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tomtenadia · 7 months

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Detours to you - ch 9

Good evening... I am here with a little present for those few readers who follow this fic. As I mentioned, the fluff has for now reach it's temporary end and we are having a bit of angst... Sorry....

Sunday evening finally came and Rowan was getting nervous. He and Maya had the greatest of the weekends. On Sunday afternoon they had gone to the aquarium and Rowan quickly realised that such places were much more fun with kids. His daughter had a limitless well of energy. She had dragged him in every possible corner of the venue and then asked for a second tour of the sharkies and squishies, her own way of calling jellyfishes and sharks.

They were now back at home. Aelin had texted him that she was on her way to him and Rowan had given her specific instructions to reach him. The GPS struggled to recognise his address when he had people over he had to write down specific directions to reach him. In addition, the last part to his house was not fully covered in tarmac and was easily missed in heavy snow conditions.

Aelin had already called him twice when she took the wrong turn down in the village. As on cue she called him again at the last point people struggled the most. She had taken the wrong turn and ended up on the path to his neighbour’s house.

“Ready to see mum again?”

Maya jumped in excitement and joined him on the door.

The headlights of her car finally appeared after the bend and he relaxed. He should have met her at her place. Aelin was not used to that road and to make it worse it was evening too.

“Whitethorn, I thought I was climbing on the Staghorns.”

“Mama!” Maya screamed and ran for her mother who hugged her fiercely “I missed you so much, baby.”

Rowan encouraged them inside and they greeted each other properly “Did you have a nice time with Rowan?”

“Yes, mum, he is the best.”

Aelin looked up at Rowan “Nice digs Whitethorn. This place is stunning.”

He smiled “I am proud of it too. It’s finally starting to feel like home.”

He did not mention that having Maya’s toys around was helping towards that too.

The two girls went to the sofa and Rowan let them catch up. Maya showed her mum all the hockey presents he had bought her and the TFD puck.

Aelin turned and looked at him with a strange expression and he nodded.

“Maya, could you stay here while I talk to Rowan for a moment?”

“Okay, I have a book to colour.”

Aelin indicated to the kitchen with her head and Rowan followed her inside.

He leaned against the counter, his arms at his chest “She survived the weekend. Did I pass the test?”

“She seemed to have fun.”

“Yes, we had a great time and she likes it.”

“It’s not enough, Rowan.”

The words hit him like a train wreck “What do you mean?”

“You just spent a weekend with her, that is not enough to prove that you can be her dad.”

Rowan felt rage rising fast but reigned it in. He could not scream, Maya was in the other room.

“You promised.” He hissed.

“I know, but it’s too early.”

A savage curse left his lips and he started pacing “I want to be her father.” His voice full of pain and disappointment “Do you know what she asked me yesterday?”

Aelin shook her head.

“She asked me if I could be your boyfriend, like in the stories. She wants me to.”

“Rowan, she is five, everything is a fairytale for her.”

A loud groan escaped him “Our daughter is not stupid. That was a clear sign that she wants a father figure in her life.”

“I am scared.”

“Damn it Aelin, I am scared too. This is big but hell, I don’t think I ever wanted something this bad.”

“We need plans, and rules,” she added while leaning against the counter “This cannot be decided in one night, Rowan.”

He was silent and Aelin could see pain etched in his features. She hated what she was doing to him, but her priority was Maya “I am not risking Maya’s welfare only to satisfy your ego and get called dad.”

Rowan’s hands fisted at his side “Me selfish? You had her for five years and decided not to tell me.”

“I can’t believe we are having this fight again. I told you why.”

“You never gave me the chance. You just assumed just like you are doing now,” he almost roared in frustration “Aelin, please…” his voice full of agony “Let’s tell her.”

Aelin stiffened “No, Rowan. Not yet. I am her mother and it’s my call.”

Rowan left the room and stormed in the living room where Maya was playing on the carpet. He kneeled at her side and hugged her “It’s time to go home with your mum,” Maya threw her arms around his neck “I had an amazing weekend with you, little tornado.”

He heard her sniffle and he was positive his heart was breaking “You can come and visit again. Your room will always be here.”

“Okay.”

Rowan could not pull away from his daughter and fought hard the tears threatening to break. In a burst of courage he stood “Do you have all things ready? Elf?”

Maya nodded quietly and hugged the toy then hugged Rowan’s leg “Love you.”

