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commandershepardvasfuckit · 3 months

Text

Shameless porn of my Tav and Halsin some undisclosed amount of time after the end of the game.

Afab Tav getting a taste of Halsin’s rare dominant side and learning what happens to druids who spend too much time in wildshape

Just under 2k words

(I am a lazy human who writes fic in the notes app of their phone, please excuse dumb mistakes and minimal editing at times)

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The first traces of dawn slip through the window as you were roused from your meditation. You feel Halsin’s hand glide down your side and come to a rest on your hip before pulling your hips firmly back into his.

While Halsin was always fairly forward about sex, the past few days especially had been something. It was not uncommon for one of you to approach the other just about everyday over it, but this was borderline excessive even for him.

Your thighs ached from straddling him many times the last couple days, or from wrapping them around his hips as he fucked you against the wall. It was not really a complaint, nor something you cared to stop, but it was an unexplained change in Halsin.

Even early in the morning, just after meditating, he was ready to go again.

“My heart” he sighs in you ear, “how is it possible that I want you more every day? Every time I lay eyes on you, you’re more beautiful than I remember. It overcomes me and I just need to hear you, taste you, experience you”.

You feel his erection pressing on your backside as he slowly grinds against you. His hand that rested on you hip sliding down to now sit just under your belly button, waiting on an invitation to move lower.

“My heart, how are you not tired or sore?” you ask, half joking and half truly wondering where this drive suddenly came from.

It started three days ago. While bending down to put away a few things in the kitchen in a low cabinet he swept up behind you, grabbing your hips with such force he nearly yanked you off your feet. “Such gorgeous hips” he murmured in your ear, his massive torso bent over yours, dwarfing you entirely “I need you. Now” he growled in your ear.

It was more worked up then you had ever seen him, his whole body heaved with every breath and word and his hands dug into your hips with clear intent.

“Then take me” you replied.

Halsin did not waste a moment. He swiftly hooked a finger into the waist of your pants and pulled them along with your underwear down in one fluid motion. One rough hand immediately slipped down your front between your legs to find your clit and begin rubbing it while the other found your breast. You felt the tip of his shaft seeking entrance to you and you rose to your tip toes to make it easier. He quickly found the entry he craved and sank his full length into you, causing you to bite back a yelp. Halsin was large in every aspect of his being, from his physical size, to his personality, to his emotions, to his cock and right now without any sort of warmup you were especially reminded of that.

This was much rougher than his usual self. Halsin usually preferred things on the firmer side, as did you, neither of you were exactly fragile and pushing limits had its fun, but this was something else all together. From the beginning his pace was brisk, a sort desperation to his movements as if he felt like he was going to explode if he did not have you right then and there. And you and never been so aroused.

You let out a moan as you relaxed and adjusted to him, letting do as he wished and enjoying his sudden forwardness. The moan seemed to spur him on, pushing him to thrust even deeper now that you had relaxed enough to fully accept his length and it felt incredible.

“Gods you feel so good, fuck” you moaned and swore he felt larger than previous times.

Halsin was very much a man of give and take, of slow methodical pleasure. This however, was more base, almost instinctual feeling in comparison.

His breath was heavy in you ear, a strong departure from his usual verbosity. Where he typically sung your praises instead you were met with growls and panting.

You were shoved into the cabinet over the course of his thrusting, the edge of the counter digging into your hips, Halsin’s torso flush against your back was keeping you pinned against the furniture, preventing you from moving, not that you wanted to be anywhere else. He kept his pace steady as he rubbed your clit and his teeth found the side of your neck, biting harder than he normally did, his nails dug into your breast where his hand was pinned between you and the counter.

Breathing was difficult from his weight pressing down on you, but it only seemed to intensify everything. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you felt yourself getting close, every stroke filling you fully and pushing you to the edge. A wordless whine crept into your voice mixed with short gasps, you did not know how much more you could take, but you wanted this to last as long as possible.

This directness from him, the lust, the dominance, it was such a different side of him. Before Halsin, you had been the dominant one in all your encounters, then with Halsin while you swapped who was in the lead you would not say either of you was truly dominant. This though? This reminded you of an animal in heat; intense, rough, not just a want but a visceral need driven by something subconscious. Being desired so carnally, at such a base level lit a fire in your belly in a way few other things ever had.

Your finish washed over you, an intense buzz that started between your legs and dispersed through every inch of your body. You howled and panted his name like you never had before.

Halsin continued his relentless pace and pulled you closer to him even. His breathing was ragged and hot on you neck and you were suddenly acutely aware of how small you felt compared to him as you basked in the afterglow and tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck me full” you told him, “make me feel every last drop”.

This seemed to put him over the edge, he pumped into you hard, nearly enough to knock the breath out of you and moaned loudly.

You did feel it, every drop flooding into you and dripping down your leg, every twitch of his cock as he met his release. Halsin remained in you, gasping for air and coming back down to the ground.

Air flooded your lungs as he leaned his weight off you and his kisses peppered your back and shoulders. You straightened yourself out and assessed the state you were in: bruises marked your hips where you were bent over the counter, nail marks dug into your breast, and you were certain you had bite marks on your neck. Not that any of it mattered, you loved seeing his marks on your body.

“I’m not complaining, but that was… intense” you broke the silence.

“I’m sorry my love, I just needed you so badly” he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh don’t apologize, it was incredible. I didn’t know you ever got like that. You were so dominant, so, I don’t know? Instinctual? I don’t know if that’s the right word but I have never been so turned on”.

“Oh!” He said in surprise, “well, in that case, I can definitely promise you more”.

Over the next 3 days it continued much the same. Any time you bent over, or showed much skin, or really did much of anything there was Halsin, begging you to let him fuck you. Every ask was tinged with heavy desperation and lust previously unknown to you, and the moment you let him it was a torrid of rough sex in the first position he could get you in.

You lay there now in bed, naked with his cock pressed against your backside. Your legs are sore, your back is sore, every bit of you inside and out is on the verge of raw.

“My love, my heart, I am loving all of this but I concede, I can’t keep up. What’s come over you?” you ask.

“Come over me? No this is pretty normal for now” he answers.

“Normal? For now?” you ask again.

“Yes, this time of year is typically mating season for bears” he said matter of factly, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

“You aren’t a bear”.

“No, but you spend enough time as one and the instincts start to stick around afterwards”.

At this point you could not tell if he was serious or not. The whole thing was so matter of fact, but you had never heard anything about wildshape affecting a Druid like that.

You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts before beginning “Alright, so, right now you-“

“Want to fuck you against every surface in this house and surrounding forest until my scent covers every inch of you and you’re carrying our child. If you’ll let me”.

“And you remember that that’s not possible right? Even long before I met you I’ve been too stabbed and banged up to ever be able to carry a child. Something I’ve told you and that you said that you were alright with”.

“I’m aware, but instinct is instinct and I’m more that happy to try. Especially if that means we’ll just try forever”.

That answer satisfied you.

“I can be happy with that. But one last thing my love”.

“Anything. Say the word and there’s no length I wouldn’t go to fulfill your wish”.

“Find some positions that don’t hurt my thighs so much. Because if you pin me to the wall again there’s no way my legs are going to hold out”.

Halsin let out a deep laugh, a true and joyous laugh. “My love! I wished you had said something sooner! My thinking isn’t the clearest right now but if I had known-“ out of the corner of your eye you saw the gentle warm glow of healing magic as the hand that had been resting just under your bellybutton moved to your sore legs, “I would have helped with that”.

Much of the soreness and ache recedes as the soft glow fades.

“Actually one more thing, there’s been a few times I’ve been a little raw- uh- inside from all of this. Is there anything that can be done…?” you trail off.

“Yes! There are a few things I can make, perhaps a salve that provides some extra lubrication and maybe something a bit cooling feeling? I could do that, would that work?”

“I think so, and I’d be more than happy to try at any rate”

You feel him press your hips back against his and the throb of his still erect cock on your skin.

“Out of bed. Now. Salve first, trying to breed me after”.

Halsin sighs, not like he could complain about anything. He stumbles a bit as he attempts to pull his pants on, any attempt at salve making would require getting ingredients from the forest and town, and one of those requires pants.

“And love!” you call as he walks out the door, “If that salve works and you keep me from being so sore I’ll start wearing a shorter dress around the house with no panties, or maybe just nothing at all. I’ll give you blanket permission for the season to fuck me whenever you want, like nature intended”.

You had never seen Halsin move so fast to go get the shopping done.

#bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav

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reid-fiction · 4 years

Text

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

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He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you.

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch.

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it.

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving.

-----

It started with a hug.

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!”

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso.

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers.

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this.

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go.

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands.

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible.

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered.

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he.

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying.

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid.

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought.

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did.

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened.

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately.

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own.

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat.

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that.

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath.

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again.

The psychological facts could wait.

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#spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Note

Okay but what about Orc!bucky and Goddess!reader ..😳🤭 Shes an Aphrodite, I can imagine her looking down and seeing orc!bucky and just craving him. They be a great power couple ...

Hi hun! I'm sorry it took me so much time to write this fic, and, well, since most of us already have some depiction of Aphrodite in mind, I decided to make the reader her daughter. Guess the story turned out something very different from what you wanted, but I still hope you will enjoy it!

Somebody to Die For

Pairing: orc!Bucky x goddess!Reader

Warnings: violence, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2385.

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"I will fight for you till they cut off my arms, my legs, and my head."

You looked at the warrior in front of you, his heavy body clad in armor, his arms holding a spear and a shield you brought to him yourself, earning a slap from your mother, the goddess of beauty who forbid you to help humans so shamelessly, and yet, you always did.

The man standing in front of you was neither orc nor human but the descendant of the both of them, the only hero who could possibly defeat the evil forces when every other man had failed. He's rough; he's rude; he knew little of honor, but he's the one who still fought when the ones before him had long given up. Despite the prejudice against orcs, now even humans understood he was their only salvation.

You hoped he would survive the last battle. Not just because you needed the human kind to have a savior, a leader, the one who would aid them when nobody else would, but because you had grown found of him, the man you had been guiding for years, helping him to protect those who detested him, bringing him hope when he was ready to give up, embracing him when he no longer had the power to hold his spear. A daughter of the goddess of beauty, you were to bring this beauty to the parts of the world where your tired mother could not, but you brought hope instead.

"Fight for me, and if you win, I will fulfill your wish, soldier." You whispered through your golden mask that covered your face entirely, only your eyes visible to the orc standing on his knees.

Your mother never approved of it, but you had seen people going mad from having just one glance at you, your immense beauty blinding them, driving them insane, making them forgot who they were. It was a curse, not a blessing. It was the reason you wore your mask at all times, only showing your face to those your deemed worthy, strong enough to withstand the charms you had no control over.

You knew your hero wanted to see your face more than anything else in the world.

"I will bring you the demon's head on a golden plate, my goddess."

You'd chuckle at his attempt to please you, but you were scared, you feared he would fail, fall, die in the hands of evil forces feasting upon human kind and threatening to destroy all the gods had created. You could not fight along him, possessing no skills to win that battle; moreover, your mother would most certainly kill you if you intervened, breaking the oath you had given to her. You could only help the hero you had chosen while staying in the shadow.

"Stay alive, Bucky." Those were your last words when you pressed the cold lips of your mask to the orc's forehead, giving him your blessing and hiding the tears behind the cold metal.

If only you could fight, but your hands grew cold every time you touched the hero's spear, unable to wield a sword or a mace. The war was not your domain, all the gods kept telling you when you plead them to gift you enough strength and courage to engage in battle. No, your fate was to shine like a golden statue, blinding all those who dared to look at you, bending them to your will like you mother had always done. They couldn't understand your ardent desire to watch over the humankind and all those who needed your help, spending your time healing soldiers, aiding orphans and the elderly, bringing food and water to all those in need. The gods cared little for mortals. Even when the Great Evil appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc on the lands belonging to people constantly praying for gods mercy, the immortals were too busy with their own affairs, realizing how serious the matter was when it had been too late.

When the orc you clad in charmed armor stood in front of the army of the undead, the diabolical creatures with horns and gaunt wings growling behind them, ready to strike, you prayed for him to come out of the battle alive. It was his fate to be the last hero standing between the chaos and all what was dear to the living, yet he bore no responsibility for it - he didn't ask to be the hero, to fight when his spear was long broken, go forward while the undead broke his bones and demons feasted upon his flesh, ripping pieces of meat before the orc could crush their heads with his mere hands. You kept casting spells to aid him, knowing your mother would whip you, but you didn't care, healing your hero's wounds so he could fight until he would cut off the head of the Demon King with his own sword.

Your hero was laying on top of demon's dead body, still holding the head even while unconscious as you sneaked into the field full of corpses, bodies of demons and bones of the undead rotting under the blazing sun. Your hero was dying from his wounds, bleeding so much his skin was loosing its color, and now it was your time to bring him back to the living before it was too late.

Oh, you knew your mother could kill you for stealing the salve meant only for gods to heal their wounds, but you no longer cared. What did it matter if the one who saved you all was to pay with his life for everything he had done to protect the living? No, it was unfair. The orc stood to gain nothing from his heroic deeds, gods being too arrogant to acknowledge him properly, but he had the right to keep his life.

And so you carried his heavy body to the springs, washing his wounds, applying the salve generously and casting as much healing spells as you did in your entire life to keep him alive, praying and hoping the gods would take mercy on him. Yes, he was three quarters an orc; he was barbaric, savage, ferocious, but he had kindness in his heart like no other, agreeing to fight for humans who had always utterly despised him. Despite being a brute, he was kind to children, women and elderly people. He had never lay his hand on those weaker than him, except when they attacked him on their own. In the end, he was the only hero who answered your call when all those you had asked for help died on the battlefield, unable to fight the demons and their army of corpses.

It had been three days and three nights you spent tending to his wounds until his heart started beating like of a living being. You cried your eyes out when you heard it. The salve had finally worked, and the open wounds closed, leaving his body scarred but healed; his breath steadied, and soon your hero would come back to you, you knew. Gods had answered your prayers for the first time.

"Am I dead?" Bucky asked you when he opened his eyes on the fourth day as he saw you tired face, your mask long abandoned the moment you brought him to the springs.

You smiled at him and held him close, his head laying on your lap while you witnessed his awakening, his body covered in salve, making his skin shine like pure gold.

"You are alive and well." leaning to him, you left a kiss on his forehead, brushing his dark disheveled hair out of his face, and the orc made an odd sound as if he were purring like a giant cat. "You will live a long life, cherished and honored by those you protected, I promise you."

"Will you keep that one promise you gave me, my goddess?"

He's impatient, he had always been, and you laughed at his eagerness, knowing his body still hurt, but the orc didn't seem to mind it. Was he unhappy with seeing your face? You didn't think so, and yet, apparently, he wanted something else. Gold? Women? Immortality? The last one would be quite hard, that is if gods wouldn't struck you with a lightning or something just to teach you a lesson to be more pliant and respectful.

"What it is that you want, my warrior? I will do whatever you ask me to if it is within my powers, just like I promised."

"It's within your powers, I'm sure." He grumbled, making you laugh even harder at his unusual grumpiness, touching the tips of his tusks, and the orc laughed at you, too.

"What is it, then? Don't keep me waiting, mortal, for even I grew tired of tending to you over four days." Winking at him in the most frivolous manner just like your mother had taught you, you giggled then, and the hero's face lightened up.

"This is not how I imagined it to be, but who cares, anyway." he muttered to himself and sat up, turning to you and hurriedly searching the pockets of his torn pants, obviously empty after his long, intense battle. "Shit! I've brought you golden rings and necklaces and bracelets, but those flying bitches made holes in my clothes. I should have hidden my gifts under some rock before the battle."

"Oh, you should have!"

He's impossible, you thought as you both snickered, his huge, calloused hands touching gentle yours. He brought you gold? What for?

"Well, whatever, I'll find more for you later if you don't mind, goddess. Will you give me the honor of becoming my wife even if I didn't bring you the gifts?" The orc tilted his head to the side, looking at you as if it were just a mere matter of something minor, unimportant, but soon, as he watched you openly gape at him for his audacity, he quickly bowed his head, kneeling in front of you.

You were speechless. For once, you had never for once suspected of the hero having these feelings for you. Surely, he prayed to you, he respected you as a mortal should respect their deity, he was intrigued by your true appearance you had concealed from him, but his spoke of marriage seemed preposterous. Was it your face again, your mother's charms? No, no, it couldn’t have been it for the hero intended to bring you gifts, wedding gifts, that is. He had come prepared.

Unbelievable. Did his feelings grow while he didn't even know how you looked?

"Forgive me my insolence, goddess." he mumbled, realizing his offer could be a grave offense to you, a being standing way higher than him. "But I can serve you till the end of my days, do whatever you tell me to. If I have survived the last battle and brought people salvation they wanted, I must be good enough, right?"

"Will you serve me even if I am not your wife?" You asked him quietly, looking at your hands covered in the balm you stole from the gods just to heal his wounds, knowing you were attracted to him despite your feelings never being voiced.

For a couple of seconds the orc grew silent, watching the carpet you put him on to tend to his wounds: it had been soaked in his blood that now dried out.

"I will serve you even then." He uttered grimly, refusing to look you in the eyes, his gaze on your hands as he kept sitting in front of you.

Afraid to speak, you fell silent too, wishing to touch him, brush your hand against his disheveled hair. Oh, didn't you want him? Didn't you wish to be embraced by the very hero you spent years guiding and healing so he would continue his journey? Didn't you deserve to be loved, the daughter of the goddess of that very same love you'd been craving for so long?

But your hero was a mortal. You were frightened to even think what gods would do to him for his impertinence.

Oh, evil gods. You spent years to teach and guide the mortal hero they despised who brought the salvation to the lands they were so afraid to lose, and yet neither him nor you were given anything in return. Instead, they were granting you a torture of refusing advances of the only one dear to you.

Please, darling.

Your mother's irritated voice cut through the silence like a knife, and you froze, knowing she was rolling her eyes at you, watching you secretly like she often did.

You have a heart of stone if you reject the man who is standing on his knees in front of you. I grant you my permission if you so need it.

As her mighty voice rang in the complete silence of a cave, Bucky shivered, immediately getting on his feet. Of course, he knew nothing of your mother except that she was a goddess, and he had never heard her voice. It didn't matter to you, though, as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

Permission. She granted you her permission to marry him. You were free to act as you like, knowing the gods wouldn't bring their wrath upon your hero.

"I will have you if you promise to love and cherish me like no other, protect me, and be loyal to me until your last breath." You whispered, your eyes full of tears as you watched him from below while he towered above you, and the next second he was on his knees again, taking your arms in his and kissing your tears away.

"Even if my face will be disfigured, my tongue cut off, and my body dismembered, I will love you till my last breath." his voice was so quiet, yet you heard him as if he were screaming at the top of his voice. "I promise to worship you and come to you aid whenever you need me."

Hurriedly ripping a piece of his ragged, soaked in blood clothes, he wrapped it around your finger like it was a ring he had lost.

"My soul, my heart, and my sword - everything I possess I give to you."

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @iheartsebandchris

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #orc!bucky #winter soldier #mcu #mcu fanfiction #requests

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ppangjae · 4 years

Text

PLANET GIRL | part 1

SUMMARY. When Jaehyun turned twenty-one, he started to hear his soulmate’s voice singing an unfamiliar song in his head. He should be happy, right? Wrong. There are two things wrong with this:

He’s taken. He’s off the market. He’s in a 3-year relationship and,

The voice singing in his head is not his girlfriend’s voice.

Now what?

WORD COUNT. 6k+ words

author’s note. after much consideration, i decided to post this fic in three parts so that it’s not as hectic! you know me, i love adding ✨drama ✨ now, before you come at me for posting this and not a made to fall in love update, this first part of this fic has been done since mid-september. i’d rather release it than let it collect dust in my drafts. so yes, here she is. happy reading!

taglist: @billiondollarworth @cafemochi @stae-yong @chanyeolscoon @ggaayyyong @soothingjae @taestannie @plump-peach @oshmendes @lanadreamie @justineasian @jjpmoans @beryllium-io @jaeismytamtation @noonapabo127 @hanniesbubble

PART ONE. cupid | PART TWO. jupiter | 2.5 intermission | PART THREE. PLANET GIRL

“Mark, get your ass over here before I do it myself!”

“Holy shit, what’s the rush?”

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.”

“And what about it?”

It’s that time of the year again; Valentine’s Day. It’s the day where people fall in love or get their hearts broken. But to you, it’s the day where you’re designated to a new target. To put it simply, you’re Cupid. You are part of a family of Cupid’s. However, you hate being called Cupid, you moreso see yourself as a matchmaker.

Every Valentine’s Day, you’re designated to a new target. As a matchmaker, it is your responsibility to make your target fall in love within one year. If you fail to complete your mission, you will be stripped of your abilities of matchmaking.

Last year, your target was Johnny. Johnny was an easy target to work with, for he fell in love with the local cafe barista within three months. The two of them are happily dating now and it’s almost as if they’re still in their honeymoon phase.

Two years ago, your target was your roommate Mark. It took a while for him to fall in love. He was quite difficult to work with because he was so focused on his studies that he barely batted an eyelash at a human of the opposite sex. But you still managed to do it and all it took was to introduce him to Mina, the studious chemistry student who’s been crushing on him since freshman year.

But this year, you’re not quite sure who to expect.

“Are you getting your new assignment tomorrow?” Mark finally enters your room after what seems like forever, falling against your bed. He lands and lets out a soft ‘oof!’. You turn away from your desktop to face him.

“Of course,” you reply with a quirk of an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, the day of love and the day of heartbreak.”

“Are you excited?”

“Not the slightest bit.” You let out a tiring sigh.

“Why not?” He frowns.

“Because I have to stress over someone else’s love life for another damn year.” You shrug your shoulders as you explain. “I already have other things to stress out over.”

“You’re always granted a year per love assignment. A year is enough to make someone fall in love, right?”

You laugh. “A year per love assignment? I wish a year was enough. A year goes by with a blink of an eye. Before you know it, it’s Valentine’s Day again.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. Why don’t you just skip out on the matchmaking just for this year?” He suggests and you shake your head.

