers that were spread around the floor.

Wanda had one of the fancy restaurants in her hands when she suggested: “How about dinner?”

You gaze at the restaurant propaganda, recognizing the name and the building from your little web-swinging adventures.

“The Geller’s is nice but it will be really crowded during Valentine's. And we both hate when places are too full.” You reason, receiving an agreement sound. “Maybe we can ask for takeout?”

Wanda chuckles. “On Valentine's Day? Every place will mess up our orders, I'm sure of it. Places are normally understaffed, ordering food on holidays is like asking for them to mess up your food.”

You sigh deeply. “Yeah, you're totally right. So, maybe I can cook?”

She smiles. “We are going for food poisoning then, huh?” She teases making you chuckle with an expression of false offense. You playfully bumped your shoulder on hers but you don't move away after. The touch is warm and nice. “You cook then.”

“Yeah, but is not like we would find any free spots anywhere. We delay this way too much.” She mutters without sounding really upset. Her words were true, you both have been dancing around this date for almost three months now ever since Tony showed everyone his and Pepper's reservations. But neither of you was that anxious to be locked with another hundred couples in some loud restaurant with extra expensive and not-that-good food.

The restaurants were not the only thing discarded - Yelena and Kate's idea of a date, and band concerts were also politely declined. Mostly because neither you nor Wanda felt like facing a whole weekend of poor public hygiene and the crazy routine of musical festivals while babysitting Natasha's little sister who would definitely get really drunk with her girlfriend.

Steve was the one who suggested the most quiet and family thing, a road trip to the countryside. But since he was going with Bucky and you and Wanda didn't wish to be traumatized by their physical display of affection, their invitation was also declined.

Back on the floor of your apartment, you helped Wanda with the papers around the floor.

You were worried she would be upset about the lack of plans - even Sam with his eternal bachelor status was having a date night with some old colleague from the army. You worried that Wanda might think you're not excited to spend time with her when it is pretty much the opposite of it.

“You know, we don't really have to do anything just because everyone is doing.” You start, hands ready to catch the papers she's bringing. “We could just watch a movie.”

Wanda smiles, the papers are put in your hands but she doesn't move hers away.

“If you brought wine it would be like any other date night.”

“That's not a bad thing, right?” You retort immediately, eyes anxious towards hers. She frowns, a confused chuckle escaping her.

“No, I mean… you think that too right?”

You shrug; “I just want to spend Valentine's and any other day with you, Wands. What we are doing doesn't matter much.”

She smiles, coming closer to kiss you on the lips. But the kiss is quicker than you wished. One of her hands caresses your cheek as she speaks:

“Good to know, darling, 'cause I'll be watching you do the dishes tonight.”

You chuckle, rolling her eyes at her teasing but pouting when she escapes your attempt at a second kiss.

-&-

Valentine's Day is unfortunately a busy day for the spider.

It was true that you and Wanda didn't plan anything big but you wanted to bring her some flowers and her favorite chocolate but after fighting another dressed-up lunatic at the city hall and avoiding three different catastrophes, anything inside your backpack was definitely destroyed.

You swing back into your apartment with the mess of your gifts dripping to the floor. The wine bottle broke and soaked the chocolate and the poor flowers. Bye-bye to any college homework you forgot there.

Throwing the item at the sink, your body towards the couch was the second thing you threw.

And against the soft pillows the day tiredness caught up at you. With the thought that you would rest your eyes for five minutes, you woke up hours later with the door locked.

Wanda's angry arrival was also an efficient clock.

“God, what is wrong with you? I've been calling you all day!” She slammed the door behind her, and the next second the day's newspaper was thrown at you. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? We have talked about this! You can't just fight some three-sized villain and vanish without a word! I thought-” But she stops herself, taking a deep breath when her voice cracks. You feel so terrible sorry. You know very well that Wanda has lost enough people for the whole ghosting thing to be too hard on her. Intentional or not.

You get up. “Hey, I'm so sorry Wands, my phone broke and I came right here and closed my eyes for like two seconds. I'm sorry.” But Wanda shook her head, covering her eyes for a moment. She was not even that mad at you, it was clearly an accident that you forgot to call. But she has been so nervous all day worried about you that she needed a minute. Suddenly, she catches a glimpse of the wine-soaked flowers at the kitchen counter and frowns. “What is that?”

The slight indignation about the mess of an apartment you both worked hard to keep clean vanished the second she realized those were gifts.

You fixed your hair awkwardly. “Hm, I was trying to make a romantic gesture. But I forgot I'm always on some freak radar.”

Wanda's hands reached for the flowers and as gentle as her touch, her magic flowed from her fingers to take all the wine away. In no time, the petals were as beautiful and healthy as when you brought it.

“This is really not fair, darling.” She starts, moving to check the rest of the gifts. “You made it to the front page and I have every right to be mad you didn't call through the suit to let me know you're alive.” You wanted to mutter that you're still getting used to the new suit and its high-tech functions, but Wanda is turning at you again with crossed arms.

“It’s not fair, how hard you're making to stay mad at you.”

You gave her a lopsided smile. “So, you like the chocolate that much, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to contain her smile. “Why don't you go shower while I make dinner? There's grease from Rino's suit all over your face.”

You click with your tongue, swinging a little. “Let me guess, you not joining me at the shower is my punishment for not calling through the suit?”

She finally let that smile escape. “Clever girl.”

You chuckle to yourself before nodding and heading to the bathroom.

-&-

Forgotten dinner plates at the living room table when Wanda reached the chocolate box. She shared them with you during the sitcom marathon you too were doing but after finding yourself hypnotized by her laugh for the fourth time in a row, you gave up eating at all.

The last chocolate was put away when she caught you staring.

“What?”

“What what?” You retort with a chuckle, having some pride over the soft blush of her cheeks.

“You were staring.” She says then, drifting her gaze from the TV to you with some resistance. You know her enough that it's because Wanda is terrible at hiding her own shyness under your loving glance. She always was.

“Can you blame me?” Your teasing just makes her blush more. You just decide to make it worse. “You're simply too charming not to be looked at. So gorgeous, so pretty. I feel so lucky.”

“Stop it.” She giggles with rosy cheeks at your praise. But despite her words, she opens her arms as an invitation for you to come closer. You practically jump from your spot - a few centimeters from her since your last trip to the kitchen to grab sodas - and greet the warmth of her embrace.

Wanda hugs your body while you melt into her, the soft caress on your spine being more than enough to bring back your interrupted slumber that evening. But somehow you manage to stay wide awake, perhaps because the way you press your face into her boobs makes her giggle and playfully tug at your hair, which happens to have a completely different effect on you.

Her body tenses up a little when your lips start sucking at her collarbone, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. You suddenly recall that it has been some time, a week maybe two since you had enough free time to be this close.

Your lovely girlfriend probably missed you as much as you missed her.

The soft sucking turns into something more determined, then into a bite and a licking that turns Wanda into a panting mess. She grows restless under you, fingers tugging at your hair with some guidance towards your movements in her neck until finally, your mouth meets her again.

Hot open-mouthed kisses before softer ones. You kiss and she kisses you back until all of your clothes are disheveled around your bodies and she looks up at you with pleading eyes and slightly open lips. Begging for more.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” You suggest inches from her lips but she shakes her head, fingers dancing under your shirt.

“You can have me right here.” She whispers back, stealing all your coherent thoughts for a second.

Your hands are shaking a bit with eagerness when you pull at your clothes, with Wanda's help they are off in no time. Her chest heaves when you take her top off and Wanda stares back while you can't seem to be able to look away from her tits.

“You good there?” She teases you breathlessly when your lack of action lingers. You chuckle, hands at her sides.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” You retort managing an affectionate roll of eyes from her.

“You're such a dork.” She giggles but purposely lifts her chest in your direction, making you swallow hard. When you don't take the bait immediately, she sighs. “I would love for you to more than stare, detka.”

You groan, hovering over her. “Well, your wish is my command, madam” You reply, leaning down to capture her lips. Teasing Wanda with soft bites on her lower lip every time you break the kiss before starting another turns her into a needy mess under you. She gets impatient very quickly and brings her hands to your cheeks, pulling you down with determination. Her tongue takes the lead in a heated kiss that takes all the air out of your lungs.

Panting against her mouth while trying to match the intensity of her demand, you let your hands grope around her body towards her chest, effectively taking the lead again when you start playing with her hardened nipples and Wanda loses her ability to kiss you back.

When she whimpers into your mouth, her hips restless while your fingers pinch her cute tits, you chuckle. “Ah, is there something you want, baby?”

She struggles to speak firmly. "I need you to stop teasing and fuck me." You grunt at her answer. You would have obeyed immediately if you hadn't been able to feel Wanda shaking. She gasps as you adjust, your knee finding her middle and giving her something to grind against as you resume your actions on her breasts. She throws her head back, biting her lip hard as her hips move almost of their own accord.

It's a hot mess, her first orgasm of the night. You didn't even have to take off all her clothes. When Wanda shivers terribly, and you feel the wetness against your knee, you bite down at her tit and that makes her let out a muffled scream.

Wanda is panting and her face is very flushed when you look at her again, her expression satisfied after an intense orgasm.

You hum happily, moving your hands down as you tilt your face to kiss her on the lips. She gasps into your mouth when she feels your fingers draw a path through her ruined panties.

"You made such a mess, sweetheart." You whisper between one kiss and another, two digits pushing gently without even removing her underwear. Wanda arches toward you, squeezing your shoulders for something to hold on to. Her green eyes are completely dilated now and you love how they display a vulnerable begging. Pulling your fingers out again, you let your thumb draw circles on her covered clit and enjoy the way her thighs tremble around you. "Tell me what you want, Wanda."

She has a little difficulty responding while feeling you teasing her, but despite noticing her heartbeat against your fingertips, you don't interrupt your movements. If anything, they become even more determined. Wanda pants, hips trying to match the rhythm of your fingers.

"C-can we use the strap tonight?" She manages out of breath. "I like feeling you come inside me."

Your witch girlfriend's favorite toy is somewhere in the room, and given the busy schedule of two superheroes, it wasn't used as often as you would like. Wanda has barely suggested, and you're already nodding, panting aroused just imagining yourself stretching Wanda again.

But suddenly your fingers push the fabric out of the way, and you sink inside her without warning, ripping a moan from her throat.

"Give me one more first." You demand, watching as Wanda nods in near desperation, brow furrowed at her rapidly building orgasm. Your rhythm is brutal, and she squeezes and squeezes until you can barely push your fingers inside her. You bring your free hand to one of her thighs, forcing her open as you adjust to improve your reach. Wanda sees stars. She lets go of your shoulders to grab the cushions and ends up destroying half of them with magical expelling when she finally falls over the edge.

An impressed chuckle escapes you at the scene. You're usually the one responsible for destroying things with your spider strength - It's always nice to see Wanda lose some of the control she's fought so hard to have.

Kissing her softly, you feel her smile in some exhaustion. She needs a few seconds, so you pull out your fingers and suck them clean while green eyes watch you from below. Wanda wants to kiss you again, but you adjust to carry her on your lap, and after two orgasms in a row, she won't contradict you.

She feels the soft blankets against her back a moment later and relaxes fully into the bed as you move around the room working to find and put on the strap. It doesn't take more than two minutes, yet Wanda sighs impatiently before letting her hands roam her own body, pinching her breasts and teasing downwards. She bites her lip at the soaked state she finds herself in, tentatively collecting some of that moisture before hearing a husky laugh that makes her look up.

"You don't have to play alone, I'm right here." You let her know softly, but Wanda swallows at the sight of your naked figure and the enchanted hardness between your legs. Of all the things she learned to do, that honestly has to be her best spell. One of your hands grabs the silicone, instinctively or not, imitating the masturbation gesture that Wanda is making and she shudders to the tips of her toes, her body on fire. Her hand moves out of her panties immediately, raising it into the air in a beckoning gesture. You don't need to be told twice.

It's a breathless kiss when you reach her face again, equally eager to feel each other, there's a little war of pushing and pulling until Wanda feels completely pressed into the bed, the strap rubbing against her entrance.

You pull away when she whimpers - It's just to pull down her panties, and Wanda kicks the item away as you climb back up. Your mouth finds hers again so that when you align the strap and sink into her, you can swallow her moans.

The stretch is slow and careful, very different from the breathless way you were making out a few minutes ago. Wanda lets her nails dig into your lower back as you fight the urge to be rougher.

She gets used to the size very quickly, the creaminess of her previous orgasms making an obscene sound that makes her ears redden. You break the kiss to ask if she's ready and the only response you get is a determined throw of her hips up that registers her impatience.

In all quickies, you're always rough. Desperate to feel her, because you miss Wanda as much as she misses you, and in the rush, there's no time to prolong moments like this. But it's the first time in many months that you're relaxed, and you can thrust slowly and sensually inside Wanda, letting her feel every movement of your cock inside her warm walls as you kiss her and whisper praises in her ear.

Heat is spread under your skin, and sweat accumulates with the slow stimulation. You feel closer each time you sink inside her, and when Wanda starts whimpering in your ear, it feels like an impossible task to hold it.

"You're close?" You pant, hips starting to buckle. "I don't think… I can hold it anymore... Wands-" You choke, letting your face fall against her collarbone. The knot in your abdomen explodes without warning, and you moan deeply as you spill yourself inside Wanda, the enchanted strap vibrating inside her. It turns out that feeling you come was the push she needed, and Wanda sobs as she feels the blinding pleasure hit her, following you into climax a second later.

For a moment, all that can be heard in that room are your breathless sighs until your hoarse and satisfied chuckles emerge.

You remain inside her when you adjust so that you rest your elbows on the mattress and see her face.

"Hey, little witch."

She pushes back her sweaty hair with one hand, the other moving to rest on your neck. "Hey, spider."

Your nose brushes against hers. "I think we nailed Valentine's Day."

She giggles before pulling you for a kiss.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fics #elizabeth olsen x reader #bottom!wanda #bottom!wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff smut

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in1-nutshell · 5 months

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Okay, prime buddy meeting rodimus, ships collide, rodimus look at buddy w Shock of how big his ship is and crew, even buddy standing tall and spiky. Like wdym your the leader of the fallen stars….what? Your only (insert young age) and your a prime?!

I don't understand completely what the request is. So I did my interpretation of the request. If this is not what you want, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy from the TFP universe meeting MTMTE Rodimus

SFW, platonic, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFP/MTMTE

This was Buddy's fault they were in this situation.

Buddy, being the ever loving technician, was helping Ratchet and Wheeljack with the newest tweaks on the groundbridge.

Wheeljack had just installed some new circuitry to the bridge and needed some help making sure everything went accordingly.

"Everything functional on your end?"--Buddy

"All clear, Wheeljack?"--Ratchet

"All good Sunshine!"--Wheeljack

"Don't call me that!"--Ratchet

A sudden beeping came from Ratchet's end near the console, Wheeljack went to go see what was wrong. Buddy went over to the bridge's opening to see if there was a problem there.

The bridge's lights flickered on and began to violently drag in all loose things around it. Including Buddy. Ratchet was holding on to the console for dear life as Wheeljack dug one of his katanas into the ground and held it with a steel grip.

"BUDDY HOLD ON!"-- Ratchet

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IM DOING?!"--Buddy

"BUDDY HOLD ON TO MY SERVO!"--Wheeljack

"WHEELJACK I'M SLIPPING!"--Buddy

"HANG ON BUDDY! IM ALMOST THERE!"--Wheeljack

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"--Buddy

The portal had sucked Buddy in right as Wheeljack's servo brushes Buddy's servo.

...

Meanwhile on the Lost Light...

Rodimus was back at his desk carving out some designs when a bright light appeared and a sudden weight fell on top of him.

"AH! WHO ARE YOU?!"--Buddy

"WHO ARE YOU?! YOU LANDED ON TOP OF ME!"--Rodimus

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING!?"--Buddy

"I DON'T KNOW! YOU STARTED IT!"--Rodimus

After a couple of minutes of hectic explaining, existential crisis, and a lot of deep venting exercises, Rodimus finally got a complete response.

"So essentially you're from another dimension were your war is still going on, only have a small group of Autobots left, and you dropped into this universe via groundbridge malfunction."--Rodimus

"And you're the Captain of this giant Star ship with more than a hundred Bots on it, are on a quest to find some mythical knights, and the name is..."--Buddy

"Oh! Rodimus, Rodimus Prime."--Rodimus

"Wait what happened to Optimus? And what about the Matrix of Leadership?"--Buddy

"Well, Prime is a part of the new Cybertronian government with Starscream as ruler and the Matrix is broken."--Rodimus

"...wait what..."--Buddy

"The matrix was broken by accident."--Rodimus

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ON ACCIDENT?! AND DID YOU SAY STARSCREAM WAS IN CHARGE OF CYBERTRONIAN!?!?! WHO'S IDEA WAS THAT?!"--Buddy

There was a lot of explaining to do when Rodimus came out of his habsuite with Buddy in tow. Especially with how much of a difference in frame Buddy had to everyone else on the Lost Light.

Buddy made friends with many bots during their stay aboard. They had plenty of stories to tell and to hear stories from this new dimension. The only bumps in the 'road' were when Buddy saw the alternate versions of Ultra Magnus, Ratchet and Megatron.

With Magnus

"It's a good thing those shoulder pads never change in different dimensions, sir."--Buddy

"Thank you?"--Magnus

With Ratchet

"You're telling me that Rodimus flipped over the Captain and fell on his face how many times per week?"--Buddy

"I lost count after 5."--Ratchet

With Megatron

"...do you have any dark energon in you?"--Buddy

"Do I have what?"--Megatron

"Oh you don't! That's good. You're one of the better Megatron's."--Buddy

It took a while later for Brainstorm and Perceptor to fix Buddy's dimension and set coordinates.

It was time for Buddy to say goodbye to their friends and head home.

"Thank you everyone!"--Buddy

"No problem Buddy! And if you're ever in the same dimension, just give us a call!"--Rodimus

"And if you guys are in my dimension, you call me! Bye!"--Buddy

"Bye Buddy!"--Rodimus

Buddy jumped right into their dimension.

Buddy knew it was the right one because of the feeling they had in their tanks.

Also because they landed on top of Wheeljack.

"AAAHHH! WHAT'S ON ME?!"--Wheeljack

"Wheeljack it's me!"--Buddy

"Buddy?! Oh thank the Prime's! Where were you?! We've been trying to scan your signature for days."--Wheeljack

"You have no idea what happened."--Buddy

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #tfp #tfp x reader #mtmte rodimus #tfp ratchet #tfp wheeljack #bot buddy

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whitemancumslut · 1 year

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happy new year

summary in which harry and y/n celebrate their second new years together and y/n makes a big decision in order to keep her and harry’s relationship alive.

warnings mentions of smut, fluff

word count 1k

authors note short new years blurb until i’m ready to upload the other one shots. happy new years:))) cliché new years balcony kiss

“Another year with you,” you spoke proudly stroking the hairs at the back of his head. The clock hits five minutes til midnight as Harry sways you with the L.A city skylights.

“Surprised?” he teased bumping his nose against yours. The alcohol on his tongue brimming your nose and upper lip. Tipsy, he was. And happy. Tipsy and happy as the loud voices of your mutual friends play in the background as you guys took a moment to escape on the balcony. Very much needed private moment. With everyone trying to catch up with Harry since he’s been back in L.A.

Your feet are toe to toe as your bodies are close and you enhance the cool air together. Harry’s one handed rub down your forearm warms you as you speak.

“A little, yeah.” You admit lowly.

Harry’s eyes grow a size, “Oh really?” His lips curl into a smirk as he teasingly inputs , a little taken aback by the reply but not putting too much thought into it— waiting for you to elaborate.

This year has been hard on your relationship. Harry had been touring all year, and you were working where he wasn’t. It was scary. Scary because you never knew if Harry was going to act on your thoughts and actually text or call you going ‘I don’t think this is going to work.’ He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have doubts but you guys made long distance worth it. You stayed with him some nights on tour, and worked from hotel rooms until you would decide it was time to go back into the office.

“You know that’s not what I mean, H. It’s just been a long frustrating year for us, ye’ know?” Looking up at him as he stared down continuing the eye contact. “But we made it work. We’re making it work,” You corrected and he chuckled lightly. “I’m just really happy you’re here right now.”