He lifted her up and kissed her hard on her cheek “You are my favourite person too.”

Aelin grabbed the bags and then Maya’s hand.

“Text me when you are back safely, the road on the way down can be quite bad.”

Aelin nodded “Night, Rowan.”

He walked them outside and on the porch he watched Maya climb in the car then turning and waving at him. He remained outside until the lights disappeared.

Then he walked around the house collecting the toys scattered on the carpet. He grabbed the shark soft toy she had left behind and hugged it and finally let the tears flow.

On the way home Aelin called her mother and asked if she and Maya could visit.

“Fancy going to say hi to grandma and grandpa?”

“Okay.” Answered a very quiet Maya.

Her parents were waiting for them at the door when they arrived. Maya walked quietly to her grandparents and they knew right away that something was wrong “Hello Maya.”

“Hi nana.”

“She is tired, she had a fun weekend with Rowan.”

“Come in both of you, it’s cold outside.”

Evalin who had the radar for her daughter’s worries pulled Aelin in the kitchen “Maya, go and play with grampa.”

Rhoe took his granddaughter away and Evalin shoved Aelin inside “What happened?”

Aelin burst in tears and flung herself in her mother’s arms.

“Was the weekend with Rowan a disaster?”

“No,” she sobbed hard “It was perfect.”

“So why is Maya sad?”

“Because she had to leave him.”

Evalin pushed her daughter on the chair and sat on the one opposite from Aelin.

“And?”

“And we haven’t told her he is her dad and Rowan is now furious at me, but I am scared, mum.”

Evalin patted her daughter’s leg “Of what? Talk to me.”

“What if he leaves again? What if he finds another woman and Maya becomes just a passing thought? If he and I can’t make it work and we make things worse for Maya?” Her tears returned in full force “And all he wants is to tell her the truth to satisfy his ego.”

“I doubt it Aelin, that is not Rowan’s style.”

“He is just so pushy.”

Evalin hugged her daughter “I think he just had a taste at how it feels to be a father and wants to feel that for real and wants to be called dad.” She kissed her daughter’s head “You put his name on the birth certificate, you wanted him to be Maya’s dad.”

“Am I being unreasonable?”

“No, you are just protecting your daughter,” added Evalin quietly “But Maya is smart and will soon start asking question. Soon she will ask why she does not have a dad like the other kids.”

Aelin let out a ragged breath “I know, I have been preparing myself for that.”

“Aelin, you don’t have to do it alone,” she added “and you don’t have to lie. Be candid with your daughter she will appreciate it when she is older.”

“Rowan said that she asked him if he was my boyfriend.”

Evalin was pensive for a moment “which means she has picked up on something.” She added “You never let her stay with anyone apart from us, and all of a sudden Rowan can have her over for a whole weekend?”

“He has bought a car seat, decorated her room, bought her toys and books, childproofed the house.”

Evalin let out a small chuckle “he is whipped already.”

Aelin nodded.

“And the fact that Maya was sad to leave him means that she feels comfortable with him.”

All of a sudden the door of the kitchen burst open “Mama, nana! Grandpa and I are hungry.”

Evalin burst out laughing and went to grab her granddaughter “You little hurricane, what do you want for dinner?”

“Mac and cheese.”

Maya ran away again announcing to her grandfather that they were having Mac and cheese.

“She seems fine again.”

Aelin went to the living room and watched Maya chatting happily with her grampa. Maybe she was being too harsh on Rowan. She should talk to him and try to set out a plan to peacefully share custody of Maya and eventually tell her the truth.

The following morning Rowan was in a foul mood. He hadn’t slept at all during the night. He kept going to Maya’s bedroom and seeing it empty hurt too much. He had tried over and over to text Aelin but after a while he gave up. He had spent the night reading all the letters she wrote to him and looked at the pictures of his daughter growing up. His feelings were a mess. He was mad at Aelin for accusing him of being selfish, resented her for five years of silence and for all that he had missed. But, a treacherous part of his brain focused also on the family that they could have been, at the hole that Aelin had left in his life. He wanted Maya in his life, but deep down he wanted the whole package, his heart longed for Aelin, but was just too scared to listen to it.

A deep sigh.

Now he was at work and the cup of coffee on his desk was not enough to keep him awake.

He struggled to start a new report when a knock came to his door “Yes?” He added annoyed.