“I can’t.” You purse your lips into a tight line.

He lets out a snort. “I’m sure it’s possible—”

“It’s impossible.”

There are many great things about being a Cupid; you help people fall in love with each other and the outcome is always beautiful. But there are also many downfalls about being a Cupid, one of them being cursed to never fall in love. You’ve always craved the feeling of being loved by someone. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re needy for love. But the closest you’ll ever feel to being in love is witnessing the love being shared by two people, specifically between your love assignment and their soulmate.

You wonder how it feels to have someone care for you. You wonder how it feels to be sought after. You wonder how it feels to hug someone and hold their hand. But you guess you’ll never know because you’ll never experience it.

“God, I want to throw up.”

Johnny lets out a snort as the both of you pass by the seasonal section of the department store. There’s a plethora of Valentine’s Day chocolates on the shelves, along with teddy bears and heart plushies. Seeing the bright, flashing red on the days leading up to Valentine’s Day is surely a sore to the eye.

“I know, it makes me want to poke my eyes out.” Johnny sighs.

“And what are we here for again?” You ask Johnny as you follow him to the baked goods section of the department store. Your question seems to be answered when you find yourselves standing in front of a shelf filled with ready-made birthday cakes. You quirk an eyebrow. “Who’s birthday is it? It’s definitely not Mark’s birthday, don’t even try to trick me.”

“It’s Jaehyun’s birthday tomorrow, I figured it would be sweet of me to get him a birthday cake.” He shrugs his shoulders as he points between two cakes on the shelves. “This one or this one?”

You point at the plain birthday cake on the left. “This one. You know what would be really funny? If you printed his face on the cake.”

Johnny looks at you and squints his eyes. “You're a genius.”

You have no idea who Jaehyun is. You don’t even know what he looks like. You’ve only heard of him through Johnny. The both of them host the university’s famous evening radio show, Night Night with JohnJae. You’re a listener of their show, mainly because you are supportive of your best friend Johnny. You’re sure Jaehyun is a great guy, especially since Johnny and Jaehyun share good chemistry with each other. You’ll probably get along with him well if you met him. But that encounter has yet to happen.

As Johnny hands the cake over to the bakery chef to print Jaehyun’s face on it, he turns towards you. “And now we wait.”

“What time do you have to be at the studio?” You question.

He looks down at his watch. “I’ll make it on time. By the way, Mark has been making great song requests by this SoundCloud artist. From what he tells me, the artist is a student from our university.”

You quirk an eyebrow, gulping nervously. “Who’s this SoundCloud artist?”

“Planet Girl.” Johnny pulls out his phone and opens up the music app before handing it over for you to see. You stare at the artist’s profile. “Do you know her?”

You shake your head in reply. “Unfortunately, I don’t.”

“Damn,” Johnny lets out a sigh. “I was hoping you did. Jaehyun and I want her to be a guest on the show, it could probably help her get more attention in the industry.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you purse your lips into a tight line. “I only know so many people in my program. I have a very small, closely knitted group of friends. They are the only people I’ve known since I stepped on campus in freshman year.”

“I was hoping you’ve heard of her, at least.” He chuckles. “But damn, her music is so good. I can’t wait until her mixtape drops. I’m sure it’ll be such a banger.”

“I should probably check her out.”

“You should!” Johnny exclaims. “I wonder who she is.”

You fiddle with your fingers. You stare at Johnny who’s scrolling through the SoundCloud artist’s profile, adding a couple of the artist’s songs to his playlists. You blink and with a slight tilt of your head, you clear your throat. “Yeah, me too—”

“I have an order for Johnny!”

11:51 pm.

“Right before we sign off for the night, do you have anything to say to our listeners?”

Johnny has a shit-eating grin spread across his lips. He comes back into the studio with a birthday cake. It’s not just your typical birthday cake. It’s a birthday cake with Jaehyun’s face on it and it’s blown out in an odd proportion. The candles aren’t birthday candles either, in fact, they’re heart-shaped candles, perfect for Valentine’s Day. Jaehyun lets out a sigh. What is he going to do with Johnny?

“I just wanted to greet our handsome radio host slash Valentine boy, Jaehyun, a happy birthday! We have—” Johnny glances down at his wristwatch before continuing. “—nine more minutes before it’s officially Jaehyun’s birthday and Valentine’s Day. And what’s better than celebrating it with a birthday cake?”

“Is that my face?”

“Who else would it be, doofus?” Johnny scoffs, pulling out a lighter to light the candles. Jaehyun lets out a snort as Johnny starts to sing him a happy birthday. After the happy birthday song, Johnny frowns and sends him a death glare. “Why aren’t you getting emotional? I did all of this to get that reaction?”

Jaehyun gives him a look. “And so as we sign off for the night, I just wanted to thank Johnny for his efforts in kicking off my birthday on a high note. I also want to greet everyone with a Happy Valentine’s Day. Whether you are happily dating someone or admiring someone from afar, just know that you are all in our hearts.”

“Stop being greasy.” Johnny winces. “Anyways, we’re going to sign off for the night with a song request from Mark Lee! Goodnight and see you tomorrow, here is Loose by Daniel Caesar.”

They turn their microphones off and Johnny pushes the birthday cake towards him. “Quick! Make a wish before the candles go out.”

Jaehyun clasps his hands together and makes a wish. With a satisfied grin, his eyes flutter open and he blows out the candles. Johnny’s taking a video of him blowing out the candles before dipping his finger into the icing. Jaehyun gives him a warning look but it’s too late because Johnny smears the icing on his cheek.

“You little shit—”

“It’s midnight! Happy birthday, Jaehyun!”

12:01 am.

It all happens quickly. Johnny’s dipping his fingers into the icing to smear more of it on Jaehyun’s cheeks. Jaehyun hears a slight ringing in his ears and his eyebrows knit together. Johnny doesn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable Jaehyun feels until he’s about to smear his cheeks with icing.

“Jaehyun, are you alright?” Johnny asks him with a concerned look.

The ringing in his ears halts to a stop. He remembers this. He remembers his father telling him that he experienced a distinct ringing in his ears before he started to hear his mother’s voice humming in his head. Jaehyun blinks. The ringing in his ears causes him to see different specks of colours, red, blue, and even green. He feels like his head is spinning. He feels like he’s going to pass out. But it only happens for a brief moment.

Suddenly, he hears a soft voice humming a melody in his head. In an instant, the soft humming in his head stops him from seeing colours and he no longer feels faint. He’s too absorbed in his thoughts to snap back to reality. Johnny is waving his hand in his face to pull him out of his trance. Jaehyun sucks in a deep breath, almost like he’s gasping for air. The soft humming in his head slowly turns into a voice that’s singing an unfamiliar song. He’s never heard this song before.

Johnny sighs with relief when Jaehyun snaps out of his deep trance. Jaehyun looks at Johnny with slightly widened eyes.

“Johnny, I think we have a problem.”

Johnny snorts. “What are you talking about? You’re probably just tired. We should head back to the dorms before you knock out cold in the studio again.”

Jaehyun runs his fingers through his hair. “R-Right. We should probably go.”

Johnny rests his hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s—everything’s alright.” Jaehyun stutters.

No, nothing’s alright. Nothing’s okay.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a new text notification from his girlfriend.

ara (12:03 am): happy birthday my love! and happy valentine’s day! i love you 3000.

Jaehyun just turned twenty-one. Not only that, but he just started to hear his soulmate’s voice in his head. He should be happy, right? Wrong. There are two things wrong with this:

He’s taken. He’s off the market. He’s in a 3-year relationship and,

The voice singing in his head is not his girlfriend’s voice.

Well, shit. Now what?

It’s the day you dread with your entire existence; Valentine’s Day. The campus couples flock to the local cafes and parks, the dormitories and even the campus football field. It truly makes you want to throw up. If you could take a shot of vodka for every time you’ve witnessed a couple kissing or giving each other their Valentine’s Day chocolates, you’d be shitfaced drunk by now.

The only person keeping you sane is Mark. But even with Mark’s presence, he’s too absorbed by the presence of his own girlfriend, Mina. You guess this will do. It’s not like you really have a choice.

Today, you’re going to get your new love assignment. You’re not sure who to expect. Every year, it’s become less surprising and more disappointing. You guess it has to do with your aching desire for love, but you’re not going to dive deep into that.

You’ll know who your love assignment is when you meet their eyes. When you meet your love assignment’s eyes, you won’t see yourself reflected through their eyes, but their soulmate, their partner you’re supposed to link them to. The moment you witness it, your year to make them fall in love begins.

Be careful though, time is ticking.

“Can you guys stop talking to each other in baby voices?” You snap at the couple sitting next to you on the picnic blanket.

The couple had decided to bring you along on their picnic date, just because they figured that you needed to ‘spice’ your life up a bit. You feel like a huge burden to them because whenever you’re with them, all you do is complain about all the things they do as a couple. Could you really blame yourself at this point?

“Y/N, if only you had a boyfriend, you would know how it feels.” Mina sticks her tongue out at you and you feel your eye twitch.

Mark lets out a nervous laugh. “Y/N is an independent woman who doesn’t need a man—”

“Yeah, your boyfriend’s right.” You cut him off, looking at Mina dead straight in the eyes. “Got a problem with that?”

“Stop giving me attitude—”

“And stop acting like I didn’t help you and Mark get together.” You snap.

She smiles and laughs sheepishly. As she gets up onto her two feet, she dusts off her straight-cut jeans before pointing towards the local cafe. “Do you guys want anything? My treat.”

“I’ll have the usual,” Mark replies. “Take my card—”

“Babe, no—”

“I’m not letting you pay for our drinks again—”

You let out a scowl, placing some cash into Mina’s hand. “Here. I’ll pay. I’m this close to ripping my hair off my scalp and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Mina frowns. “You’ve been petty all day.”

“Get me a double shot on ice,” you mutter. “No sugar or cream. Got it?”

“You’re just like how you like your coffee,” Mina folds her arms. “Bitter.”

As Mina is walking away from you and Mark, you fall back against the picnic blanket. The clouds come by in funny shapes today. You spot a tiny, heart-shaped cloud floating past in the blue skies. You snort, love seems to be everywhere today, even in the skies. Your eyes flutter shut. You’re so close to dozing off into a quick nap until you hear a loud yell from a couple of metres away. It’s too late for you to open your eyes and see who’s yelling because the moment you do, there’s a soccer ball flying in the air. The size of the soccer ball grows when you start to realize that it’s literally going to land right on your face—

“Nice save, dude.” Mark says as he looks at you with amusement. Just in time and with your fast instincts, you managed to cover your face with the palms of your hands to catch the ball.

Mark’s pulling you up into a seated position. As you sit up, you see someone approaching you from the corner of your eye.

“I’m so sorry about that!” A soft voice exclaims and you turn to your right. You look up at a woman around your age. She has long black hair and a soft face. She looks warmhearted. Her vibe radiates happiness and happy-go-lucky, welcoming and sociable. Everything you’re not. She’s sporting a soccer jersey and a pair of athletic joggers. “Are you alright? I hope you didn’t get hurt or anything.”

You wave it off. “I’m A-okay. There’s nothing to worry about. Here’s your soccer ball.”

She slightly bends down to retrieve her ball. Her long black hair blocks your eyesight for a brief moment until the wind blows it away. Your eyes meet hers and a soft gasp threatens to escape your lips.

You’ll know who your love assignment is when you meet their eyes. Her eyes are a nice warm brown, shining underneath the sunlight. You swear you could see stars in her eyes. No, scratch that, you can see galaxies and stars in her eyes.

When you meet your love assignment’s eyes, you won’t see yourself reflected through their eyes, but their soulmate. And indeed, you look at her with slight surprise and shock when you don’t see your own reflection through her eyes. Instead, you see what seems to be a soccer player. The more you look into her eyes, the more information you obtain about her soulmate. He slowly turns around and it reveals his name on the back of his soccer jersey—

“Yuta?” You whisper.

The woman’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. She takes her ball and straightens up her posture. “Thanks again. What’s your name? I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

You snap out of it. “Y/N! My name’s Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

She smiles and her eyes form into beautiful crescents. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Ara. I should probably get going before I run late for lecture. See you around?”

You nod your head vigorously. “Yeah, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you too, take care.”

You find yourself staring at her as she walks away. Mark looks at you as you seem to fall into a deep trance. He follows your gaze that falls on Ara. “Hey, is everything alright?”

You tear your gaze away from her to look at Mark. “What’s her name again?”

Mark looks at you with a funny smile. “You forgot her name already? Her name’s Ara.”

“Mark,” you gulp nervously. “She’s my love assignment for this year.”

Mark’s face pales. His funny smile vanishes from his face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. You can’t seem to comprehend the expression on his face but you know that something’s not good. There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach as Mark’s mouth hangs open.

“You’re joking, right?” Mark frowns. “How could Ara be your love assignment? That’s—That’s impossible, I—”

You shake your head. “I’m not joking. I didn’t see myself reflected through her eyes, I saw Yuta—”

“You saw Jaehyun.” Mark cuts you off. “Right? Jaehyun. You saw Jaehyun, right?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Why would I see Jaehyun? I didn’t see Jaehyun. I saw Yuta, the university’s soccer team player. He was wearing a jersey and he turned around. I saw his name printed on his jersey. Nakamoto Yuta—”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Mark winces.

“I’m not kidding!” You exclaim in a panicked voice. “Why would I be kidding?”

Mark palms his forehead and lets out a laugh of disbelief. He shakes his head. You stare at him questioningly. What’s happening? What’s going on?

“Mark, you’re confusing me.” You say with worry etched on your face. “I am telling you the truth. I saw Nakamoto Yuta reflected in her eyes—”

“Ara is Jaehyun’s girlfriend. They’ve been dating for three years. Now you’re telling me that Ara’s your love assignment and you don’t see Jaehyun reflected in her eyes… but Yuta?”

“Holy shit.”

“I’m back with our drinks! Wait, what’s wrong? Why are you guys looking at each other like that?”

The image of Yuta’s reflection in Ara’s eyes never seems to leave your mind. In fact, it has been the only thing haunting you ever since. The revelation leaves you in nothing but a spiralling mess. You are required to make Ara fall in love with her soulmate, who so happens to be Yuta. But at the same exact time, to complete your mission, you must do something to end Ara’s relationship with Jaehyun.

You wish it was a joke.

It all comes down to whether you have the heart to lead Ara to her destined soulmate and end her relationship with Jaehyun or leave things for her to figure out but lose your matchmaking abilities as a Cupid.

The sticky situation makes you want to pull your hair off your scalp. It makes you want to look up to the heavens and yell at your ancestors for being Cupids, for passing down their matchmaking abilities to every generation after them, and for passing down the curse of never falling in love.

“Stop thinking about it too much, it’s making you age faster.”

You glare at Mark. “I don’t even know Jaehyun personally but I’m sure he’s a great guy who deserves everything in the entire universe, not some soccer player and a so-called Cupid to ruin his three-year relationship with Ara.”

“What happens if you don’t make Ara fall in love with her soulmate within a year—oh, Johnny, hey!”

Your mouth clamps shut and your head whips around. Johnny occupies the empty seat next to you and greets you with a light nudge. He nods his head at Mark. “What happens if what?”

Mark gulps nervously. He lets out a squeak. “Nothing!”

Mark makes eye contact with you and you give him a warning gaze. Johnny shrugs his shoulders and brushes off the conversation by starting a new one. “Tonight at six. Jaehyun’s apartment. We’re going to have a chicken and beer night.”

“This is exactly what I needed—” Mark points at him.

“I think I’ll have to pass on that one. I have a—”

“Uh, no you’re not.” Johnny shakes his head. “What excuse are you going to tell me this time? Your excuses are getting lamer every time. It’s quite obvious.”

You sigh. “I’d rather study. Besides, I have a midterm coming up and the last thing I want is to tank it.”

“It’s just one night. Chicken and beer. Who turns down chicken and beer? With friends, too?” Mark tries to convince you but you’re using your eyes to communicate the idea that this will not turn out well.

“Who’s coming?” You tear your gaze away from Mark when he doesn’t seem to take a hint. You’re reaching for your water bottle to take a quick sip of water.

“It’ll be me, Mark, Jaehyun, Jungwoo, Ara,” Johnny recalls the guests from the top of his head. “Oh! Yuta is coming too—”

You choke on your water. As you’re going through a coughing fit, Mark grabs your water bottle to prevent any more water from spilling onto the table. Johnny pats your back. “Y-Yuta? As in, Nakamoto Yuta?”

Johnny smiles. “Indeed. Why? Do you have a crush on him or something—”

“No!” You and Mark blurt out in unison.

Johnny gives you both a funny look. “Okay, geez, I was just joking around. Unless, you do, have a crush on Yuta, Y/N—”

“Look who we have here.”

It’s a foreign yet familiar voice. You’ve heard that voice somewhere. You sneak a quick glance at Mark, whose eyes are wide like saucers. You could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he gulps nervously. Mark’s eyes trail down to meet yours.

“Jaehyun! Ara! Perfect timing!”

Definitely not perfect timing. You mirror Mark with the same wide eyes. It’s almost as if you’ve shrivelled up or froze up into an ice statue. Johnny doesn’t seem to notice you shoving your things into your tote bag out of sheer panic. Mark’s eyes dart between you and the newly-arrived couple.

“Hey, sorry, I completely forgot that I have a meeting with my group for our project.” It comes out as a squeak. Everyone’s looking at you and you can’t find the strength to look at any of them in the eye. But you can surely feel the attention that’s been shifted towards you.

“Leaving already?” Johnny pouts. “I just got here—”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, standing up from your seat and making a beeline for the exit doors of the study room. You look over your shoulder. Johnny has a cute pout on his lips as he watches you scurry away from them. “I’ll make it up to you!”

“You’ll make it up to me by joining us tonight for chicken and beer!”

When Jaehyun and Ara take up the spot you used to sit at, Mark can’t help but look at Ara with round eyes. He just can’t seem to look at Ara the same way anymore, especially when she’s with Jaehyun. Mark decides to settle his gaze on Jaehyun instead, but he still feels the same. He can’t look at Jaehyun the same way either. The first person that comes to mind when he looks at the couple sitting across from him is Nakamoto Yuta. The second and last person that comes to mind is you.

There are two innocent people being brought into this mess. It’s you and Yuta.

And what’s worse is that Jaehyun and Ara are just as innocent.

You and Mark find yourselves standing in front of Jaehyun’s door. Surprisingly, it’s quiet. You don’t hear Johnny’s loud voice through the thin door. Instead, right when Mark knocks on the door, you hear someone’s faint shuffling that gets louder and louder as they get close to the door. The door swings open and your mouth slightly parts open. This is—?

“Jaehyun!” Mark exclaims, crashing into Jaehyun’s arms.

You stand there awkwardly as you watch them embrace. Jaehyun pats Mark’s back until his eyes meet yours. Jaehyun. You’ve known of him. But now that you can put a face to his name, you’re immediately brought back to your freshman year, specifically your freshman orientation week. You’ve seen his face before. Jaehyun was amongst the popular freshmen in your year mainly due to his charisma and charm. By the end of freshman orientation week, he had become a magnet that attracted everyone to him. But not only did you remember him from orientation week, but you remember being one of the many people who were attracted to him. He had become your first university crush, but ever since orientation week, you never saw him again.

Until now.

“I’m guessing you’re Y/N?” Jaehyun asks and you find yourself snapping out of your trance. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

You slowly nod your head. “Yes, that’s me.”

“The one that was scurrying away earlier?” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “God, please don’t remind me. That was embarrassing.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiles and oh boy, are those dimples?

You swoon. Too bad Jaehyun’s off the market. But at the same time, it’s a shame that you’re going to be the one to ruin his relationship and put him back on the market. You muster up a smile. “Nice to meet you too, Jaehyun.”

You and Mark make yourselves comfortable in Jaehyun’s apartment. Your eyes scan the place and just by the small touches to his apartment, you can pick up what kind of person Jaehyun is. From the LP turntable sitting in one corner of the room accompanied by a great stack of records—he has some exquisite taste in music—to the mini fridge filled with bottles of wine, you can tell that he’s a young man with an old soul. You turn to your right when you spot a piano and a microphone stand. It’s a makeshift studio in the opposite corner of his living room. He sings?

“I’ve heard many things about you from Johnny,” Jaehyun starts a conversation as he hands you a can of beer. “And Mark, of course.”

You open the can of beer to take your first sip, making sure to squint your eyes at Mark. “I hope they’re good things.”

He smiles. “There’s nothing to worry about. They put you up to the highest standard.”

You cough. “As they should.”

Mark scoffs. “You’re being too obnoxious right now.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking another sip of your beer. “What’s taking Johnny so long to get here? After scolding me for bailing out on every single function, here he is, pulling up later than promised.”

“Speaking of,” Jaehyun says as he stares at his phone. “His uber just pulled up. I’ll meet up with him downstairs. While I go fetch him, make yourselves comfortable.”

Jaehyun leaves you alone in silence. The moment Jaehyun shuts the door, Mark shoots you a cheeky grin. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but squint your eyes at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that—”

“You like him, don’t you?”

You scoff in disbelief. “I do not like him like that—”

“You do.” Mark cuts you off. “I’m getting that type of energy from you—”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, I don’t like him like that. Besides, he’s in a relationship with Ara—”

“He’s in a relationship that you’re destined to end.” Mark reminds you and you frown. “What? It’s true!”

You shake your head and with a stern voice, you say, “I don’t like Jaehyun. I just find him... charming.”

“That’s all—”

“And handsome—”

“Oh—”

“And sweet.” You add. “But other than that, I don’t like him. I’m Cupid, remember? I’m cursed to never fall in love and so the chances of me liking Jaehyun? Very slim.”

Mark smirks. “But you find him charming, handsome, and sweet. Isn’t that more than enough to like someone?”

“There’s a very distinct line drawn between infatuation and love, Mark.” You state with a matter of fact.

“So, you’re infatuated with Jaehyun—”

“What’s up party people, put your hands up!”

Both of your mouths clamp shut at Johnny’s freakishly loud voice echoing the apartment the moment he walks in. You dumbly put your hands up and Mark lets out a loud cackle. Entering right after him are Ara and—

“Yuta, my right hand and my go-to!” Mark exclaims.