He smiles as he listens your little confession. “I’m happy I’m here too, honey. And it’s okay, because I’m glad we made it another three hundred and sixty five days together,” He smirked, thinking his logic on how many days in a year was intruding. You playfully rolled your eyes and shake your head as he continued. “I just wanna take ye everywhere I go,” He admits pulling you closer with his free hand on your forearm but you pull back.

“About that…”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Y/n…” He scolded as you smile pulling away from his body. Your moves making him suspicious on your next confession. “I thought about what you said to me a couple of weeks ago.” You said and he tilts his head still unsure. “Over the photo you were saying how you wishing I could be with you twenty-four seven. On the road with you and all that stuff,” You muttered looking up as you tried to plan out his reaction to you practically leaving your job.

“Yeah…”

“I decided I want to take a break from the office to be with you.” The words spill out of your mouth and Harry’s eyes widen, he places his glass down on the rail of the balcony, gently holding your elbows in his hands.

“Baby what? You did what? What about—”

“I thought about it! I really just want to be with you, baby. I do,” Your voice was soft and a chuckle breaks through at his eyes of worry and uncertainty.

“I don’t know about this, Y/n. You can’t just leave your job because of me.” Inside Harry truly didn’t want you to leave your job for him but he also needed you with him. He felt comfort whenever you were in the crowd in his view and their for his post-show pep talk. Everything was just one thousand percent better when you were around and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

15 seconds.

“But I can. And it’s just a little break from the office. I can still work on my computer. We need this. I think it’ll be good,” You and Harry’s relationship was your number one priority. You couldn’t lose him— he couldn’t lose you. Being with him, knowing he’s okay was all you needed. Your job was perfect to be down at home. You could always ‘work from home’ from a hotel room, bus, wherever needed be. Normally independency would be a problem but there’s been too much of it for you to even function.

“Ten!”

Harry’s eyes go back in forth between yours to see if there were some kinda in joke to catch. “You’re serious? You wanna— you wanna tour wit’ me?” Just thought of it had you both smiling like idiots. Harry’s eyes glow with the lights as he watches your lips move with the words, “Yes, I’m sure,” leaving them.

Your eyes dart inside, through the glass door, to see all your friends backs faced towards you guys and shouting with the Dick Clark’s New Years Rockin’ Eve on the screen, and the ball descending.

Your attention is reverted back to Harry when he pinched the bottom of your chin, practically forcing your attention to meet him.

“Five!”

“I love you so fucking much. So much,” Voice low and deep as he takes his other and let it meet your waist.

“Three!”

“I love you too, Harry.” You smile right before “One!” is shouted and cheers are heard, his wet pink lips smash into yours. Your stomach does backflips like you’re a teenager kissing her crush for the first time. Harry’s kiss is strong as the taste of his glass of lip gets into your mouth. You pull away, out of breath, smiling. “Holy shit— now that I’m thinking about it, an orgasm at midnight would’ve been way much cooler, love.” He murmurs dropping his hand from your chin, and holding you by your hips.

You laugh at his comment before pecking his lips again. “Happy new year, H.”

“Happy new year, my love,” he just smashes his lips into yours once more. Overly thrilled to have you by his side for the rest of tour and for the rest of his life.

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ana-chronista · 29 days

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my bojere headcanon is that Jere keeps sending shit like this without any context to Bojan

he doesn't give a second thought, he's just bored and Bojan is first on his recent messages. Meanwhile Bojan discretely opens the message if he's in public (he already learned his lesson), sighs and saves. Then later he spends and hour trying to take a perfect selfie to send back, that doesn't look too sexy but also not too casual, and something that also looks spontaneous. Jere's reply is probably "😍😍😍😘😘😘😘".. and he sends another random dumb selfie back... and the cycle continues

Love it - I can definitely see this happening! Of course, Bojan hits a bump in the road when one of the other JO guys borrows his phone and discovers not only the dedicated folder of Jere photos but also the hundreds of attempted sexy-but-casual-but-spontaneous selfies that Bojan has taken to be sent in return, still sitting on his camera reel in case he needs to send one back quickly. Jure describes this as "the most embarrassing thing you've done on camera since that one scene in Kaj pa Ester?". There would be a lot of bribery involved to prevent Jere from finding out, but of course the cat would get out of the bag somehow, most likely through Kris telling Hӓӓrijӓ, who of course tells Jere...

#ana answers #bojere #bojere week 2024

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nczennie · 10 months

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summer 1963.

Part One of She's Like The Wind

Pairing: Reader x Stray Kid's Lee Know AU: Summer love, based on the film Dirty Dancing Genre: Angst, Fluff (this part) Preview: “Yeah, I carried a watermelon.” The words tumble out of your mouth before your mind can comprehend them. At this, Minho spares you a judging glance that makes you feel small, not bothering another word before turning and walking back to the dance floor. Words: 7.9k *Warnings under cut

Warnings: Some curse words, mentions of food, eating, and being full, mentions and allusions to drug use and bad side effects of said usage, overall mature themes.

Your head lulls softly to the side, pulling your gaze to the window- the same green stretch of grass stuck in your view for the past couple of hours of your drive. The deep colors seem refreshing even in the summer heat, much more appealing than the grey concrete that you were accustomed to.

Looking to your right, you see your older sister trying for the fifth time this hour to paint her toes a deep red without messing up with the occasional bumps on the road. In the passenger seat, your mom flips through a home decor magazine- one of the hundreds she brought to keep herself busy during the long ride to the countryside. Driving, your dad stays concentrated on the destination all while humming along to the songs coming from the radio.

You’ve come to love the idea of spending your last summer with your family at a resort a couple of hours away from the city. When your parents first mentioned the idea, it seemed less than appealing- being more focused on quality time with your friends before everyone moved away for college. But now that you’re here, you’re glad to have this time with them knowing once you leave to the college an hour from home- everything will be different.

You push those thoughts away for now- the inevitable change that is making you more nervous by the day but you want to focus on what you have now.

Not a half-hour later, the car makes its way on the dirt path to the large buildings surrounded by vast fields of green. The many guests loiter around outside, walking to their next destination or sitting, soaking up the sun. The closer you get, you spot a large lake just down the hill, complete with some volleyball nets and kids splashing in the water while their moms try their hand at tanning.

The scene is so different than the summers you’re used to and suddenly you can’t wait to see what else there is in store here.

Pulling up to the front behind several other cars, your dad parks and gets out, everyone else following in suit. A worker, no doubt a high school student with a summer job, quickly comes to assist with taking your luggage out of your car. You let your eyes wander to him, feeling bad as he’s left to heavy bags by himself as your family follows your father- he’s just spotted the owner of the resort and his old friend and excitedly makes his way to greet him. Staying behind, you make your way to the back of the car and start to hand bags to the boy. He gives you a genuine smile, his eyes nearly closing as he does and you can’t help but return it.

“You really don’t have to help, it’s my job, ya’know. You’re here to relax.” He claims as he places the bags on the bell cart. You smile softly, “I know, but it’s the least I can do. My sister tends to overpack, that would explain why we have eight suitcases when there’s only four of us.” You chuckle and the black-haired boy joins in. “Well, thank you for your help. I hope you have a wonderful stay.” He says piling up the last of the bags. “Thanks,” you let your eyes wander to his nametag, “Jeongin. Have a nice day.”

Jeongin waves you off as you make your way to find your family. You’re thankful you don’t have to go far when you see them standing in front of the resort, your dad still talking to his friend. At your presence, your father puts his arm around you bringing you closer into the view of his friend, introducing you as his youngest daughter.

“And this is here is my roommate and dear friend from college, Max Kellermen. He also owns this lovely place and invited us here for a stay.” Your dad smiles brightly as he talks about his friend. The middle-aged man politely shakes your hand as he smiles just as bright, the two of them clearly excited to catch up.

“I have no doubt you and your family will have a life-changing experience here. This vacation will be like no other.”

After a slow afternoon of settling in and wandering around the property, you find yourself sat between your dad and sister at the dinner table. One of the nicer dresses you packed feeling much harder to breathe in after the five-course meal that was presented to you. Dinner at the resort was held in a fancy ballroom-like hall where all the guests gathered to be waited on by the multiple waiters from the kitchen. The whole thing was enjoyable but the events from the day were starting to wear on you. You quietly stir at your coffee, barely listening to your father who loudly babbles on to Max who has joined your table for dessert.

“Is there anything else I can do for you all?” Your waiter for the night, a polite, handsome young man with an enjoyable sense of humor, asks checking in on you all once again. Max and your father smile up at him, “I think we’re good, Chan.”

Chan smiles his charming smile and you speak up before he can leave, “Actually, can I have a box for my leftovers. I wouldn’t want to waste,” You finish off bashfully almost embarrassed by your comment. Your father nearly rejoices by it though, “That’s right, Chan. We could all use some boxes. Wasted food and hunger are the worst problems in our country, could you believe?” You feel second hand embarrassment by your fathers words, clearly being affected by the wine he had for dinner. “You see,” he speaks to Chan and Max, “My youngest here is going to change the world. She starts college this fall and then after that, the Peace Corps that President Kennedy founded” He smiles proudly at you and you feel nauseous by the statement. You grew up close to your father, whereas your older sister enjoyed tea parties, ballet, and shopping trips with your mom, you tended to golf and volunteer with your dad. You suppose your closeness has allowed for him to push his views on you, so it shouldn’t surprise you at this point how much faith he puts into you and your nonexistent aspirations.

You hate it.

All this he talks of, college, peace corps, those are his dreams not yours. You fear that after all this time you lost a sense of who you are without your father's interference. You love the man to death, but hate the fact that you are living under his idea of a perfect daughter.

Max merely smiles at you before turning to your sister, “Well if she is going to change the world, what are you going to do, Daisy?” Your mother chuckles speaking up, “Oh, she’s going to decorate it.”

It takes you all by surprise when Chan speaks up as he clears the used dishes, “I think she already does.” He smiles at her before excusing himself. You giggle at the redness of her face and give your mom a look knowing just how much your sister loved it.

The conversation drags even longer between the two and you’ve even ended up asking Chan for another cup of coffee to help keep the sleep off of you.

Sometime later, a young man comes to your table seeking Max out, “Uncle, there you are. I’ve been waiting at our table or an hour now.” He chuckles and you glance over him. Max lights up at his presence and stands to wrap his arm around his nephews shoulder, “Everyone, this is my nephew, Neil. He is one of the managers here at the resort.” He proudly smiles at the boy. Neil politely greets everyone before taking an empty seat next to his uncle, “You must be the family my uncle has been talking nonstop about all summer. He’s so excited you all could finally make it out.” He keeps a wide smile on his face, letting his eyes wander over everyone at the table.

You keep a small smile on your face but inwardly groan at the thought of the conversation continuing any longer. The next fifteen minutes are spent with your dad being utterly impressed with Neil as he talks nonstop about himself and his accomplishments for being so young. You don’t think you've ever heard one man talk for so long about only his own matters and it didn’t take long for you to be completely put off by the boy.

Your relief came not long after when the boy stood, “Well, it was so nice to meet you all but I must be going. I’m due in the lounge to watch over the dancing.” He politely smiles. “There’s dancing?” Your sister asks curious about the activity she has yet to see at the resort. “Oh, yes. Every night we have a live band in the longue and most guests come to dance the hottest dances- from the foxtrot to the mambo. We even have professional dancers staffed that can teach and demonstrate to the guests. It’s really great.” Neil explains the situation and Max nods along proud of the popular activity the resort could provide.

Your mom and sister look to each other clearly interested in the activity whereas you could care less, never really have been much interested in dancing yourself. You look up with a start as your dad calls your name, “Doesn’t that sound fun? You know, Neil, maybe you should take her over to check it out, I bet she would love it.” Your dad smiles excitedly and you realize quickly he was so impressed with the boy he’s started to play matchmaker.

Trying your best to keep your emotions contained, simply looking to your father. “I don’t know, daddy. I’m quite tired from traveling today.” “We don’t have to stay long,” Neil smiles at you, “You can just check the scene out that way you know where it is for other nights.” “That’s a good idea, sweetie. Why don’t you go check it out for us and let us know if we should all go over tomorrow night.” Your mom speaks up nodding at you.

The longue is much bigger than you expected and the dimly lit room made for the perfect atmosphere. The live band continuously played upbeat and slower tunes to appease the large crowd of dancing guests. Though, much to your dismay, Neil insisted on having one dance with you and yet here you both were three songs later. You were never much of a dancer, not even interested in the deed during your final prom in the spring. Not much has changed as you stand swaying boringly back and forth with your partner. Though all the people around you seem to be having the time of their lives lazily moving to the music, you were bored from the moment you started.

As Neil continues his nonstop talking, you begin to think maybe it’s your partner that is making the dancing so miserable. The owner's nephew was very polite, but it didn’t take long for you to realize just how full of himself he is. The past fifteen minutes were full of him going on about how amazing he is to have started managing- not one but three resorts, at such a young age. You were able to slip in a few words about how hardworking he must be but other than that, he seemed to be content with you just listening to his whole life story.

The song finally comes to an end, the crowd stops their movements to applaud the band. You’re thankful for the opportunity to prepare yourself to tell Neil just how tired you were, but the band starts again- playing a much more upbeat tune than that of any you have heard the time you’ve been here.

You look on with curiosity as the crowd starts to cheer and clap as a couple makes their way into the center of the circle the guests have carved out for them.

Your eyes follow the couple in awe as they command the spotlight and start to dance, clearly much more advanced than anyone else in the room.

You’re unable to even find it in yourself to leave Neil as you’re absolutely captivated by the way the pair move across the floor all by themselves. Eyes wandering to the boy as he swiftly and gracefully moves across the floor, effortlessly gliding his partner.

A smile pulls on your face as he lifts her slightly, spinning her around letting the coral dress she’s wearing flow freely around her. The two were clearly professionals and watching their dance brought you joy as well as all of the other guests who stayed aside to watch their show. You had never seen professional dancers before but watching them now you were allured by their talent, unable to take your eyes off of them. Every part of their bodies seemed to move to every beat, everything about what they did seemed natural and intentional at the same time. “They’re amazing,” you let out as your eyes continue to follow the couple whose looks are as beautiful as their movements. Neil scoffs from beside you, “Yeah, well they should be we pay them for it.” He shakes his head as he continues to watch their routine, “They’re supposed to be selling lessons to the guests but they’re just showing off.” You want to argue that everyone around them is clearly enjoying the act but you don’t bother using the energy to talk to the boy.

You stay watching the couple, unable to tear your gaze away from every twist and twirl they make. They eventually end and bow respectively to the crowd who cheers loudly for their talents. Even then, your eyes stay focused on the gorgeous girl and boy who shines just as beautifully. You watch as they go their separate ways, making their way in the crowd to politely dance with some of the guests- a clear part of their attempt to sell lessons. You follow the boy’s head until you can no longer see it, mind wandering to ask your father to pay for dance lessons this summer. That would be a great idea, you thought, if only you liked dancing.

The next couple days of your vacation were uneventful- relaxing but nothing too memorable. You often found yourself wandering the resort by yourself as you parents partook in the multiple activities offered and your sister spent as much time as she could with the waiter, Chan.

This night wasn’t much different as you wandered around the different paths of the resort after dinner, picking daisies that littered the grass. The sun had fallen long ago but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay cooped up in the room when Daisy had gone into town with Chan and your parents were watching a screening of a new movie in the small theater within the hotel. So, much like any other time, you found your feet carried you outside and simply walked where you could.

You hum along to a song that’s tune has been in your head all day as you hop along the rock-paved path going to the bottom of a hill you have yet to explore. Half way down, you notice the presence of another. It was a boy who seemed to struggling to carry something as he walked further in front of you. Squinting your eyes, you notice the boy is familiar. “Jeongin! Hey!” You call out with a smile, happy to see another person you know. You jog briskly down the hill to meet him where he stopped with a smile. You hold your white dress to keep it from flowing too far up and you make your way to the black haired boy, sending him a big smile as you finally reach him. “Hey,” he returns your smile and you look down to see him struggling to keep his grip on a couple of watermelons. You automatically go to grab one with a huff as it’s much heavier than you first expected, “Where are you going? I’ll help take this there.” Jeongin chuckles at you, “What? Don’t you have to go meet your manager boyfriend?”

You frown at the mention of Neil, the boy clearly having seen your parents attempt of having you spend time with the conceded boy. Rather annoyed by his comment, you roll your eyes, roughly pushing the watermelon back into his arms and turn around to take your leave, disappointed by the boy you were originally pleased to see.

“Hey! Wait! I was messing around, c’mon I could use your help.” You spin around, sending the boy a glare as you pull the extra fruit from his arms. Jeongin laughs and hoists the fruit he still has further up in his arms, “Well, let’s go then. But don’t you dare even mention what I’m about to show you.” he says the threat with such a light tone that you barely register what he was saying. “What do you mean?” You ask as you follow him further away from where you met. “Where we’re going is only for staff members, so you’re not even allowed to be there.” He says nonchalantly and your confused as to whether he is being serious or not. “And when I say that, I mean only certain staff,” he huffs as you two make your way up a hill, “So don’t mention it to nobody, especially not the manager.” You roll your eyes but refrain from biting back at the comment about Neil once again.

Finally making your way to a small wooden building, Jeongin roughly shoves the two doors open using the back of his body, making sure one of them stayed open long enough to safely let you in. Yet you’re so surprised by your new surroundings you can’t even find it in yourself to thank him.

Though the lighting is dim just like the dance lounge on the main resort - that is the only thing that you find familiar. The room is hazy and filled with smoke and there is a loud booming from the speakers playing music from the record. A completely different genre from that of the live music you enjoyed at dinner and in the lounge. It sounds much like the music your peers listened to on their own record players when you visited their homes.

As you try to keep your gaze on Jeongin to follow him to the designated destination he had in mind, you find it nearly impossible. The room was crowded with workers who are enjoying their time off, dancing to the loud beat of an unfamiliar song. And though you try your hardest to keep your eyes on Jeongin through the tight-nit crowd of people, you can’t help them wandering to take in just how the people around you are dancing.

Never in your life have you seen just- frankly to put it; crude dancing. You weren’t really sure if you could call it dancing at all.

Pairs of people who pressed together so tightly it was nearly difficult to tell where one body ended and the other began. There was groping with wandering hands and groins pressed and rocking together. Your cheeks flushed as were almost certain these moves were only meant to be done in private.

Finally reaching your destination, you place the watermelon on an empty table beside Jeongin's. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he chuckles probably taking in your flustered reaction. “Do you like the dancing?” he moves a bit to lean back against the wood, moving his view the the crowd of moving people before you both.

Following his actions, you move closer to him, making sure he could hear you even with the blaring music, “So they are dancing?” You aren’t even sure yourself if your question is facetious or not. Jeongin merely lets out a laugh, “Could you imagine if people danced like this out on the main floor?” He shakes his head just thinking about it, “Max would have all of our asses out on the street.”

You smooth the fabric of your dress down, suddenly feeling self conscious of how you're dressed. Compared to those around you, you feel like you're dressed for church. "Wanna try?"Jeongin speaks up from next to you, raising his eyebrows, as you swiftly shake your head. There was no way you would dance like that. Not only did you not believe your body would move like that, but you were sure you would be far too embarrassed.

Your attention is drawn back to the crowd when everyone seems to let out a small cheer, looking you notice they make way for a new couple to join the dancing right in the center of the room, where everyone can see them.

Immediately, you recognize the pair.

It was hard not to, with the man striking features and the smoothness in which both of them move. Though this dance is completely opposite than that of what they danced to the last time you saw them. You enjoy watching them nonetheless, you could hardly keep your eyes off of them, absolutely captivated by their swiftness. Automatically, your head starts to bob to music. “They’re incredible!” You lean closer to Jeongin to express your fondness. “Right? They’re the best this resort has. That there is my cousin, Minho. And his partner is Momo!” The boy has a smile on his face as though he is proud to introduce you to the talented pair he happens to know very well.

“They make such a great couple.” You let out, even you could see their chemistry.

“You would think so, huh? They’re not romantically involved though.”

Pursing your lips, you look at Jeongin after his comment, blown away with the information he just shared with you, “Seriously?”

He nods quickly, crossing his arms, “Oh, yeah. They tried it out once in high school, ended it two days later. Momo actually has a boyfriend who lives in town.”

You let out a small hum of acknowledgment, letting your eyes stay focused on the pair you two talked about, “And what about him, your cousin?” The younger boy laughs beside you, “Oh he’s single, alright.” The current song comes to an end and some pairs start to break away. Almost as if he knew you were talking about him, his cousin's eyes wander over to where you and Jeongin are resting.