Lyria popped inside “Chief, another unannounced visitor, she is quite stubborn.”

“It’s fine.” He added quickly and Lyria disappeared.

He was getting ready to see Aelin but the woman who walked in his office was the older version of Aelin. Evalin waltzed in the room “Hi Rowan.”

He stood and shook her hand “Evalin, please sit.”

The woman took the seat and he knew she was getting ready for battle.

“Welcome back.”

Rowan signed “I am not sure I am that welcome.”

“That’s where you are wrong.” The woman added sternly “There is a little girl who is already in love with her dad. Last night Maya did not stop talking about the weekend she had with you.””

“But her mother does not want me to be a father.”

Evalin sat back on her chair “Aelin is scared and is being very protective.”

“Of me? Why would I ever hurt Maya?”

Evalin shook her head “Rowan, it’s not that she thinks you are going to physically hurt Maya,” she explained “You need to understand this is an adjustment for Aelin too. You two have separate lives and she is just afraid that if you find another woman, then Maya would become an afterthought or even worse that the other woman will try and become another mum.”

“I…” he sighed “I haven’t dated in ages,” he confessed “I had a few dates back in Wendlyn but they did not work out.”

“You are still love my daughter, aren’t you?”

He stood and paced, his hand raking through his long hair. He had thought about his feelings a lot recently, trying to make sense of a past life that was trying very hard to break free. Memories and old feelings begging to be let free. But there was a five years abysm between them and he had no idea how to close it. He wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

“She is the love of my life, Evalin. I thought I had buried my feelings for her but now that I returned, they are slowly coming back,” he looked in the eyes of the woman so identical to Aelin’s “I don’t want another woman. I want a family with her and Maya, but I don’t think Aelin feels like that about me anymore.”

Evalin looked up at Rowan and saw pure anguish in his eyes. “I never liked that Aelin kept you in the dark. We had arguments about it. But my daughter is stubborn so her father and I had just to let her to make her choices.”

Rowan stood shocked at the admission “What do I do? How do I convince her? She accused me of wanting to tell Maya I am her dad just to satisfy my ego.”

Evalin noticed the frustration rising in Rowan “She told me and I don’t believe it.”

His pacing resumed “I do not want to go the legal way to have the right to see my daughter.”

“I know,” the woman admitted “But I think you and Aelin need to sort first all your unresolved problems and then concentrate on Maya only.”

Rowan nodded and Evalin continued “I am on Maya’s side on this. You two are adults and can resolve you businesses between the two of you, but with Maya’s welfare in mind. Her grandfather and I are very protective too of that little girl. Don’t forget that.”

Evalin stood.

“Thank you Evalin.”

“Go and get your family back, Rowan.”

He watched the woman leave his office and realised that it was nice to know he had another ally in this fight.

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@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #rowaelin angst

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imaginespazzi · 6 days

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Niviii, bestie, how are you? Hope life’s treating you well, and especially as well as you treated us with part 6!

As always, my thoughts:

Was waiting on when Katie would make an appearance again and you did not disappoint! Someone needed to finally talk some sense cause god knows we were getting nowhere leaving it all to those two dumb gay idiots (affectionate) to figure it out.

But for real, I loved this scene between mother and daughter and hearing others acknowledge that the bond between them was always just different. More. Katie’s like “honey please, it was too obvious”.

As always, I love when real events bleed into the story so absolutely loved draft night getting incorporated here. I could feel the tension as Paige inched closer and closer to Azzi on the carpet like oof the writing was- *chef’s kiss*.

Then them escaping to finally get that moment alone together again and Azzi finally giving in 🥹. Also, their dramatic ass goodbye being only two weeks or so prior to this LOL. Were just absolutely kidding themselves thinking they could really survive staying away from each other.

You already know how I feel about a Drew cameo!! Pleassseee, the whole “you are gonna get married right?” killed me in the best way. He will accept no other outcome, that’s his pookie for life and P will absolutely not mess that up for him again!

The UCLA team finally welcoming P with open arms- we really have come so far.

But omg this whole scene – them finally getting to have the date. What dreams are made of. But P was so done with Azzi here lmao, the NBA quip (tbh, Azzi definitely has a case cause like how is she meant to know that games start late October and not early October?! Like ntm on pookie now 😩). And then the stray that P’s Lebron posters caught – very valid.