You wish you were invisible, especially when Ara spots you on the couch and sends you a wave. You’re mustering up a very tight-lipped smile as you wave back at her. Great, this is going to be a long night. Jaehyun follows suit, throwing his arm over Ara’s shoulder and pecking her cheek. Mark sneaks a glance at you as you’re tearing your gaze away from the couple to take another sip of beer.

“Y/N actually came for once,” Johnny teases you.

Everyone gathers around the small coffee-table. Scattered on the small table are three boxes of chicken along with a can of beer for everyone. You’re sitting right across from Yuta, who hasn’t uttered a single word since he got here. But surprisingly enough, his eyes meet yours and you quickly look away. Your heart begins to race.

And your heart starts to beat much faster when Yuta never seems to break his stare at you for the rest of the night.

Yuta has definitely seen you before but he can’t seem to pinpoint exactly where he’s seen you. It must have been a fleeting moment, where the both of you passed by each other unknowingly. But after looking into your wandering eyes, after watching you chug a can of beer right across from him, he has found his answer.

Valentine’s Day.

He was biking on his way home after a three-hour lecture. Too many couples. He remembers the excessive amount of couples strolling down the busy streets. He remembers having the urge to rip his eyes out whenever he came to a stoplight and spotted a couple sharing a passionate (way too passionate) kiss. But he also remembers the sudden loneliness he felt.

Ara. He’s always found her pretty in her own special way. His first encounter with Ara was when she auditioned for the co-ed soccer team. He was seated at the bleachers as one of the head coaches who chose the new team members. She was everything he adored in someone. It was like she had her own glow whenever she ran down the field, with her hair bouncing as she ran.

But too bad because she’s—

“Taken?”

Jaehyun let out a sigh on the other phone line. Yuta pursed his lips into a tight line. “Listen, I tried to get those concert tickets for you tonight through my connections. But all of the available seats are taken. Well, there are still some seats but the seats you wanted are gone.”

“Do you have tickets for other seats?” Jaehyun questioned.

“Yeah, but the seats are pretty far from the stage. Are you alright with that?”

He heard distinct chatter on the other phone line. He heard Ara’s soft voice and a smile threatened to escape his lips. Right… she’s taken by Jaehyun. “We’ll take them!”

“Perfect.” Yuta chuckled. “I’m on my way to your apartment, actually. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes to give you the tickets.”

Yuta turned to his right and into a familiar neighbourhood. He slowed down his bike when he reached Jaehyun’s apartment building. As he headed up a couple flights of stairs, he reached Jaehyun’s apartment completely out of breath. The door opened and he saw—

“Oh, hey, Ara.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Is Jaehyun here?”

Ara beamed up at him and nodded her head. “Come in. You look like you’re out of breath. Do you want a glass of water, or something?”

“I’m good. Thanks.” He mumbled, too shy and nervous to utter anything other than those three words. Ara bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. God, why is he so nervous around her?

“Yuta!” Jaehyun said in a sing-song voice, greeting him with a fist-bump.

“Hey—oh?”

Yuta clamped his mouth shut when he looked into Jaehyun’s eyes. Jaehyun’s eyes sure do look pretty, he could see stars shining back at him. But that’s not what he saw.

He saw an unfamiliar woman. He’s never seen her before.

In Jaehyun’s eyes, he saw a woman holding what seemed like a microphone. She had headphones on and her face was illuminated by what he assumed was a laptop screen. She was singing a song he couldn’t hear. Yuta blinked, soaking in every little detail about the woman he saw in Jaehyun’s eyes. But it was not long until his face paled when he realized something terrible.

The woman he saw in Jaehyun’s eyes was not Ara.

Valentine’s Day. It’s the day he dreads the most out of the entire year. It’s the day where he receives his love assignment for the year. He has one year to make his assignment fall in love with their soulmate. But how is he going to do that when his love assignment is Jaehyun?

Cupids are cursed to never fall in love. Although, Yuta does have sheer hope that he could definitely find love. How could he not, when he’s a hopeless fool in front of Ara? It’s this specific Valentine’s Day that he dreads the most out of all the Valentine’s Days he’s spent. Why? Because while he found out that Jaehyun’s soulmate isn’t Ara, that surely doesn’t mean that he has a chance with Ara. In fact, he’ll never have a chance with Ara. He could potentially be the man Ara will hate the most.

Because one way or another, he must tear Ara and Jaehyun apart.

author’s note. welp, i hope you enjoyed the first part! i should be able to post the second part after all of my midterms. look out for it! thank you for reading!

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inkmemes · 3 years

Text

futurama ( 1999 - 2013 ) sentence starters ↪ taken from the animated science fiction show. alter as you see fit ♡

“let's get the hell out of here already! screw history!”

“when you do things right, people won't be sure you've done anything at all.”

“you have to use a light touch, like a safecracker or a pickpocket.”

"stop! the spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."

"she's stuck in an infinite loop and he's an idiot. that's love for you."

"all i know is my gut says maybe."

“i've never seen a super nova blow up. but if it's anything like my old chevy nova, it'll light up the night sky!”

"every christmas my mom would get a fresh goose, for goose-burgers, and my dad would whip up special eggnog out of bourbon and ice cubes."

"what do i look like, a guy who's not lazy?"

“is heaven missing an angel, cuz you've got nice cans!”

“help! a guinea pig tricked me!"

"[name], if i said you said you had a beautiful body, would you take your pants off and dance around a little."

"drugs are for weirdos and hypnosis is for weirdos with big eyebrows."

"[name], it would never work between us. you're a man, and i'm a woman. we're just too different."

“screw you, ill have my own contest. with black jack ... and hookers. forget the contest.”

“ah, she's built like a steakhouse but she handles like a bistro.”

"spare me your space age techno babble, [name].”

"it's sort of a two person pyramid scheme."

"i don't want to live on this planet anymore."

"you were doing well, until everyone died."

“if we hit that bullseye, the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. checkmate.”

“i am the man with no name. [muse name], at your service.”

“in the game of chess, you can never let your adversary see your pieces.”

"this is the worst kind of discrimination, the kind against me."

"you watched it... you can't unwatch it."

“valentine’s day is coming? aw crap! i forgot to get a girlfriend again!”

"hold on to your dookie, it’s about to get spooky!"

"i'm tired of this room and everyone in it."

"i'm so embarrassed. i wish everyone else was dead."

"you can't just have your characters announce how they feel! that makes me feel angry!"

"i don't have emotions, and sometimes that makes me very sad."

"if, for any reason you're not satisfied, i hate you."

"that young man fills me with hope. plus some other emotions which are weird and deeply confusing."

"i've dreamed about you a lot since you disappeared. what did you want to tell me?"

"what do you think the meaning of life was anyway?"

“you're a pimple on society's ass and you'll never amount to anything!”

“life and death are a seamless continuum.”

“if anyone wants me, i'll be in the angry dome.”

“and the worst part is, i had to have the breakup sex by myself!”

“they said i was dumb, but i proved them.”

“what's the point of living if i can't say ass?”

“i'll be stuffing coal so far down your stocking you'll be coughing up diamonds!”

“we're all pawns in his diabolical game of checkers.”

"wait, i'm having one of those things, a headache, with pictures!"

“sorry, i didn't realize i was already here.”

"guess what you're an accessory to!"

"why does ross, the largest friend, not simply eat the other friends?"

“there's no scientific consensus that life is important.”

"we cooked our shoes in the dryer and ate them! now we're bored!"

“i'm just as important as him. it's just that, the kind of importance i have ... it doesn't matter if i don't do it.”

“oh what a foolish squid i’ve been.”

“my instinct is to hide in this barrel, like the wily fish.”

"that was bad, and you should feel bad!"

"technically correct - the best kind of correct!"

"and here is where i keep my assorted lengths of wire!"

"oh wait, you are serious! let me laugh even harder!"

"i gotta practice my stabbing!"

"that's the saltiest thing i've ever tasted! and i once ate a big, heaping bowl of salt!"

“i apologize for nothing!”

"die young and leave a beautiful corpse! that's what i always say."

"here's to another lousy millennium."

“but i am already in my pajamas.”

“windmills do not work that way. goodnight.”

"you win again gravity."

"when push comes to shove, you got to do what you love, even if it's not a good idea.”

“but existing's basically all i do!”

“when will the killing end?"

"i'll be whatever i want to do."

"the use of words expressing something other than their literal intention. now that. is. irony."

"could you ask a little more sexfully?"

"hooray! i'm useful!"

"awesome. awesome to the max."

"some breaking occurred, the dolly was involved, that's about all we know."

“you want me to do two things?”

i love stealin', i love takin' things!

“i believe that qualifies as ill. at least from a technical standpoint.”

"that was the old me. he's dead now."

"jail ain't so bad; you can make sangria in the toilet. ‘course, it's shank or be shanked."

"one word. thundercougarfalconbird."

"of all my friends, you're the first."

“girls like swarms of lizards, right?”

“i lost it. in a volcano.”

"i'm gonna get you so many lizards!"

"who needs courage when you have a gun?"

“let's go! i've got jelly in my underpants!”

"interesting if true."

“i did do the nasty in the pasty!”

"something tells me i could easily beat those trained professionals."

"the two of you are good friends? but i thought we would be good friends!"

"it's like a party in my mouth, except everyone's throwing up."

“i'm shocked. shocked! well, not that shocked.”

“it's me! no one else look in this mirror!"

“you ever think you only like girls cause you're supposed to?”

"we don't gotta put up with this! we got poli sci degrees."

“sorry, i suffer from a very sexy learning disorder.”

“did somebody say something about a free hot meal?”

“you gotta do what you gotta do.”

"too many bones? not enough cash?"

“hey sexy mama, wanna kill all humans?”

"i don't know how you did that."

"the butter in my pocket is melting!"

"well ... first i got up and had a piece of toast ..."

“i can't wait til i'm old enough to feel ways about stuff.”

“interesting! no ... wait ... the other thing. tedious.”

"i knew you come crawling back, like a bird on its belly!"

“we both know you won't make it halfway before the craving sets in! then you'll come crawling back for another taste of sweet sweet candy. bam!"

“indeed so, most indeededly.”

"and by metaphorically, i mean get your coat."

“[vehicle]'s ready except for this cup holder, and i should have that done in 12 hours."

"stop. stop! i will destroy you." [ bonus if the receiver is doing something mundane to sender ]

“just make a simple cake. and this time, if someone's going to jump out of it, make sure to put them in after you cook it.”

“lies, lies and slander!”

“you raised my hopes and dashed them quite expertly, sir!”

“but going through a divorce together, you can't pretend that didn't bring us closer together.”

“when you say the human body is the most efficient thing to use as a battery, wouldn't anything make a better battery? like a potato? or a battery?”

“i'll have you know that i bejazzle my own underpants!”

“i'm sorry you had to see that, [name], usually i let my sadness fester quietly inside as a mental illness.”

“i'm not drunk, i'm mentally ill! but i agree with what, what you said.”

“this is a cool way to die!”

#rp meme #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters

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sirisuorionblack · 3 years

Note

Hiya! I love your writing so much 💜 May I pretty please request a sirius x reader imagine where they have passed the honeymoon phase of their relationship and now struggles with opening up to each other emotionally. Happy fluffy ending where they promise to love, protect and comfort each other?

I hope you have a lovely time wherever you are! Much love 💜

Until the very end

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warning - Cursing.

Summary - Realising you are in love is tough and expressing it is quite difficult. But for Sirius Black, it happened in a short period of time and in the place where he would have never expected to confess his undying love yet he promises.

A/N Ahhhh THANK YOU SOO MUCH! I had fun writing this although I cried a bit in the end, curse my emotional personality. I had to take some time to understand how you struggle with expressing all the emotions in being in a relationship cause I have never done that so this is practically very much based on imagination and theory. Hope you like it!

Sirius Black. Your boyfriend of two months and within the short span of time he proved you what an amazing gentleman he could be all the while make you feel loved and cherished. It was beautiful being in his arms, kissing or not. Or just stand next to him, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you to his side as he casually chatted made you feel things that you couldn’t describe in words. All you knew was you wanted to be with him till the end of your life, all the worries and hurt long forgotten with just simple grins on your face.

And Sirius was in no good condition. He was over the moon after the first month of your relationship, he knew the moment you tightly held him in your arms while a tear rolled down his eyes that you were the one. The one who would make him feel loved, safe, happy, like the luckiest human alive. The one who acted as his best friend, a sibling, a parent and…a partner for the rest of his life. He craved to just simply old you in his arms after a tiring day rather than kissing feverishly. He wanted to mutter that it would all be alright and he is right there but gulped all the words of comfort in fear.

Sirius desperately hoped he could gather the courage to at least blurt those three words. How stupid of him to think he would get the courage in two months while he had waited two years to ask you out. He always heaved a huge sigh when he thought of it and today was no different.

“Look at that,” James said, staring at Sirius who had occupied the couch in front of the fire in the comfort of his common room. Sirius sat up straight from his hunched position, rubbing his hand and pried his eyes away from the dancing fires to his best friend’s warm brown eyes, “No one is attached to your hips. What a surprise!”

Sirius resorted to a small chuckle and stared at the fireplace again. James scrunched his eyebrows, the Sirius he knew, never, no matter what could remain silent for this long…unless he was asleep.

“You alright?” He asked, taking a seat next to him, “Are you guys fighting or something?”

The fright in his eyes scared James as Sirius hurriedly said, “No, no. Merlin, no,”

“Then what's wrong?” James asked, getting comfortable so that he was looking at Sirius with his full attention. The fire danced maliciously in his grey eyes. James would never not admire how striking they look but he never would admit it to Sirius.

“I…I want to tell her,” he said, and gulped, “I wanna tell her that, but, I just dunno how!”

“Tell her what?” James asked, confused.

Sirius looked at him weirdly and shook his head, “No wonder how Lily had accepted your date offers yet,”

“Hey!” James whacked him over the head. The two boys laughed later falling into a comfortable silence.

“Do you love her?” James asked, this time both of their eyes on the shimmering fire.

“I-I don’t think so,” Sirius sighed lightly, “It's not exactly love, you know. That would be an understatement,”

James whipped his head to look at him. “Not like the usual definition of love. That “I would die for you” and all that shit. It's more like I would live with you, hold you, protect you kinda…thing. It's like, I want to be with her for every second of my life and…do things, have things I never knew I needed or wanted for me,”

“Oh, Merlin,” James breathed, “Is this how I talk?”

Sirius looked at him for a second before laughing and pushing him jokingly, “Piss off,”

James chuckled, “I say you tell her. I am sure she would think the same way,”

Sirius looked at him, “You think so?”

“Nope. I know so,” he said, with that little smirk that Sirius had grown to find mild comfort in.

“How do I tell her then?” Sirius asked.

“Are you seriously asking me? And look what I did there? Sirius-ly,” He said.

“James,” Sirius looked at him warningly.

“Look, if it is anyone, I should be the last person for you to ask advice on how to tell a girl you love her,” James said, “I have been struggling on my own for years, mate!”

“Then should I ask Remus?”

“He would ask you to get a book for her and say “I fucking love you”,” James said.

“Right, then Peter?”

“Nope!”

”Uh, Marlene?”

“She herself is hanging on thin ice,”

“Alright then who!?”

James thought of it for a second before he said, “Think of it yourself you know, come up with a nice, new amazing idea!”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Where is Sirius?” you asked Remus the next morning in the Gryffindor common room.

“That shit is asleep like a log upstairs,” He mumbled.

You blinked, “Mr Potter, you gotta do something about your ward’s extensive cursing,”

James laughed as Remus rolled his eyes, “Of course, Mrs Black, I will ground him until he stops cursing.”

Your eyes widened at the name he called you. Mrs Black. You knew he wasn’t talking about Walburga Black but the feel of being Sirius Black’s was something new and exciting and beautiful. Something you loved and feared at the same time.

“Shut up, Mr Evans,” You said, wiping the smirk off his face and making him blush.

“Good Godric,” Remus shook his head looking at the two of you, “Just please for Merlin’s sake get going,”

You chuckled and walked upstairs, the sound of James saying Mrs Black echoed in your head. What would happen next? In a few days would he find you boring and leave? Will you confess…the actual feelings? What would happen then? When will it happen? The questions in your head were overwhelming and now you just needed to see Sirius.

When you reached the boys’ dormitory, you gently pushed the doors open and slowly stepped in trying to not make much noise.

Sirius laid asleep on his four-poster. His hair a wild mess on the pillow, his face turned towards the door, a small smile on his face. You tip-toed to his bed and crouched to your knees to look at him. He looked so peaceful and indeed sleeping like a log.

He looked divine. Relaxed yet gorgeous. You knew how much he impacted your life when you pushed away the hair on his face gently and leaned down to press your lips to his forehead. While you moved to pull the blanket over him properly, you felt him grab your hand with his eyes closed.

Holding your breath, you stood still for a second before realising he was still deeply asleep. He mumbled something strangely similar to “love you, puppy”, before shifting to lay straight on his back, his head inclined to the opposite side but the clutch on your hand never losing its grip. He held your hand as would at any other time.

You didn’t want to disturb him and you had no reason to either. You tried to gently pry his fingers but it was of no use as he woke up with a start. Looking around wildly before spotting you. He laid back on the bed, with his eyes wide open and looking at you accusingly but with a smile nevertheless.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“It's OK, puppy,” he said, in his hoarse morning voice that you wished to hear for every day of your life, “C’mere,”

You took your place in his arms, snuggling closer to him. Sirius gently kissed your forehead, “Something’s wrong, my darling?”

“No,” you lied, moving closer to him. The warmth radiating off him was extremely comforting, those three words sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to slip out of your mouth any minute.

“Are you sure?” Sirius asked, shifting you in his arms so that the two of you were face to face. You nodded lightly.

With the mere months, Sirius had honestly get to know you rather than hiding behind and taking discreet looks, if he learnt anything it would be to identify every action of yours - he would immediately know if you were hiding something from him and usually Sirius wouldn’t pry the information but today was a different case. The hidden distress in your eyes was somehow blatantly visible to him, and he wanted that to disappear once and for all.

“Love, you know it’s okay to tell me anything, right?” he asked, looking intently into your eyes.

You let out a sigh, you could never hide anything from this boy, he knew every move of yours for your own good. You buried your head into his shoulder, his grey eyes too bright for you to look into.

“What is gonna happen next?” you mumbled. Sirius’ face took a look of confusion as he thought of it. What is gonna happen next?

“I dunno, get ready for breakfast?” He resorted to the more silly answer just to hear your laugh.

You pulled away to look at him, a beautiful smile on your face, “Not that, idiot. I meant like what do we next?”

Sirius leaned up to kiss your forehead, “Whatever my princess wants,”

“I love you,” You blurted without giving it a second thought. With wide eyes, you watched as Sirius' jaw dropped, a look of utter disbelief painting his handsome features.

In a state of panic, you scrambled to get out of the bed. Shaking your head, you muttered, “Forget it, forget I said that,”

“Wait, wait, darling!” Sirius threw the blanket away from him and stumbled to his feet. He rushed to you before you could leave the dorm and took hold of your wrist, pulling you flush against his chest. That’s when you saw it, the inexplicable amount of happiness mixed with disbelief in his eyes that would rival the stars themselves.

“Can you-what-can you say that again?” Sirius said, his eyes watering as he leaned down to place his forehead against yours, gently.

You wiped your own tears, taking his face in your hands as you whispered just for him to hear, “I love you,”

A dry sob escaped Sirius lips as he smashed his lips to yours, his arms around your waist tightening as he kissed you passionately with all the love poured into. He pulled away to look at you in the eyes, his chest blooming with pride and love, engulfing his entire being.

Sirius peppered your face with kisses and pulled away to look into your tear-filled eyes, “I love you too, puppy. I always have and always will, until the very end,”

“Until the very end?” you asked, smiling widely.

Sirius tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Until the very end, darling. I still don’t know what we are going to do next but I know whatever it is, it’s going to be with you,”

You leaned up to press your lips to his, letting the two of you drown into the pure mixture of love, bliss and happiness.

And Sirius Black finally understood the feeling of being loved and loving someone.

#Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius x fem!reader #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #marauders era #harry potter

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother.

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road. He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought.

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

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whimsywispsblog · 3 years

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A Lonely Night

A/N: Hello Wispies! Here's a little piece for our fishy friend, Salvatore Moreau. So, it's a little sad; it's mostly about what Moreau thinks of himself and the people around him. And how he craves for some human warmth and affection.

Trigger Warning: References to depression, vomiting

It was one of those rare nights where the dark inky skies blended with the brilliant twinkling of the little stars. Like tiny diamonds stuck in the coal-black voids of rocks, they sparkled with a certain entrancing touch to it, captivating its admirers in wonderment. There was always something magical about a starry night, or at least that what Moreau believed. He had rarely seen the clear skies of the Village- most days, it was always covered in thick dark clouds, gloomy clouds. But today, it was different- it was magical.

He sat just outside his home, a childlike innocent glint of astonishment in his eyes as he observed the skies, his mouth partly open in awe. A chilly breeze swept past him, and he shuddered slightly, pulling his coat a little tighter around him. It was nights like these that he appreciated the beauty and tranquillity of Mother Nature...And also wished to have someone to share this beauty with. A friend? A family? A companion? A dog? Anyone, just anyone to sit with him, maybe huddle a little and enjoy the little moment of this delightful serenity. 'Who would want a monster like me.' Moreau thought bitterly as he looked down at the rocky ground.

Yes. It's true; the Cadou did ruin everything for him. He turned into a grotesque piece of Miranda's 'Marvellous' creation. He wasn't even human anymore; he never felt human. He felt like...a freak. A bizarre-looking worthless moronic monster. Everyone avoided him, even the Lords. Most of them acted like he doesn't exist that he's just an invisible rock meant to be kicked around and forgotten. During the meetings and discussions, he was always shunned. He would always be forced to stay quiet and still. They hated him; they despised him. His very sight seemed to irk them all. Just because he's different. And ugly. Even Mother Miranda never wanted him around. 'Not even Mother.' his eyes start tearing up as he recalled how the Mother would show little acts of affection to her children, like stroking their head. But whenever he would go for some, she would give him an impassive expression, not willing to touch him or be touched by him. Or even be in his company. 'I am a mistake.'