And much to your dismay, he starts to make his way over to you both.

As the boy makes his way in front of you both, you realize how intimidating he was. His dark eyes are sharp and unimpressed, sweat lingering on his face from dancing in the hot, crowded room. Maybe it was because you were aware you weren't supposed to be here, but you swear his gaze was intense enough to make you sweat yourself. You do your best to keep your eyes locked on his chest, his arms, his neck, anywhere that kept you from meeting his eyes. All the while you could feel his own locked on you.

“What is she doing here?” The older boy questions his cousin. “Oh, she helped me out on the way here. Saw me struggling and all.” Jeongin trails off as if to observe what his cousin’s reaction would be. “Yeah, I carried a watermelon.” The words tumble out of your mouth before your mind can comprehend them. At this, Minho spares you a judging glance that makes you feel small, not bothering another word before turning and walking back to the dance floor. And as soon he turns your eyes rolls and you mumble to yourself about your idiotic words, shaking your head with a sigh as you wish you could forget the awkward encounter.

The next couple of songs play without incident; you stay by Jeongin's side, making idle small talk as you enjoy the music. All the songs being played are quite different from those that the live band play on the main floor, but you might even enjoy these songs even more. As each melody goes on you find yourself subconsciously moving and bobbing to the beat, especially as you watch everyone around you flowing along with the instrumentals.

Continuing your small movements with a small smile upon your lips, your eyes wander around the room, taking in how the crowd changes their movements when a slightly more upbeat song starts to play. As your eyes make their way back to in front of you, the smile you once sported falls just as you still your body. You find a familiar dancer making his way straight towards you.

He makes his appearance without a word, simply reaching out to grasp your hand with his nimble fingers. Minho gently gives you a tug, head nodding towards the dance floor as he walks you there. You feel your mouth slightly part in surprise but you find yourself unable to protest, head glancing back as Jeongin as he merely gives you a shrug, looking almost as confused as you are.

Minho doesn’t stop until you’re both in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by the other moving bodies. He makes his way in front of you making sure he has your attention, “Watch.” You swallow deeply as the taller boy starts to move, simply swaying his hips back and forth to the beat of the song. “Go on.” He states again and you bite the inside of your cheek questioning if you would rather run back to his cousin than to attempt to dance in front of him, but you figure you can attempt this basic move he basically saw you doing before he dragged you out here.

You start to move after a deep breath, following along the best you could though you could already tell you were not nearly as smooth as the dancer.

“Good,” he nods his head “Now bend your knees, lower your hips.” He taps his pelvis to draw attention to the next move, his body now lower even as he continues his swaying movements.

Your body awkwardly lowers to try to match him and you suddenly become aware of how foolish you must look. A fish out of water compared to how smooth everyone is around you. Quickly glancing around you, you try to see if anyone else is seeing how awful you’re doing.

“Hey, look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” You draw your eyes back to Minho as he attempts to keep your attention on him. You do your best to keep everyone else around you out of your mind and hope you don’t draw their eyes in with your bad dancing. “Now roll your hips right,” he demonstrates slowly, “And then left.” He smoothly rolls his hips in a circle, alternating sides as he told you.

When it was your turn to attempt you furrow your brows clearly having to concentrate more to get it done. He chuckles slightly at you but still praises, “Good, that’s it.”

The two of you continue that for a moment before he creeps closer, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. Your breath hitches in your throat as he holds your hips to his, having to place one of your hands on his bicep to keep you from stumbling, both of you still moving with the flow he taught you moments before. You can feel your face flush at the proximity and the mere movement you both are doing together. The only other time you can think of doing something similar involves the last boy you were with and being between the sheets, the movements could almost be the same you find yourself thinking. Only the thought flushes your cheeks even more.

As the two of you fall into a more comfortable rhythm matching the song, Minho starts to move more. He skillfully sways you both side to side even dipping you back slightly, your hand finding its way to his shoulder to steady yourself. It’s all much funner than you expected and you can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face along with a giggle that breaks through your lips as he pulls you closer to him.

Unfortunately the fun and the song have to end at some point, Minho separates from you, magically twirling you around as the last notes of the song play. The crowd around you stops dancing and the room fills with claps and cheers end off the music.

Still giddy, you clap along turning around with a smile only to find the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Awkwardly stopping your movements, you flatten your hair and start to move through the crowd looking to make your way back to Jeongin, suddenly feeling red and flustered, your heart still pounding in your chest from the small dance you just shared.

It’s only a few short nights later that you find yourself in the presence of Minho once again, but this time the circumstances are very different.

You stand under a well lit gazebo along with your parents and Max. The large platform acts as a dance floor, many bodies dancing classically to the soft music, a change of scenery from the usual ballroom floor. The fairy lights are bright enough to brighten up the whole area, the music plays from a record player in the corner; a contrast to the live band, and being outside once the sun goes down allows for a coolness to cover the space. It’s not much, but you are glad you decided to wear your cardigan.

You stand closely to your mother, both of you keeping an eye on your sister who dances in the center of the place with Chan, who had the night off. Glancing up at her you both give each other a knowing smile at the kind boy that has caught Daisy’s eye this summer.

As they move a bit from out of your sight, you bring your attention back to your father and Neil as they talk of their old college days.

As the bodies continue to sway and move you can’t help but notice Minho among the crowd, his expert moves sticking out like a sore thumb. You watch as him and his partner move closer to the corner where you stood. You look at the girl in his arms and notice it’s not his usual partner Jeongin introduced to you as Momo. Instead this woman you could immediately tell was much older than Minho in age, that was obvious in appearance. And unlike Momo’s professionalism, this woman seemed much more interested in staying close to the boy rather than any real ballroom dancing.

“Hello, Ruby. How are you doing?” You turn your head towards Max who speaks to the woman in Minho’s arms. She gives him a cunning smile, resting her head on the dark-haired boy’s shoulder, “I’m doing just fine, Max.” Max keeps a smile and nods as the pair continue their dance moving on along the room.

Once they’re far enough you hear Max sigh, “That’s what we call a Bungalow Bunny here.” This has the attention of both you and your parents, “They come every summer with their husbands, though their husbands only come down on the weekend. Ruby’s husband pays for her dance lessons,” he puts out his head to where she was with Minho. “It’s a difficult situation, she must be lonely.” He states and you swallow at his implications; that Minho is offering much more than dance lessons to this married woman.

You find yourself getting sleepy the more you stand there, no longer interested in any of the conversation your father and Max find themselves having. And just when you thought your mood couldn’t be more sour, you spot Neil entering the gazebo and make his way over to the corner. You politely greet him but you dread it when he asks you to join him for a dance, “Oh I don’t know, Neil. I’m practically falling asleep here.” You force out a giggle to keep the atmosphere light. “Well how about a walk then? There’s a full moon tonight and the view will be beautiful by the lake.”

You’re just as ready to turn his offer down again, but you feel your mom slightly push your lower back. You know right away what this means, go on with him. Though you dread it, you know it’s the right thing to do when his uncle is standing right next to you and he being the one to invite your family to stay at his resort.

So that’s how you find yourself walking along the grass towards the lake, the moonlight being the only form of brightness in the night. Neil has been dragging on about how he got in an argument with one of the lifeguards and you haven’t been able to get a single word in since you started your walk. Finally getting to the dock, you take a deep breath and enjoy the view trying your best to block out Neil’s ramblings.

Your view seems to almost be ruined though, when you feel the boy place his arm over your shoulder, “And I said, you know what Jimmy doesn’t have? Three hotels!” The boy laughs at his own joke and you give him a tight lipped smile to keep your rudeness at bay.

But that seems to be getting harder to do when you feel Neil start to play with the ends of your hair, taking it softly in the tips of his fingers. “You know, when it comes time, there are much more important things than looks when choosing a man is involved.”

An unamused laugh leaves your lips as you slip yourself from out of his grip, “You know Neil, I’m actually kind of hungry. Maybe we can head back so I can have a snack.” He smiles at you, not at all fazed by your actions, “No problem at all, there’s actually a small kitchen for the staff in this building, we can grab you something there before heading back.”

You follow him to the small building by the lake, you look around the dark building as Neil points out the sights. “And here is the kitchen, it’s pretty small but it’s usually just for the staff to have their lunches when they’re working around the lake.” He stands by the doorframe as you walk in the narrow kitchen. The boy continues to talk about some of the different staff schedules as you hear a small whimper coming from the corner.

Looking alarmed at Neil, he doesn’t seem to notice as he continues his talking. Carefully you move further into the room pretending to look at the different arrangement of snacks. Finally you hear the sound more clearly and look in the corner, someone is hunched between the fridge and the wall. The person looks up and you fight the gasp that threatens to leave your throat. You make eye contact and immediately know who it is, you would recognize his partner anywhere.

Momo looks up from you, whimpering and shaking, clearly having been crying for who knows how long.

You swallow quickly and trust your gut.

Turning around you make your way back to Neil, grabbing an apple in the basket by the door, “I think it will do, Neil. Thank you for showing me this, and for the snack. I think we should head back now, I wouldn’t want to worry my parents.”

“Of course, let’s go.” He shuts the door behind him and you make your way back to the gazebo as quickly as you can.

Your heart is in your throat and you consider yourself lucky that Neil has separated himself from you by the time you get back to the gazebo. You try to think of the best way to approach the situation and decide it’s best not to interrupt Minho, whom you still barely know, especially when he’s with his client in the middle of the dance floor. Recalling from earlier in the night, you remember you saw Jeongin in the opposite corner from you, doing his job of handing out drinks to the guests.

Relief floods your system when you see the dark-haired boy in the same spot as before. Rushing over as quickly as you could without drawing attention to yourself, you finally place your arm on his shoulder. A friendly smile starts to form on his face but before he could even greet you, you bring your mouth to his ear, hand cupping around them both in order to tell him of the questionable situation you were in before finding him.

His eyes widen at your words and he quickly makes his way to Minho in the middle of the floor, obviously not having the same worries as you did about interrupting him. You keep your eyes on the two boys and you notice Minho becomes just as alert as Jeongin when he tells him. There’s a part of you that is relieved you told the boys, it seems as though you made the right decision with how they’re reacting as you watch them rush out of the busy gazebo.

And before you can tell yourself any better, you follow them.

The adrenaline is still high in your bloodstream as you follow both of the boys as they nearly run to reach Momo. You’ve realized long ago you really have no place to be here but your curiosity gets the best of you once again; you need to know what’s happened to the girl and you can only hope it’s nothing bad.

“Do you know what happened?” you ask and they get closer to the location and Jeongin looks back as if he’s shocked you’re still there. He answers nonetheless, “She’s having a bad high.” The older doesn’t seem pleased by the information his cousin disposed and he nearly yells back at him, “Fuck, Jeongin! You can’t just go around telling people that shit.”

Your heart is stuck in your throat as you feel you’re being told off, perhaps you now know why curiosity killed the cat.

“Now she’s going to off to tell her manager boyfriend, gonna get us all fired” Minho mumbles even further and you can’t help but your blood to boil at the underming comment. “I would never tell anyone, I’m not some kind of snitch.” You bit back not even getting the chance to explain your nonexistent relationship with Neil before you’ve reached the destination.

You stay put outside with Jeongin and Minho hurriedly picks up Momo and comes out to continue along the path.

Figuring you’re already in deep enough, you continue to follow them to where you assume is their home for the summer.

Further down the dirt road, you’re met with a series of small apartment-like houses; there’s a sign further up the hill reading “Staff Housing”. They’re quaint and obviously not as well taken care of as the main resort. The porch creeks under the weight of you all as you make your way into room numbered 143.

You stay put by the door you’ve closed behind you, keeping your hand on the handle; ready to leave if the hosts deemed your presence unnecessary (though you already knew it was).

Watching quietly, you take in how Jeongin brings her a glass of water and Minho wraps her in a blanket, sitting beside her on the small couch and urging her to drink.

Momo must’ve had been alone for some time because she already seems to be sobering up and paying attention to Minho who rubs her back comfortingly.

“You have to do the program, Mo.” He speaks softly to her and you listen carefully to their hushed conversation.

Jeongin, who had made his way back to stand closer to you whispers to you, “There’s a program she’s found out about that could help break the addiction.” You nod at him, silently thanking him for explaining to you once again.

The girl finishes her water and the boy beside her repeats himself once again, softly removing the hair from her face in order to look at her properly. She scoffs in return, turning her head away from his hands, “You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” You speak, what you meant to be a whisper where only Jeongin could hear but your voice comes out much louder than you intended. The couple on the couch look at you and your face flushes with the feeling you don’t belong.

“The program costs a lot of money,” Jeongin murmurs, still answering your question whether the other two wanted it to be known or not.

Momo, who seemingly just noticed you were here, stares at you for a second before speaking up herself, “Yeah, try three hundred dollars. That’s a whole summer’s worth of paychecks.” She leans back into the couch but keeps her cold gaze on you, “But you wouldn’t understand that, would you? Must be nice to have access to daddy’s money.”

It’s clear the words are spoken with the purpose to hurt you but you don’t make a move, not giving her the satisfaction. It feels as though you both are in a staring contest until Jeongin makes the first move, “I’ll make you a sandwich, you should eat.” Momo turns her eyes to the younger boy, giving him a smile and you take the chance to quietly leave the room you were never welcome in.

You knew you shouldn’t let the words Momo said affect you so much, she had not been in the right state in the first place. But nonetheless, her comment played through your head as you toss and turn in bed that night.

The next morning you found yourself trekking to the golf course bright and early to find your father. Walking along in the cool morning you’ve tried to justify your actions by convincing yourself what you’re about to do is for the sake of helping someone else. But no matter how many times you repeat it, you know that’s not the reason at all for your petty actions.

“Daddy!” You call out finally locating your parents practicing their putting. Grabbing his attention, he looks up with a smile, “Good morning, my love. Did you already have breakfast?”. Keeping the bright smile on your face you go to hug him, “I was on my way to but thought I would say good morning first since I didn’t see you last night.”

He hums, taking another hit at a ball. “Daddy, about last night,” you start recalling the lie you’ve made up, “I made a friend and she’s trying to buy a place ticket. Her mom is sick and she wants to go home and see her but she has no way of affording it.” He silently looks at you and you take the chance to continue, “She’s a worker here and they don’t pay enough for her to buy it herself.”

He nods and hits another ball, “And what do you suggest we do?” You make your smile a bit smaller, “I was hoping we could help her, daddy. As a doctor I know you always help people in need so I thought this could be my way of helping her, wouldn’t that be nice?”

Knowing you’ve hit a soft spot with him as he tries to hide his smile, you keep your own bashful. “I suppose you’re right. I’m so lucky that my daughter has a good heart like you. I’ll write you a check at lunch.”

Walking into the workers lounge late that night, you feel almost powerful with the check in your hand. You confidently make your way in, moving through the bodies closely dancing together until you spot Jeongin on the side of the room.

You make your way to him giving him a smile which he returns. Just to the right you notice Momo dancing with Minho to the calm song playing over the speakers and you take the chance to approach her. Jeongin follows closely, either curious about what you have to say or worried she won’t be happy to see you.

You slightly tap Momo on the shoulder, grabbing both her and Minho’s attention. Motioning for them to follow you, you go to the edge of the dance floor where they could hear you better.

The pair follow without question, obviously curious about what you have to say. They stare at you for a moment and you hold out the check to her, “Here.”

She cautiously grabs the paper and looks shocked when she realizes what it is, “Are you serious right now?” Minho looks just as surprised, grabbing the check to look at it himself. You merely nod at her, keeping your face serious. “How did you get this?” The dancer speaks up as he examines the check and you keep your gaze steady, “It was easy, all I had to do was go ask my daddy.” You look at Momo raising your eyebrows, “Right?” You can’t help but the petty comment to slip your lips but you thought it was the least she deserved.

She bashfully looks down and takes the check, passing it back to you, “Thanks, but I can’t take it.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “Why not?” Your confusion grows as even the man beside her looks shocked, “Yeah, why not? You need to take it, Mo.” She merely shakes her head and it’s Jeongin who finally speaks up. “The program takes place on Thursday nights,” at the comment Minho seems to understand, a frown forming on his face.

“What does that mean?” Jeongin looks at you, “They both have another gig at a hotel a little away from here. If they don’t show up they lose their spot not only this summer but next summer too. They need the money,” he trails off.

You think quickly, “Well can’t someone else take your place?” Minho rolls his eyes at your suggestion, “No, no one can take her place. Everyone works around here but that’s not something you would know about.”

Eyebrows furrowed, you feel fed up with the comments about your work ethic and you’re half tempted to grab the check and leave, never having to talk to them again.

But before you can even process, Momo lights up, “That’s right! It’s perfect, everyone does work but she doesn’t! She can take my place!” You already panic at the weird idea and you can see right away Minho does too, “What, absolutely not! She’s not a dancer!”

His cousin on the other hand seems to agree with Momo, “I think it’s a great idea! I mean, you were literally just teaching her how to dance the other night, weren’t you?” Jeongin states almost smugly. At this Momo turns her head to Minho, raising her brows, “Well, then that’s that.”

Taglist: @linocvp1d @blankdyean @adeards @lomllino @brooklynie @noellllslut @djeniryuu @eternitywaveshello @drhsthl @urmomma0324

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

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laxmiree · 6 months

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[CN] MLQC's Lucien Binding Knot Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Translation under the cut~

[Notes from Lux: Here's the CN video link if anyone want to follow along his Voice Acting. VERY recommended to re-read S1 chapter 9 and his Chinese Wedding SP Bound By Love/A Love Not in Vain because this date specifically references these two stories. AND perhaps Sacred Mountain Date regarding his belief in God(s)]

[Part 1]

Lucien: Today is Saturday. Didn't we agree not to work?

Lucien places a bowl of freshly washed blueberries on the coffee table and casually feeds me a few. I sit on the sofa, engrossed in the documents on my laptop.

MC: Kiki has sorted the photography registration form; I need to quickly finish reviewing it so that I can contact them earlier.

Recently, our company launched a charity project called "Taking Family Portraits for One Hundred Elderly People." After the announcement was made, we received dozens of registration forms in just two days.

MC: By the way, Lucien, if any professors from Loveland University are interested in this project, you can invite them as well.

MC: We've rented the best photography studio, and the photographers are top-notch, so you can rest assured about the photo quality.

Lucien: With so many people applying, I think we should try to avoid giving slots to people we know, right?

MC: Don't worry. Even though we're promoting it as a hundred people externally, we've discussed it internally and will try to accommodate as many as possible.

MC: We're willing to help strangers, let alone the people we know.

Lucien: In that case... I do have an idea.

Lucien points to the peace knot hanging on my wall- a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave, and it still hangs on one side of Lucien's bookshelf.

MC: Are you talking about Grandma Wen?

Grandma Wen is an elderly person who lives alone. Lucien and I have a close relationship with her. We've learned how to weave knots from her and even borrowed wedding attire. So, we visit her whenever we have free time.

She is also very hospitable to us, always arranging snacks for us to enjoy. She also advises us young people not to focus only on work but to remember to take care of ourselves.

MC: Actually, I did consider inviting her at first, but Grandma Wen's husband has already passed away, and having her take a family portrait alone might be a bit…

Lucien: Are you worried that it might make her uncomfortable?

Seeing me nod, Lucien leans back on the sofa, tilts his head, and smiles slightly.

Lucien: [chuckles] I think she won't mind at all.

Lucien: How about we ask her? One never knows.

After a lengthy discussion, we decided to call Grandma Wen. I carefully choose my words and extend the invitation, but Grandma Wen laughs heartily and readily accepts.

We finalize the shooting schedule. Lucien and I will pick her up together when the time comes.

However, Grandma Wen suggests she'd like to bring her cat, Baby, along for the photoshoot.

[Part 2]

On the agreed-upon morning, we arrive punctually at Grandma Wen's doorstep. While Lucien parks the car, I take the initiative to go and knock on the door.

The black-and-white spotted little cat lies under the eaves, rolling around playfully and occasionally pawing at something in the air, looking quite content.

MC: Baby~ Come here kitty for a hug~

But the little kitty pays no attention to me, completely engrossed in rolling on the ground. It rolls several times and ends up a meter away from me.

Lucien: (gently calls the kitty) Baby, come here.