For real though, that scene was so healing after everything we’ve all been through with this fic 😌. And P flying all the way to Cali during school – DOWN BAD.

And then just when I thought you’d written my favourite fluff scene, you go ahead and write the dancing in the snow scene.

I don’t even really have much more to add for that specific scene because I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. Just know that dancing in the snow/kissing in the rain scenes have my whole heart and this was no exception.

Then the final scene. I was actually wondering whether you would have Azzi winning the natty because I didn’t know if you could do that to UConn, even if just in a fic, but I appreciate you doing it for the plot (I know it must have killed you a lil writing them losing- and NOT EVEN MAKING IT TO THE NATTY GAME) 😭.

But it was only fitting that we got Paige in Azzi’s jersey this time around (side note: something I badly need to see irl at some point).

And the ending – THE ENDING – look, that may also be how I’ve imagined next season panning out irl (the kiss) but obviously with them both on the court… and since I know there’s almost no chance it would actually happen, I’m glad we got to live it out here.

What’s next?

First of all, I can’t believe we’re coming to the end, like from one offhanded comment about “what if Azzi had chosen UCLA?” being my roman empire to this? Insane.

Not that I had a single doubt but whatever expectations I had coming into this, trust, you more than exceeded every. single. one.

I’ll prolly go on a much longer thank you after the last chapter or epilogue so I’ll save it for then!

But yeah, in terms of what’s next, imma leave it to you, Nivi.

The “or so she hopes” at the end has me a little worried, but remember “everything changes, except the ending” and you did promise us a happy ending 😌.

Favourite lines:

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.

Bonus (also because this is how I want it to play out irl next season when they win the natty lmao):

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless.

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Alternate lyric/song (I fucking love arms tho, that song just fits this entire fic so perfectly):

In the darkest night hour, I search through the crowd. Your face is all that I see, I’ll give you (I've given you) everything, baby, love me lights out.

Side note: I was a little high when I first read part 6, and it was an experience (in the best way)!!!

As always, thank you. You already know.

Much love,

-🙋‍♀️

Bestieeeee, I'm good love, thanks for asking and I hope you're good too! Can you believe I finally wrote a chapter without breaking your heart?

If we left it up to Paige and Azzi, this fic would end up running in circles for another 10 chapters but thank god for Katie and common sense. I really love Katie and Azzi's relationship and she felt the perfect person to make Azzi see sense

The draft scene is probably my favorite scene to have written throughout this whole series, an accumulation of everything else and I'm so glad you liked it because I wanted to do the confession justice and I hope I did

LMAO okay so I was fully gonna drag it out a little longer cause 2 weeks is so short but a) I wanted to include the draft and b) let's be honest these idiots definitely are the kind people to only make a dramatic goodbye last barely 2 weeks

I love Drew so much so you know I had to add him in here but yeah that's their no.1 supporter and you best believe he will drag them to the aisle if he needs too

I threw in that UCLA team line for you, I knew you'd appreciate the growth!

Even though I've been teasing my anons with sadness for most of this fic, the date recreation was always gonna happen from the minute I wrote the call lol.

Honestly as much as I love writing angst!Pazzi and fluff!Pazzi, bickering!Pazzi is my favorite and I just had to add that in

I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE SNOW SCENE. It truly adds nothing to the plot but it popped into my head and I was like fuck it, the people deserve their dance in the snow moment lol

You know me too well. It physically hurt to write UConn losing (at least they'd already won in this universe) but for the plot, and because it's Azzi, with a heavy heart, I wrote another team winning it all.

I put all my hopes and dreams for next season into that ending and yeah look it's not happening, but life imitates art right? Why not manifest?

I have to go back and find your ask because man I can't believe we've come this far. WE DID IT BESTIE! We lived your roman empire out just a little bit and there's just a little bit left to go!

Alright, there's maybe just a little bit more turbulence to come but I think you're gonna like the actual ending I have planned (you have to or I will actually cry)

XO!! Fantastic song choice!

LMAO I love that for you babes! And thank you for always, always having such a detailed review for me. They mean the world to me and I appreciate it so much. Til next time my love <3

#ask #fic talk #UCLA ANON LOML FR <3 #literally these reviews are my one reason to write

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paperbodiesamongthestars · 10 months

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Ao3 First Lines

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted). If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

Tagged by the wonderful @magniloquent-raven approximately one hundred years ago. Thanks for thinking of me, bb!