Moreau felt uneasy in his stomach, like something rushing to come out, something trying to spill out of him. His hands instinctively reached for his stomach, squeezing it a little, and his eyes started pouring out tears. "Oh no!" He shouted, immediately vomiting all the acid out of him. He made a mess. He had bits of vomit on him as well. He was a mess. 'Nobody wants a mess.'

He sat back down, breathing in deeply as a lone teardrop ran down his cheek. "Everybody has someone," He slurred, moving his hands up and down like a whining infant. "M-Mother has her children. Lady Dem-Demistrec-cu has her d-daughters," His hiccups started swallowing more of his slurry words. "L-Lord H-Heisenb-berg h-has Lycan-ns a-and Lady Beneviento has A-Angie the D-Doll." Moreau felt more tears springing up as his vision got hazier. But crying would only trigger his vomiting reflexes, and he was tired. Too tired of vomiting. Too tired of loneliness. Too tired of himself. He just wanted to be happy. He wanted to mean something to someone, anyone. But then, who would ever want to be with a ghastly looking monster like him?

'What was my real Mother like? Did she love me? Did she hug me and kiss me?' Moreau shook his head sideways, dismissing his hopeful thoughts of lost affection from his biological Mother. 'No, I am a Monster, forever. No one wants me.' He looked down at a puddle of water in front of him. He could see a blurry reflection of himself as he stretched his body a little further, getting a better view of it. And all he saw was a deformed ugly thing. He stared at the reflection for a few more seconds before getting up. He tumbled down a few times as he tried to stand on his feet. 'I am weak too,' He looked up to the skies, watching a souffle of dark stormy clouds slowly setting in, a forecast for an incoming rainstorm.

"Goodbye, stars!" He mumbled with a naïve childish smile and a tiny wave towards the skies. It was a lonely night indeed.

#salvatore moreau #re8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil

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thepieisalie · 3 years

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A Mother’s Love (A RE8 story) Chapter 2: The Flowers that grow in Winter

Summary: Alcina Dimitrescu is blessed with three beautiful daughters to call her own. It takes blood, sweat, and tears to raise the girls alongside having to deal with the rest of her peculiar little ‘family’. But when a jealous Mother Miranda tasks her with every mother’s greatest nightmare, will Alcina have to disobey her in order to protect her daughters? Chapter: 2/8 Word count: 5.074 < Chapter 1

December 23rd, 1957

It’s been over a week since I took the girls under my care.

They’ve been nothing but obedient and endearing. And their mental growth has been remarkable! Their vocabulary expanded to the point you can barely imagine they struggled to formulate full sentences up until a few days ago.

I speculate they kept all their physical abilities after the Cadou transformation and only lost their memories. I don’t think they’ll ever regain it, but I will replace them with new ones.

When I called Mother Miranda she told me to continue observing them. I'm not sure how she might respond if I tell her I want to foster the girls.

I will just have to carry that uncertainty with me until the next meeting. That's when I will ask her.

Lady Dimitrescu paused her hand so she could read over it once more. She was not looking forward to that particular family meeting. Especially not because she was going to have to discuss something so personal in front of all her ‘siblings’. But she knew it was the only moment Mother Miranda would be willing to talk. If that was what it took to get the girls to be hers, so be it.

Taking a sip from her wine, she dipped the quill in a little pot of ink and continued her diary entry:

The girls have developed a lot. Both Cassandra and Daniela have gotten better manners, but I still have to remind them about it often.

Especially the eldest, Bela, has improved a lot. She has a strong sense of responsibility for her sisters. I'm glad for that. Even though I love them dearly, it's relieving to have her watch them for me sometimes.

‘’Mother! Mother!’’

Before she even got to finish writing that sentence, two of the mentioned girls burst through the door which swung against the wall with a loud bang. They ran behind the chair Lady Dimitrescu was sitting on and crouched down so they could hide behind their mother’s form. This was the perfect hiding spot. After all, mother would protect them.

Alcina held back a sigh. So much for one moment of peace and quiet. She looked down at Bela and Daniela, who were staring at the opened door from under the armrests. ‘’What are you girls up to?’’

‘’Cassandra is ‘It’!’’ Daniela exclaimed excitedly.

So that explained why they had forgotten the house rule of ‘no running in the halls.’ Cassandra was the most skilled when it came to agility and often convinced her sisters to let her chase them in a game of tag. They loved playing it, but it never took very long for her to catch them.

‘’I see. And you’re willing to sacrifice your own mother and use her as a living shield? You’re breaking my heart.’’ Alcina teased, acting out her obvious sarcasm by placing a hand on her chest like a sad mother would.

‘’We wouldn’t do that!’’ Bela said, staring up at her apologetically.

Daniela didn’t respond, she was too focused on keeping her eyes on the only entrance to the room. Cassandra could pounce on them at any moment. Even if mother was with them, it wouldn’t stop her. ‘’We need to find a better hiding spot.’’

Alcina said nothing, even though she had long since noticed the swarm of flies crawling along the ceiling. Daniela got up from behind the chair to sneak out of the room, only for her sister to dive from above and transform right behind her.

‘’Rawr!’’

Daniela shrieked and pushed the brunette away from her.

‘’Cassandra! No fair!’’ She wailed. Cassandra hollered with maniacal laughter as she continued to chase her in a circle around the room. They were running like headless chickens, bumping into furniture and nearly knocking over a lamp.

Alcina just shook her head and placed down the quill before they would run into her desk and mess up her handwriting. ‘’Do you girls never get tired?’’ She mused.

Bela seemed to completely abandon the game and she dropped her arms onto her mother’s desk to rest her head on them. Cassandra was too busy keeping Daniela in a headlock to bother chasing her now anyway. Mother was right; they were always bustling about and getting themselves into trouble. But she wasn’t like her younger siblings. She understood Mother must be tired, so instead she was going to be obedient and calm.

When Alcina noticed her daughter staring at her sweetly, she smiled and gave her a pat on the head. It made Bela giggle. She was the most moderate of the three, so she cherished any and every moment Mother gave her attention whenever the other two weren’t there to steal it away.

Alcina made sure to give each of them an equal amount of affection. But she would be lying if she said it wasn’t hard. The last week had left her exhausted. Normally she would spend her days alone; occupying herself with a task for Mother Miranda or enjoying one of her hobbies. Now all her free time was put towards her daughters. Keeping them in check and taking care of their basic needs. They had grown a lot, but they still hung around her like clingy monkeys.

Or maybe flies circling around a lamppost would be a better comparison.

Either way, she didn’t get much time to herself nowadays. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t mind for the most part, she loved them and wanted nothing more than to be around them. But there were moments she wished she could have a little bit of privacy. Like on those first few days; they wouldn’t even let her go to the bathroom alone!

Not to mention the number of times one of them stood at her bed in the middle of the night. It was a different reason every time: they had a nightmare or this branch was constantly ticking against the bedroom window. One time Daniela came in bawling her eyes out because ‘Bela had kicked her out of bed.’

It was truly exhausting. But Lady Dimitrescu knew beforehand that the life of a mother was never a quiet one. She was willing to put up with it all, out of love for her daughters. Even if it did take all her patience and energy to keep doing so.

But she was reminded how much it was worth it whenever she watched them play and learn. Or when they proudly showed her a drawing they made. Or when she tucked them into bed every night and watched their cute little faces as they fell asleep. She was so very proud of them.

‘’Stop it, that’s cheating!’’ Daniela’s high voice suddenly pierced through the room. She broke free from Cassandra’s clutches so she could turn towards her mother to yell even louder: ‘’MOTHER! CASSANDRA IS CHEATING.’’

''No, I'm not!''

Alcina closed her eyes as she suppressed a sigh. Still… just one night of undisturbed sleep. That would be nice.

‘’No fighting, girls.’’ She warned, not even bothering to turn around. Her tone of voice was enough to get them to stop wrestling.

Bela poked at the crimson glass on the desk, causing it to wobble dangerously on its thin balanced foot. ‘’What is this, mother?’’

‘’This?’’ She picked it up before Bela would knock it over. The girl nodded. ‘’This is called wine, my dear.’’

‘’Oo, can I have some?’’

‘’Absolutely not.’’ Lady Dimitrescu said sternly. She lifted her chin up in a decisive manner, making sure her daughter understood there was no room for argument.

But that still didn’t stop Bela from giving her best pouty-face. ‘’Why not?’’

‘’Because it’s a drink for adults. You’re not an adult yet, so you cannot have any.’’

‘’I am an adult!’’ The blonde girl protested. ‘’You always tell me I’ve grown so big!’’

Clever girl, Alcina thought with a chuckle. Her daughter’s wit never failed to amuse her. ‘’You’re very grown indeed. But not enough to have alcohol.’’ She explained, letting her hand ruffle through the girl’s blonde hair.

Bela just sighed in defeat. When Mother says no, it’s a no. But she felt her own throat go dry as she watched her finish the wine with a last tip of the glass. She just hoped she would become an adult soon so Mother would let her taste it.

‘’Mother, I’m hungry.’’ The girl then grumbled, letting her head fall back dramatically against Lady Dimitrescu’s arm.

‘’I’m sure dinner will be ready soon, my dear.’’

‘’But I don’t want dinner…’’

That made Lady Dimitrescu look down at her daughter.

''Of course.'' She smiled, immediately understanding what the girl meant by it. It had been a few days since got them their last drink, so it wasn’t surprising she was asking for more. ‘’How about we go get you something then?’’

Bela clapped her hands together in excitement. ''Yes please!''

Lady Dimitrescu turned to the other two. ‘’Come along now, daughters. I believe it’s time for some refreshment.’’

Cassandra and Daniela, who were roughhousing on the carpet, stopped in the middle of their game and jumped up to follow Lady Dimitrescu out of the room. Daniela immediately went for Mother’s hand to hold while she walked them down to the cellar. She normally didn’t take them below the castle. They only ever saw her come from the wine cellar with a fresh new bottle, always decorated with those silver flowers.

That was until four days ago when Alcina found her loving children sinking their teeth into the flesh of a dead maiden. She had quite literally been torn apart on their bedroom floor. The girl had been unfortunate enough to walk in on them when the Dimitrescu girls felt a sudden, ravenous craving for blood. They jumped her, her cries of pain ending quickly in a gurgle of blood as sharp teeth slid right through her throat. Once the maid stopped struggling, they crouched down around the body like a pack of feasting wolves.

Alcina felt a little taken back when she found them like that, drinking from the bloodied corpse. Once she realized what had happened, she blamed herself for not realizing sooner her children required human blood to function like she does. She had noticed their increased hunger in those past few days but didn’t think much of it, assuming they were just going through a growth spurt. Now she regretted not acting on it sooner and losing a maid that would otherwise have made a lovely bottle of Sanguis Virginis.

She got the girls to clean up the mess themselves before taking them down to the wine cellar so she could fully satisfy their thirst.

They took the same route now, passing by her personal wine storage and down the stairs to the dungeon. Bela and Cassandra ran up ahead with Daniela and Lady Dimitrescu walking after them, as she was slowed down from having to keep her head low in the cramped hallway. Their giggles echoed off the damp walls and their running footsteps splashed through the puddles.

Once they made it to the bottom of the stairs, Daniela let go of her mother’s hand and walked towards one of the locked cells. She grabbed onto the iron bars and squeezed her head between them, the cold metal pressing into her cheeks. Hidden in a dark corner sat a girl, pressed up against the wall. Her arms were tied together in metal shackles above her head. The maid outfit she wore was dirtied and her eyes stood dull.

She barely even reacted when a hyped Cassandra ran up to the cell, curious what her little sister was looking at. ‘’Who’s that?’’

Alcina walked up behind them and turned them away. ‘’Don’t bother yourselves with her. I’m just keeping her here for a little while until I make my next batch of wine.’’

The girls obediently followed her to a small room further down the hall. Wooden barrels were stacked up against the wall and a small puddle of red had gathered underneath them from earlier spillage. Lady Dimitrescu picked up three tankards and filled each of them with the juices from a tap in one of the barrels. She stored some pure blood away for later use whenever she had to get rid of any maidens early on. It had been processed slightly, but there were no traces of alcohol. It was perfect to help quench her daughters’ thirst.

They took the beakers with gratitude and gulped down the sweet-tasting blood. They drank vigorously and gasping for air between swallows. Alcina sighed and retrieved a napkin. She crouched down to their level so she could wipe the corner of their mouths. ‘’Come on, darling daughters. Why do you always make such a mess?’’

‘’Sorry mother.’’ Murmured Daniela as Alcina roughly rubbed away at the bloodstain on her lips.

Bela quickly wiped her own mouth clean with her sleeve, but Alcina noticed and gave her a disapproving side glance. Bela tittered apologetically and quickly dropped her hand, knowing mother disliked it whenever they acted ‘unlady-like.’

Cassandra finished her portion and placed down her cup with a satisfied ‘’aaahh.’’

Lady Dimitrescu folded the napkin in her hands and stood back up. ‘’Go back upstairs now. I think dinner should be ready. I’m going to do some work, we can’t let fresh blood go stale.’’ She looked from the corner of her eye at the sound of rattling chains. She could make out the shaking form of the maiden in the shadows. Poor thing must have heard her. She could smell her fear from here.

Lady Dimitrescu wasted no more time and gave her daughters a small push in the back. ‘’Get a move on, girls. Come on. I’ve got work to do.’’

All three of them made their way back upstairs. They went to the dining room where a couple servants had already set up the dinner table. They sat down together at the same side of the enormously long surface. Cassandra already went for a bread roll despite the usual customs and Bela gave a disapproving glare. ‘’Mother would say you’d have to wait.’’

''But Mother isn't here right now,'' Cassandra said as she took a large bite. ‘’Besides, she would tell you to not keep your elbows on the table.’’

Bela gave an exaggerated sigh and leaned out further. ‘’Whatever.’’

A bunch of maids came and went from the kitchens. They placed down multiple dishes, all served in beautiful silver or bronze pots and bowls. One of them filled their glasses with clear water and another used a large spoon to prepare the soup. Daniela held up her nose at the sight of a tray with steaming green sprouts being placed near her. The smell was terrible. ‘’Ugh, I’m not eating that crap.’’

‘’They’re not that bad.’’ Said Bela as she watched the maid put a spoonful on her plate. Daniela just stuck her tongue out at her.

The same girl took another portion and lobbed it on Daniela’s plate. With one swift motion, the mistress grabbed her knife and slashed the maiden right across the face. She fell to the floor with a cry, her hands covering her features.

‘’I said I didn’t want any!’’

Cassandra gasped and her lips curled into a devilish grin. ‘’I’m telling Mother you did that!’’

‘’No you won’t!’’ Daniela spat as she turned to her sister sitting next to her. Her grip around the now blooded dinner knife tightened threateningly.

The maid on the floor tried to keep in her sobs as she quickly rushed back to the kitchens. The rest of them stood silently by the door, afraid to react in case one of them would become the next victim. None of the Dimitrescu girls paid it any mind as the two sisters toed each other up. ‘’Don’t be a snitch!’’

Cassandra held up both hands in surrender. ‘’Okay, okay. Calm down.’’

She sat back in her chair, acting like she completely gave up on the idea. Daniela relaxed enough to sit down as well and slammed the knife back on the table. Right at that moment, Cassandra dashed from her chair and burst into a swarm of flies so she could quickly slip under the door.

‘’You liar! I’m going to kill you!’’ Daniela screamed as she ran after her. Their yelling quickly fading in the distance as they raced to be the first one to find Lady Dimitrescu.

Bela only shook her head. She was in no mood to go after them and scold them for their misbehavior. They would listen better to Mother anyways. She felt responsible for them but no way in hell was she going to babysit them all the time. She had completely lost her appetite by now and frustratingly pushed her plate to the side.

‘’I’m not hungry. Clean up this mess.’’ She ordered grumpily. The maids said nothing and obeyed. They had spent hours preparing the meal, but no one was going to protest after what they had just witnessed. They kept their heads low and did what was asked.

Bela shoved her chair to the window where she sat down to stare outside. The soft background noise of plates and streaming water coming from the kitchen lulled her into a relaxing daydream. Popping her arms onto the windowsill, she watched the fluffy snowflakes falling from the grey clouded sky. It was such a beautiful scene; with the castle's dark towers peaking up high above as if they pierced right through the atmosphere, cutting it open to let the snow fall out like the fillings of a pillow.

Her peaceful trance was interrupted by Cassandra coming back in through the double doors. Bela didn’t look up, even when her sister loudly dragged another chair from the dining table and took a seat next to her with an audible grunt, crossing her arms.

‘’And? What happened?’’

‘’Nothing. You know how Mother is. That brat can get away with anything.’’ Cassandra scoffed. Daniela had once again managed to talk her way out of trouble. Nothing fun ever happened in this boring castle. She put her feet against the wall and leaned back so her chair was balancing on its two rear legs.

‘’Yeah, Mother never really gets mad.’’ Bela smiled a little. She and her sisters often caused quite a bit of trouble. They sometimes broke a vase or spilled food on the carpet. But Mother never raised her voice at them. Even after they killed one of the maids, she didn’t seem to be too upset about it. Sure, Mother corrected them often enough and they had to clean up all that blood by themselves. But would that mean she’s too strict? Bela didn’t think so.

Cassandra sighed and closed her eyes as she rocked back and forth in her chair. ‘’I swear I’m going to lose it if I have to spend one more day with all of you in here.’’ She said.

Bela knew that in reality Cassandra didn't mean that. They got along quite well, even if the three of them did get into fights every once in a while. Mother always said it’s normal for sisters to bicker with each other, as long as they always made up in the end. But Bela had to admit she sometimes felt the same way. No matter how big the castle, it still felt cramped at times with two crazy sisters and nowhere else to go.

She pressed a finger against the cold glass of the window. ‘’I wish we could go outside.’’

Suddenly she noticed a bright blue color pop-up in the garden surrounding the courtyard. It was the petals of a flower, the kind she had never seen before. Despite the layers of snow, it had managed to sprout and bloom. It completely stood out against the whites and greys of the rest of the outside world and Bela’s eyes lit up with a sparkle as it gave her an idea. ‘’I know something fun! Let’s get mother a gift.’’

‘’A gift?’’ Cassandra said, cracking open one eye as she watched her suddenly enthusiastic sister get up from her chair.

‘’Yes! She does so much for us and deals with us every day. Especially you and Daniela.’’ She mutters quickly, receiving a narrowed-eyed look from her sibling. Bela just ignored it and moved in front of the door to the courtyard. ‘’Flowers are nice. I’ll get her one as a gift.’’

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at that. ‘’Mother said we can’t go outside.’’

‘’As if you always listen to everything Mother says,'' Bela grumbled. The dark-haired girl, who remained seated by the window, only gave a shrug. That was a fair point.

Turning away from her sister, Bela closed her hand around the doorknob. ‘’I’ll be fast. Just don’t try to snitch on me like you do with Daniela, understood?’’

With that, Bela determinedly turned the knob and swung the door open. A rush of cold air and snow swooped into the room. It lifted and fluttered her dress in a swift motion, illuminating her body in the late daylight, as if it was greeting her brightly. Even that one gush of wind already sent a shiver down Cassandra’s spine. Before she could mention it, Bela had already stepped outside and closed the doors behind her.

As she basked in the revelation of the outside, she felt the sharp cold prickle her skin like little knives. The wind howled around the castle towers far above her head. Small snowflakes swirled down into the courtyard, landing on her black clothes. Bela focused on the blue flower, dancing between the white-covered bushes only a couple feet away. Cassandra watched from the window how she cautiously took a couple steps on the slippery, icy tiles.

Another gush of wind blew hard in her face. The hood flew back from her head, setting her golden locks free to be pulled and pushed and twisted in all directions before the wind set down once more.

It was so cold.

Bela felt her breath waver, a cloud escaping from her lips. Her face, which at first stood so excited and confident, tensed up in discomfort as a sharp pain stabbed into her chest. She lifted her hands and looked at them. They were shaking violently and her skin turned sickly pale from the frost. Dead flies fell from her form, gathering in a circle around her on the ground.

‘’My… body...’’

She gasped. Shivered. Then lifted her head. Her vision tunneling on the now blurry bit of blue in the garden. She was so close. If she could just get a little bit further. She tried to take another step, only to sink through her knees and fall to the ground.

From within the castle, Cassandra was forced to watch helplessly as her sister fell into the snow. ‘’Bela!’’

She wasn’t getting up. Cassandra immediately turned around and ran to her mother’s bedroom. ‘’Mother! Mother!’’ She cried out.

Lady Dimitrescu had just been brushing through Daniela’s hair as her second daughter burst into the room. She looked up annoyed, expecting another cheap excuse for the rude interruption. But Cassandra didn’t skip a beat to explain.

‘’Mother!’’ She panted. ‘’It’s Bela. She’s outside!’’

Alcina froze, her eyes widening in horror. It caused her to drop the hairbrush which clattered to the floor. She got up and ran past her daughter to get to the courtyard as fast as she could. Never before had she literally pulled up her dress above her feet to sprint down the stairs, ducking hastily under the doorframes to the dining room.

The girls followed after her, but as Lady Dimitrescu slammed open the outside doors, Cassandra stopped and held her sister back by holding out an arm in front of her. Daniela was about to give her a pissed-off glare but stopped dead when she saw the horrified look on her sister’s face. Cassandra could already feel the biting cold from here. They couldn’t risk going out there and have the same thing end up happening to them. There was nothing they could do.

Lady Dimitrescu rushed over the girl shivering on the garden path. ‘’Oh Bela. It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here.’’ Alcina panicked as she scooped her daughter up in her arms. The girl whimpered and tremored. She quickly brought her back inside.

‘’Get blankets and hot water. Quickly.’’ She commanded to her girls who each gave a nod before disappearing into a swarm of flies. Lady Dimitrescu dropped down onto the couch in front of the fireplace, wrapping her arms tightly around the freezing girl. Bela buried her face in her mother's neck, choking on her own sobs. You could hear the pain in her voice.