Just as Lucien approaches, Baby suddenly gets up, takes two steps, and runs to Lucien's feet. It raises its paw and paw at the cuff of Lucien's pants, meowing incessantly.

MC: That's quite a contrast in treatment!

MC: Although I've played with it plenty of times before, it still prefers you. That's unfair!

Lucien lowers his gaze and sighs at the cat.

Lucien: [chuckles] You see, I didn't do anything, but she's angry just because you like me more.

Lucien: If you could talk, I'm sure you'd also think this is even more unfair to me, right?

Lucien crouches down and strokes the cat's head, using his fingers to rub its cheek gently.

Lucien: Please remember to be a little more coquettish with her later. Otherwise, I'll be in a tough spot.

MC: ...Hmph, you're not in a tough spot at all!

Lucien can't resist laughing and takes out a sealed bag of cat treats from his pocket, feeding them to Baby.

Lucien: Baby is actually relatively easy to please. Just give it some treats a few more times, and it will be circling around you.

Grandma Wen: MC, you're here…

I turn around and see that Grandma Wen is already standing at the door.

MC: Grandma! You look so beautiful today!

Grandma Wen is wearing a short jacket with a standing collar and a diagonal button today. It's evident at a glance that the craftsmanship is exquisite.

The satin fabric is smooth and lustrous, while the embroidery is lifelike with intricate stitching.

Grandma Wen sheepishly waves her hand.

Grandma Wen: These are old clothes I haven't worn in seven or eight years. It's rare that I've taken them out.

MC: Old clothes? I can't tell. They look just like new…

MC: Is the embroidery on the hem here the Lotus Pond? Each lotus is transitioned with several colors... It's really beautiful!

MC: Did you embroider this yourself, Grandma?

Grandma Wen touches the hem, smoothing the embroidered threads of the lotus leaves.

Grandma Wen: My husband made this for me when he was still alive.

Grandma Wen: From pattern drafting to embroidery, he did every step himself, insisting that his craftsmanship was better than mine.

Grandma Wen: These embroideries used to be even more beautiful, but unfortunately, the thread colors have faded over time.

MC: I can't tell that the thread colors have faded. I think it looks incredibly beautiful.

MC: Your complexion looks great today. When it's time for the photo shoot, we'll have a hairstylist do your hair. We must create a hairstyle that compliments this dress perfectly.

Lucien walks over carrying a cat carrier and lets Grandma Wen check Baby's condition.

Lucien: I used some cat treats to coax it into the carrier, and it didn't make any fuss and was very well-behaved.

Grandma Wen: Baby~ Baby, today we're going out for a photoshoot. After we get in the car, you must be good and not cause any trouble for your brothers and sisters, okay?

Grandma Wen claps her hands toward the cat inside the carrier, and Baby starts to scratch the carrier, about to meow. But Lucien offers a cat treat, and it immediately quiets down.

I give Lucien a thumbs up - only he can do it.

Lucien: How about you sit in the back with Grandma Wen later? If Baby wants to come out, you can feed it some cat treats.

MC: Mm, no problem~

Grandma Wen: Is it time to leave? Let me grab a few things.

Grandma Wen goes back inside and returns with a Chángshān covered in a dustproof cover. I have a vague idea of who the owner of this robe might be.

Grandma Wen: I made this Chángshān for my husband when I was young. It was his favorite outfit. I'll bring it along for the photoshoot. So, it's as if he's also accompanying me.

Lucien takes a half step forward, probably thinking that the gown in the bag is not light and wanting to help Grandma Wen get it into the car. However, when he catches my gaze, he takes a step back.

Lucien: Let's get in the car, Grandma.

Lucien opens both car doors, assists Grandma Wen into the car, helps her fasten the seatbelt, and then checks that the cat carrier on my lap is secure before closing the car doors.

[Part 3]

After arriving at the photography studio, the makeup artist has to apply makeup and do the hair for Grandma Wen.

I'm worried that Grandma Wen might hesitate to communicate her needs with the makeup artist, so I am constantly accompanying her, talking to her, and helping her with her makeup.

Lucien is responsible for taking care of Baby, who starts running around as soon as they enter the photography studio.

Grandma Wen: When we first found Baby in the wild, it was only as big as the palm of a human hand. I made a nest for it with a towel, and it slept under the dining table.

Grandma Wen: In the blink of an eye, it has grown so big.

Grandma Wen: When it was little, it wasn't this mischievous. It used to lie in the corner every day obediently and didn't let anyone approach. As soon as someone got close, it would run away.

Grandma Wen: Now, it plays with birds, teases dogs, and does all sorts of daring things. There's nothing it's afraid to do.

Grandma Wen gently squeezes my hand and says.

Grandma Wen: You should go outside and take a look. It's not easy for Professor Lucien to keep an eye on Baby all by himself. There are machines everywhere here. Don't let that smelly cat cause any trouble for you.

I nod and walk out of the makeup room.

In the living room of the photography studio, there is a bright lounge area. Lucien is holding a cat teaser toy, playing with Baby as it pounces back and forth on the sofa.

MC: You even brought a cat teaser wand?

Lucien: Not just that, I also have a cat jingle bell ball and a laser pointer in the trunk.

Lucien: I consulted my colleagues who have pets, and they said that if you want your pets to behave well for photos, you need to let them play for a good hour beforehand.

Lucien: Once they get tired from playing, they can cooperate more.

I walk over and sit down on the sofa, gently petting Baby's head. It doesn't resist and tilts its head up, allowing me to scratch its chin.

Lucien finds a moment to rest and casually picks up a book from the bookshelf, leaning back on the sofa.

MC: (smiles) It seems like this method is working. It's already behaving quite well now.

Lucien: It's probably just temporarily tired from playing. After a short rest, it will be jumping around again.

Lucien: After all, it's the most mischievous kitten I've ever seen.

Lucien gently taps the top of the Baby's head, and the kitten raises its front paw, quickly grabbing his finger.

Lucien: It climbs trees, catches birds, and even fights with stray cats... When it's full of energy, there's no stopping it.

I recall not too long ago when Baby went missing again. When we found it, it was in the middle of a fight with a stray cat outside, and its face was scratched up.

We were afraid that Grandma Wen would worry if she saw its condition, so we didn't return it directly. Instead, we told her that we were taking it to the hospital for a check-up and would bring it back once it recovered.

MC: (smiles softly) Do you remember what you said the last time we took Baby to the hospital?

Lucien: Hm?

MC: You said that despite its many escapades, Grandma Wen never considered keeping it indoors and always let it go out to play.

Lucien: I remember, if it were up to me, I wouldn't let this little cat run wild everywhere.

I pick up the cat teaser toy and start playing with the little cat, swinging it on and off.

MC: As soon as we mentioned taking a family photo, Grandma Wen immediately thought of bringing the cat along.

MC: It's clear that in Grandma Wen's heart, it's her most important family member.

MC: That's how it is among family members. No matter how worried or concerned we are, we still want the other person to be happy and do what they want to do.

Lucien: ….Our Great Producer has something to say and found a good way to start the conversation.

Noticing that I had a hidden agenda, Lucien had already guessed what it was.

Lucien: Grandma Wen already told you, didn't she?

MC: Right before the makeup session, Grandma Wen pulled me aside in a corner to talk.

MC: She said that you've been to the Matchmaker's Temple alone several times before and also visited her along the way.

I sigh meaningfully.

MC: Professor Lucien, have you encountered a problem that materialism* can't solve?

[T/N: Materialism in this context is more of a philosophical belief that only physical matter exists and that everything can be explained through the physical world and natural laws.]

Lucien leans back leisurely on the sofa, wearing only a light smile.

Baby rolls over under his palm, purring contentedly.

Lucien: Gods don't solve problems. I'm a researcher, and I still have to uphold certain principles.

Lucien: But when it comes to matters of the heart, it's just too complicated... variables abound, and there's no optimal solution.

Lucien: So, I often wonder if a certain little fool occasionally worries about me or gets angry for me. Is it because I haven't done well enough?

He lifts the corner of his eyebrows, seeming not to be troubled by this matter, just candidly sharing his feelings.

The unbridled sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating the tenderness in his eyes with exceptional clarity.

Lucien: Questions without answers are better left to metaphysics.

Lucien: Even if the problem doesn't get solved, you can still find some comfort in it to some extent.

As Lucien speaks, he no longer plays with Baby. The cat feels neglected and keeps nudging Lucien's palm with its head.

I stroke its fluffy head and realize that it's been a very long time since the first time I saw this cat with Lucien in the wheat field.

Some things probably don't have answers in either science or metaphysics; the experiences of life are what will eventually reveal the truth.

MC: Lucien, do you know what Grandma Wen just said to me?

Lucien: Tell me.

MC: She told me that a person's life is too short. In the blink of an eye, it's five years, and then another blink, it's ten years.

MC: That's how she and her husband lived their lives, bickering and muddling through, and they ended up spending their whole lifetime together.

MC: Looking back, the bumps in the road and trivial matters along the way don't hold much significance compared to being able to harmoniously live together for a lifetime.

Lucien straightens up, seeing that there's no one around, and then suddenly leans down to place a kiss on my forehead.

The warm sunshine reflects in his eyes as he looks at me. He smiles a little and casually picks up the kitty, holding it in his arms as if nothing happened.

Lucien: Grandma Wen is right.

[Part 4]

After the lighting technician adjusts the lighting, Lucien and I stand in the corner of the photography studio.

Grandma Wen sits on the mahogany bench, spreading her husband's Chángshān flat across her lap. The photographer holds Baby and places it on the Chángshān.

The naturally mischievous cat is being incredibly well-behaved at this moment. No matter how the photographer handles it, it's willing to cooperate and even knows how to look at the camera.

Photographer: Grandma, please reach out your hand and gently touch the cat's head—yes, that's right, just a natural touch will do.

Photographer: This cat is so well-behaved, cooperative and calm.

Grandma Wen: Good Baby, I'll make you some fish to eat when we get back tonight.

Photographer: Grandma, let's maintain this pose and take two more shots.

Lucien gazes at the scene before him, momentarily lost in thought.

Lucien: From the first time we entered her house, I noticed that there were no photos of her and her husband displayed in her home.

Lucien: Upon careful inquiry, I discovered that they had indeed never taken any photos together.

Lucien: ...Two people spending a lifetime together is something worth commemorating. They should have had a photo together.

After he says that, he turns his head slightly and whispers in my ear.

Lucien: Thanks to the producer's help, at least Grandma Wen has a family portrait now, regardless of the circumstances.

For a moment, I'm unsure of what to say.

He's truly humble for someone who has doubted his understanding of love.

—--------------------------------------------------------

After the shoot, Lucien and I accompanied Grandma Wen back the same way we came.

Grandma Wen: Stay for dinner. You two don't be so polite…

Grandma Wen: I feel bad that both of you have been busy all day. Having a meal together is no big deal, just a few extra pairs of chopsticks.

We don't want her to have to deal with cooking after a long day of photoshoots, so we politely decline.

Lucien: Grandma, it's still early. MC and I plan to visit the Matchmaker Temple, so we won't stay.

Lucien: You've had a long day today. Remember to rest well.

MC: Yes, Grandma. After the photos are developed, I'll bring them to you right away. We'll have the meal you promised then.

Grandma Wen didn't insist on keeping us any longer, but she promised that the next time we visit, we must stay for a meal. We quickly nodded in agreement.

—--------------------------------------------------------

On the way to the Matchmaker Temple, the sun gradually sets, casting a beautiful array of evening colors between the trees and stone steps. It's hard for anyone walking through this scenery not to feel relaxed.

MC: It's quite rare for this place to be this peaceful.

Lucien: Festivals have yet to happen recently, so there are very few tourists. The Matchmaker God can take a break too.

MC: With no incense burning at the Matchmaker Temple, does it mean that everyone hasn't been facing relationship difficulties? It seems like a good thing, doesn't it?

Lucien: (shushes and whispers) Shhh... with a troubling view like that, you might upset the Matchmaker God. Be careful not to displease him.

I can't help but laugh at his teasing, and I also find his words reasonable. I quickly pull Lucien to pay respects to the Matchmaker and offer incense.

I hope that the Matchmaker is understanding and doesn't take my words to heart.

After offering incense and making a donation, Lucien and I found a couple of chairs inside the temple and sat down. We plan to watch the sunset for a while and leave when the temple closes.

The faint scent of sandalwood here blends with the natural aroma of the forest, creating a tranquil and enduring atmosphere that instantly soothes the heart. I lean closer to Lucien and ask softly.

MC: Lucien, what wishes did you make when you came here alone before? Have any of them come true?

Lucien bends slightly, brushing away a cluster of dandelion seeds that accidentally caught onto his shirt cuff. He then leisurely curves his lips into a smile.

Lucien: I don't even remember the specific wishes I made anymore.

Lucien: They were probably just about small things, like planning to meet up but then having something come up at the research institute, causing me to break the appointment.

Lucien: Another example is when I promise to sleep well, but then accidentally stay up for a few nights and get caught by you.

Lucien: (laughs softly)....

Lucien: Now that I think about it, they were indeed all trivial matters, and you've always been very understanding.

Lucien lifts his gaze, meeting my eyes.

Lucien: Although we quickly forget these minor disagreements.

Lucien: But occasionally, I do pay attention to these little disagreements that fill our lives. After all, even the smallest things have their own meaning.

I can't help but let my lips curl up slowly, and Lucien lifts his chin, revealing a somewhat helpless expression.

Lucien: It's evident that the Great Producer is very pleased with my introspection.

MC: …..Pfft, not exactly 'very'.

MC: I'm just marveling at how Professor Lucien sets such astonishingly high standards for himself.

MC: It seems like I don't reflect on my actions much when I make you angry... But from today on, I'll try to change that.

Lucien: [chuckles] It's okay.

Lucien changes the topic, and a smile spreads in his eyes.

Lucien: Now that I think about it, these little bumps and trivial matters aren't really that important.

He takes a knot from his pocket and hands it to me. The way the knot is tied resembles the peace knot that Grandma Wen had taught me before, but the weaving method seems more intricate.

Lucien: This is a knot that Grandma Wen taught me to weave as a special thank you for us.

Lucien: She also said that the name of this knot is yí shì yíjiā (宜室宜家).

Lucien: Today, it seems like I have a clearer understanding of the meaning of this word.

[T/N: 宜室宜家 is a Chinese idiom that means "live harmoniously; make a harmonious and orderly home." It is often used as a congratulatory message on a wedding. The idiom comes from a line in the poem "Tao Yao" in the Book of Songs, which reads, "之子于归，宜其室家" (the son is returning home, where he should live harmoniously with his wife and make a harmonious and orderly home). And it fits with the date theme of living harmoniously together for a lifetime despite all the small bumps🥺.]

Suddenly, my heart feels soft, and I take a small step closer to Lucien's shoulder. I pick up my phone and open the front camera.

I put both of us in the frame.

The setting sun casts a gentle glow behind us, and the breeze is light, creating a tranquil and beautiful atmosphere.

MC: The sunset today looks beautiful. Let's take a photo together.

MC: 3, 2, 1–

My trailing voice fades away in the warm breath as Lucien lowers his head and kisses me.

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

[Bonus Call - "Family Portrait"]

Lucien: Hello, it's me. I have some good news to tell you.

MC: What is it?

Lucien: Didn't you put Grandma Wen's family portrait photo on the company's public social media account?

MC: Um... Grandma Wen said it was okay, so I posted it. What's the matter?

Lucien: A professor from the university recognized Grandma Wen's clothes and said he had seen the person in the photo before, right at the West Moon Street intersection.

Lucien: This professor was a photography enthusiast when he was younger, and at the time, he noticed Grandma Wen's well-dressed appearance and couldn't resist taking a photo.

Lucien: Later on, he always wanted to give the photo to Grandma Wen, but he went to West Moon Street a few times and never encountered them again.

MC: "Them?"

Lucien: Mm, that's the good news I wanted to share. The photo the professor took is a picture of Grandma Wen and her husband.

MC: That's quite a coincidence!

Lucien: There's an even greater coincidence.

Lucien: I just got my hands on this photo, and in it, Grandma Wen is holding a tiny kitten the size of her palm.

MC: Is it Baby?

Lucien: Judging by its patterns, it seems so.

Lucien: Although the photo is quite old, I've contacted a professional photo restoration expert, and if all goes well, it should be restored within about a week.

MC: So, we can bring this photo to Grandma Wen next weekend?

Lucien: Exactly. They're real family portraits, and I hope it can truly make up for her regrets.

MC: ...It's really amazing, it feels like there's something guiding us in all of this.

Lucien: Who knows, maybe it really is.

Lucien: Let's go together to get the photo restored later. I know you're eager to see it as soon as possible.

MC: Um—I'll finish up what I'm doing, and then I'll come find you right away!

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

[Lux's Short Rambles]

I didn't expect this date to be this good huhu. It's far better than last pet date where it feels like a plot that got way longer than it should 😂. It's also nice to see old NPCs getting mentioned again. The story of Grandma Wen with her husband is touching.

The theme of spending a lifetime together, despite how short life is, never fails got my heart clenched. And I love how this date highlights what a sensitive person Lucien is (in a good way, well, most of the time). He doesn't mind her getting angry at him because he knows that she does it because she cares about him. But he also genuinely fears that she might not be happy; so he goes to the Matchmaker's Temple alone and cares about these small conflicts, believing that they also have meaning :". But in the end, such trivial things and bumps on the road don't matter compared to being able to live their whole lives together, so rather than getting caught up in minor conflicts or trivial matters along the way it's better to priotize living together harmoniously for a lifetime.

He also noticed the smallest things, like how Grandma Wen and her husband never had their photo taken together since the very first time he and MC met Grandma Wen back in S1 Chapter 9. To quote MC, for someone who claimed he doesn't understand what love is, he's truly humble; perhaps back then, he already understands what love is in his heart by loving MC.

#FINALLY SOMETHING TO HEAL MY HEART AFTER PAIN FROM MAIN STORY AND HALLOWEEN DATE #and touching too; i tear up a little reading this #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers

54 notes · View notes

viviennevermillion · 1 year

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a song for you

notes: listen- we're just uh, not gonna talk about the recent increase in rollo content on my blog. though there's something about the idea of hate-dancing with him that's just very fun to write. i'll probably write another version of this with malmal playing how does a moment last forever on the violin.

prompt: you accidentally catch him playing a song on the piano

contains: rollo flamm x gn!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: glorious masquerade spoilers

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Song: Someday • The Hunchback of Notre Dame

You wandered the streets of the City of Flowers in the early evening hours. The sun had already set, as days were shorter during the winter holidays. The streets were as busy as always as you and your friend walked along the paths that the heart of the city opened for you. Cafe’s and restaurants were lit up by fairy lights that had been hung inside the shops and buildings as well as on the trees to support the ambience of this historic town at this time of the day. It had rained a couple of hours ago and the streets were still wet; some of the puddles reflecting the streetlights and family homes.

The distant chatter of people seemed to blend with the sounds of water from the river the more you got away from the crowds. It had become an almost relaxing tune and you closed your eyes for a bit to relish in the atmosphere. Putting your arms on the balustrade overlooking the river, you could see your school from the other side of the waterway. Noble Bell College, as well as the City of Flowers, had given you quite the experiences this year; some better than others. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but smile when looking back on it; despite the bumps in the road.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”, your friend sighed when they noticed your peaceful smile. “Who?”, you asked, earning an eyebrow-raise from them. “Rollo Flamm. Who else would I be talking about?”, they chuckled.

You hesitated, remembering the way the city had been covered in crimson flowers in October. Your friend, as well as everyone else at Noble Bell College, had no idea what truly happened that night. Who was behind the shock and chaos caused by the plant that had been thought to be extinct for hundreds of years. You hadn’t really talked to Rollo ever since. You didn’t even know what the two of you were. Officially, you hated each other. You had, as one would call it, a rivalry of sorts. Always bantering, always driving each other up the wall. He was driving you insane, in more ways than one.

There was Rollo, who would point out mistakes in your essays and presentations just to get a reaction out of you. The student body president who made sure he always was at the top of his class; having no problem throwing you under the bus in class to show off. The person who always had a condescending counter-argument ready whenever you expressed your perspective on anything. But if you were to be honest, he hadn’t done these things in quite a while. Most of what he said towards you now were dry remarks you knew were supposed to tease you. And statements that sounded less mean-spirited and more like he was deeply in denial about something. Just like me, you thought but pushed that thought down just as quickly as it came.