1. Witchcraft does not reward shitty intentions I (finally) finished this bad boy in February, only two full years after I posted it! LOL.

Steve handed him his movies and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Then he closed it again.

"Spit it out, Bambi," Billy said. Steve stared at him for a minute, glancing around to make sure Billy was the only customer at Family Video.

"I just wanted you to know that it's not your fault," he finally said tentatively. Billy thought about all the things Steve could be referring to and decided he needed more specifics.

"What are you talking about?"

"The...thing. The attraction thing." Steve gestured between them. "It's not your fault."

2. The best-laid plans I wrote this one because I love the idea of Steve Harrington: Actual Disney Prince. Of course everyone wants to kiss him, and of course that ruins Vecna’s plans. Twice.

Henry Creel was in a good mood.

Sure, he was still hideously deformed and trapped in this barren hell dimension—thanks to one very ungrateful little girl—but things were looking up. The weird hive mind that had inhabited this world before Henry arrived had found a way through the gate into Hawkins proper, and Henry could observe and affect events through his link to the creature. He was feeling optimistic.

Things had not gone according to plan the first time he had tried this, and they hadn’t exactly worked out the time after that either. This time, though, Henry had a good feeling. He had made some changes, and he felt like they were going to pan out.

3. All the Christmases Yet to Come My holiday exchange fic! This one was very fun to write, even if it is a little angstier than my usual fare.

It dawned like any other December day in Hawkins, bitterly cold and gray, with clouds piling up ominously on the horizon. Fresh snow from an overnight storm sat untouched on lawns and sidewalks and roads. Frost glittered on windowpanes and the brave few who were out and about this early sent plumes of warm breath into the frigid air. Hawkins came slowly and gradually to life as the sun crept up past the horizon, people going about their business as though it was a perfectly normal Friday.

Billy Hargrove woke up in a foul mood, as usual. Thin, gray light filtered through his curtained window, and he found himself missing the sun almost as much as he missed the distant susurration of waves meeting the shore. Hawkins had always been intended as a punishment, and it was a very effective one. This fucking town had only disappointment to offer him, especially after—

Well. Billy was still insisting—even to himself—that he had been even more short-tempered than usual since November because the weather sucked, and not because he couldn’t seem to forget the sensation of Steve Harrington’s cheekbone giving way under his fists. It was getting harder to lie to himself, though. He had fractured a certain pretty boy’s face, and thus ruined any future opportunity to touch that face with gentle, reverent hands, the way he had wanted to since he first laid eyes on it in the school parking lot. Not that it would have been a possibility before that awful night, probably, but it definitely wasn’t after. Billy had broken something he cared about with his own hands; these days, it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

4. One Prize I’d Cheat to Win Listen, I know how long it has been since I updated this. I KNOW. But I swear to you that it is still an active WIP, and I am working on the upcoming chapters. Updates are coming!

“Talk to me, Max. Something feels off. This was too easy.”

“Everything’s fine, asshole. Stop being so paranoid.” Even through the earpiece, Billy could hear her irritated huff. “I told you, I did extensive research on this one. It's easy because we planned it that way.” Billy snagged a glass of champagne as a server with a tray passed him. He sipped it as he studied the dance floor below him. Couples in black tie swayed in circles to the music. The band was set up in a discreet corner, opposite the raised dais at the far end of the room. There was a podium on it. The auction was due to start in an hour, and Billy hadn’t seen his target yet.

“If everything's fine, then where is he?” he asked Max. “This is his party in his massive, ridiculous ballroom." Who the fuck had a house with a ballroom? "He should be schmoozing right now.”

“I don’t know, Billy. Aren’t rich people late all the time? Maybe he’s still getting ready.” Given what his hair had looked like in the photos Billy had studied, he could almost believe it. Still, Billy didn't like it. Something felt off. He opened his mouth to say that again, but two things happened at once. The double doors opposite the raised dais opened and Steve Harrington stepped through them. He was wearing a beautifully tailored dark blue tuxedo, and Billy’s mouth went a little dry. The photos really hadn’t done him justice. At the same time, someone leaned up against the railing right next to where Billy was tucked into the shadows, and he felt the unmistakable press of a gun muzzle against his ribs. He took a sharp breath and let it out slowly. God damn it, he had been right. This had been too easy because it was a fucking trap.