‘’Sshhh. Don’t cry, my dear. It’s going to be alright.’’ Lady Dimitrescu comforted. She rubbed the girl’s shoulders to warm them and brought her dead cold fingers to her lips to blow hot air between them. Her body was shivering so badly.

‘’Here mother.’’ Daniela appeared beside her holding a heap of rumbled blankets. She helped wrap them tightly around her sister. Then Cassandra appeared shortly after, contributing another two blankets which Lady Dimitrescu hastily pulled over Bela’s shaking form.

Cassandra felt her heart tighten up at the soft, muffled cries of her sister. This was bad, really bad. Even mother couldn’t fully hide her panic. She tried to keep calm and comfort her child, but you could see the absolute dread in her eyes.

Was she….. was she going to die?

The dark-haired girl perked up at the sound of the doors opening. A maid had come in to bring an old-fashioned heating pad filled with hot boiled water like Miss Casandra had ordered her to do when she ran into her in the hall.

The Dimitrescu daughter ran up to her and pulled it out of the maiden’s hands. The poor girl stood confused, peaking around at the Mistress who was sitting in the middle of the room with one of her daughters cradled in her arms. ‘’Is Miss Bela alright?’’

‘’SHUT UP! GET OUT!’’ Cassandra screamed. The maiden stepped back with her hands raised between them defensively. It was probably best for her to go before Miss Cassandra would completely lose her mind, so she did without saying another word.

Cassandra flew back over to the couch and handed her mother the heater, which she placed between the blankets. Bela had not yet stopped shaking though. She looked like she was in absolute agony, gritting her teeth and trying to hold in the hiccups between her sobs. She was trying to stay strong in front of her sisters, or maybe she was in so much pain she couldn’t even cry. Cassandra didn’t know which of the two it was. But she hated it and it hurt having to see her sister like that.

‘’I-it’s my fault. I should have done something, I should have stopped her-’’

Her rant was instantly cut short as Lady Dimitrescu gently took her by the arm. ‘’It’s not your fault, Cassandra.’’

The girl pursed her lips and turned her head away. She knew Mother didn’t blame her. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could’ve done something to prevent this. She knew there had to be a reason Mother always told them that to stay inside and keep the windows shut. It all made sense now.

A tear managed to escape from her tightly closed eyes and rolled down her cheek. Alcina moved her hand to wipe it from her face before pulling her closer. Cassandra gave in and let herself drop onto the couch with them. She buried her face into the blankets and cried. ‘’Bela...’’

Daniela joined them, placing her hand at her sister’s side. ‘’Is she going to be alright, Mother?’’

That question struck Lady Dimitrescu a lot harder than she would’ve liked for it to show. She looked down at the pale girl in her arms; Bela’s face stood pained to the point she couldn’t even open her eyes. But she was strong. Alcina knew she was strong. She was going to be alright. She had to be. ‘’She’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.’’

And so she sat with her by the fire, all night long. Even after she had sent the other two to bed, Alcina stayed on that couch and kept Bela close. She cuddled her, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and whispered her words of comfort whenever she whimpered. After a while, her sobbing finally stopped. And eventually, the shivering did too. She didn’t feel as cold anymore.

But Lady Dimitrescu stayed in that position for even longer. She had to get her daughter warm. She kept her eyes on the fireplace, making sure the flames didn’t die out.

It was then that Bela spoke, very quietly and with a lot of effort. ‘’Mother?’’

Alcina looked down at her, brushing one of her blonde hairs out of her face. ‘’Yes, my darling. I’m here.’’

Bela had trouble forcing a swallow, her breathing slow and difficult. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open well, still fighting back the pain from when she’d stepped outside into the cold. ‘’I just… wanted to get you a flower... I wanted to get you something nice. I’m sorry.’’

Alcina gave her a sad smile. To think she’d almost risked her life for a small thing such as that. She was still a child; she hadn’t known any better, but still. ‘’It’s alright Bela. Come now, you need to rest.’’

Bela stared up at her from under her tired eyelids. ‘’Will you stay with me?’’

‘’Of course. I won’t go anywhere. I’m right here with you, sweetheart. Always.’’

Bela managed a weak smile. She was exhausted. But knowing her mother was with her, she knew she was safe. Everything was going to be alright. She cuddled into her embrace and slowly fell back asleep.

Alcina gave her one last kiss. She held her close, reminding herself with every stroke through her hair that her daughter was with her, that she was alive. She was safe now. She was going to be alright.

She loved her daughters more than anything in the world and the thought of how bad that little accident could have ended made her shudder.

Losing her children…

That would be her absolute worst nightmare.

Author’s Note:

Yeessss. It’s here. I really enjoyed writing this, even though I found it surprisingly hard to do write! It was so fun to explore the kind of everyday life Lady D and her daughters go through. A little bit of angst at the end there as well, because as mentioned in the tags: the Village is not a happy place. XD

If you’re curious, I’m assuming the mental age of the girls at this point in the story is somewhere around 7-10 years old, but with a bit more vocabular advancement than kids of that age would have. They are technically adults in this story, but because they lost all their memories (as mentioned at the beginning of this chapter) they have to relearn everything. But because their bodies have already gone through this, growing up before while they were human, it’s a sped up process.

The reason Bela didn’t just go back inside the moment she felt the cold damaging her body, is because as a child you often don’t fully grasp the sense of danger or are consciously aware of pain. When I was very young I once grabbed a tray of freshly baked cookies right out of the oven with my bare hands! I didn’t even realize it hurt until my mother suddenly rushed over to me in a panic. Same thing is happening here with Bela, she doesn’t realize what’s going wrong until it’s too late. Luckily Lady Dimitrescu is a very good mommy and she came to rescue her just in time.

Because truly, her worst nightmare would to be to lose her children.

And we all know how that went in the game haha. Absolute P A I N

Thanks for that Ethan :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please feel free to reshare and review. Share me your thoughts! It’s a big motivator and I like hearing from you guys.

Until the next one, ~Pie

#Lady Dimitrescu #lady d #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #fanfiction #fanfic #A Mother's Love #re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil fanfic #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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randominagines · 3 years

Text

Request: um do you mind doing a nick smut with this promt stop teasing me or I won't hesitate doing the same to you

Requested by: @purpl3st4rs

Pairing: nick clark x fem!reader

Setting: season 2

Warning: smut, sex language, what if

P.s. if you find any mistake please correct me, English is not my mother tongue and I want to improve. Reblog, if you can, it helps a lot, thank you💕

P.p.s. gif belongs to the creator

To make amends

Y/n was just mad at her boyfriend. She couldn't find him: the Thomas Abigail Ranch was huge and she was tired of walking around in search of him. -- This is just pointless, maybe he's gone for a walk. -- Alicia said and crossed her arms while looking at y/n sitting next to her on her bed. Whenever she was worried about Nick, she used to go to Alicia to find comfort. -- For a walk? During a zombie apocalypse? -- y/n rhetorically asked while squeezing with Alicia's pillow, her friend sighed. -- You know Nick, he's just like this. Whenever he wants to do something he just does it without even bothering to tell anyone. He will be here soon. -- she tried to comfort y/n an caressed her back. She nodded and stood up while putting the pillow back on Alicia's bed. -- I'll go eat something, I'm nervous and I need a distraction. -- she said while running her hands through her hair. Alicia nodded and gave her a glimpse of a smile. Y/m left the room and walked toward the kitchen, her mind already portraying the worst kind of scenario in which Nick had been murdered or worse, turned into a zombie.

She entered the kitchen and walked toward the fridge trying to make less noise possible, it was very late and everyone was asleep; her stomach was mumbling because she hadn't touched food all day long, she as too nervous to eat. She was about to open the fridge when she felt an arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her. She gasped. -- Babe, it's just me. -- Nick's voice made the knot that was closing her stomach disappear. She immediately turned and hugged him. -- You jerk! Where have you been all day long?! I was crazy worried. -- she scolded her boyfriend trying to keep her voice low while squeezing his shirt. He probably had just finished showering, he had a strong soap scent on his skin and the tip of his hair were still a bit wet. She looked at him and noticed he was wearing a blue shirt with a black jacket, probably new clothes, and his hair were not messy for once. Yes, definitely just got out of the shower. He gently caressed her head. -- Y/n, I was doing something for Celia. I didn't warn you this morning because you were sleeping peacefully for once and I didn't want to wake you up. -- he explained while looking at her, his eyes filled with love. She pushed him back and crossed her arms over her chest. -- So you thought that making me wonder if you were alive or dead all day long was a better idea than waking me up for a second? -- she rhetorically asked while raising an eyebrow, he scratched the back of his head but smiled trying to hug her. She dodged his touch. -- No, Nick Clark, you won't get away with this so easily, this time. -- she said and sat on the kitchen table; she was wearing a denim skirt and it was quite short so she immediately felt the cold wood under her legs and frowned. He walked toward her and out both of his warm hands on her legs; the contrast between Nick's hands and the table made her wince. She looked at him in his eyes. -- Now you're going to tell me what the hell is going on and why you're always doing stuff for Celia. -- she commanded and he sighed, he knew that she was stubborn enough to go on asking that for days. He surrendered. -- Okay, I was searching someone for her. A zombie, actually. -- he said as if it was the most normal thing ever. She widened her eyes but he went on. -- She believes that they are not entirely dead and she keeps them here, at the ranch, maybe hoping that one day we'll have a cure able to take them back to their... well, humanity, I suppose. -- Nick explained while brushing a lock of her y/h/c hair behind her ear, she shook her head but caressed his cheek.-- Nick, I know this is a strange world and we've seen a lot of things, but this really is the most nonsense idea ever. -- she said and scanned him with her eyes, she was not sure Nick agreed with her. He sighed. -- I want to believe that a better way than killing them all is possible. -- he said and she tenderly smiled, her hands cupping his face. -- Oh, baby, your heart is too pure for this world. -- she whispered and kissed him. He immediately caressed her legs and she opened them to let him get closer to her. She caressed the back of his head, the familiar sensation of kissing him making her feel butterflies in her stomach as always. He bit her lower lip. -- Am I forgiven? -- he joked and she rolled her eyes, her arms crossed behind his shoulders. -- Absolutely not, can you imagine how stressed I have been all day long? The tension was killing me! -- she complained and pretended to be tired, he shook his head and laughed, his fingers drawing figures on her legs. He kissed her, more passionately this time. His tongue searched for hers.-- Can I try to make amends? -- he asked on her lips, a smirk appearing on his face, she raised her eyebrows and felt his hands caressing her inner thigh. -- What do you suggest? -- she asked and he smiled, his hands now gently pushing her on the table as to invite her to lay down, she did it and he removed his jacket to put it under her head. She smiled at his thoughtfulness while spreading her legs.

He immediately started to kiss her inner thigh, his lips teasing her with small kisses. She ran her fingers through his hair and softly moaned. He smiled at that sound and bit her there, she rolled her eyes. -- Nick... -- y/n whispered while spreading her legs even more, he smirked and raised his head to look at her. -- Yes, baby? -- his breath on her clit, she sighed in frustration. He moved her slip aside and she expected him to finally give her what she wanted, instead he kept kissing her inner thigh while his hand gently squeezed her legs. She knew he was playing, he loved driving her crazy. She raised her torto to look at him, her eyes stuck into his while her head grabbed his shirt to pull him toward her. Her lips crushed against his, her tongue licking his lower lip and her hands sliding under his shirt to scratch his shoulders. He grinned on her lips when she stopped kissing him, she was breathless. -- Stop teasing me or I won't hesitate doing the same to you. -- she whispered, her lips on his and her eyes challenging him. He chuckled on her lips and grabbed her by her neck, his touch rough but delicate at the same time. -- As you wish, babe. -- he whispered before pushing her down and quickly moving his head toward her legs again. He didn't waste more time: he took off her slip and his tongue was finally on her clit. She let out a moan as soon as she felt her boyfriend sucking it and immediately covered her mouth with her head. He smiled at the thought that they were risking to be caught by the whole ranch but didn't stop licking her. She pulled his hair as to make him notice that she was absolutely loving his touch and he understood that she was craving for more when her nails scratched his shoulder. He fastened the rythm of his tongue while penetrating her with a finger. She widened her eyes trying to avoid moaning but her legs started to shake. He loved giving her pleasure so he raised his eyes to look at her, there was nothing more beautiful to him that seeing y/n like that. He enjoyed the view of his girlfriend feeling so much pleasure and felt his own growing inside of him. His tongue circled her clit and she looked at him, her hands in his hair. -- Oh shit, Nick, do it again. -- she begged while her legs opened wide, he repeated the previous trick with his tongue and made it faster. She felt she was about to come and covered her mouth with a hand, the other one pulling her boyfriend's hair. He started to move his finger faster and sucked her clit, the other hand sliding under her shirt and squeezing her nipple. She arched her back, her orgasm finally exploding inside of her. He smiled feeling the familiar heat of her orgasm on his finger while gradually slowing down. As soon as his tongue stopped, she caressed his shoulders. -- Come here, I want to kiss you. -- she whispered. He obeyed and his lips meet hers, she could taste herself on his tongue. He caressed the bare skin of her legs while biting her lower lip. She caressed his chest and looked at him while standing up from the table. -- My turn -- she said and pushed her hair behind . He grinned and grabbed her neck again, making her moan, and kissed her roughly while she started to unbotton his belt. She licked his lower lip before smiling at him and kneeling down, her hands dropping his trousers and boxer. He threw his head back when she took him in her mouth, the movement being slow as she knew he liked him. He moaned her name when she scratched his chest, her nails leaving slight scrapes there. She took the base with her hand, working her fingers and her tongue simultaneously to pleasure him. She used to find his pleasure even more beautiful that her own; making him happy was the best thing for y/n. He moved her hair from her face to look at her, nothing turned him on as looking at his girlfriend during sex. She raised her eyes to meet his and he felt his orgasm getting too close. He reluctantly stopped her. -- Babe, come here. -- he said while inviting her to stand up.

She knew he didn't want to come so she nodded and stoop up, his hands immediately grabbing her waist to kiss her. She jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, perceiving his desire pushing against her crotch. He turned and sat her on the table without stopping kissing her. She moaned when he bit her lower lip. He smiled and started to kiss her neck, his hands caressing her legs while she was spreading it. -- Nick, just fuck me. -- she whispered, her face hidden in the crook of his neck. She smiled, his lips still on her neck, and pushed inside of her. She had to summon up all of her good sense not to scream in pleasure. He put his hand on her mouth and started to fuck her, the sound of their bodies crushing against each other was the only one filling the room. She looked at him in his eyes while removing her shirt and exposing her bare breasts to him. He immediately grinned and bit one her nipple while tormenting the other with his fingers. Her hands caressed his shoulders while he fastened the rythm, they were both close. He saw drops of sweat running down her neck, between her breast, and understood that she was about to come. He kissed her passionately while pushing inside of her fasted, his fingers now drawing circles on her clit. She softly moaned on his lips and widened her eyes, pleasure burning in them. He felt his own suddenly growing. -- Nick... -- she whispered out of breath and came, her walls tightening around him and her eyes rolling behind. He smiled, his lips biting her neck and kept pushing untill he felt he was about to come too. He looked at her and she immediately understood: she quickly kneeled down and took him in her mouth again, his orgasm raining on her tongue. He moaned her name while coming.

She waited for him to be done before standing up and looking at him, his fingers caressing her breast. He crushed his lips on hers and kissed her, passionately at first, the adrenaline still burning in him, but the kiss slowly became more intimate, delicate, tender. She caressed the back of his head while smelling the typical scent of sex, made up of body sweat, passion, dirty hands. Nothing about having sex with Nick was unpleasant, she absolutely loved sharing intimacy with him. He was the love of her life, after all. He smiled while taking her shirt and tenderly helping her to wear it again. She also picked up her slip while he pulled up his trousers and took his jaket. She smiled brushing his messy hair and he caressed her cheek. -- I love you, y/n, I didn't mean to scare you today. -- he whispered, his voice sounded sincerely filled with regret. She shook her head and caressed his lips with her thumb. -- It's okay, you're safe, that's all that matters to me. I know I can't stop you from doing what you think it's right, just promise me you'll be careful. I love you, I don't want to lose you. -- she said and he nodded while gently grabbing her by her waist to hug her. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and left a small kiss there, she held him tight. -- we should go, before someone comes for a snack and finds us here. -- he said and took her hand. They started walking toward the corridor and she laughed. -- I was here for a snack, actually. -- she confessed while walking close to him, he smiled looking at her. -- Well, we both had our snack. -- he joked and she shook her head chuckling. They entered their shared room. -- So, you're not hungry anymore? -- y/n asked as soon as she locked their door, he raised his eyebrow looking at her and putting his jacket on a chair. She grinned while throwing her slip at him, she hadn't put it on. He caught it and smirked looking at her. -- Someone hasn't had enough. -- he joked walking toward her and grabbing her by her hips. She kissed him while pushing him toward their bed: he sat on it and she immediately sat on him, her hands already umbottoning his shirt. She smiled seeing his bare chest, she hated full clothed sex because she used to find his body absolutely perfect and she loved watching it. He caressed her back while staring at her. -- I love when you take control. -- he whispered and she smiled in surprise: he was mostly a dom so he never admitted anything like that before. She didn't need to hear more: she pushed him down and lowered to him, her lips on his and her hands on his chest. She bit his lower lip before speaking, her voice a whisper. -- Perfect, then just let me fuck you, this time. --

#Nick clark x fem!reader #Nick clark x you #Nick clark x y/n #Fear the walking dead imagine #Nick clark imagine #Nick clark x reader

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aliveanddrunkonsunlight · 3 years

Text

acts of service

acts of service is not about household chores, it’s about trust and real needs; a good act of service should communicate “I got you”; Jaime x Brienne + love languages based off @observedchaos post

For @naomignome

Author’s Note: TW for pregnancy (not graphic); thoughts about motherhood

She cannot believe she traveled across the whole kingdom in her state to attend a wedding, but the Lord of Casterly Rock deserved celebration, so she was here.

At seven months pregnant, her stomach precedes her everywhere. There’s a dull, throbbing pain when she wakes and trying to roll over onto her back is a feat these days. The man beside her stirs, his eyes blinking awake when she’s finally able to get comfortable sitting up against the pillows. Seeing her frustrated so early in the day makes his forehead wrinkle with concern. “Are you alright?”

“No,” she sighs, tears springing to her eyes. Once she’d gotten past the months of nausea, the tears had begun. She cries at everything now. Releasing a frustrated noise in her throat, she wipes angrily at her eyes. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But the baby will be here soon and then it will be over.”

Somehow the thought of her being responsible for a tiny human being is not reassuring. “Oh gods.”

“Well, this part will be over,” he amends quickly. “The rest of it…”

She shoves his shoulder. “You are not helping.”

He sits up beside her, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. It’s grown long, nearly past her shoulders, too busy with her duties as Evenstar and preparing for their child to cut it. “You’re going to be amazing. You are amazing.” His hand smoothes across her swollen belly. “We’re very, very lucky to have you.”

His words are making her teary-eyed again. “I love you.”

“I know,” he smiles, his green eyes twinkling. “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” she breathes. “Though maybe not enough to do this again.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “Let’s get you dressed.” Jaime has taken to helping her in the mornings. She can do it on her own, but it takes her twice as long around her stomach. He lifts her nightshirt over her head, pausing a moment to let his eyes linger on her body. Her instinct is to hide herself from him, so unlike the knight she used to be. He drops a kiss to her stomach and another to her mouth before he retrieves a fresh tunic and breeches for her.

She has kept the seamstresses on Tarth busy, always needing ever larger items of clothing. “Like dressing a giant,” she murmurs as Jaime bends down, pulling the pants up her legs.

“Beautiful and strong, as always,” he says softly, stepping in to press a kiss to her forehead.

Brienne tugs on his sleeve, keeping him close. “Thank you.” He has been nothing but understanding and helpful over these past months and his gentleness, his unwavering love makes her feel ungrateful.

When she found out she was with child, she kept it from Jaime for several days. Brienne wasn’t unhappy, exactly, but there had been little excitement on her part. Only nerves. She was scared of what might happen during the birth, scared of how her body might change after she spent so long honing it in the yard. Brienne did not remember her own mother, Jaime had lost his when Tyrion was born, and her father was distant for most of her childhood.

As uncertain as she was about her own abilities as a parent, she had none about Jaime’s. He rarely spoke about his children, but she knew he wished he’d been involved in their lives.

When she finally told Jaime, there had been an excited smile on his face, at least until she’d unexpectedly burst into tears. He gathered her in his arms, making soothing strokes up and down her spine until she calmed down. “Will you talk to me, love? Please.”

There is really nothing except time and experience which will make her feel prepared to be a mother, but his reassurance, all the little daily acts of love that he thought she didn’t notice, but she very much did, eased her worries. Brienne hates asking for help and the past few months, she has not needed to, because he has anticipated so many of her needs. Perhaps not all of the strange cravings, but he made many trips to the kitchens in her stead.

The wedding ceremony is not until the late afternoon and as much as she encourages Jaime to go off and see the grounds or do whatever he likes, he refuses to leave her side. “You’re stubborn. When is the next time we’ll be at the Rock? You should spend time with your brother.”

“I’m stubborn? I am? Do you have any idea what it’s like being married to you?” She should be offended, but she simply laughs, the loud, braying laugh she tried to hide for so long. Jaime is grinning and reaches to help her to her feet. “Come, wife,” he teases. “I should quite like a bath before the ceremony.”

His lips brush the shell of her ear and it makes her feel as if she’s coming out of her skin, fingers clutching at the fabric of his tunic. His fingers unlace her breeches and she sucks in a breath over her teeth. He keeps drawing near and then pulling away again. His mouth nips at her neck, teeth dragging across her lower lip, but when he steers her away from the bed, Brienne is confused. “What are you-”

“I wanted a bath, remember?” At her hesitation, he takes her hand, and leads her around the screen which is set up in front of the metal tub. Jaime pours the steaming water from the large kettle which is resting over the fire into the tub. He strips off his clothing and sinks down into the water with a groan that makes her knees tremble. “Brienne,” he waves her over.

“I can’t fit, not with you.” She rubs the swell of her stomach absent-mindedly. Some days it feels as if she cannot even stand up straight. Everything feels heavy. The weight of her stomach, her breasts larger, her shoulders rounding forward.