And then there was that version of Rollo that made your heart flutter. The Rollo who had given you a small necklace with a purple liquid and stars inside it; mirroring the silk scarf a friend of the kind bellringer was said to have as she captivated the people of the city with her beautiful dancing. He had argued that he had won it at the Topsy Turvy festival and saw no use for it. You would have believed him if it hadn’t been for the blush on his cheeks when he gave it to you.

There was also the dance the two of you had shared at the masquerade ball. Despite everything, Rollo had managed to make you smile that evening. Although his facial expression looked shameful and you had the feeling he couldn’t look you in the eyes that night.

There were all the times the two of you, despite your “hatred” for one another, had walked to your classes together and talked about whatever came to mind. Although his words hardly spoke for it, you knew in a way he was looking out for you as you did for him. You’d be lying if you were to say that you hadn’t gazed up to the night sky from your bedroom window during the holidays and wondered whether he was thinking of you even slightly as much as you thought about him.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying”, you finally answered your friend, visibly flustered, “it’s not like I have a crush on him or something.” “Sure…”, they raised their eyebrows in doubt as the wind blew a little harder and you clutched the jacket you were wearing tighter, “that’s his jacket, isn’t it?” You avoided their gaze, clearly pouting. “Listen-”, you protested, “our class teacher sent us out to pick up potion ingredients for the school from the city; it was really cold and he gave it to me because I, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t stop making a fuss about it’. That’s all. It just happens to be very comfortable. He’s not getting it back if he doesn’t ask.” You smirked and your friend laughed. “I don’t even think he wants it back”, they giggled, “like, have you seen the way he looks at you when you wear it? Like he’s one smile away from going down on one knee and promising you his eternal and undying love.” You grimaced and the two of you continued your walk. “I would appreciate it if we could drop the recurring scenarios of me marrying Rollo Flamm”, you said and your friend just sighed, mumbling something about ‘denial’ and ‘stubbornness’.

You walked for a while before eventually hearing a beautiful piano tune. It perfectly matched the evening atmosphere of the City of Flowers and it seemed so full of emotion and passion, that you couldn’t help but want to stay for a while. The song was coming from a narrow alleyway and you grabbed your friend by the arm, dragging them towards the melody. You entered a small courtyard that seemed to belong to a restaurant, as its backdoor was the only other way to access the place aside from the alleyway you and your friend had entered through. The courtyard was decorated by so many lights being spun from tree to tree. There was a small marble stage in the middle of it; solely meant for the grand piano and the musicians who came and went to play on it. And at the piano was sitting none other than Rollo Flamm, playing the beautiful song you were so enchanted by. You had to admit he looked quite handsome, being dressed in a turtleneck shirt, a long winter coat and a cozy scarf wrapped around his neck. The people sitting outside of the restaurant were watching him play just as you and your friend were.

“Speak of the devil”, your friend took a sip from the coffee they had gotten themselves, “your boyfriend’s good though.” “He’s NOT my boyfriend”, you hissed and shook your head in disappointment. But they were right, he was good. You didn’t even know he could play.

“Anyway”, your friend patted your back with a mischievous grin on your face, “I just remembered I still have somewhere to be this evening. You should have a good time with piano boy over there.” They winked and were about to leave as you held them back by their coat. “Let me come with you”, you plead. “To drive my grandma with dementia to her foot waxing appointment?”, they raised an eyebrow. “You’re making this up”, you gestured wildly as they pushed you a step closer to Rollo with a chuckle. Just as you were about to continue arguing, your eyes locked with his as he was close to finishing his piano piece. You just looked at each other for a while before you attempted to turn around to your friend again, only to notice they were long gone.

Rollo finished playing his song and then stood up to walk over to you. Oh no, not good…, you thought. “Y/n”, he acknowledged you with a nod, “what are you doing here? Don’t you have someone to entertain with your little magic tricks?” You rolled your eyes. “Charming as ever”, you hissed under your breath and Rollo covered his angry expression halfway by putting his handkerchief over his mouth. “What were you expecting?”, he let out a bitter laugh, “flowers and chocolate?”

“Rollo…”, you began, left a dramatic pause and then spoke very slowly but clearly, “you of all people should know that I’ve had it with flowers for a while.”

He didn’t answer for a while so you took the initiative to speak again. “I didn’t know you could play an instrument”, you remarked. Rollo shrugged. “Who do you think plays that organ at school all the time?” “That’s you? I loved listening to that”, you exclaimed excitedly, then remembered just who exactly you were talking to and tried to cover it up, “though I’m not sure I still will from now on.” “Well that sounds like a you problem”, he spat back. You regretted your words when he seemed genuinely hurt and didn’t look into your eyes anymore. “I liked the song you just played”, you said quietly, causing him to look up to you again, “it was beautiful.” “Thanks, I guess”, he mumbled with a flushed face.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you, neither of you was quite sure on how to proceed and the longer you remained silent, the weirder the situation got. One of the men sharing a dinner with his family at the restaurant had noticed the tense atmosphere between you and got up to play another song at the piano. Rollo still remained silent for a moment before he spoke, simply listening to the man playing the piano.

“Would you like to dance?”, Rollo asked quietly. His question caught you off guard. “What?” “I said ‘Would you like to dance?’; goodness y/n, are you deaf?”, he blushed furiously as you grabbed his hand and wrapped an arm around his waist, beginning to dance with him. “This takes me back”, you reminisced, “reminds me of the masquerade ball. That could have been such a nice evening if you hadn’t decided to put the whole town in a state of shock and terror the day prior.” “Tsk”, Rollo pulled you closer and rested his head against yours so you couldn’t see his facial expression and so that only you could hear him when he whispered. “I can’t believe you decided to team up with with those annoying Night Raven College students.”

“Well, I witnessed the whole fiasco and thought to myself ‘I am going to drag this man down from that belltower and knock some sense into him and if I have to do it as a magicless pedestrian’”, you chuckled and Rollo closed his eyes, remembering the dance you shared at the masquerade ball and how intimate it felt emotionally despite how angry you two were at each other. “To be honest, you only made me confused”, he whispered back. “Likewise”, you sighed, admittedly, “so…what’s with this place? It’s pretty secluded.”

Rollo hesitated for a moment. “My brother and I used to sneak out of the house as kids a lot and we’d end up here at night. We came here a lot. He loved to dance, even as a little child, so I’d often play the piano for him while he danced when no one else was around”, Rollo smiled fondly, a tear running down his cheek, “though, I have to admit, I didn’t have as much of an idea what I was doing as I do now.” He let out a quiet laugh as he remembered how many mistakes he had made, playing the piano as a kid. But his brother had loved it anyway.

You looked at him with a surprised expression, your eyes meeting his again. “You have a nice laugh”, you confessed before you could think about it, “you should laugh more often.” Rollo would have taken your statement as teasing if it hadn’t been for the genuine tone in your voice; making him hope that you simply wanted to see him happy. You continued dancing in silence for a while. Your eyes wandered to Rollo’s lips, as did his to yours. You leaned in closer, waiting for him to make a move. Your suspicions were proven correctly when Rollo leaned closer as well. “Can I-”, you whispered but Rollo interrupted you. “Goddammit y/n, just kiss me already”, he hissed and your lips met his own. Unlike his words, the kiss was gentle. Your lips plucked at his lower lip lightly and you could hear his breath shaking before he leaned in once more, giving you a quick taste of his tongue before pulling back again. He was blushing but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I really have to go now”, you whispered after glancing at the clock, “I’ll see you after the holidays. Maybe I could listen to you play the piano again sometime.” Rollo nodded. “I’d like that.” “Oh”, you remembered, “I still have to give you your jacket back-” He held his hand up. “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” “Very well then”, you smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek; feeling how soft but cold his skin was under your lips. I could get used to this, you thought before waving him goodbye, maybe next time I should be the one bringing him flowers.

#twisted wonderland #rollo x reader #rollo flamm x reader #rollo flamm #twst rollo #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst jp spoilers

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icey--stars · 1 year

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Stories To Be Told: PART 23

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: i squealed numerous times writing this- from just the pure amount of adorableness.

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Azriel and I had continued this… casual touching. It was comforting, calming. During training, when I either helped him or trained with my sisters, he was always there, and it felt nice to have him so close. He joined me for dinner, whether I be holed up in my little nook, or out with Nesta and Cassian, who were generally eye-fucking each other the entire time. But during that time, he took the chance to throw a casual arm over my shoulder, or just randomly scratch my head. He grabbed my hand in his often, and when I started up work again, he was waiting for me when I returned.

That little bond inside of my chest started to grow. It started to flourish and stretch farther each day. Each day filled with little touches with Azriel.

It wasn’t just Azriel engaging in the touching too–I often decided “fuck it” and grab his hand in mine, or bump against him playfully in the hallway when we were walking somewhere, or after training. I tried to spend more time with him. I really did try. The hours I’d spent by myself, I devoted a good chunk to Azriel, when we’d either curl up on my bed, or on the couch down the hall, where Cassian would find us and smirk. But it was nice. I hadn’t expected this kind of peace to settle within me each time I was near enough to Azriel to feel the bond, and some light version of his emotions, even if they were just saying he was bored.

Though, there wasn’t any more kissing yet. I did notice Azriel’s eyes trailing to the lower half of my face sometimes, but he never brought it up, and I wasn’t a hundred percent certain yet. Kissing meant something more. It meant acceptance.

Today, Azriel was returning from a mission he had for Rhys in Hewn City. I finished up with the priestesses he trained, calling it a day a couple minutes earlier so that I could have a go with Nesta with my sword.

Azriel returned, landing on that training area with a boom, midfight. I grit my teeth, trying to not be distracted. But I felt a distinct amount of negative feelings coming from that bond in my chest and it made me concerned. I turned my head, trying to check on him. I only got as far as seeing his tired hazel eyes before I was wacked across the head with the handle of my own sword as Nesta threw her sword up and forward. I groaned, taking a couple steps back. “Fuck,” I groaned.

Nesta laughed. “Distracted much, sister?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh fuck off,” I growled playfully. “Whatever, you win this time, Nes. See you later?”

“Later,” she promised, glancing over my shoulder a moment before turning away toward Cassian.

I turned, rubbing my head soothingly as I sheath my sword.

Azriel was right there, startling me slightly at how close he was. He lifted a hand toward my own that was held on my sore head, before pulling away with what looked like a grimace. From the bond, there was a weird spike of some negative emotion I couldn’t name. I felt my brows furrow, confused at the sudden change in Azriel. “You alright Az?” I asked, grabbing the hand he’d dropped back down to his side in the one that was on my head.

“I’m fine,” He promised. “Just tired. I’ll be in my room, alright angel?”

I smiled and nodded. “Come find me after work?” I requested. “Or are you planning to bathe till midnight again?”

He scoffed, a small smile appearing on his face. “I’ll find you,” he assured. Then he walked away without another word. There was another pulse of that emotion I couldn’t name before he was out of range again. I sighed, walking over toward Nesta and Cassian.

“Hey Cass,” I said, trying to get his attention for a moment. “If you have time while I’m at work, could you check on Az? He seemed off.”

Cassian nodded. “Sure, I’ll ask him. Also- I’ve been meaning to ask. You two are like- so different. Like did something happen on Starfall between you?”

“Everything’s alright,” I replied. “We-” I cut myself off. Was I going to tell them? I should get it out of the way… but I don’t know if I could. “Just don’t worry about it,” I dismissed, waving my hand.

Cassian raised a brow. “Alright, see you later Y/N.”

I dipped my head to Nesta before taking off, heading for the docks.

-----

When I returned back, Azriel wasn’t waiting for me on the balcony like usual, instantly sparking doubt and worry within me. Instead, Cassian was there, shifting on his feet that was so uncharacteristic of the general. “Cassian?” I questioned, folding my wings behind my back. “What is it?”

Cassian’s jaw tightened before he explained. “I think you should talk to Az,” he began. “He’s in his brooding, and only hums when I talk to him. You both talk so much that maybe he’d respond.”

I swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Thank you Cass,” I said. “I’ll- I’ll try.”

“Whatever shit you guys have going on, I hope you figure it out,” Cassian said, before he walked off. Nesta revealed herself from behind the door once Cassian had made it all the way down the hallway. She walked stiffly toward me, intent on talking to me clearly.

“What the hell is going on with you and Az?” She demanded. “One moment you’re all fucking adorable and then the next he’s brooding and Cassian can’t even get him to spar.”

I tapped my hand against my side a bit, nervous. “I’ll tell you both over dinner, unless you’ve already eaten-?”

“No,” Nesta replied, sighing. “Fine, but you’re telling Cass too.”

I nodded, anxiety curling in my gut. “Let’s go,” I said, walking beside her through the hallways until we made it to the dining room. I silently ordered the shadows to watch my nook, to make sure Azriel didn’t appear.

Cassian glanced at me, but dove into his food before he spared me much more than a single glance. Nesta, however, didn’t touch her food, and instead stared directly at me, a brow quirking upward to prompt me.

“Azriel is-” I cut myself off. Fuck, why was it so hard. “Azriel is my mate,” I whispered, lowering my gaze. Was I ashamed? Was I scared? No, these times were easily the best part of my life. I wasn’t scared or ashamed of them.

Cassian paused immediately, and Nesta’s jaw dropped open. Cassian was the first to move, swallowing down his food before raggedly speaking. “So it finally clicked into place?”

I narrowed my eyes, brows furrowing. “You knew?”

Cassian nodded, almost hesitantly. “Az told me a while ago, before Starfall. Rhys knows too.”

Nesta shoved Cassian lightly. “And what do you think, Y/N?” She asked.

“It’s been good so far,” I answered, still glancing back at Cassian. They’d known? Rhys and Cassian? How the fuck- “What did Az tell you?”

Cassian cleared his voice. “Only that you were mates. Nothing else. I suspect Rhys knows a bit more, but I don’t know. I was supposed to be his wingman, but that kinda failed when you two started arguing and I left you two to your devices.”

“How long has Az known?”

“I don’t know,” Cassian hummed. “You’re not mad, are you?”

I sighed, lowering my gaze. “No. Just confused.”

Nesta reached over to grab my shoulder and force me to look at her. “You two are fucking adorable, by the way, but if you’re mates, maybe you should talk to Az directly. Not have my mate go off and do it for you.”

I grimaced. I did do that. “Sorry Cass,” I apologized.

“No worries,” the general replied. “Might be the mission, might be something else. You never know with broody Az.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, alright, I’ll talk to him. But Cass?”

He looked up again from his food.

“Don’t keep any more secrets like that.”

He grinned. “I’ll try.”

-----

I knocked on the door, trying not to breathe too hard.

“Who is it?” Azriel called out from within his room.

“Y/N!” I called back.

I heard incomprehensible grumbling for a moment before he responded. “Come in.”

I opened the door and saw Azriel laying on a bed of black sheets. Wings splayed out behind him as he leaned against the pillows with covers of a similar color, just more grayish. I hadn’t actually been in his room before. I glanced around, seeing two windows with shutters and curtains that were closed. A dark blue color to them, almost black. To the left there was a door that looked like it led to his bathroom, and then a closet with the door left ajar. Inside, it looked like it was just filled with only black. Of course, there were also some silver glints of weapons within there as well.

I stepped inside, hands tapping against my side anxiously.

Azriel looked over at me, putting a bookmark into some book he was reading, setting it down on the side of him I couldn’t see. “You alright?” He asked.

“Are you alright?” I countered.

“I’m fine,” he replied stiffly, turning his gaze away from mine like he was avoiding it. That emotion stirring from the bond returned. It felt something like guilt, but also stringed in with something else that felt familiar, but I wasn’t able to come up with the proper word for it.

“Cassian says you’re brooding,” I pointed out, walking farther into his room. My eyes caught onto the shadows that were basically pooling off his bed. Drooping and no energy behind them at all. My own scattered off toward them, swirling.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, pulling up one knee to his chest and hugging it with his arms. “Cassian always thinks I’m brooding.”

I raised a brow, stopping at the edge of the bed. It was a size bigger than mine, with room for upwards to three Illyrians if they were willing to squish a bit. He was sitting on the farther side, looking over at me with his head supported by his arm. “Well, I’m inclined to believe him because I keep feeling your emotions over the bond,” I explained. “Am I allowed to ask at least what’s wrong?”

His jaw tightened and his gaze fell to the bed. “It’s nothing,” he dismissed.

“Was it the mission?” I asked.

“No.”

“Is it…” I hummed. “Some asshole?”

“No.”

I swallowed. “Is it me?” A flash of insecurity hit me like a fucking lightning bolt. It was then I recognized the ripples of emotions that had been coming from the bond. Insecurity and guilt. Over what though?

He tensed and I shuffled my wings behind me nervously. It was me. Why- “It’s about you, but it’s just me being stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

I put a knee on the bed, lifting myself onto it and crawling towards Azriel. “What’s wrong?” I asked, taking his hand in mine.

“It’s fine,” he tried again.

I rolled my eyes. “Az, you keep saying that, and then the damned insecurity and guilt comes back over the bond and I can’t believe you. Now come on, what’s wrong? I share my problems with you, you can trust me with yours.”

He took a deep heaving breath. “Do you really want this?” He asked. The question took me off guard. “Shackled to me? For the rest of your life?”

Shackled!? No. No, I wouldn’t be shackled. Not to this beautiful, caring male. Never to him. “Azriel,” I began. “Why would you think I’d be shackled?”

He didn’t respond, just turned away his gaze. He really did look like a broody little spymaster right now. It would’ve been adorable had he not just said the things he said.

“Azriel-” I choked on my words. Realization hit me. I did want the bond. I wanted it so badly my heart threatened to jump out of my chest to be in his beautiful hands. I’d never considered a relationship with anyone before. Not until this male kissed me on Starfall and made me want to return to all the romance books I’d read over the centuries to just remember what relationships should be, or could be like.

“You can say it,” Azriel said. “I know I’m not good enough. You’d probably rather be with some nice male who doesn’t kill for a fucking job.”

“Azriel, I want this bond,” I growled, suddenly frustrated at the fact he’d just said he wasn’t enough. He was damn well enough. He had so much kindness in his heart that sometimes? I didn’t even know what to do with it. “And in case you’ve forgotten- I’ve killed a lot of people too.”

He didn’t reply again. As if he couldn’t believe it, as if my words were a lie.

“Azriel,” I demanded, pulling his hand in my direction so that he was put off balance and had to look in my direction in order to catch himself. “You are enough. More than enough.”

He swallowed, hazel eyes still refusing to meet mine.

“Az, where did this all come from? What made you think like this?” I asked, curling my other hand along the line of his jaw so that I could rub little circles into his cheek. “You are my mate. A fucking wonderful male who anyone would be lucky to have. You know I sometimes still think this is a damn dream? Getting to hold your hand in mine everyday? You are perfect for me. Perfect. Perfect,” I repeated.

I suddenly saw wetness starting at the corners of his eyes and my heart threatened to break.

“I just feel like you should be with someone better. Not… scarred,” he whispered, voice close to breaking from the amount of emotion in it.

I forced his chin up to look at me. “Azriel, you are perfect. Perfect for me. My mate, alright? You are worthy. You’re-” I hesitated at the next sentence, but finished it silently in my mind. You’re mine.

He nodded, and I saw the tears threaten to burst from his eyes. As soon as that first tear did, I scooted closer to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into me. He turned his body, laying on his side with his head buried in my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You deserve better.”

“I deserve you,” I insisted. “I doubt I’m ever going to find time to trust someone as much as I do you. I trusted you to kill Ambroz, I trusted you enough to fucking let you in on some of my most vulnerable moments during my cycle. I trusted you to fucking know about everything in my past Az. I- I love you.”

He pulled away from my shoulder and looked at me with such sadness and vulnerability that I think I felt my heart crack. “I love you too,” He murmured.

I tightened my grip on him, pulling him in closer. “Why’d you start feeling like this?” I asked curiously, trailing one hand up the back of his neck to his hair where I tried to mimic what he usually did for me. “Did something on the mission?”

“No, just my stupid thoughts,” Azriel said, voice muffled and warm against my skin. “And I had to torture someone in Hewn City.”

I closed my eyes briefly before petting through Azriel’s hair again. “I told Nes and Cass about the bond. Cass apparently already knew from a while back.”

Azriel’s wings shuffled, one coming to curl over the lower half of our bodies. “I told him,” he stated.

“How long have you known about this bond?” I questioned.

He chuckled. “Since that day I slapped you after I knocked you unconscious.”

I snorted at the memory. I’d been pissed, and now I was sitting here cuddling that very male that had done that. It was so utterly ironic. That also meant that Azriel had been like this for months, watching as I got sick, watching as I basically screamed at him, and watching as I grew to hate him for many reasons. “I was pissed about that,” I said. “You knocked me out after being too close to Velaris and then slapped me and then just left and came back inviting me to dinner.”

Azriel chuckled, a grin showing from the way his cheeks were raising up and the side of his eye crinkled with delight. “Rhys knows too. After all, I did leave an investigation for no reason.”

I chuckled. “That does mean he gets to know I suppose.”

There were a few silent moments of just companionship. With my hand running through his hair and his body pressed against mine, wing thrown half over us both- it was so perfect.

“So you- you want the bond?”

I grinned. “Yes, Azriel. I do.” After all, what would life be without him? Miserable. Absolutely miserable besides my sisters. “As long as you do.”

“Are you really asking that?” He joked. “I adore you, baby. Yes.”

I chuckled, smiling all huge. The nickname? Fucking hell, I think my soul leapt out of my body and back in from the pure joy of hearing it. “I need a nickname for you,” I chuckled. “Because it is unfair that you can make my knees wobble just from saying that.”

“Aww,” he hummed. “You like being called baby?”

“Stopppp-” I whined. “Give me some names to call you. I can’t handle being the only one. What about love? Or shithead. Take your pick.”

He scoffed, laughing softly against my collarbone. “I’ll take love,” he decided, leaning up slightly and kissing my cheek. My heart positively soared.

“I love you, love,” I teased, grinning.

“I love you too, baby.”

I groaned. “Fucking hell, it is not fair.”

He laughed, wing across me moving up my body so that it covered most of his shoulders. “You’re so cute,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist. His fingers caught on my wing that was laying right there and I sharply inhaled. Holy shit. I knew about Illyrian wings, since I had them, but often it never felt that pleasurable.

He pulled his hand away at my sudden reaction. “Sorry baby.”

I shook my head. “No- you just surprised me, sorry.”

He hummed, grabbing the side of my waist to pull me more into him. “Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t do that without permission.”

I nodded, not knowing how to react. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I wanted him to do it again. But I banished that train of thought before it could build into something more. Not right now stupid brain, I growled silently.

“Are you going to go back to your room?” He asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“No, I rather like this,” he admitted, nuzzling into me in a way that made my heart melt all over again.

I hummed, smiling. “I do too,” I whispered.

He shifted once more, throwing a leg over mine before he let out a content sigh. I scratched lightly at his head, enjoying the way I could see his breaths slowing down as he fell into a deep slumber. After a bit, I followed him into the depths of dreams.

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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @graciereads, @chanaaaannel,

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian #nesta #fluff #my poor az #mywriting

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iboatedhere · 5 months

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thank you @kiwiana-writes & @tintagel-or-cockleshells for the tag

the Roman Holiday AU has made me panicky so of course I've decided to ignore it and work on some February prompts. This is Day 1.

Alex keeps the letter in the front pocket of coat, safe from the rain and mud and blood, but in war, all that is inevitable.

He doesn’t read it as often as he’d like, no time and no privacy, but he still knows it word for word. The paper is worn thin and tearing at the folds but when it’s tucked away, close to his heart, he feels like he’s wearing a suit of armor.

Maybe that’s what went wrong the first time. He didn’t have it to protect him.

The funny thing about getting shot is that Alex doesn’t remember it happening.

One second he’s crouched down, firing at an enemy a hundred yards away somewhere in the middle of France and the next he’s on his back, staring up at a blue sky while one of his buddies calls for a medic.

A bird flies overhead, the constant click of a machine gun rattles his bones, hands on his shoulders dragging him back off the front line.

There’s no pain.

That comes later.

In the back of an aid truck bumping its way down a dirt road. In the pale face of a young private who is pressing his hands against Alex’s chest. In the blood that bubbles between his fingers. In Alex's voice, strained and panicked, asking if he’s going to live.

He keeps asking even though he doesn’t get an answer, not until the truck stops moving, the doors open, the stretcher is pulled out, and he’s looking up at a man whose eyes rival the sky.

“Of course you are,” the man says, his British accent calming and cool and his blonde hair peeking out from under the white surgeon's cap. “You’re going to be just fine. I promise.”

Alex never expected to make it home. He’s a good soldier, rising through the ranks quickly, but war is hell and the violence is all consuming and often random–two years and the hole in his chest have proven that.

Fighting and dying for his country—he’s made his peace with it.

Or he had.

The thought of never seeing this man—with his honeyed hair and ocean eyes—hurts more than the bullet does.

It’s another thing to fight for and Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz has always been a fighter.

tagging @cha-melodius @liminalmemories21 @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @orchidscript

#rwrb fic #firstprince fic #wip wednesday

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nine-of-words · 2 days

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Eleven)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 7437

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Brief Mention of Fantasy Catholicism

I’m not dead and here is another chapter! However this part ran way too long in the original plan, so I’ve decided to break it in two. It is somehow still more than 7k, so, whoops. Fittingly, we’re going with a baker’s dozen for this story rather than a dozen.

The anticipation is killing you.

You are in the back of a rented van, babysitting two comically large, magically chilled boxes full of partially constructed wedding cake. Your eyes are eagle sharp as you monitor it on the way to the venue.

It's something you've done hundreds, if not thousands of times before at this point, but it still makes you feel slightly queasy, watching the result of your hard work wobble and sway in its supported box with every little bump in the road.

But this time, you're an extra bit queasy for a different reason, as you hold your device out in front of you.

If you're going to call somebody, you need to have called them… at least twenty minutes ago, now.

Between working double time late into the night to remake this cake, and getting it ready for delivery today, you haven’t had time to make the call at a reasonable hour.

Until now.

…Or so you tell yourself.

You definitely waited until the last possible minute, at least partially out of fear.

You look down at the screen, the pixels composing the letters of Carlyle’s name starting to lose their meaning from staring at them for so long.

You suppose the second best time to call is now.

You finally swallow down the dread and start to mentally count down from ten.

Ten, Nine, Eight-

Ugh, what are you even doing? You’re just going to make a fool of yourself!

Seven, Six, Five…

What if he doesn’t pick up? What then? It’s the middle of the day on a work day! He's a lawyer, he's probably on a courtroom right now-

Four… Three… Two…

And what if he does pick up? You should’ve rehearsed what you were going to say better-

One.

You force yourself to hit the button before you can hesitate again. The sound of ringing on the other end is like a series of white hot pokers in your chest. Your eyes are screwed closed in anticipation.

It rings once.

You consider wrenching open the sliding door of the van and tossing your voci out onto the highway speeding by.

It rings twice…

“Hello?”

Even with just the single word, he sounds absolutely incredulous. You can clearly imagine the way his eyebrows arch up when he hears something particularly egregious.

“... Hi,” You finally manage to force the word out on a forceful exhale, but then immediately stall, the ghost of your next sentence leaving you in a near-silent rattle.

“...Hello. Are you… okay?”

“Yes- Well, no. Maybe?” You laugh nervously. “It really depends on what your answer to my next question is…”

“Hah, well- I’m listening, whenever you're ready.”

You take a deep breath of air, fist nervously clenching your apron hem, then swallow it down with your remaining pride.

“I know this is last minute and I know I don’t really have the footing to ask you a favor right now, but… I really need you,” You say, mouth already dry and your voice beginning to shake, the words harder to excavate the more you scrape out. “Do you think that you could… would you be my date to this wedding?”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Carlyle’s response is more nonchalant and so much lighter in tone than you expected; relieved, even. You hear fabric rustling and what sounds like the subtle grinding of stone on the other end. “Send me the address. And the dress code- I'm assuming there is one.”

“R-Really?” You say in disbelief; you expected rejection, or at least much more pushback. You expected to have to beg for forgiveness. “Just like that?”

“Yes?” He lets out a soft, barely audible laugh. “Were you expecting me to turn you down?”

He has a point. What were you expecting, exactly? Bitter resentment? But no, of course he’s behaving in a kind and supportive manner- He’s never given you a reason to think he’d act any differently. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

“I… suppose I was. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Just so we're on the same page here,” The rustling of movement on Carlyle’s end of the line continues. “I’m going as your date, but is this a date? I'll still join you in a platonic capacity, of course, so there's no pressure, but I would like things to be transparent from the start.”

“A date!” You blurt out, but quickly clarify; “A, uh, not platonic one. A romantic one, I mean. I-If that's what you want.”

“You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Sorry- I think I might know. Just a tick-” You’re overjoyed and devastated at the same time, struggling to blink back the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have to apologize.”

You try to convince yourself to get off the line, but it’s just so good to hear his voice again, you’re desperate to wring as much of it as you can out of this short interaction- to save it up in case things go south again. But you’ll need to unload this cake soon, and understandably, Carlyle can't stay on the call for much longer either, given the sudden need to pack and commute. So, after giving him the information he needs, you’re forced to cut it short.

You finally say goodbye and end the call, left sitting in the back of the van with the cake, the anxiety weighing on you laced with a bit of pleasant anticipation, now.

One look at the place when you get out of the back of the van, and you’re already intimidated. They certainly didn’t spare any cost, from the look of it. You push the feeling down and remind yourself you have a reason to be here- you’re here for work primarily, no matter what the self-critical voice in the back of your mind is trying to tell you.

The building is an old Elven palace nestled in sprawling gardens, situated on the northern edge of the city and repurposed into an event venue. The exterior is all tall, windy spires and iridescent panes of stained glass, with sprawling plant life tracing cracks where they’ve found purchase. Even from here, you can see that a massive tree growing from the same craggy base of the hill the palace is perched on has started to grow into a hole in the building’s stone facade who knows how long ago- now kept artfully pruned now as a feature, rather than a signal of disrepair, you have to assume.

You walk into the reception venue’s service door from the parking area, somehow even more intimidated by the inside. Fittingly, it’s the palace’s ballroom. Branches of the tree have slowly crept their way in here over the years, twisting through the stone and dotting the cracks with the occasional vine or flower. Long hanging pennants of silky cloth hang down between marble columns and the same rosy stained glass panels from the outside, the backdrop to meticulously set dining tables with live floral centerpieces, evoking what it likely looked like in the past. The high ceiling has some sort of eerie gloss to it, with multiple finely dressed banquet workers in the room seemingly running tests as the lights flicker and twinkle a different color occasionally- you can only imagine what this room will look like with the lighting fully set later.

In your line of work, you’ve seen a lot of wedding ceremonies, or at least the set up preceding them. Elven weddings tend to be showy and overdone, ostentatious in their presentation, and this one is no exception. Everything about the venue you’ve seen so far screams “I paid a lot of gold for this”, which given Trevor’s parents likely foot the bill for it, you’re unsurprised.

As usual when you arrive, your first order of business is to locate the wedding planner, to confirm where to put the end product of your hours of effort. This time, it's a stern looking elven woman in a flowy black and gold jumpsuit and sporting a tight bun atop her head- someone you instantly recognize and find yourself hit with a wave of dread, realizing you have to have this conversation, of all things, right now.

“Ooh, hello!” She says your name, but all you hear is being called up to the gallows. “What a nice surprise it is to see you here!”

This is the wedding planner you were talking to when you had begun to plan your own wedding, when you and Trevor were still engaged. You feel a little bad that you don’t remember her name- you could probably find her card somewhere in your files from the times you’d worked on the same wedding before you hired her, but so much of that time period is such a blur to you now. It feels like a whole different lifetime.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, fingernails already digging into the strap of your bag of supplies. You force yourself to unclench your fingers. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has! We haven’t worked on the same event for more than… well, more than a year now, wouldn’t it be?” Her nails tap the datapad in her hands as she types away.

You can hear the question she’s being too polite to ask: It was when we were planning this wedding when it was going to be yours, wasn’t it?

“I changed location, so that might be why.” You offer an explanation.

“When Ms. Devinthal said she had a backup in mind when the groom’s first choice bakery fell through, I had no idea it was going to be you! I didn’t recognize the business name at all!”

Backup? First choice…? What’s that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, well, I changed my shop’s name too, so I imagine there just hasn’t been a lot of overlap in customers lately, hahah.”

“True…” She lowers her data pad and purses her lips, barely bothering to conceal her pity. It seems she’s able to piece together the reason as to why pretty easily. “If I can be purely honest with you? I thought you’d have quit the business. Spirits know I wouldn’t be able to keep working in this business after… well, all of that heartbreak transpired. I hope things have improved for you in that regard, dear.”

You can feel your eyes glaze over a bit as you vividly recall the day you had called this woman in barely-withheld tears to cancel her service; how you barely were able to explain through your weak voice, hoarse from crying, that there wasn’t going to be a wedding to plan anymore.

“Oh, they have.” You say, trying to keep your teeth from gritting, with a drawn on customer-service smile.

“Ohoh! Well, I should let you get to work! That cake isn’t going to stack itself, is it? However, if things keep going well, you’ll have to keep me in mind when you hear wedding bells ringing again, hmm? They say the second time's the charm!”

“Of course I will!” You lie through your teeth. “Thanks.”

Mercifully, you have your job to turn your attention to.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you let out a long, withering breath, and resteel yourself. You’re not going to have a breakdown. It’s too early in all of this.

One by one, you bring the chilled boxes into the reception venue, fingers locked tightly, but not tight enough to damage the cake inside. You’ve never dropped a cake at the venue- yet- but given your luck lately, you’re not taking any chances.

Once all the necessary pieces are inside, you begin the work of extracting the cake tiers from their boxes and moving them to the obnoxiously broad cake stand. The cake will be set on a small table all on its own, pride of place of the banquet area of the ballroom.

Every tier you place as if you’re disarming a bomb; your life and the life of everyone in the building depends on it being undamaged. Dowel rods and cardboard circles are strategically placed as needed for structural integrity, each tier of cake perfectly centered in the middle of the one below.

Finally, you gingerly slide the last, petite tier on top of the whole thing.

…It’s secure. That’s most of the battle won. You let out the breath you were holding. Putting on the final aesthetic touches won’t be nearly as mortally terrifying as the potential of the cake crashing onto the floor into a heap of sweet mush due to an accidental slip of the hand.

You begin the process of touching up the sides and the seams of the tiers, dolloping buttercream from your container to hide any cracks like you're spackling a wall. Time both flies by and is somehow agonizing in how long it drags on. All the way through laying down the final buttercream decorations, up until you've meticulously placed the last sugary rose you spent so much time sculpting, there's only one thing on your mind, and it’s not the cake.

All that’s left is to seek out the wedding planner once again for final approval. To your relief, she's thrilled with your work and gives you the go ahead to clean up as she uses the datapad in her hand to send the rest of your payment to your account. It's always easier when there's no new demands or fabricated issues brought up at the very end. The tightly wound muscles in your upper back ease, just a little bit.

And with that- it's done, finished, out of your hands. The cake is delivered safely, and you feel lighter already knowing it's not your problem anymore.

… As long as it makes it through the night without exploding, that is.

You swallow dryly at the thought. Kirby enthusiastically assured you that there was basically no chance of it happening again so soon- that it happening to the first version of this cake was a blessing in disguise, since that explosion took place in your shop and not the venue, and there wouldn't be enough time for negative energy to accumulate again by now. You can't help but still feel the twinge of apprehension, despite you trusting their judgement.

The last of your supplies get neatly packed away just in time, as you're starting to see more elves dressed in their best formal wear filtering through by the passing minute.

Casting one last lingering look at the cake, you leave the grandiose ballroom for your hotel room to get ready. By nature of attending a wedding you've also delivered the cake to, the time you have to prepare is somewhat more scant than you’d like, so you’ve got to get moving.

After a walk down a particularly gilded hallway, you enter the frankly ostentatious lobby of the hotel portion of the palace. The high vaulted, ribboned ceilings are almost dizzying, and all of the small details on the architecture being gilded or inlaid with some other precious material is making it hard to look at anything for too long.

A bellhop takes your bags, leaving you less to fiddle with in your anxiety. So instead, you compulsively check your voci every few moments while you wait for the front desk agent to do her thing. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice how sweaty your hands are with nerves when you take the set of keycards from her. You want to get up there and get ready as soon as possible. You don’t want to hog the bathroom if Carlyle still needs to finish getting ready, too…

Since the guest rooms themselves are in the various high towers of the palace, the elevator ride takes what feels like forever. You’re left to look at your many reflections, scrutinizing the imperfections of your face amplified in the glass and regretting most of your life decisions up to this point.

When you finally get there, the hotel room itself is even a bit intimidating in how expensive and ornate it looks. You’re aware you likely got one of the most standard of rooms, as a low priority guest. You don’t even want to think about what the bigger suites must look like… And certainly not the bridal suite, which the front desk agent was happy to chirp about being at the very top of the highest spire.

Despite being what’s considered a standard room, it’s still more lavish than anything you’d ever buy yourself for the night by far, all gilded and crystal surfaces and the finest fabrics.

Of the most note is an incredibly tall window pane that reaches from the floor all the way up to the ceiling- at least double and a half of your height. The view overlooks the swathe of greenery and pastel color of blooming flowers below, and then eventual transition to the blocks of Windrise City proper in the far distance, past the gardens.

You may be in a time crunch, but the view from the window is so entrancing you find yourself opening the light curtains a little wider and staring out in awe for just a few moments. If you had time, you’d probably be out on the balcony right now.

Your delivered bags sit on the golden luggage stand in one corner, looking very out of place in their mundanity.

Hastily, you pick out the one suit you own from the top of your luggage, where it’s neatly folded on the hanger. You shake it out a bit before hanging it on the bar in the hallway closet.

Carlyle hasn’t shown up yet, which is both a relief and terrifying. What if he got stuck in gridlock traffic and he can’t get here in time? You’ll be here on your own anyway, after all of that. Somehow it’d make the whole situation even more embarrassing, seeing familiar faces while you stew in shame, left to endure pitying looks that cover up deep disdain for your presence…

But.. no. He’d definitely call back if he was running late.

You peel yourself out of your slightly sugar-crusted apron and hop into a hurried shower, starting the rush through your grooming routine.

Once you’ve bathed, you immediately move on to shaving; going through the motion of working a lather of soap onto your face. Thanks to your mother being an elf, you don’t have to shave that often, but she is a snow elf, so the stubble will still get out of hand if you let it.

The preening gives you a sense of comfort- a calmness that you’ve been sorely lacking lately.

You can at least handle this. You are fully capable of looking presentable. It’s part of your job.

While the momentary refuge from your dread is a comfortable diversion, reality quickly sets back in when you hear a knock at the door.

You look up and freeze, the razor still in your hand hanging inert by your jaw.

A bolt of terror courses through you, despite bubbling with joy. You want to see him, if the urge to run to the door and immediately throw it open means anything. But it’s going to be so awkward… What do you even say now?

Maybe it’s just room service, even though you didn’t order it. A maid with extra pillows, even though you didn’t ask for them? A maintenance worker coming to fix something, even though you didn’t report an issue?

You realize you’ve been standing here frozen for far too long, and scramble to get some semblance of covered, throwing open the closet and yanking one of the robes off the attached anti-theft hangers, then hurriedly putting your arms through the sleeves and tying a sloppy knot around your waist.

Finally at the door, nearly working up a sweat in your haste, your hands fumble with the chain lock and the door handle, but manage to open the door.

Carlyle is on the other side, of course, and not the random hospitality worker you were conjuring in your head. He has an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, and a smaller one held at his side in his opposite hand.

He looks as handsome as ever, clearly freshly groomed and put together himself; freshly pressed suit, dreadlocks neatly tied in a loose gather, and the warm, spiced scent of his cologne’s heart note.

You imagine Carlyle must own more than a few suits, given his job and the fact you’ve rarely seen him in anything less formal, but if this isn’t his best suit, it’s probably close to it. The fabric of the lapels is a silky, resplendent black, shimmering just enough when the light hits it that it’s nearly impossible to resist the desire to run your fingers along them. The rosy blush paisley pattern on his chosen tie is strikingly familiar…

His free hand is hovering halfway between his tie and the door, like he’s contemplating knocking again after fussing with his focus in anticipation. He lowers it to straighten his tie, and his face breaks into a smitten, amused smile at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon.” The way the corners of his eyes tighten and his voice has the slightest hint of wavering, you can tell he’s barely holding back laughter. “I’m truly flattered that you wanted to answer the door so quickly, but you didn’t have to rush.”