“Nonsense. Come here.” He stands, the water splashing around his legs.

He is somehow leaner than when they married, the planes of muscle from years of fighting have barely softened at all and she cannot tear her eyes away from how the droplets of water roll down his skin.

Jaime climbs out of the tub to help her in and then settles himself behind her, his legs wrapping around and pressing against her own. She sits forward, but he demands in a kind voice, “Lean back, please.”

“I’m too heavy.”

“I want to hold you.” His fingers trace along her shoulder.

“I can barely be held.”

He sighs, knowing her well enough to know that sometimes her stubbornness simply needs time. “I will wash your back then.” He scrubs gently and she allows an approving noise to escape when his hand travels up her spine. “Your back hurts.” It’s not a question, but she nods slowly. “Where?” She points to her lower back and her shoulders. His stump at her hip, he tries to massage the spots with his left hand, her appreciation murmured in grunts and sighs. Jaime rakes his hand through her hair, fingers smoothing through the strands along her neck. “There are times when I think I cannot be more in awe of you but you always prove me wrong. Did you know that?” She shakes her head. “Come here.” He pats his chest and she leans back against him, allowing him to carry some of her stress.

As the heat of his body wraps around her and she is in the solid weight of his arms, her worry begins to melt away into the water.

“Ever since I found out, I never doubted that you will make a wonderful father. Did you know that?”

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Never doubted it for a moment.” She pulls his arms even tighter around her.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, tucking his chin into the curve of her shoulder.

#jaime x brienne #fic: acts of service #love languages #tw: pregnancy

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spectrumed · 3 years

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7. identity

The aesthetic of suffering, the allure of victimhood, it’s important to acknowledge that to many people, the idea of struggling with mental illness is hot. A common trope in teen dramas is the existence of the sexy bad boy haunted by demons of depression or addiction or some other psychological malady. Women with mental illness tend to be sexualised, less, but then again, women are most typically always sexualised, no matter the state of their mental health. But it’s not just a case of some people finding mental illness to be attractive in others, many see mental illness in themselves as something to take pride in, to celebrate and nurture. To seek out a diagnosis, to infiltrate communities that exist to provide support to those in need, and to declare themselves as being special. Fakers, you could call them. Yes, we’re going to be entering into dangerous grounds here, talking about a potentially incendiary topic that might feed the flames of controversy, but it’s a topic worth discussing. Self-diagnosis. Is self-diagnosis valid or not? Should one self-diagnose? Is it ableism to be against self-diagnosis? Is it ableism to be for self-diagnosis? Is it ableism itself ableist? I don’t know, sweetheart, you are asking a whole bunch of questions and I am hungover… But let’s go on rambling about what it means to be labelled neurodivergent.

Do you have an identity? Do you root for a particular sports team? Do you like a particular kind of music? Do you dance a lot? Are you a dancer? What are you? Simply stating that you’re just “a human” probably won’t do. Sure, it’s correct, but I am also a human, and we could be two very different kinds of people. Your identity should be that certain something that makes you stand apart from the rest, that distinguishes you from the squirming mass of flesh that is the whole of humanity. There are plenty of things about you that do figure in your identity, even though you wish it didn’t. You’re black, you don’t wish to always be “that black guy over there,” but you’ve come to realise that’s just how society views you. Maybe you are a transwoman, and you very eagerly want your friend to stop introducing you as her “trans bestie.” You’re just a woman, you don’t need her to keep labelling you as trans, even though that's what you are. There are many ways we can change our identity through direct personal action. Maybe you could start wearing a hat, and be known as “that hat guy” to the people you work with. Maybe you could embrace a punk aesthetic, looking like young Johnny Rotten stepped into a time machine and got transported to the current day. Actions like these can have a big or small impact on how others see you, but it feels good to be able to make a decision like that and get a response. This is me, this is what I am. I’m the guy who wears bow-ties, don’t I look cool? If only shaping your sense of self always came down to personal decisions like that. You don’t always have a choice.

I’ve lately been watching some Conan O’Brien (American TV talk show host who’s recently decided not to be a TV talk show host) clips. I am sure I don’t need to explain who Conan O’Brien is to my readers, but just in case this is being read by aliens ten-thousand years from now, what I can tell you is that Conan O’Brien is well known for being freakishly tall. Like, really tall. He’s an elongated leprechaun. He’s turned being tall into one of his trademarks. Like many comedians, he’s come to use his corporeal form as a source for levity and fun. While, naturally, the man did not choose to grow as tall as he did, he’s come around to use his height not as a hindrance to success, but rather as an asset. He’s “that tall irish guy on the TV,” and he’s been that person for nearly thirty years. It pays to have some distinguishing feature if you wish to be distinguished. Mr. Joe Average might be perfectly funny and charming, but being an average-looking guy can be wholly detrimental in making a career for yourself as a funnyman. At least get yourself some weird voice, or something. Maybe pretend to be some foreigner and put on a fake accent. As a comedian your job is to be exploited, you wish to be made into a commodity to be sold. People will want to watch your special because of that funny face you pull in the thumbnail. To be different can be financially lucrative.

What’s the best approach in turning something that could be perceived as an abnormal feature into something that is beneficial to you? To make jokes about it? Certainly, if I were to meet a man with a heavily scarred face, I feel there’d likely be a tension between me and him that could be dispelled if that man with the heavily scarred face made some little joke about his appearance, some little quip. “I’m sorry, I cut myself shaving this morning,” would do. The person isn’t obliged to justify his existence to me, he does not have to go out of his way to make me feel less uncomfortable. I am the one in the wrong, certainly. I shouldn’t look at a person with a heavily scarred face and feel uncomfortable, that’s me letting prejudices get in the way, I know that. But, it is what it is. If you’re looking for a practical solution, telling people to simply get over themselves and learn to not be so awkward around folks with physical deformities won’t do. It may be the right thing, but it’s not going to happen any time soon. I am sure that the man with the heavily scarred face isn’t interested in being defined by his heavily scarred face. He's probably sick and tired of that little joke, and wish he didn’t have to make it. But it does the job. Suddenly, you are not looking at something to be feared, the other, you are looking at a person, and someone with a sense of humour. The importance of humour in eradicating stigma, making it possible for the ostracised to enter in society, cannot be understated. Through humour, you can convince most everyone that you are someone worthy of inclusion, because… well, you’re just a funny guy, who doesn’t wanna hang out with you?

For those who have grown up not feeling normal, worrying that there are aspects of your character that others may perceive as unwanted, the yearning to be liked can at times become excruciating. I like to consider myself a funny person, while this blog isn’t intended to be a humorous one, occasionally small little jokes will squirm their way to the top, like worms coming up to the surface during a rainstorm. I am also a cartoonist, and produce a new cartoon every other day. My humour isn’t universal, no good humour ever is universal, but it’s done good in getting some folks to like me. Some people want to be admired, some people want to be feared. I only want to be liked. The one thing I absolutely do not want to be is pitied. I don’t want your pity, I fear your pity.

You’re probably familiar with The Sims, right? It’s a life simulation game, where you control a little digital human, known as a sim, and try to help them make the right decision through life. Each sim has a number of meters that measures their current needs. Hunger, hygiene, energy, if they need to urinate or defecate (though, frankly, the distinction between the two isn’t made in the game, so one can assume that sims are like birds and have just one cloaca that does both,) and so on. One of these meters is for social activities. If a sim hasn’t been social in a while, they go nutty. What’s interesting here, the reason why I bring it up, is that in real life, though we all (to a lesser or greater degree) crave to socialise with others, what kind of socialising you do is of a very big importance. There are a myriad of ways in which one can be social, and depending on your needs at the time, one kind of socialising may not do, whereas another kind of socialising may be just what you need. Do you want to hang out with your pals, cracking jokes and maybe drinking a couple of beers? Do you want to have a serious conversation with your partner about what you wish to accomplish together? Do you want to play with your dog? These different social situations scratch different parts of your mind, and you can’t just substitute one for the other and think that’s all alright. A person may have tonnes of friends, lots of buddies to spend their time with, but they may still desperately be yearning for another kind of social interaction, one that none of their friends can deliver. The human need for company is more complex than how it is depicted in The Sims… which, to be fair, probably shocks nobody. The Sims doesn’t pretend that it’s some highly realistic simulation of real life, it’s a game meant to be played for fun. But what’s important here is the fact that while humans do have a need to be social, how that need is fed changes dramatically on the person, and their conditions. Socialising that may bring comfort to one person, may bring discomfort to another person.

I don’t want you to pity me. I may list my diagnoses, I may tell you of the difficulties that I face in life, but I do not want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to be entertained reading this, I don’t want to make you weep thinking about how cruel life can be. I don’t want you thinking I’m special, or different, because of my diagnoses. I want you to think I’m special and different because of my writing. Sure, this blog is about living with autism spectrum disorder, but I don’t want you reading this blog just because it’s about autism spectrum disorder. I want you to read this because, while it is about a diagnosis you are interested in learning more about, you also find what I write to be well-written and at times, mildly humorous. This blog isn’t my rabid manifesto detailing all the ways my life sucks, and what must be done by society to appease me. Nah, I’m doing relatively fine, don’t feel bad for me, please. I don’t want that kind of attention. I do want attention, I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t have an ego, or that I don’t get pleased seeing people like the things I put out there. I do have a social need, it’s just that being pitied does not do it for me. It doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel sad. It really makes me feel mad.

We’re finally getting around to the topic I promised I would discuss. Self-diagnosis. A principal concern people have with self-diagnosis is that people only self-diagnose in order to receive pity from others. The difference between someone like me, who’s got a proper official diagnosis, and someone who is self-diagnosed, is that I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to fetishise my diagnosis, this thing about me that I did not choose to be. I don’t want special favours just because of my diagnosis, I don’t want to be known as “that cartoonist with autism.” I am autistic, I’ve come to accept that, but I don’t want anyone to introduce me as “their friend who’s on the spectrum.” Some may accuse me of self-loathing, treating being autistic like some bad thing that I am ashamed of. But that’s not it. After all, I did start this blog to discuss what it is like. I just don’t want to be defined by this certain something that lies outside of my control. I don’t want it to be my “thing.” I don’t mind being referred to as a hairy cartoonist, because I am pretty hairy. I don’t want to cut my hair any time soon (especially with this plague going around.) No-one would pity me just because I am hairy. At most they may regard me as a good-for-nothing beatnik, and I’m okay with that. Ideally, I still want to be liked, but anything is better than being pitied. To be pitied is to be robbed of your own agency, your own potential. Sure, it gets you that attention you may be craving, but at the cost of infantilization. Autistic people often struggle with being infantilized by society, to the point where some folks don’t even realise that there are autistic grown-ups in the world. Anyone who would voluntarily seek out a diagnosis just to be pitied, well… it doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me, quite frankly, feel demoralised.

But not all people self-diagnose just to get pity from others, right? For some it’s genuinely their only option, likely living in a barely-functioning country like the United States where receiving psychiatric care is expensive and it’s just not something they can afford. It’s unfair of me to phrase self-diagnosing as just a quest to receive pity, it’s way more complicated than that. And yes, I’d have to agree. To know all the reasons why a person may self-diagnose, you have to go personally ask them. Even if it is possible to highlight a few certain trends, things that they all have in common, it’s bound to be impossible to make this one sweeping generalisation to explain everything. All I am saying is that there absolutely are those people who do self-diagnose with the explicit goal of getting pitied. Whether they are knowingly faking their condition or not, to them, being pigeonholed as a person with autism isn’t at all a negative. It’s their identity. It is how they have chosen to let the world see them. They made a choice. They chose this label. This is why many people who have official diagnoses are sceptical of those who've only got a self-diagnosis. Whether your self-diagnosis is accurate or not, in the end, you chose to identify yourself with it. You made a decision, oblivious of the fact that many people don’t get to make that kind of a decision, and they may bear resentment for how you are turning something they’ve faced ostracization for, into what is potentially on the same level as listening to a certain kind of music, or being a supporter of a sports team. A diagnosis is not something you should choose to have.

There are other things to say about self-diagnosis. First of all, it can be dangerous. Some of the diagnoses I’ve seen people give themselves are really serious, things like personality disorders or psychosis. Psychiatrists are very careful when putting these kinds of labels on people, knowing the harm that it can do. A diagnosis is meant to only be given after careful deliberation, and after long conversations with the patient. Psychiatrists know that reducing a person to a set of symptoms can have detrimental effects to that person’s sense of self. If you’re trying to cling on to a diagnosis, seeing it as a major part of your identity, then that may hamper any attempts you make to become a better person, to improve your mental health. You will feel as if you need to correspond to the exact specifications of the disorder, and you will not allow yourself to grow naturally as a complicated human being, a human being whose internal life is far too vast to be fully rounded up with some psychiatric jargon. There are plenty of things about me that do not line up with the diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, and guess what, that’s quite good actually. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have autism, I very much do, but I realise that as a person, I am more than just my diagnosis. The diagnosis does not define me, I define the diagnosis. If you self-diagnose, do you comprehend all that you are getting yourself into? Are you going to find yourself in psychological traps that will only serve to worsen your mental health? It’s hard to look at yourself objectively, you could easily be misrepresenting yourself inside your own mind. You may effectively be locking parts of yourself away, making it so you are no longer able to see the full you. You will no longer be all there, you will be segmented in favour of upholding the defining marks of a diagnosis that doesn’t suit you.

Instead of self-diagnosing, try doing a self-assessment. Keep in mind that, while you may have this diagnosis, it’s too early to say for sure. You’re going to need somebody else’s input. You’ll need to sit with it for a while to see if it sticks. Keep an open mind, realise that there’s no easy way to explain exactly who you are, or what you are like. It’s very possible that you will come to realise that you are in fact autistic, or have whatever other diagnosis you may suspect describes you. I, after all, came to the conclusion that I was autistic before I got the diagnosis (though, I was going to therapy at that point, and I was on the way to undergo a neuropsychiatric evaluation.) It’s not bad to try and get to understand yourself, don’t come out of this thinking that self-reflection is only possible with a psychiatrist looming over you, telling you how to think about things. We all need to come to certain conclusions over how we self-identify, and sometimes you need to take mental leaps to explain certain things. Just don’t feel as if your best option is to put a label on yourself that can potentially negatively affect your psychological well-being. If you are truly searching for understanding, if your goal is to find out more about yourself, you should act with caution and concern for what you are doing. If all you are looking for is to have people pity you, then… well… I don’t know what to say, really…

#neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health #diagnosis

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phantom-curve · 3 years

Note

45 from the prompt list please for juke, happy Birthday to you!!!

Thank you! I clearly have not tortured these two enough so please enjoy this angsty Juke whump that ultimately has a happy ending because what other type of ending is there?! Set in a post-canon AU where Julie brings the boys back to life.

#45: feeling their temperature

Julie had been learning a lot about how to deal with various phantom related issues in the last few months. She had learned that the boys needed constant touch and reassurance that they were somehow solid to her, mostly in the form of Luke pulling her into a hug at the end of practice or Reggie throwing himself on top of her while she was sprawled out on the couch doing homework or Alex’s fingers just gently running across the back of her shoulders or the skin of her elbow when she would walk past him at any given time. She had learned that Luke missed meatball subs more than anything, and that Reggie was still sad that that one pizza place on the pier had shut down, and Alex secretly wished he could eat cheese one last time despite the way it had always made him sick when he was alive. She had learned that in the aftermath of their literal magical hug the boys had started getting tired enough to occasionally sleep again and sometimes they didn’t quite phase through things the way they used to and for some reason their poofing had become a touch unreliable.

She was trying to roll with it as much as she could, which was actually a lot given she’d kinda just been rolling with it ever since they appeared in her mom’s studio and turned her life upside down in the best way. But something she hadn’t planned for was illness.

It didn’t make sense, after all. They were ghosts. There was no reason they should get sick, especially given the fact that they weren’t, ya know, real physical entities unless she was touching them. So, it didn’t make sense that they were able to get fevers or sore throats or be congested. She hadn’t planned for it, had written it off as a definite impossibility. Until Reggie half-poofed into her bedroom, flickering in and out slightly so she only caught every other word.

“Julie! ...quick...Luke...not...good...need...help...please!”

And she went immediately, racing down the steps and out the back door to the studio before Reggie had a chance to appear in her bedroom again.

The boys looked absolutely exhausted as she crashed into the studio, Reggie collapsed in one of the chairs breathing heavily and Alex pacing so fast she was sure he was going to wear a groove into the concrete floor. Luke was stretched out along the couch, his face red and sweaty, and he was the only one that looked unhappy at her arrival.

“Julie, thank God,” Alex breathed out, his steps slowing ever so slightly as he made eye contact. “Luke is...sick? Do ghosts get sick? Is that possible? I tried to poof up to you but...it wouldn’t work. Why wouldn’t it work? Reggie said he kept flickering? Did you understand him, or did he just disappear? Oh God, why doesn’t the afterlife come with rule books!?!”

Reggie, bless him, tried to fill in some of the gaps.

“I dunno how much I was actually able to say up there, but something is wrong with Luke. We’re pretty sure he’s sick.”

“Am not!” Luke tried to yell from his spot on the couch, but he barely managed to get the two words out before he was doubled over gasping for air. As if any of them were actually breathing.

“He’s been like this all day.”

It didn’t take a genius or supernatural expert to see that Luke was not his normal bouncy self. Julie approached him slowly, not wanting to make things worse but desperate to affirm for herself that he was still here with her and would be okay at the end of whatever this was. Obviously, none of them actually knew if he would be, but at least if she was touching him, she would have the physical reassurance of his presence. She lowered herself next to his head, resting on her knees beside the couch. He turned glassy eyes her way, groaning and twisting over on his side so he was as curled into her space as he could be while still on the couch.

“Luke...?”

She tried desperately to keep the fear from her voice. The last thing the boys needed was for her to lose it, but she wasn’t sure she managed it. Losing the boys, losing Luke, was her number one fear since she had realized how much they all meant to her. It was a fear that had become even more real when she had watched them be nearly jolted from existence thanks to Caleb, her touch somehow being the one thing that had managed to save them. As if spurred on by that memory, she reached out to let one hand trail across Luke’s forehead and down to rest against his cheek. His skin was like fire beneath her touch.

“You’re burning up. Have you been hot like this all day?”

One side of his mouth tipped up, a half-hearted smirk curving his lips.

“I’m always hot, Jules. Didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. But then Luke gasped and coughed, the sound deep and throaty in a way she hadn’t experienced since the time Carlos got pneumonia when he was little. She fluttered her fingers above him, not sure where her touch would be helpful or comforting. Luke reached up to snag her hands within his own, pulling them close against his chest. Julie tried not to focus on the way his skin seemed to be boiling beneath her.

“That cough doesn’t sound good. Have you taken anything? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, ice cold water??”

She was grasping at straws here. Whatever was going on with Luke was completely out of her wheelhouse, but she would be damned if she let some weak human virus or bacterial infection be his downfall. She had saved him from a goddamn demon’s curse, she could save him from this.

“No, Julie, I’m fine. I swear.”

His promise was cut off by another hacking cough. Julie tried to pull her hands back, if only so that she could use them for something other than just grasping onto Luke’s, but his grip held firm.

“Luke,” she tried again, pushing the tears she felt clogging her throat back, “you’re not fine. Please, I just...I need...there has to be something I can do.”

Their eyes met and held. She watched the way the emotions swimming in the sea of Luke’s gaze shifted and changed. Felt it deep within her soul when he decided to give up the façade and let her in.

“I don’t...it doesn’t feel right, Jules. It’s not like I’m sick, not like...”

Not like when he was human. The words hung unspoken between them. Julie felt her heart dive straight into her toes.

“Can we just...can you just...hold me?”

Luke’s voice came out in broken starts and stops, like the request was being dragged from his bones in a last-ditch attempt at satisfying a final craving before the very end. Julie thought her heart might explode, especially when her eyes searched his face and found nothing but longing and love etched into the pained lines there. It hit her then. He didn’t think this was something survivable. He didn’t think he was going to come back from this. Luke was facing the end, the actual end, and he wanted her at his side and in his arms when he went to meet his maker. The very idea ripped her soul in two.

“No, no, no. No, Luke, no. This isn’t...you’re not...no. You don’t get to do this to me. Not now. Not after...no.”

Julie felt the tears well up and spill over, wet tracks inching down her cheeks in the worst kind of betrayal. Not after everything she had done to save him. Not after she realized she loved him. It wasn’t fair. Luke didn’t get to just leave her like this. She wouldn’t allow it. Luke’s own eyes flooded, the two of them so in tune that when she blinked again her tears traced down her face in the same pattern that his did.

“Julie...please...”

He was pulling on her then, using their conjoined hands and his superior upper body strength to drag her up and onto the couch. Julie did her best to wedge herself into the space beside him, but Luke was having none of that, dropping her hands so he could twist his fingertips into her belt loops and haul her body on top of his. It was the kind of intimate cuddling she had been dreaming about for months, even before she had been able to touch him. Her head was tucked securely beneath his chin, cheek resting above the space his heart had once occupied. His arms were locked around her waist, hands solid and reassuring against the small of her back. She let her hands slip past the worn cotton of his cut-up band tee to rest against his ribs, the tears flowing fast and hot from her eyes to soak the material beneath her head.

She wasn’t sure Luke would even notice the difference. His temperature had to be sky high, every inch of his body where it pressed against hers engulfed in flames. Without realizing it, she began to hum the chorus to Edge of Great. She had been using it recently as a way to hype herself up when she started doubting something, the song never failing to remind her of Luke’s unbreakable belief in her. She felt it when Luke smiled, his head leaning down to rest against her own, voice blending with hers in a perfect harmony.

“We were pretty great, huh?” Luke’s voice was hushed as his lips moved across her scalp. “The band...the boys...us. We went right over the edge together, didn’t we? We’re just one dream, away from who we’re meant to be.”

Julie lost the melody as her quiet cries shifted to sobs. This couldn’t be it. They hadn’t even achieved half of the things they were meant to. Luke’s hum picked up where hers had dropped off, shifting slowly into the bridge of Finally Free.

“You’ll always be a part of me. Now ‘til eternity.”