“H-Huh?”

He gestures to his face like he’s stroking a nonexistent beard. You move your own to mirror the movement, immediately regretting your choice when the fingertips find the shaving lather you still have on half of your face.

The accumulated tension is blown to smithereens.

You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, running to answer the door like this.

A momentary silence falls between you- with you too dazed to access your proper manners, and Carlyle too patient to suggest you move out of the doorway and let him through.

Both on one side of a threshold, but neither being quick to trespass.

It’s a foreign feeling, knowing how close you’ve gotten, yet having this invisible, manufactured barrier still standing between you.

That evening in the shop when he came by late and you were in much the same circumstances comes to mind. There’s no extinguished neon shop sign barring the way now, though, just your own awkward behavior.

“Um. Well,” You cringe at yourself, trying to relax your wooden posture. “Come in?”

As soon as Carlyle has slid past you and inside the room, you scoop up your main layers of clothes that you had laying out within reach.

“Right, um. I’ll just. Be out in a minute-” You manage to blurt out before unceremoniously locking yourself in the bathroom, only catching half of his affirmative words before the door shuts.

Finishing shaving and getting dressed doesn’t take nearly as long as you’d hope- not nearly enough to think up something meaningful to say to him. You find yourself gripping the edges of the sink, staring yourself down in the mirror, desperately trying to plan your approach.

What is even appropriate here? Should you thank him for coming? Should you apologize again?

Anything is better than this. You can’t hide in the bathroom forever torturing yourself.

Right?

You close your eyes to splash your face with a bit of water, and take a long, drawn out, deep breath. Then you steel yourself and meekly emerge from your hiding spot.

You stall in front of the hallway closet, eyes turned away, and pick up your tie from the neck of the nearby hanger with your blazer on it.

But before you can make much progress with your tie, you’re hit with a pleasantly familiar, slightly sweet, slightly malty smell that calls you out into the room proper, despite your best attempts to keep hiding from your date.

You glance around for the source, quickly finding that there’s a neutral white mug sitting on the grotesquely ornate lacquer tray next to the brewing machine.

“Tea?” You identify, forgetting your task and taking the still-warm mug into your hands.

“I made you a cup. I thought you might need it.”

Carlyle’s taken a seat in the embroidered club chair in the corner of the room. Even in a place like this, he manages to somehow not look out of place. He peers out at you, one leg folded over the other. His spaded tail lazily whips the empty space below him.

“Ah. T-Thanks.” You say, trying not to let your voice crack, before taking a long sip.

Queen’s Breakfast Blend. He even put cream and sugar in it- a bit under what you would’ve, but that’s only to be expected from him. You’re sure to him, this was just as excessive as you’d like. It’s nothing like the authentic blend Devin brings you, but you’re touched that he remembered your preference.

“Can’t help but see the coffee’s untouched.” You sniff dryly and look into the beige, opaque liquid in your cup, extending a cursory bit of teasing. Testing the waters.

“Hah! Well. A man has to have some standards.” Carlyle quips in turn, clawtips drumming the fabric of the armrest.

Another long sip. You investigate the prepackaged coffees.

“...It’s the same store brand that I buy, though.” You snort. “You've been drinking it for months. Every time you turned up at the shop…”

“It’s different when you make it.” He shrugs with a knowing smile; a bolt through your chest. You can only huff out a laugh in response to prevent yourself from getting too flustered.

The mug clinks against the tray as you set it back down to focus on the fabric still hanging limp around your neck, waiting to be arranged.

You can feel Carlyle’s eyes on you as you fumble your attempts to tie it, but he’s not saying anything. Yet.

You try again. You fail again.

Your hands are trembling the smallest bit, but it’s making it hard to complete the fine movements. You don’t know if it’s your nerves about the event in general, or maybe the fact that you know if you look up, you’ll catch Carlyle’s warm, dark brown eyes shamelessly fixated on your movements.

“B-Blast it-” You hiss under your breath as you fail to form the knot once more, but clearly not as quietly as you think, and you seem to have fully spurred your date to action.

“Here. You look like you could use some assistance.” Carlyle laughs a sift laugh as he gets to his feet and clears the short distance between you. Though, he does hesitate a moment before touching you, despite his hands already raising to do so; “If you’d like it.”

“Please.” Your voice comes out an exasperated groan, weakly throwing up your hands in defeat.

He moves in closer now that he has expressed permission, untwisting the mess of a tie and laying it flat against your flipped up collar. The room is so silent, you can hear the faint sound of the cotton brushing against this stoneskin.

“I know how to tie a tie,” You insist in your own defense, fighting no one but yourself- not angry, but more so particularly exasperated. Of course you’re failing this task while someone’s watching you do it. “I just. Don’t do it as often as you do, probably…”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable.” Carlyle says in a reassuring tone while his hands deftly maneuver with the finesse of someone who has absolutely done this way, way more often than you have. “Though, I’m not complaining about getting to do it myself.”

His movements are delicate but still firm, just like you remember.

His stone fingers brush the sides of your neck in the process. You simultaneously fight the urge to melt into his touch while your heart hammers in your chest so hard that you’re starting to feel it in your throat.

…You’re fairly sure he’s dragging this out on purpose, but you, similarly, are not complaining- you’re too busy savoring the feeling.

“Is this okay?” He speaks barely above a whisper, and secures the tie at the base of your throat with a gentle tug. He’s asking about the tightness of the knot, surely, but with the way his hands linger, it’s also serving the purpose of re-confirming where your boundaries for physical closeness are, in your still undefined standing.

Your anxiety on the matter can't stand up to how badly you want him.

Your hand rises to gently touch the side of his jaw, but you hesitate, still unsure of yourself despite the clear look of invitation in Carlyle’s eyes.

Then, there’s a slight pressure on your neck from your tie, still in Carlyle’s hands, as he gently pulls you closer by it. He does it slowly, almost agonizingly drawn out, giving you time to back out or stop it. But you don’t- you only lean in to close the gap, taking his lips in your own.

His kiss is warm and slightly rigid, just like you remember. You flinch, second guessing yourself- but his grip on your tie is still there, holding you firmly to him, clear that he has no intention of letting you go this time.

So, your hesitance melts away. Your other arm snakes around the yoke of his shoulders as you embrace him, the way you’ve been dying to do since you saw him standing at the threshold. You feel his tongue and the tips of his fangs, remapping the shape of them with your tongue.

Your kisses grow more heated by the second, barely keeping from gnashing teeth, desperate to get more of this feeling; there’s a pit of lacking in your chest needing to be filled from the time you spent apart.

When he finally releases his hold on your tie, you pull back just enough to part your lips, you’re a glutton for air and blinking back the moisture rimming your eyelids. Overcome with emotion, you lay your head on his shoulder, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, but not ready to break your touch for the fear that you’ll wake up and it won’t have been real.

“I missed you.”

Your voice is barely audible as you speak into the padded surface of his suit shoulder.

“I missed you, too.” He responds in a breathy, almost half-laugh, stroking the back of your head with his claw points.

Several moments pass with you unmoving, entwined with your head resting on him. None of what was bothering you seems to matter much now.

You could stay like this forever- if only there weren’t things you had to do…

As if on cue, you hear the rumble of Carlyle clearing his throat, sounding particularly hollow from your ear’s position on his chest.

“We should be going if you want to make it to the ceremony on time.” Carlyle finally says quietly, checking his watch behind your head, but doesn’t budge yet himself, either.

“Right...” You sigh wistfully, still basking in the heady feeling of having your arms around him and his lips on yours again. You manage to somehow pry yourself away and slip your blazer on, but it’s the most difficult thing you’ve done in days.

Carlyle watches in approval as you straighten the lapels, a warm smile on his face.

“I have to say, you look stunning this evening.”

“My, what did I do to deserve such flattery?”

“Well- you see me in a suit regularly, but this is the first time I’ve gotten the pleasure of seeing you in one. It feels like a rare treat I should savor while I can.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll need to wait to do much more savoring, I’m afraid.” You say, unable to resist touching his face one more time, gently running your finger over the smooth stone surface of his bottom lip.

He kisses the tip of your thumb in response, looking you straight in the eyes as he does so.

You feel your face heat up immediately, and quickly detach your hold on him and open the door to the hallway before you give into the temptation to miss the event entirely.

“Sitting through this wedding is going to be difficult enough already- for completely other reasons now.” You quip, your voice coming out a slight rasp as you pass through the threshold of the hotel room.

“Look at this way-” Carlyle follows closely behind you, pulling the door closed with a soft click. “It's an excellent incentive.”

You manage to make it into the ceremony space just in time to not stand out as rude, sliding into the carved wooden benches at the back row, amongst the hushed pre-ceremony conversation.

The ceremony venue itself is just as extravagant as the reception area you got acquainted with while setting up the cake.

The tree is most present in this room. Huge branches reach in through the partially open roof of the area, clusters of blossoms covering the whole left side, suspended high over the altar and reaching past over the rows of wooden benches.

If nothing else, the pictures will be fantastic…

A small band of classic Elven musicians are in one corner, playing the equivalent to faerie elevator music on their antique reed and string instruments, to fill the room while people file into their seats.

Every attendee seems to have pulled out their best gown or set of robes from their wardrobe for the occasion, desperate to win the coveted and definitely real title of ‘best dressed wedding guest’. Swathes of Aurelian fabrics dominate your vision- shimmering flowing silks and light, twinkly sheer voiles, some likely literally enchanted with magic to float or gently shift like an aurora. You do see a handful of suits, as well as several more numan-standard cocktail dresses, but they are far outnumbered by the sheer amount of Elven finery in the room.

It’s suffocating.

You can already feel your back muscles tensing and your jaw setting, looking out at the gathering of rich people dressed in formal wear. Even knowing you’re well within the dress code, you can’t help but think you’re underdressed somehow.

Every time a set of new eyes glance over you with brief curiosity or hazy half-recognition, you’re hit with a new small wave of panic and disgust. You sure recognize many of them- all extended family members and acquaintances that you’ve encountered over the several years of large, overblown functions for every Elven holiday with Trevor’s family that you had to endure.

You’re sure none of them recognize you in turn- after all, why would they bother to remember you? You were only present for eight years. You were only engaged to be married. Why bother to remember something as trivial as what you look like or what your name was? At the very least, if any of them do remember who you are, they don’t dare acknowledge it.

You weren’t enough before, why would you be now?

The only small mercy is that the people closest to Trevor are far at the front, without a clear view to the back where you’re seated…

“So, how many crystal chandeliers do you think that lovely lady’s gown is worth?” Carlyle leans to the side with his back straight, just enough for his words to be audible to you but not likely anyone else, nudging your knee slightly with his own to direct your line of sight. You can hear the smirk on his lips without even turning to seeing his face. “Or do you think perhaps she robbed the baron’s bank vault directly?”

“That would be a difficult heist.” You reply, barely keeping a straight face, somehow no longer able to dwell on the occasional, real or imagined scan of familiar eyes on you. “Three, maybe four.”

A few minutes pass with Carlyle pleasantly distracting you from the impending ceremony with silly chatter. It works marvelously, until you catch sight of Trevor, dressed in uncharacteristically formal elven robes, taking his place at the altar. He, as always, looks as bored as he could probably get away with looking, though he’s standing at attention with his hands joined in front of him, rather than leaning on something.

A particularly bitter thought- that he looks far too overdressed for his face to look like he’s waiting for the bus- crosses your mind. He can’t even muster the effort to look excited on his wedding day, of all days? Typical.

Bile rises in your throat. You could vomit, and being in a crowd of people might be the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You want to yank the circlet off his head and wing it like a frisbee across the room.

Your teeth grit, and it takes all you have not to scowl. He’s attractive, and it makes you angry how good he looks in his stupid robes. Of course you find him attractive, you dated him for eight years. But any sense of thinking he’s good looking now comes with the added footnote of him leaving you when you needed his support the most.

You don’t want him anymore. You’re well aware of that. But you still can’t let go of the fact he’ll never own up to the pain that he caused you, or the fact that closure from him will stay out of reach-

The fact that you weren’t good enough.

Before you can spiral too far, however, you feel the familiar sensation of a stoneskin palm gently slipping into yours.

Carlyle doesn’t say anything, clearly not wanting to be disruptive during a ceremony, but he looks over at you and gently squeezes your fingers in a firm grip when your eyes make contact.

You don’t really need him to speak, because you can hear the message loud and clear-

I’m here.

He doesn’t take his hand back, letting it rest on your leg indefinitely. The feeling of the weight is comfortable and reassuring.

Warmth spreads in your chest. Maybe you can make it through this ceremony.

The music slows, then immediately shifts into a recognizable, though mellow composition of a wedding march. Heads all turn in expectation.

The bride finally appears at the end of the aisle, and despite your feelings around the wedding itself, you find yourself a bit stunned by the sight. Devin is pretty anyway, so it’s not surprising that she’s also pretty on her wedding day of all days. Even if her face wasn’t obfuscated by a shifting, translucent veil, she would still be almost unrecognizable in the sheer amount of layers of fabric in varying levels of opacity she’s clad in, between the veil, train, and the full body of the gown. The bodice is fitted, with slim sleeves that start at the elbow and go down all the way past her wrist into delicate closures on her middle fingers. But the rest of the gown is simply the most ornate sea of cloth you’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so foreign to anything you’ve ever seen her wear before, and you have to imagine it must be heavy, if the squadron of flower-clad elven children in white dress, barefoot and nymphlike, holding the train of her dress behind her are any indication.

It’s definitely still Devin under all that finery though, because she can’t hold the emotionless countenance of a demure elven bride at all- she’s too overjoyed, a permanent grin on her face as she tries to lock eyes with each and every person in the rows and give them a tiny, hurried wave from behind her bouquet- starting with you. You can’t help but smile sheepishly and return the quick wave. A small child abruptly and enthusiastically throws a fistful of flower petals at your row as soon as the bride passes by. A single petal clings to your blazer.

Trevor manages to smile in what looks like an almost genuine manner, but not after a moment of thought.

She finally reaches the altar, and the gaggle of blonde elven children are dismissed, seemingly barely restraining themselves from dashing back to their seats.

Devin is already visibly struggling to keep her composure, even through the veil, the sniffling audible in the gaps of the music.

Like most elven ceremonies, the wedding itself is elaborate and a bit drawn out. It involves multiple phases, the first of which involves both of the betrothed’s parents, even before any actual marriage vows are made between the couple. You of course are familiar with this, given the research you had started back when it was going to be you up there. This is the closest thing that an elven wedding ceremony has to a typical numan bridal party, instead focusing more on the couple themselves.

Trevor has always looked like a perfect mixture of his parents, almost like he was purposefully created in a lab, selected from their best features. They never quite warmed up to you, so you simply try to avoid making much eye contact with either of them. Devin, on the other hand, looks like a carbon copy of her mother, with her father having a more neutral complexion and dark brown hair- likely a grey elf, rather than a dawn one. As you let your eyes wander to avoid looking at Trevor and his parents too much, you follow Devin’s parents back to their row. Your eyes settle on a curiosity in the front row next to them; what certainly is the back of the head and shoulders of an orc, towering above the svelte people around them.

And of course, such a culturally important ceremony is completely performed in an archaic Aurelian dialect of Elvish. You struggle to follow along with the small amount of basic Elvish you learned from your mother, but it is a battle you’re slowly losing. Even Sunday mass for the Burning Lady doesn’t take nearly this long, and that might as well be a standard measure for what constitutes “too long” back home.

Several more observances go by, from what you can tell: A cleansing ritual with pastel colored clouds pouring from a small rose gold censer, Another chanting rite performed by the priestess for longevity and fertility, A spell performed to dissolve the bride’s veil with a sparkle of magic. Then, what you assume must be their vows, given that either of them speak following being prompted by the officiant. And after that, finally, is the actual handfasting.

A set of hazardously long ribbons are secured around their joined hands and the priestess says the last of their spiel. The music slowly starts to build back up.

Bride and groom kiss.

After all of the anticipation, you thought it would’ve felt worse- a twinge of jealousy, or even disgust. But you don’t really feel much at all, apart from a strange, deja-vu adjacent sensation that it might’ve been you up there, if things were different.

And finally, somewhere, in the back of your mind… there’s relief.

You can’t say you mind that it isn’t you. Not anymore.

It’s not you. And that’s a wonderful thing.

You squeeze Carlyle’s hand.

Mercifully, after a one more short closing verse of Elvish, the new couple walks back up the aisle, fastened together, hand in hand.

If nothing else can be said- at least Devin looks happy. You can’t bring yourself to feel sour at the moment, regardless of how wary you are for her, given who the groom is.

“Well, that was enlightening.” Carlyle rises to his feet and moves to the end of the row, where he stands, straightening the buttons on his blazer. “Very… thorough.”

“Reminded me a bit of going to mass back home as a kid, to be honest.” You chuckle as you scooch to the end of the bench after him. “But much less kneeling.”

“Oh? We must’ve gone to different types of mass, then. I haven’t been since I was a child, but I clearly remember ours was always very succinct.” He holds out his hand to you with an amused smile, giving you a flash of fang. “If we ever find ourselves on the Queen’s Isle, maybe you can instruct me on the finer details.”

“I’d like that.” You grasp his hand and he helps you to your feet.

You don’t even need to plaster a smile on your face after that, and head to the reception area, hand in hand with your own date.

All that’s left now is to see the cake through to the cutting.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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balloonboyismyson · 1 year

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Freddy Bear (Glamrock Freddy x Reader oneshot)

You are absolutely in love with Freddy, and what is the best way of telling him other than getting him a meaningful gift?

(1.5k words)

28mph, 29mph, 30mph

The speed slowly rises as you try to center yourself on the road. Right now it feels like there are a hundred things to focus on to just drive the couple of miles to work. In your passenger seat lies a little box, one you hand-picked for the perfect gift.

He’s always been by your side. Through loss, through hardships, and through each painful scream from your boss- he is always there to support you.

Freddy Bear, as you call him, is always the highlight of your days. Helping him through birthday parties is always a delight, and getting to see his smile makes every kid’s tantrum worth it. The way he squints when he smiles, his beautiful K9s saying hello, he’s such a masterpiece.

You try so hard to make him feel as special as he makes you, but by god, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to achieve that. That’s where the box comes in. Within it is a special gift that you agonized over for weeks, wondering if it was good enough. No matter what you looked at, this one thing seemed to keep popping in your head, and you decided that this is what you needed to give him.

He had already told you that no gifts were necessary, especially since he has pretty much everything he could ask for. “I do not do it for a reward,” he says. But you are determined to get him something the gift shops never could. To keep it safe, you put it in a fancy bag with tissue paper and clicked the seatbelt around it so it would not jostle around. It’s fragile, so you were trying hard to keep your car from bumping on the uneven roads.

If there is one thing you hope, it is to hear that gorgeous laugh when he opens it. It is not a joke gift by any means, but you hope he’ll shake his head and pull you into a hug when he opens it.

Your shift doesn’t start until 9AM, but you wanted to get there early. The idea to wait until closing crossed your mind, but you quickly decided that you simply can’t wait that long. When you pull up to the empty Plex, you get another rush of anxiety. That stupid voice in your head keeps saying this is a horrible idea, that he’s gonna hate it. A quick shake of your head stops you from imagining him throwing it on the ground to break it, because you know he’d never do something like that to you.

The doors open and you stand there for a moment trying to collect your bearings (hehe!). You take a deep breath and hold the bag behind yourself as you walk in. The closer to Rockstar Row you get, the more nervous you become.

He deserves this gift! He deserves way more than this, too, but damn it there is no backing out now!

As you approach his room, you see his curtains drawn just a smidge. He walks by the crack and you swear your heart stopped for half a second. A part of you was hoping he was downstairs rehearsing for today, but you must’ve come at a good time.

Your face immediately heated up the second you saw him. Your eyes move down and look at the floor to ground yourself once more.

“Whazzat?” Jesus Christ you almost shit yourself at the sudden question. You fling yourself to look at whoever is behind you, and Monty stares back at you with his shades propped up on his forehead. “Relax, shortstack, ‘s jus’ me.” You let out a breath you must have sucked in during the scare and close your eyes in defeat. “H-hey Monty.” Was all you could let out as he chuckled at your now sweaty figure. “OooOOoo, you got a present fer someone? ‘S it fer your boyfriend?”

You want so badly to tell him off, but in all honesty, Freddy being your boyfriend would probably make you the happiest person in the world. Denying it now means you do not want it to happen, and for the sake of karma, you can’t make yourself utter a peep. You just look at him, and his eyes bug a little bit before a devilish smile pops onto his face.

“Y’know, shortstack, that bear really likes you. He might never have the guts ta tell ya to yer face, but I’ve never seen ‘im happier. ‘Nd he’s happier ‘cuz of you.” He places his glasses back upon his snout and bends over, getting really close to your face. “‘Nd this is jus’ between you ‘n’ me, but you break his heart? I break you, capiche?” You nod your head vigorously and he belly roars a laugh. “Glad that’s outta the way! Now, get in there ‘fore you have a heart attack. Don’t want ya dyin’ before you talk to ‘im!” Monty grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around, harshly patting your back, causing you to take a few steps towards Freddy’s door. Before you can thank him, you can already hear him jump and make his way towards his room.

You take another deep breath and start walking towards the room, your nerves building up again as you step closer. As you walk up to the door, you look back in the back to make sure the box is inside, and once you deem it is, you shakily knock on the door to his room.

A brief “Coming!” is said as you smile from just hearing Freddy’s voice. As you hear footsteps approach, you remember the bag and quickly hide it behind yourself. Once Freddy uncovers his room, he gives you a big smile. “Hello, Superstar! You are here early this morning! Did something urgent come up?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” You wave your hand in dismissal and hold a somewhat clenched fist towards your chest. “May I come in?”

“Of course! I was just cleaning up for the Meet and Greets after the shows! Please, make yourself at home!”

My god, he was as sweet as ever. As you enter the room, you continue to try and hide the bag behind yourself, but Freddy has very clearly already seen that you’re holding something.

“What is that? Would you like me to carry it for you?” Your eyes open at his question and all you can muster is a couple of “uh-”s and “erm-”s as he stares at you with a cocked head. “T-this is for you!” The words basically pour out of your mouth as you quickly hold the bag out to him. “Superstar, I am very thankful, but you know you do not need to get me gifts. It is not even my birthday!” A chuckle finds its way out of your throat and you look at him with big eyes. “I know, b-but I saw this and it really reminded me of you.” Not a complete lie, but you don’t want to tell him that you were searching for weeks for the perfect gift, especially when the gift is so… subpar.

He motions over to the couch and you follow him, where you sit side by side. You feel comforted by the big Freddy plush next to you, but you’re even happier to be here in front of the actual love himself.

Freddy very delicately takes out the wrapping paper and takes out the box as gently as he can. You don’t even need to tell him that it’s fragile, it’s like he already knows.

He undoes the ribbon and lets it fall into his palm as he very carefully lifts up the top of the box. You can hear a slight gasp from him as he tries to make out what he is seeing before picking it up. He gently holds it in-between his two claws and takes it out of the plush box. In his hand is a small glass figure of a fluffy bear with a butterfly on its nose. The bear looks extremely happy.

He just stares at it for about a minute before an abrupt sob-like noise makes its way out of his voice box. You look up and see that his eyes are lit up, making the figure in his claws sparkle and refract across the room.

“Freddy?” He breaks eye contact with the little bear and looks at you, his eyes somehow more glassy than normal, and you hear a little whimper come from his voice box. “Superstar t-this is…. Beautiful. Where did you get it?” His words were interrupted by an artificial breath in.

“I found it at a store I go to a lot.” He hesitantly looks away from you and looks back at the bear, another sob like noise escaping him. “Thank you… so much, Superstar.”

You didn’t expect him to love it as much as he does, but you’ve never been more happy than you are right now. You lean on his shoulder and he carefully puts the bear back in the box and shuts it before hugging you back. “I will cherish it for the rest of time, but I will cherish you for ever longer. Thank you.”

#Glamrock Freddy x Reader #Glamrock Freddy #Glamrock Freddy x Y/N #Security Breach #FNaF #Five Nights at Freddy's #FNaF SB #Five Nights at Freddy's Security Breach #Writing

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pttwice · 6 months

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n!d twice hc (1/3 najeongmo)

to the anon who requested a nd!twice hc, i have tried my best! if there's anything else you would want to see or something else like this just send a request my way and i'll try my best :)

nd!nayeon

much like sana, nayeon has adhd. unlike sana, she has inattentive adhd so it makes her very distractable and she constantly loses things

the members are always finding her glasses everywhere but her face and jeongyeon eventually buys her those little grippy things so she can wear her glasses around her neck when she's at her and momo's apartment or the dorm

she also takes a little longer to understand things. if she's talking to one of the members they know to be patient if she doesn't respond right away

nayeon also notices super small details; she's always listening and attentive to the girls even if she doesn't realize it

she is attached to her calendar. if someone makes plans with her verbally but doesn't text her or put it in her calendar, she will forget.

if she's having a particularly hard day, she needs to be with someone (preferably momo because she cooks all her favorite foods) and needs to be held and fed because she will forget that she needs to eat and drink water

nd!jeongyeon (1)

jeongyeon has had depression and social anxiety for a very long time

she has a really hard time being in front of cameras by herself and if she's with her members, she tries to be as goofy as she can be to try and distract her brain from overthinking everything

if she's having a really bad day, the main person who knows how to take care of her is mina. she and mina are very alike in the sense that when they don't feel good, they just want to be alone for a little while in front of the tv and in bed

sometimes practice can be very anxiety inducing since it's tied with good memories as well as really bad memories. if it's a harder day, one of the members will practice in another room with her so there's not as much pressure to get everything right

on the road she has to have headphones and music at all times, especially when they're going through the airports. usually dahyun or sana are distracting her by doing something silly until they get to their gate

in public someone is usually holding her hand or just touching her shoulder to ground her and let her know that she's okay and she's safe

nd!momo (1, 2, 3)

although people usually just see clumsiness, momo has dyspraxia; this means that she's got a lot of problems with coordination

although she is the dancing mochine, there are days when even tying her shoes can be hard and one of the members has to do the fine motor skills for her (not that they mind at all)

momo's usually tired because it takes a lot of energy making sure she's not bumping into everything and remembering how to write and eat with chopsticks

sana and mina are especially patient with momo and are there to wait on her when she's having a really bad day. they're always helping her zip up her jackets and guiding her through dance steps they've all done a hundred times

momo really doesn't like speaking in public and it can be due to slight verbal issues. this is why it sometimes takes her a little longer to say something or she messes up words in japanese

any time momo is having a hard day, the members are there to cheer her up and laugh with her if she trips over something or messes up during practice; they want to make sure she knows it's okay

#nd!twice hc #joon writes hcs 🦖

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broken-clover · 7 months

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16- Halfway There

Not sure why I put this prompt in here, it was hard! Hence why this took me so long. Here I tried to focus a lot on sensations, despite not having been to a concert in a while the post-show high still sticks with me. I thought it'd be fun to combine some of that with Sol and Axl since they seem the type to be familiar with it.

“How much longer ‘s it gonna be, chief?”

The motor beneath them rumbled, muffling out any actual grumbling that may have been happening elsewhere. “Five minutes after the last time you asked.”

“Which was…?”

He sighed in frustration, loud enough that it was audible over the vehicle itself and the wind whipping by. “We’re ‘bout halfway, give or take. Another hour and a half, probably.”

“Huh. Damn. Didn’t seem that far on the way out.”

“Going to that show was your idea, y’know.”

“Hey, show was good!” Axl shrugged innocently. “Commute’s shit, but the show was good.”

Sol gripped the Firewheel’s handlebars tighter in a desperate attempt to avoid smashing his passenger’s head in. Even if he really deserved it. He heard the man yawn, and, despite not being tired himself, copied the gesture.

“...Guess it was a decent show.” Despite being a music guy, it had been a long time since he’d gone to a live show. Post-apocalyptic bands didn’t hold a candle to the classics, but Sol would admit he missed the simple act of rocking out in a crowd to ear-bursting guitar and drinking a shitton of crappy beer something fierce. Plus, Axl had paid for the tickets, so it wasn’t like it had been a waste of his own money.

A cool spot of wind filled his lungs as he breathed in, and he paused to toss his head back to loosen any stray hair pinned against his collar. The trailing ends of his limiter and the long strands of his ponytail flapped behind like a thin flag. Driving in the dark on a quiet stretch; he’d missed that too.

He momentarily checked the sidecar. Axl had made himself more than comfortable, slouching back into the seat until his knees were almost higher than his head. One arm hung over the edge, fingers spread to feel the air go by.

“Just make sure you’re belted in. Don’t wanna hit a bump in the road and have you go flying out at 80 miles an hour on the highway.”

Axl yawned again. “Dunno ‘bout you Yanks and your weird measurements, but tha’ sounds pretty fast.”

“Yeah. It is. So don’t do it, unless you’re excited to burn most of your skin off on the asphalt.”

“Ew. Nah, pass.” He scooted up until he could prop his chin atop his arms draped along the edge of the car. “Man, it’s kinda nice out.”

“‘s fine if you wanna sleep the rest of the way.”

“Y’don’t mind?”

“Nah. Still a ways to go.” Sol shot him a dirty half-smirk. “Saves me from having to listen to you talk, too.”

Axl gave his sleeve a playful smack. “Piss off, mate, you’re a century old and ya still need driving tips!”

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who drives on the wrong side of the road.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Imperial Measuring System. B’sides, we still have better tea.”

“Tea is shit,” Sol shrugged. “Why d’ya think we chucked it in the harbor?”

“Ugh, like five hundred years and you’re still on that?” Replied Axl, rolling his eyes. “...Look, gonna be honest, I did get stranded around there one time. Didn’t realize what I was doing until after the fact. Actually kinda fun. Like trashin’ a hotel room, ‘cept it smelled nicer.”

The driver gave him an odd look. “Bullshit. You’re drunk.”

“Prolly.” Yawning again, he burrowed into the warm bend of his arms. “We almost there, chief?”

“Only been five minutes since the last time you asked. Which was five minutes before the time before that.”

He waited for a response. He didn’t get one. When he could spare a look away from the road, Axl had already conked out, long hair trailing behind in the breeze like a comet-tail.

“...Figures,” he grunted, pressing harder against the gas. “Was actually havin’ fun for a second.”

#frog writes #comfortober #guilty gear #sol badguy #axl low

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dead-fandom-imagines · 6 months

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Tales of an Artificer / How to Be Eaten

Not me literally falling into the Baldur's Gate/Astarion rabbit hole.

That man has an iron grip on me, and because of that, I had to begin writing a new book.

Make that TWO books, plus I have another book idea in the mix~

Both of them revolve around an Astarion love story!

I hope you enjoy them <3

These are rated for much older audiences so please read the tags closely (As in 18+, so minors do not interact!)

Tales of an Artificer

Click title to be sent to it!

Summary:

An artificer with a pension for trouble, Etalia Albane knows the world best when it's behind a handcrafted, arcane scope.

Years of mischief should have led her on a path of petty crime and prison sentences, but her dream of becoming a world-renowned inventor has sent her on a journey to Baldur's Gate with nothing but her Eldritch Cannons, robots, and warforge companions. That is until she bumps into Tav and her company during a routine grave-digging operation: a crew of strangers bonded by a mind flayer tadpole deep within their skulls.

With nothing else but wishes and prayers to gods that may or may not listen to them, Etalia agrees to a partnership in the hope they'll arrive there alive, and it seems that a giant brain in the sky may be the least of their problems…

***

A story in which two idiots fall in love but they can't seem to say it.

Also a major plot is that Astarion has a charisma of 10 battling someone with an intelligence of 19 but a wisdom of like 4. It’s a slow burn that revolves around friends to lovers and though the artificer falls hard the vampire falls harder.

How to Be Eaten

Click title to be sent to it!

Summary:

The sisters three.

The road to salvation is a tricky one, and forest creatures, Amaris, Lara, and Eteri have woken up from a terrible slumber. Once forced to tread the world as statues, lost and forgotten in the trees, Amaris and Lara have found themselves on a nautiloid in the hells of the Tieflings, and that’s only just the beginning.

Amaris is blind.

Lara is mute.

Eteri cannot hear.

Split between one another, each of them finds themselves on a different path, one forged on love, fear, and fights, twisted in secrets. And Amaris may have found trouble in the hands of a two-hundred-year-old vampire.

One who speaks devilish words.

A rogue with a bite.

A monster who asks for her blood.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #Astarion love story #Astarion fanfic #Astarion smut #Astarion

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ashtronomyys · 1 month

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Our Future Days

Chapter 1 - *Pt2*

SoapGhost TheLastofUsAu OFD Masterpost (Includes further Tag Warnings) Chpt1 Masterpost

~1.7k Words

**********

"NOO-!"

Simon's body jolts forward in the bed. He thrashes around in his sheets, his body fighting back against an unknown force until his mind begins to clear up. His cries of terror begin to die down as his bloodshot eyes start to register his surroundings. They take in the cracked, floral wallpaper peeling off the walls of the room, the tattered, linen bedsheets obscuring the moonlight outside, and the chipped, hardwood flooring of the bedroom.

Simon grinds his palms against his temple, falling back into the mattress and trying to rub away the throbbing pulsing in his head. His body is coated in a layer of sweat, and short blond tufts cling to his forehead. His throat feels rubbed raw from the screaming he did in his sleep, and it takes him a considerable amount of time to calm the labored heaving his chest keeps up.

Fucking hell. It’s gonna be another one of those days for him then, isn’t it?

There’s no sense in trying to fall back asleep now. Simon knows from experience that he'll be unable to close his eyes long enough to get any more rest. Not on a rough night like this. Not with the images of his friends and family falling victim to the surrounding horrors playing on a loop.

It's the cruelest form of torment, his head making him relive every bit of trauma, his mind making him think he's still stuck on that damn bridge, fighting day by day just to scrape by in the QZ, or worse still, those years living out in the open country. The worst of it is when visions of Tommy jump to the forefront, memories of hanging on by a thread until everything went up in flames causing him to feel a nauseating pang of guilt.

It’s like his mind fucking relishes on the mental abuse it puts him through, almost like it makes a game of it. He could see it now, set up like one of those old-time game shows, big flashing letters spelling out, "How much further can we push Simon Riley before he breaks today?”, his next form of torment coming from a big spinning wheel with all of his worst memories, crowd cheering with each bout of pain it can unearth.

Huh, it’s actually almost a little more humorous imagining it playing out that way…

Rather than going back to sleep, Simon spends the remainder of the night staring at the ceiling. His eyes rake over every bump and groove in the paint until he can see the soft rays of morning light seep through the curtains. Eventually, the faint sound of a rooster crowing far-off in the distance signals the start of another day.

It’s about time for Simon to finally sit up and shamble into the bathroom, letting the water heat up to a near scalding temperature before hopping in. A long shower helps wash away some of the tenseness in his body, but does nothing to help lighten his mood. He dons on his usual dark sweatshirt and jeans before he steps out into the street ahead, taking in a deep breath of the crisp morning air as he begins his trek into town.

The walk to the inner city takes him along the winding suburbs and houses with long-neglected lawns. Nature reclaims most of the area, with the tall summer grass overtaking pavements and roads. Vibrant flora blooms in large patches throughout the landscape, and rotted, derelict cars lay abandoned in driveways.

He leisurely strolls past the dozens of cul-de-sacs that rise and fall along the hills they are nestled onto. Slim, craftsman bungalows ranging from neutral whites and tans, to vibrant blues and yellows, the buildings themselves used to house hundreds of families in the area.

In the eerie quiet on mornings like this, Simon can almost picture the way things used to be; cars pulling out of the driveways and running their owners to work, children piling into the school buses in the morning, a dog or two barking at all the commotion. He can almost imagine what it must’ve been like, white picket fences, neatly trimmed gardens and all, the quaint, bunched together houses still teeming with some semblance of life.

Twenty years later, and it'd be a miracle if even a third of those same people are still among the living.

A strong breeze of brisk, cool air finds its way up Simon’s shirt, sending a chill up his spine. He sighs, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket in irritation, the thought of turning around and crawling back under the covers definitely crossing his mind.

He really ought to, he knows, especially after the rough night he’s had. Price, too, has been on his ass lately about going out when he’s not at his best, giving Simon his hundredth lecture about getting himself or somebody else killed on the job.

But fuck it, he’s managed just fine through plenty worse conditions before. And he’d much rather have something to occupy his day that doesn’t include rotting away in his little hovel.

Yeah, a bit of fresh air ought to do him a whole world of good better than that.

Besides, it’s not like his aim has gone to complete shit. He’s still the same man he was yesterday, only difference is he may have to put in the extra effort to not bite anyone's head off today. So not much change at all really.

Simon rounds another corner and comes up to the outer wall. The wall, a domineering presence that stands in stark contrast to the broken-down houses, consists of bolted sheets of metal, piled-up cars, shipping containers, and all kinds of scrap all rusted together. It runs along the remaining exterior walls of some of the structures nearby, and forms a barrier that rises nearly ten feet in the air.

Simon takes a detour into one of the houses on the right, passing through an open hole that exposes the kitchen to the elements outside. He brushes some of the bramble aside and pulls a steel ladder out from the growing ivy. Simon props it up against the wall, the ladder reaching just below the edge of a semi-truck nestled into the structure, and drops it onto the other side once he’s over, but not before taking a moment to watch the sun rise higher into the sky.

From here, beyond another mile or so of the district, he can see the fields of farmland spreading throughout the encampment. Fields of grains and produce sit atop what used to be parks, golf courses, and a few torn down shopping centers. Decaying buildings were stripped down for more material, and the grounds burned and uprooted to make the land fertile enough for crops to grow.

Further beyond that, the townhouses and bungalows start to become broken up by wider main streets; retail stores, supermarkets, corner stores, and condominiums dotting the landscape.

Simon spies the first other signs of life along these streets as lights start to flicker on in shops and residents make their way out towards the fields. He watches various groups start their rotations on the farm, some with the company of their little ones, who follow in their parents’ footsteps around the farm. One of them dons on a pair of oversized rain boots and a sun hat that threatens to fall off his head every two seconds. He’s taught how to hand out feed to the chickens under his mom's guidance, his beaten up overalls acquiring another layer of dirt to them.

Simon lets out a slow huff of air as he overlooks the growing community of survivors he's somehow found himself a part of.

A lot of people would say what they’ve been doing here is nothing short of a miracle, somehow creating some sort of semblance of the peace and normality of the old world.

To Simon, it’s been his own form of repentance, his own way of giving back to the world to make up for all the shit he’s done wrong. Maybe through that, doing his part to help even out the playing field for the people still left, he can in some way make amends with the universe.

He hopes, at least.

Either way, it does feel good to contribute towards something positive for a change. And it’s the least he could do to give back to the place that’s given him a little bit of solace.

Simon pulls the hood over his head and makes the descent onto the other side, just in time to see the cattle and sheep released from enclosures. A lamb hobbles its way over to the end of the fence, bellowing at the tall British bloke passing by the wooden barrier. Simon snorts at the petite little being shadowing him, the lamb bounding on uncoordinated legs behind him, trying to follow him all the way to his next destination if it can.

He turns in time to see a boy, the same one feeding the chickens earlier, corral the mischievous young sheep back to the rest of its herd. Simon’s steps falter for a moment, watching the child stomp around the field and raise his arms above his head, yelling and blowing raspberries at the animals. The hat hangs loosely off of his head, revealing a messy mop of mousy brown hair, about the same shade of muted color his mother and brother were graced with. And his boots, tattered bits of plastic at this point, the frog decal along the top trim still visible underneath all the mud.

Simon chuckles to himself. Seems no matter how much he tries to do better, the universe still has its way of reminding him that there is no making amends with this life for men like him.

He tugs the hoodie tighter over his scalp, eyes trailing back to the several stretches of roads he still has to walk past. Along the way, he passes by the remnants of a city limit sign, the faded and missing text adding a somber feeling to the once cheerful, welcoming message the sign used to convey.

“N-w Entering th- Bright Side -f the Bay!

Oakland, Calif-rn--

Pop-lation:" The rest is a scratched out mess of chipped wood, save for a 7 and a 3.

************

"MacTavish, wake uuup! Last warning before I dunk a bucket of water on you again..."

***To be continued in Pt.3***

#soapghost #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghoap #fanfic #long fic #fic in progress #thelastofus #ofd #ash writings

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