Luke’s words were quiet and soft, melodic, as if he was still following the lines of the song in his head. There was a kind of peace to them that Julie hadn’t heard before, not since that awful night where he had stood before her and said there was no music without her. Not since the last time he thought she was going to have to watch him die. Not since the last time he had tried to say goodbye.

She couldn’t let him go like this. She had to fight, somehow, some way, to keep him where he belonged, right here next to her. She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to fix it, but she could give him this. She could tell him how much he meant to her. She could hope that it would maybe be enough. Just like last time.

“Luke...I can’t...I’m not...” Her chest constricted, cutting off her words. God, how did it already hurt so much? “I’m not ready to lose you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

Luke convulsed slightly underneath her, the movement moving from the tip of his head all the way down to his toes. Julie hugged him close, terrified. She wasn’t sure if that type of reaction was a good thing or a bad thing, and she wasn’t fully ready to find out. Beneath her, Luke’s body began to rapidly cool. That had to be a bad sign, right? A fever like that wouldn’t just suddenly break, not unless...not unless...Julie couldn’t even make herself think it. She pulled herself tighter against Luke’s chest, leveraged every inch she could get against him as her hands flexed against his back. A strange noise sounded from deep within his chest.

“Luke? Please, Luke, no. Please don’t leave me.”

Julie clutched herself as close as possible, the feeling of Luke’s arms slackening on her back twisting her stomach. Her sobs were borderline uncontrollable now, breaths coming in painful gasps as she pushed her face deeper and deeper into the fabric of Luke’s shirt. I love you, I love you, I love you. Her mouth formed the words over and over again until she felt them stitch themselves into the lining of her soul.

The noise sounded again, louder this time, directly underneath the spot where her cheek rested against his left pectoral muscle. And then she heard it again, and again, and again, slowly repeating until it picked up a slight rhythm. Slow at first and then explosively fast all the sudden. It sounded...like a heartbeat.

“Luke, oh my God, Luke, please, please, oh my God, please.”

Julie had no idea what she was even pleading for. A sign, a glimmer of hope to hold on to, another miracle that would save the boy she loved and bring him back to her, fully this time. It was too much to ask for, right? Too much to put faith into. The sound, the heartbeat, within Luke’s chest began to echo even louder. Julie forced herself to be brave. Forced herself to lift her head and look at Luke’s face. She told herself she could handle it. She told herself she had to do it.

Luke’s eyes were open above her. He looked just as bewildered as she felt, but his eyes were open and she could see his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a breath, and she felt the lungs in his chest expand beneath her and he was alive. He had to be alive, right? That was the only explanation here.

“Julie...?”

“Are you...?”

“I feel...”

“Alive.”

They said it at the same time, voices blending together the same way they did on stage, perfectly matched as if the universe itself had made it so. Julie pressed one hand against his cheek, his normal temperature cheek, and the other against his chest, directly above his heart. She felt the steady thump of muscle against her palm, felt Luke’s lips stretch into the widest grin she had ever seen. His own arms tightened around her waist again, forcing her to collapse against him as he squeezed. His heartbeat, his heartbeat!, roared strong and steady beneath her. His lips were in her hair, the only part of him that was still hot, moving against her curls in a way she didn’t have to hear to understand. I love you, I love you, I love you. Tying them together, heart to heart, the knowledge of that truth undeniable and overwhelming. He was alive. He was alive. Luke was alive, at her side, alive alive alive.

“Hey guys?”

Reggie’s voice, strained and aching. Julie had forgotten about the other boys completely. She turned her head, new tears overflowing when she caught sight of them. They looked like Luke had when she entered the studio. But instead of feeling scared, an immense wave of relief crashed over her. She could do this. She loved them. She could bring them back. Julie disentangled herself from Luke, crossing the room to pull the other boys close. Luke followed, his arms encompassing hers, Reggie and Alex safe within a never-ending circle of love. They burned hot and quick, fevers rising and crashing in a wave faster than Luke’s, heartbeats returning just as swiftly. They all cried, limbs overlapping in a heap on the floor. And when Julie met Luke’s eyes above the backs of the other boys, a moment passed between them. A moment that promised a lifetime together, every day beginning and ending with love and them.

“Now that we’re alive again, can we please get something to eat?”

Luke pulled Reggie into a noogie, but Julie just laughed, her heart soaring high as she thought about the endless future stretched out in front of them. A lifetime of forevers, starting that very day.

#oop I'm back on my soft Juke shit #this is the last prompt!#mads writes #brought to you by love and the power of friendship #julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #juke ficlet #jatp ficlet #send me prompts for my birthday!#<- that tag is just for consistency

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

an inconvenient crush // kenma kozume x reader (1/2)

Author’s Note: A new story?? SO SOON?? Thank you for all the love for my previous Kuroo story, it meant the world to me. I write for myself primarily, yes, but it brings me SO MUCH JOY to know that my words reach you. It helps with the motivation to put them out more often. Thank you. This story is very close to my heart because I’m a gamer, although I don’t stream. I’m more like Kenma though, personality wise. Haha.

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma's secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma's second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r O n e : puddinghead0

Kozume Kenma suddenly turned existential when his eyes shifted to his phone screen for the 12th time in ten minutes.

Was he always doing this? Was he always obsessed with his phone to a point where he'd constantly check for notifications? Did this mean he was deeply lonely on the inside and wanted approval from people on a virtual platform, which meant that the approval was also virtual and none of it was real? Did it mean that he craved to nullify the growing void in his chest by distracting himself with a black mirror that showcased light that could permanently impair his sight?

He let out a breath and forced himself not to look at his phone. He didn't care. It didn't matter. That's what he always said.

"Hey!" His classmate/room-mate screamed from the entrance to his flat, "Are you watching her stream? Posted two minutes ago!"

His phone was definitely slow. He had been checking his phone but there was no notification. Letting out a breath, and giving himself a mental reason to actually check his phone, Kenma opened the notifications tab to see the one notification he had kept his eye out for had been buried under ridiculous facebook notifs.

An inconvenient crush, that's what he told himself whenever he looked at you. You were a streamer, a bit different from what he did on YouTube because you were primarily on Twitch. There were reaction videos of you on YouTube, which was where he found you, but damn—how could one be pretty while rage-quitting a game? It was abnormal. Nothing about you was normal; college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, game reviewer for Sony, and you were insanely cute.

"She's getting to that part," his roommate commented from behind Kenma's back, while Kenma really just wanted to watch the video in peace, "Shit, she's gonna cry."

You did cry, quite a few times, and too easily if he could add. You cried at the ending of God of War, you cried to The Last of Us (which made sense, but you were perhaps just bawling throughout the entire game), you cried in a game called Detroit: Become Human, you cried far too easily, but you never really quit. He loved how passionate you were about games, and it was the sort of passion he could completely understand.

"Oh shit," You said in the video, your eyes scanning all over the game screen, "What's happening? What's happening?"

Kenma chuckled at how cute you were, god, you were killing him. You looked worried, and he could visibly see a sweat drop on your forehead, but you were so focused that it didn't matter. Suddenly, there was a screaming sound from the game you were playing, and your eyes popped open as wide as they possibly could and you just sat there, unmoving. He loved how you never squealed or made any loud reactions, except when you were in a fight with a difficult boss, but whenever something traumatic happened, you just froze and sunk it all in. You were currently playing the second part of The Last of Us, and a traumatic scene was definitely happening. Kenma had just finished playing it the night before, so every scene you were playing was familiar.

"I officially hate this game," You said, your voice breaking and he desperately wanted to hold you, "Fucking hell."

"God, she's amazing." Kenma's roommate said, eyes turning into literal hearts.

"Hm." Yeah, she is, Kenma thought, but could never really say.

As a YouTuber himself who streams games, he was aware that you were not as popular, and it was a fact that he really didn't like. Sure, you were on a less popular platform, but Twitch was incredibly popular by itself as well. He also understood the bias that came with being a female gamer, and while it sounded ridiculous to him, Kenma was one of those people who believed gaming required no gender.

He adored your content, and he secretly adored the hell out of you, so seeing you soar would only make him happy.

"I... I can practically feel what pain she's feeling right now," You spoke about the game, a lone tear threatening to leak out of your eye, "But! We shall persevere. I've been waiting 7 years for this game, so I won't let... won't let something like this halt my interest. Let's see if this has a point to it all."

God, he adored you. But, Kenma considered it an inconvenient crush because of course, the world was small. The first big crush he has on someone and he hoped it would remain over the internet, but it just had to become something more tangible, something that could make him weak in the knees.

You, a college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, a game reviewer for Sony, insanely cute, and also happened to be one of his YouTube channel's biggest fans.

He had only recently discovered your personal twitter handle, and dear lord, you were simping after him with no remorse. It wasn't as if he was all you talked about, but he had also noticed the trajectory of the games you were playing were on par with his own timeline. Kenma had finished his final stream for The Last of Us II just the night before and you had now started playing it. Right before that, it was Bloodborne, and before that, it was Final Fantasy VII Remake. However, your public handle was a lot more professional and despite knowing that it was there, he hadn't sent you a follow request because well, Kenma called himself an introvert in every matter but Kuroo just said he was shy.

While he knew that he could easily approach you and have you know he knew of your existence, Kenma preferred not to get into such detail. It was comfortable admiring you from afar, and it was comfortable being where he was—he had his company to work hard over, he was also a computer student and a YouTuber. Sure, he had his hands full especially after calling you abnormal for something that he himself was doing, but he never really fit into a bracket anyway. Kenma's latent obsession with you was something he wasn't particularly proud of and this wasn't because it had anything to do with you, but simply because he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Change, in many ways, scared him. And by changing the structure or dynamics of him admiring you in secret, while you admired him not so secretly, Kenma was certain that it might not lead where he may have wanted it to go.

Surely, Kuroo was against this sort of caution, calling it cowardly and saying it lacked passion; but Kenma knew it was just a crush. There was no way he could deduce the kind of person you were based on how you gamed or reacted to games, based on the little tid-bits of information you gave out while playing those games, or even how you openly spoke about how much you admired 'puddinghead0's videos. Kenma hated Kuroo for giving him that name, but he was too lazy to come up with a new one.

"Also," You sprung up in the final two minutes of your latest video, "I'm on Patreon, now! I honestly have no idea how it works, but if you really like the content I make and want to support me, you can become a patron and wish me luck!"

Kenma waited for his stupid roommate to go out of his room before he could open Patreon and find your link, which was thankfully in the description. Without a second thought, he donated to your profile but cussed instantly when he realized what he had done.

He had sent you a donation as himself, as 'puddinghead0's Patreon.

Without a second thought, Kenma called Kuroo and explained what had happened.

"That is why, Kenma, you need to check a thousand times and not let blind love navigate your actions—"

"If I knew you were going to spout such nonsense I wouldn't have called you."

He could hear Kuroo snicker while he ran a hand through his hair. Kenma groaned before Kuroo said, "How bad is this, Kenma? She'll be happy. Of course, this means she'll know you watch her content, but how bad can this be?"

"I didn't want her to know."

"And leave her devoid of the happiness of having her idol appreciate her content? You're cold, Kenma."

"You don't understand. What if... What if she tries to contact me?"

"You, my friend, have not even shared your personal account anywhere. The only way she can contact you is by commenting on your videos, which I am sure you check constantly to see if she did comment, or Tweeting, which she does every three days."

Kenma blushed at the accusation because it was true.

"She won't know who you are. Besides, there's no harm if she even does contact you! Just tell her casually that yeah, you like her contact. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Of course you don't—"

"Oh, she's tweeted something."

Kenma's entire body froze. Leaving Kuroo on the call, Kenma opened Twitter on his laptop and there it was, your latest tweet.

I am trying NOT to freak out over puddinghead sending me a donation on Patreon, pls save my soul, I am dead.

Kenma groaned before hearing Kuroo laugh once more, "She's adorable!"

I know that, Kenma thought before feeling his entire face flash up. Ending Kuroo's call, Kenma looked at your public profile before then moving to your personal one. He wasn't following that one either, but he wanted to see your tweets, he wanted to know more about you—he wouldn't deny any of these facts, but Kenma believed it was far too idiotic to dream of getting to know you through a virtual media. He wasn't even the sort of person to become close to people he met in real life, how could he allow himself a virtual friendship?

The thought staggered him, and the idea behind it was what kept him at bay. Kenma wanted to know about you, talk to you, learn about who you were and what you were doing, but he felt the media that connected you was what separated you.

It wasn't cowardice at all if he was just sticking to the facts and being real.

The next day, Kenma walked to his class by himself, listening to the latest podcast by Joe Rogan. While the external sound wasn't entirely muted, Kenma could discern sounds of people talking, cars moving around, and other noises even though he was playing the podcast on full sound. However, there was one sound in particular that stood out. Kenma paused before turning to his right, noticing a crowd of people had gathered there, with some sort of event going on. He didn't pay attention to half the events that his college conducted, his mind was obviously quite busy elsewhere, but when the announcer moved around in a weird Joker cosplaying outfit, Kenma was a tad bit intrigued.

Was it gaming related?

He slowly moved toward the crowd before finally being able to hear what the anchor was saying.

"We've got prizes for the top three best performers, and one of the participants is the one and only (s/n) (y/n), streamer from Twitch!"

Kenma froze, half-minded to run the hell away from there. But, it seemed as if his feet were stuck to the ground. How had he not known this? Didn't you always announce the events you go to? Why were you suddenly here? A second later, he spotted you, hair put up in an updo, a plain black tee, and regular jeans. You were smiling, but some part of that smile seemed a bit hesitant.

"We will be playing a bit differently today! Instead of the usual Fortnite battles or Apex Legends, we'll be going went and battling out on Red Dead Online! And of course, if you beat (y/n) here you earn bragging rights!"

He noticed you shift in your position a little bit, clearly uncomfortable with the attention you were getting; it didn't even look like you wanted to be there. Kenma could feel his chest hurt, and his palms were sweating now. That's all it is, he told himself. An inconvenient crush, an inconvenient crush, that's all.

Kenma sighed before noticing how he barely knew anyone there and was almost thankful for that fact; but before he could thank his stars, a hand threw itself around his neck and sprung him forward, earning the attention of not just everyone there, but especially you.

"We have our first participant," It was his goddamn roommate, "Kenma's a brilliant gamer!"

Kenma's eyes immediately found yours, and you were looking at him with wide, confused eyes. Although this was set in the open and the atmosphere was quite cold, Kenma felt nothing but warmth radiating all over his body at the mere sight of you; you were just a few feet away, and you were giving him a rather sympathetic expression, and god, you looked so fucking pretty—

"That's great! Sign up, ya'll! Winner will be winning a brand new DualShock 4!"

Oh fuck, Kenma thought before he felt his heart beginning to pound. He was now seated beside you, and he could practically shrink into non-existence. You were unmoving, and you weren't looking at him, but would you have looked at him if you knew he was puddinghead? Insecurity swarmed his being and he could practically feel steam escaping his ears but a moment later, he thought he'd die.

"This was so last minute," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "The anchor's my cousin and she's so demanding."

"Oh," Kenma said, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, "I see."

"Yeah! I mean," You giggled now, "I'm not even good at Red Dead Online!"

Kenma smirked, knowing the fact already. You struggled with Red Dead Redemption not because you were bad, but because you couldn't progress with a plot so divisive. You wanted to explore more, and since the game was so vast, you barely bothered with the Online version. You turned to him now and tilted your head.

"You're a gamer, I heard? Kozume-kun, right?"

Fuck, she knows my name, "Y-Yeah. I game when I'm free."

"Do you have a Twitch or YouTube?"

There's no fucking way I'll answer that, "No—"

"Ah, you must really be having a great time then."

Kenma blinked before turning to you with confusion. What did you mean?

"Don't you enjoy streaming?"

"Ah, no, no," You flailed your hands shyly, and Kenma believed he could combust, "It's not like that. I just think, after a point, streaming becomes more for the fans than for yourself. I used to do it for me, but now... I'm needed in places like this for promotion, and I need to have a Patreon if I'm popular or it'll look weird, I don't know... Too many restrictions. I just love gaming, you know?"

Kenma found himself smiling, "Yeah, I know. I've seen your videos."

"Oh?"

Kenma's eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself on his forehead.

"I—I mean, y-you're popular."

"Thanks! You're really sweet, Kozume-kun!"

Fucking hell, Kenma placed a hand on his forehead, She's too cute.

"Say," you said, a sly tone to your voice, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I'd do anything." Kenma honestly agreed.

But, you couldn't just up and leave. You were called here as Twitch streamer (s/n) (y/n), and that meant your behavior was restricted. As much as you seemed to hate said restriction, Kenma was certain that you wouldn't go against it. It could take a big blow against your viewership, and you wouldn't take that chance.

A second later, your hand gripped his wrist before you shot him a wink. Kenma's heart jumped to the skies before you pulled him away from the crowd, with participants lining the entrance to enter their names. Sure, you were doing something bad—your cousin wanted you there, but not once had she even asked if you wanted to be a part of this event. Just as Kenma was pulled in without his consent. You weren't a competitive gamer, and you were not going to be, even if it was for someone else. After running away a fair distance, Kenma felt the part of his wrist burn right where you were touching him.

"I think I need to run more in real life and not just as Ellie." You said, and Kenma chuckled.

"Running's good."

"I used to run track," You said, turning to him. "Now I run in games and that's it."

You have no right being that cute, he thought before clearing his throat. He slowly pulled away from you, which made your eyes widen before shooting him an apologetic smile. He was a bit confused as to what you had done, did this mean you didn't care about losing followers?

"You might think that I've committed career suicide," You scoffed, "Honestly, this is the bravest I've been in so long."

"What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "Ever since I became a bit popular by streaming, I've just... I could feel myself change with the way my viewers wanted me to be? I don't blame them or anything, I just think that the love I get from them makes me yearn for more. And that yearning leaves me... inept to be myself. It's the downside of wanting to remain popular, I guess."

"It's not like you can't be yourself and still be popular." Kenma added.

"Yeah I know," You said, "I mean, just look at puddinghead0, we don't even know what he looks like, and wow. I adore his content."

Kenma froze once more. Was this being recorded? Did Kuroo finally tip you off and was this being filmed for his reaction? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to reveal to you now.

"Y-Yeah, I think he just doesn't care."

"I wish I was more like that because I end up caring. I like the comments and the views and the love. Agh, it's such a weird complex moral question. Don't even get me started."

Kenma laughed at your reaction before you turned to him and stuck a tongue out. Kenma rolled his eyes before waving a hand at you.

"If anything," Kenma said, looking at the ground, "You didn't lose this follower today."

Your eyes widened at his statement. You smiled before nodding, and let out a chuckle.

"Thank you, Kozume-kun."

Locking the door to his room, Kenma began to edit for his latest video. He was making a review for The Last of Us 2, but his mind was elsewhere. He still hadn't told Kuroo that he had met you, which would only cause the black-haired man to tease him relentlessly. Letting out a sigh, he felt sleep douse his eyelids as he continued the edit, right before a notification popped up on his phone.

It was you.

He narrowed his eyes before checking the date and time; it was unusual for you to stream live on random days. He'd learned your pattern by now. You'd been doing this for a couple of months, and it was quite easy for him to know just when and what time you'd begin. However, the screen for The Last of Us 2 was open and you looked like you had just stopped crying. His heart broke at the sight, and he instantly closed the tabs to his own edit, before opening your video on his monitor. You were taking deep breaths before chuckling.

"Hello to everyone that's still with me," You sounded so broken, Kenma felt helpless as he continued staring at you, "You might be wondering why I'm... yeah. So, I did something and I guess I got punished for it? I was forced into a game contest and I think walking out of it made some of my followers mad. I even spoke to this other person about walking out and honestly, it didn't hit me then that what puddinghead's doing takes a lot of courage."

"Ah, fuck, (y/n)," Kenma groaned.

"I guess even when I expected to lose followers, I didn't expect the hate? Some of the comments were just... nasty. I..." You sniffed, "...I didn't expect that you would hate on someone for making a personal choice? And I didn't do it to offend anyone, I seriously don't know how the internet works. Oh, oh wow—" You looked troubled and Kenma could see why. "—losing out on viewers now, great. 'Don't be a whiny bitch', 'This is why girls shouldn't game'..."

You took a deep breath before calming down and saying the few words Kenma feared you might eventually come around to say.

"This is (y/n), signing off to a world where gaming is appreciated and is not filled with a community of hate. Hope to see you there."

And the stream ended.

Kenma sighed before leaning back, no thought in his head. He knew for a fact that his room-mate must have seen the stream as well, and Kuroo would be calling him about the entire ordeal just to ensure he had something to say about it. Kenma, on the other hand, felt like he had practically pushed you to make this decision and partly felt like taking the blame, despite the common sense telling him that he had nothing to do with it. You weren't the sort of person who would jump at something without a second thought, and even if he didn't know you personally, he had been following you and your streams for months now. It felt like he knew that part of you quite well.

Kuroo was the first to call. Kenma stared at the phone for a bit before letting out a breath and getting back to editing his video. He only had to add commentary, and his mind was already circling on what to say.

Uploading the video took him exactly two more hours, after having missed three calls from Kuroo and twelve messages. At one point, Kuroo had even stopped contacting Kenma, thinking he was busy with something, and he was spot on. Kuroo's eyes wandered on the new notification about his friend's YouTube channel, which was weird considering it was not yet time for him to post something. He knew quite well that Kenma might have definitely seen (y/n)'s stream, and wanted to desperately talk to him about it, but without a clue of what the boy was thinking, Kuroo simply clicked on the notification and let the video play out.

It was the review for the game, The Last of Us 2, and Kuroo knew while giving the review, which was around 8-9 minutes, Kenma would speak his thoughts that were a tad bit uncensored toward the end. He'd talk about the drama surrounding the game, he would even bring up the entire hate that this game was receiving, but instead—Kenma had a rather strange dialogue instead.

"One thing I don't understand is how toxic the gaming community can be, at times," Kuroo paused, narrowing his eyes at his friend's words, "While we welcome new gamers to the entire journey of learning and discovering the joy of gaming, we also tend to put them down if they didn't adhere to a certain trend. I came across one such incident happening to (s/n) (y/n)'s Twitch channel."

"Holy shit!" Kuroo sat up straight, eyes wide as saucers at the bold move his friend made.

"I'm part of this community and I think I have the right to call out how toxic we are in general,"

Kenma's voice didn't even waver, but after knowing him his entire life, Kuroo could deduce that the boy was a bit angry,

"(y/n) didn't particularly do anything wrong, and she's received some nasty comments about being a female gamer, and I think that's...just disgusting. She has all the right to either attend or ditch a gaming event, and no one has to be forced to do something they don't want to do. We all have games we don't like despite being gamers, we don't have to do it all. I support (y/n), and I'll admit, I'm saddened by how her fans have treated her. Her content is great and I have immense respect for her. I hope she decides to come back and stream more. That being said, I think The Last of Us 2 is..."

As he got around to talk more about the game, Kuroo knew that this was a huge step for Kenma, and he had no idea what suddenly made the boy rethink his entire decision on never bringing her up. Now that he had, he's indirectly initiated a conversation with her, she'd definitely try and reach out now—in any way she possibly could, just to thank him at least.

Kuroo noticed his phone ringing a second later and a grin made its way to his lips.

"What just happened?"

"I met her, Kuroo," Kuroo almost had the wind knocked out of him, "She was at my college campus. I was walking back to my room since classes were canceled. There was some sort of gaming event. She didn't want to be a part of it, and neither did I, and we ditched. It was—"

"You like her more now, don't you?"

When Kuroo received nothing more than silence from Kenma's end, he was certain. His precious, introverted, best boy had fallen for someone. It was a proud moment, almost.

"You have to tell her—"

"Kuroo, this... this is all I want to do."

"That's bullshit, and even you know that."

"What? You want me to open up to her and tell her I'm the YouTuber she's been gushing about for so long and I was the one who kind of pushed her into doing what she did, and so that she can hate me afterward for hiding the truth because I wouldn't be losing out on anything and she—"

"Whoa there, Kenma. I'm just saying go talk to her as her favorite YouTuber. You're overthinking this."

"No, you're underthinking this. I did what I had to do. It was... hard to see her like that."

Kuroo let out a sigh but before he could say anything, Kenma had already ended the call. That boy needs to grow a pair, he thought, a bit annoyed at Kenma's nature of avoiding his feelings. While Kenma believed it was for the best, he knew he was simply running away from it. Kuroo knew his friend adored (y/n), but the boy couldn't categorize that as real feelings because he's met her just once. Finding something real virtually scared him more than finding something real in real life, and while Kuroo wanted to understand that, it only annoyed him because Kenma wasn't even trying.

When you watched puddinghead0's recent video, you were jaw-dropped in awe and absolute admiration. Tears filled your eyes, but what was more was how his voice now seemed a tad bit familiar, though you didn't pay any heed to it since you've been following this channel for an entire year now. It moved you to know someone you've been admiring has been watching your content, but at the same time, he was speaking up for you? You wanted to thank him, you wanted to send him a message and say you were incredibly grateful for what he's done and the only way you knew you could say something was on Twitter.

So you mentioned him on a tweet and poured your heart out within character limit. You wondered if he would notice your tweet since you've mentioned him countless times before, but even if he didn't, even if he paid you no heed after all of this, you were still grateful. However, a second later, you received a new follower. You blinked upon noticing that it was Kozume-kun from the other day. A soft smile fell on your lips at the soft recollection of running away from a gaming event, after which everything spiraled, but you didn't in any way blame him. Your mind again drifted back to puddinghead0 and you sighed.

I'd kill to see him, man, you thought, eyeing your tweet of him dreamily.

A second later, there was a notification. You almost spat out your heart at the mere words: puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

"Oh my god—" You choked on air. However, a second later, you found it difficult to remain sitting on your bed.

Don't thank me, I hope you're feeling better. You didn't deserve any of that.

Is that a—

...deserve any of that. <3

Fuck me.

Kenma almost dozed off in class right before it ended. It wasn't like it was school where the teacher would wake him up after noticing him asleep, no one really bothered. Kenma was pushed awake by the momentum of the class once it was over and he leaned back before gathering his things. Tightening his hair tie, he casually walked out of class and got to the campus. He spotted the event area, where the gaming event had occurred and instantly spotted his room-mate and a bunch of people gathered there. Rolling his eyes, he walked away from there, not wanting to gather any attention.

"Kenma!"

He had failed. Kenma froze to his spot before turning to spot his room-mate dashing over to him, a wide grin plastered on his features. Wrapping a hand over Kenma's shoulders, his roommate brought him to the others he was talking to, before releasing him.

"You're that guy (y/n) ran away with during that event, right?" One of them asked, and Kenma didn't bother to respond.

"Why did she run though? I mean, it doesn't make sense for her to just up and leave."

"I've been telling you," The same guy said, "She's not the one playing those games. She's just the face."

Kenma frowned. What is this dick talking about?

"Man, I think that's harsh," His roommate said, "I just think she's too chicken to play in front of people—"

"She's literally a streamer." Kenma said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but why did she—"

"If you can't understand that she doesn't owe you shit, then there's no helping it. She didn't want to play at that event, and she didn't. I don't see why you aren't calling me a fake gamer for running too." Kenma snapped.

The others shrugged, "That's because we've seen you play—"

"It's bullshit." Kenma said before walking away. You all are bullshit, he thought before the frown on his face settled into an uncharacteristic glare, directed at what who knows what.

A moment later, he felt his phone buzz with a notification. Kenma opened his phone and saw that he had a message from you, but what confused him was—

The message was directed to Kenma and not puddinghead. His heart jumped as his fingers roamed over the notification, wanting to open it only when he was in the comfortable confines of his room. Swallowing the bubbling anxiety, Kenma fought the urge to smile as he continued walking back, unaware of what the Twitter message could be. It would normally take him around 12 minutes to get to his apartment from campus, but that day, Kenma merely took 7.

On reaching his room, he finally allowed himself to open your message.

(y/n): Hey! I've taken a break from streaming for now, just wanted to let you know. I don't know why I'm sending you this message, but talking to you that day made me realize that I don't really need to seek approval constantly. Also, puddinghead liked my tweet and I'm a bit too happy so I needed to gush, don't @ me

Kenma chuckled, feeling his heart jump at every word you'd said. He knew you didn't realize that you were gushing about him to him, but that didn't matter. He wanted to gush about you too. He felt a stone stuck at his throat at how real all of this felt, despite having only seen you once.

Kenma Kozume: I think he's the sort of guy who isn't too loud about the things he likes. And I think a break is a good idea, (s/n).

(y/n): Call me (y/n), came the immediate response. Kenma's eyes widened at the fact that you were online, and that the two of you were currently exchanging messages live.

(y/n): Yeah, I got the feeling from his videos that he's perhaps a private person. I'm still really glad that he supported me, I can't thank him enough. I'm feeling much better already!

Kenma smiled, I'm glad that you are.

(y/n): Also

He blinked.

(y/n): Do you want to co-op at Bloodborne? I'm trying to get a platinum, haha.

"Fuck," He let out a breath before chuckling uncharacteristically. "You can't be serious."

(y/n): I'll send you my PSN, and you can add me as a party member. Only if you're up to it, I mean.

Kenma Kozume: Sure, sounds like fun. Also

Kenma gulped. He felt like this was showing off, but he didn't care. He was going to say it.

Kenma Kozume: I already have platinum in Bloodborne. :)

(y/n): Ah, screw you.

Kenma chuckled. He wouldn't admit it, but his heart was hammering against his chest and his palms were sweating. Soon, he'd be connected to you via the DualShock and the two of you would be co-oping in a game that was designed to make players fail. He wasn't too sure how much more his heart was going to take, and while he knew he had to tell someone, for some reason, Kenma wanted to keep this a secret. It wasn't because he was ashamed or he didn't want anyone to find out.

It was simply because it was too good to be true, and he didn't want to lose out on a chance to get to know you more. Because, if this kept up...

If this kept up, Kenma was surely going to fall in love with you.

389 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

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SURVIVAL TIPS | MILO & WILLOW

PLACE: A bookstore TIMING: Way, way back when Milo first became a vampire SUMMARY: Milo and Willow accidentally cross paths, and realise they both have the power to distract each other from their problems WRITING PARTNER: @willcwthewisp CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Milo couldn’t remember the last time he had unironically set foot in a bookstore. After graduating uni, it all felt a little pointless. He had books, though they were at his parents’ house, far beyond his reach now. And reading felt too trivial considering the latest developments in his life. Why would he ever need books? What could they possibly have to offer him? But this evening, against his better judgement, he had been struck by the overwhelming urge to go to a bookshop. To steal back a semblance of the normalcy belonging to his previous life. With Harsh’s constant, and unexpected support, he was feeling more in control than ever before. Though his grip on his cravings remained tenuous at best, he figured he was capable of a short visit. After impatiently waiting for the sun to set, he had hurried into town, slipping quietly through the familiar door. The bell above him rang out, announcing his arrival, and the sound caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. Maybe he missed this more than he thought. Once upon a time, before he had allowed himself to spiral, he would come here. His mom would find new books for him to study. His dad would nudge him away from the children’s section, towards the classics that were technically beyond his reading level. If it’s easy, then what are you learning, Milo? You need to be challenged. He could still hear his tone, the exact way he would make not being able to choose his own stories sound like a privilege rather than a frustration.

Drifting through the various sections, taking in the new sounds, and scents he had never been able to appreciate before, it wasn’t long until he found himself standing where his parents used to encourage him to stand. They would search through the shelves, talking amongst themselves to determine which novels were best suited for their son. Even now that he had a choice, he was drawn to the books they had selected for him. Maybe it was a warped sense of loyalty, maybe he missed the simplicity of having every decision made for him. Gently running his fingers along the spine of Great Expectations, he wondered whether Charles Dickens had lived in a world of vampires, and ghosts. Certainly Edgar Allan Poe had to have known about the existence of the Supernatural. It made him want to revisit the tales, search for any hint that might indicate the world had always been this confusing. Finally pulling Great Expectations from the shelf, he turned to walk towards the seating area, completely unaware of the person walking in the opposite direction. He stumbled backwards the moment he saw them, very nearly walking into them. A sheepish grin on his face, he did what he could to hold his breath. Harsh had already warned him doing so would draw attention, but he didn’t see any other option when people got so close. “Shit- I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Willow was to the point of desperation when it came to finding the book she was looking for. For some unfathomable reason it wasn’t available anywhere that she could find online. Maybe it was simply so popular that most sellers had run out of it, but either way she’d ended up braving the trek to the bookstore after hearing they had a copy in stock. Books were one of the few ways she’d managed to stay sane in her self-appointed isolation, filling her head with stories of the outside world that she couldn’t bring herself to experience anymore. But she should have known going out into public once again was a terrible idea, and that became clear the moment she nearly collided with another being. Her eyes widened in alarm at the severity of the close call, already imagining how she could have sent the young man standing in front of her flying through multiple shelves of books.

“Oh god-” Willow gasped as if she’d been startled at a haunted house, hand clutched to her chest as she took a few, healthy steps backwards to put some space between her and the stranger. “No, no- I didn't see you there either, I’m sorry.” Her nerves had been set on edge by the near run in, and she was doing her best to steady her breaths, trying not to think about the ten million ways this interaction could go poorly if the stranger got too close. “I was just- I wasn’t watching that carefully where I was going, I guess.” A lapse on judgement on her part. She should know better than to walk blindly when she was a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Milo was already tense, doing his very best to hide it. But it made him feel a little better to hear the stranger’s heart pounding in her chest. Clearly he wasn’t the only person who had been caught so off guard, and clearly he wasn’t the only person so panicked by the close proximity. The relief didn’t last for very long though. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the sound of her pulse served as an unwelcome reminder of how dry his throat felt, the new reality he was desperately trying to ignore. Before he could take a further step back, the woman had done so for him, and he watched her curiously, wondering whether she might also a reason of her own to keep her distance. “Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned for her. “No- I wasn’t looking either, it was my fault as much as it was yours!” He insisted. If he had been more careful, as careful as he should be given his current situation, this wouldn’t have happened. But he was already tired of being careful. Was one evening too much to ask for? One evening of reading books in a bookstore like a regular human being? “I, uh-” He held up his copy of Great Expectations, still holding his breath between sentences as though such a desperate gesture might be able to fix all of his problems. “I was distracted too…”

“Oh- oh, I’m fine!” Willow tried to assure, not wanting the young man to think he’d startled her too badly— even if he had done just that. “Are you alright?” she asked out of politeness. He didn’t seem very shaken, but it was only in her nature to ask in return. Forcing a chuckle, she clutched the book she’d fetched to her chest, as if it could protect her. “I think we’re gonna have to either agree to disagree, or just let me take the blame.” She wasn’t particularly in the practice of letting the guilt fall on someone else when it came to situations that involved herself. “Oh, are you reading Great Expectations?” she asked as she took in the title and cover of the book. It wasn’t one of her favorites- mostly because she’d been forced to read it in highschool, but it was still a classic and staple. In her opinion, it had ghosts that weren’t really ghosts, and that was something she’d been drawn to.

Smiling at the woman’s insistence that she really was okay, Milo allowed himself to relax as much as he dared to. It wasn’t easy, trying to find a balance. Trying to stay aware of his surroundings, while also staying aware of himself. He could only hope one day it would become a part of his routine, something he did without even needing to focus. “I am.” He answered quietly. He wasn’t sure how true that was, but he sincerely appreciated the question. “I mean, if you want to take the blame I have a track record of avoiding responsibility.” He teased, laughing quietly at the fact that he was being entirely honest now. “I’m not going to try and stop you.” Glancing down at the book in his hands, he stared at the cover for a moment too long. There were so many childhood memories connected to it that it was difficult to look away from. “I guess so.” He grinned, offering her a shrug. “My parents made me read it as a kid… I’m kind of missing the simplicity of that, you know? My biggest worry being how quickly I could get to the end of a book.” Finally tearing his gaze away and looking back up at the stranger, he realised he had yet to introduce himself. “I’m Milo, by the way… So, are you going to tell me what you’re reading? Hopefully something far less cliché.”

Part of Willow was glad that the young man hadn’t insisted on taking the blame as many people were often wont to do. Generally that just resulted in a tiring back and forth until they found some sort of compromise, or forgot what they were talking about altogether. “Perfect,” she settled the burden of blame with a chuckle, her smile still warm. “Glad we agreed on that as easily as we did.” He seemed nice despite her nearly running headlong into him. Her head tilted curiously to the side, listening closely while he spoke of his parents and books. “Oh- well that’s...sweet in a way. And it makes sense.” She could certainly relate to wishing for a simpler time, often thinking of the days she’d been able to walk free without fear of breaking someone in half via telekinesis. “Books are a good way to forget the world for a bit.” They were her favorite method of escaping behind painting. “Oh- I’m Willow,” she replied quickly, a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten to introduce herself in the first place. “I don’t think Great Expectations is necessarily cliché,” she offered politely with another little laugh before continuing on. “But mine’s called ‘Leave the World’.”

Amused by Willow apparently being grateful he was readily allowing her to take the blame, Milo realised he was genuinely beginning to enjoy her company. His smile only growing as she talked about the ease of the decision, it was refreshing not being seen as somebody argumentative, or petulant, even if the context could barely be considered serious. “It was a pleasure discussing business with you.” He replied, feigning sincerity as he caught her eye. Raising his eyebrows as she called his actions sweet, he wasn’t sure he would use that word but perhaps from an outsider’s perspective his explanation could be seen as sentimental. “Yeah, you could probably call it that.” He admitted, absentmindedly tapping his fingertips against the cover of the book still in his hands. “I don’t know… I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t even know why I came here really, I think I might be looking for something that’s just... impossible to find, you know?” His old life, his humanity... Realising the stranger was right, his smile softened into an open, and unguarded expression. Books were a good way to escape, however briefly. And though there were no hidden doorways here allowing him to step back into the past, maybe a brief escape would enough for now. If achieving one was even possible. Maybe it needed to be enough. “Leave the World?” He couldn't say he had ever heard of it. “I don’t suppose there are any tips in there? I could use a vacation from this place.”

The younger man’s words brought a laugh to Willow’s lips, and she was grateful for the bell-like sound as she reminded herself how few and far between interactions like this had been. Sure- she’d talked to people in her self-imposed isolation, had even seen a few humans here and there, but there was nothing that could replace the actual company of another living and breathing person. “I hope I don’t have a bill coming in the mail for this business talk,” she teased back. Her shoulders relaxing another inch while she let herself slip a little further into comfort.

The expression on her face took on a more sincere air as her head tilted curiously to the side, a gentle nod of understanding shaking it in the end. “I think...a lot of people feel that way, if we’re being honest.” And she didn’t see any reason not to be. Even ghosts were looking for something that seemed impossible to find. After all, that was why they’d stuck around in the first place. “But I also haven’t met anyone that hasn’t eventually found what they’re looking for. Sometimes you just need help, you know?” That was the job of the medium or exorcist in her mind— to extend that helping hand when someone needed it. “And sometimes the answer isn’t what we expect, but I think you’ll get there eventually.” Another chuckle shook her gently before she gave her answer. “No tips in there unless you’re looking for ways to survive and deal with the apocalypse. But if you’re looking for some ‘vacation’ books I can take you to some of my favorites?”

Milo laughed too, his eyes shining. “I wasn’t going to but now that I think about it my rent is probably due.” He teased, unable to help himself. He could hardly consider their conversation business talk, but he was enjoying it more than he would ever have expected to. Although he liked his time alone, socialising had always come naturally to him. He had no issue with talking to people, getting to know them when their paths somehow managed to cross with his own. He missed this, he missed making new friends. His smile fading somewhat as Willow became serious again, he appreciated her honesty. It made him sad to know what she was saying was probably true, but it also helped him to feel less alone. Sometimes he just needed to be reminded of that fact. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He murmured, knowing the sense of relief would be temporary. How long until he convinced himself otherwise? Until his own mind erased Willow’s wisdom? “It’s easy to forget sometimes, you know? Especially when your problems are so… specific.” He admitted, offering her a hesitant shrug.

A smile tugging at his lips again, the mention of hope was comforting, regardless of the fact that everything felt pretty hopeless right about now. He was more stable than he had been, though still not used to his new life, still close enough to his old one to actively grieve for it. “You really think so?” He asked, knowing his longing would be obvious in his voice. He made no effort to hide it, too distracted by the mention of finding answers, by the sound of Willow’s heartbeat, by the book in his hands still reminding him of his childhood. “I really hope so…” Maybe she was right. Harsh was helping him now, and things were getting better. The progress was slow, but it still counted as progress. “Thank you.” His smile became more genuine as he felt a strange rush of affection for the woman he barely knew. Apparently she believed in him, apparently she was convinced one day he might actually be okay again. “Hm, I think tips on how to survive might be more useful to me than vacation books.” He was only half teasing. “But if you’d be up for the company, I’d love to see some of your favourites.”

“Well- you’ll just have to send over the prices so I can get a look at them. My sister’s actually better with stuff like that anyway, so I’ll probably pass them on to her,” Willow chuckled. It was true though. Meg had needed to negotiate quite a few contracts along with her manager when it came to her spot as a blossoming celebrity. She’d missed this as well. Even though she’d always been a little more on the quieter side, Willow had always loved seeing a new smile wherever she could find them. Her warm expression shifted into concern another time as Milo continued to speak of his problems. She might not have the abilities to go along with being a proper medium, but she’d still been raised as one, and along with that came a compassion geared towards helping. “Well if you ever need reminding just message me, alright? I’m easy enough to find on the town forums. My full name’s Willow Finch if you want to search me, though.” Maybe she was coming on too strong when it came to being helpful, but it’d always been hard for her to draw that line. If she wanted to help, why shouldn't she make sure the other person knew it without a doubt?

“Of course I think so,” Willow repeated with another soft smile, already happy to see the smallest flash of hope enter into Milo’s eyes. “I haven’t met a person yet that couldn’t find what they were looking for. Even if it took time. And even if it wasn’t what they were expecting.” The poor guy. She could practically feel the desperate wanting in his voice, could recognize it because she herself was on a seemingly hopeless quest for answers when it came to her own problems with telekinesis. There had to be an end...right? But a smaller voice in her mind reminded Willow that endings weren’t always happy. Nevertheless she brushed it aside, and turned to start on her way towards her favorite section of the store. “Come on- I think we can find some books that fall into both categories,” she finished with a grin over her shoulder.

Milo continued to smile in response to the joke, leaning into the way this woman seemed able to distract him from his problems, if only for a brief moment in time. He could see she was being genuine, that she actually wanted to help, and he wasn’t used to that. Not anymore. “I hope she doesn’t take a cut of the check?” He teased, his smile growing as she insisted she was always going to be there if he needed a reminder that all hope wasn’t lost. It was an odd thing for a stranger to offer, but given his life as of late, he didn’t feel as though his gauge on what was normal even functioned anymore. It had been permanently shattered when he woke up as an official member of the undead. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he held it out to her, encouraging her to plug her name and number into his list of contacts. “I might take you up on that, you know…” Why not? What did he have to lose by making another hesitant friend? “Willow Finch… your name has superhero vibes, has anybody ever told you that?” His eyes were shining as he was reminded of who he used to be, the kid who spent his free time split between the comic book store, and the many questionable establishments White Crest had to offer him. He was still very much that person, but nothing felt quite so simple anymore. He only wanted things to be simple.

His smile fading when Willow insisted he would eventually find what he was looking for, some sense of peace, some way of being content with what he had become, maybe even some level of control when it came to fighting against the bloodlust continually scratching the back of his throat, he was impatient, but he was also happy just to believe that the answers were out there. He would find them, and maybe, just maybe, he would be okay. Surprised when she started to walk away from him, he faltered before hurrying to fall into step beside her, holding his breath as her movement caused the smell of her blood to permeate the air. He didn’t know what she meant by both categories, surely survival books and vacation books were on two very different ends of a spectrum. But he didn’t care, he wanted to understand, he wanted to follow her. Because, for some reason, she made him feel like there was hope, like he existed as more than some miserable outcome, and that was proving to be incredibly rare.

#c:willow #milo and willow

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