5. The One Word My first foray into the Captain America fandom! I’ve considered deleting this until I have more of it edited (life, ugghhhh), but I haven’t done it yet. I have so much more of it written, but editing is my nemesis.

Once upon a time, there lived two small boys. One was small and fair and fierce and the other tall and dark-haired and charming, and there are many, many stories about what happened to them over the months and years and decades of their lives.

In some stories, the boys grow up together. They laugh as they dart through grimy alleyways or cobblestoned courtyards or vast rooms where the sound of each footstep vanishes into deep, lush carpeting. They annoy each other and defend each other and vow, as children do, that they will be with each other forever.

In some stories, they keep that promise. They stand beside each other and take on every challenge with the warm, sure knowledge that there is nothing they have to face alone. In other stories, they are less fortunate. There are months and years and decades of dark and painful separation. And yet they find each other, again and again and again, on eerily silent streets and in deep forests, in coffee shops and dorm rooms, in subway cars and in quiet, too-empty apartments. They fall apart, and then they come back together.

In this story, they start out alone.

6. Almost Enough Ah yes, the post-S4 fic that I wrote before I watched S4. Truly, a simpler time.

It’s too quiet. Sure, there’s the soft beeping of whatever machines they have him hooked up to, and he can hear the murmur of quiet voices in the hall—even in this desolate stretch between midnight and morning, the hospital doesn’t truly sleep—but Billy was alone in the Upside Down for a long time. He craves light, and familiar voices, and the simple animal heat of other bodies close to his. Those things are not available, not here and now in the sterile hush of this hospital, but…well. Maybe he doesn’t have to be completely alone.

He carefully strips off the oxygen line and the sensors they plastered to him when he came in. There’s nothing specific wrong with him—nothing they’ve managed to identify, anyway—but his nurses all shoot each other looks and murmur about ‘sustained exposure’ and ‘delayed symptoms.’ He can’t bring himself to care. He’s alive and he’s not trapped in a terrifying mirror of Hawkins anymore and for right now, it’s enough. Almost. It’s almost enough.

He slips out of his room when the hall goes briefly still and silent. Steve’s room is three doors down on the right. The door is ajar, and Billy just stands there for a moment, staring.

Steve isn’t asleep. He’s sitting up against the headboard, knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly in the direction of the window. Billy can see a slight tremor in his hands where they’re wrapped around his knees.

7. the road not taken looks real good now I think this is still my most popular fic? I dug it out of my drafts and gave myself a public deadline, and finished it in like five days. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

Billy isn’t surprised when it’s Robin who opens Steve’s front door. He’s a little late, so Steve is almost surely in the midst of making dinner. He issurprised when she steps out onto the porch and closes the front door behind her. Billy blinks at her. She isn’t wearing a coat, and it’s freezing.

“Todd is here,” she says, voice pitched low. Billy stares at her blankly for a moment before the sentence sinks in.

“Steve brought his boyfriend back to Hawkins for the holidays?” he asks, tone surprisingly even. It isn’t the first time Steve has dated someone since he left for college, obviously, but it is the first time he’s brought anyone home. Billy tries to fight off the surge of disappointment that he will not, apparently, be spending the bulk of this vacation in Steve’s bed, the way he always does when they’re home at the same time. They’ve been hooking up whenever they see each other for the past three years, since the first time Steve came back to Hawkins from college for a visit. Robin nods, her expression bleak.

8. Six Gifts My other holiday exchange fic! Holiday fluff is my JAM.

It started with a cigarette.

Well. If Billy was being honest with himself, which he was trying to do a little more consistently lately, it started long before that. It started the first goddamn day, before any of the rest of it happened, with a single glimpse of big dark eyes and pale skin across a parking lot. But it didn’t go well, that first time, and Billy figured that once he’d died, he probably got to start over with a clean slate.

So it started with a cigarette.

Billy was standing in a shadowed corner of the porch at the Byers’ big new house, smoking a cigarette and half listening to the sounds of laughter and Christmas music from inside. He appreciated Max’s continuing efforts to include him in the larger group, but he didn’t really belong inside with them. Maybe he wasn’t the monster anymore, but he wasn’t one of the good guys either. It was fine. He could linger around the edges, helping out Max and doing his best to stay out of the way.

Suddenly he heard the creak of the porch door opening and a slam as it closed again. Then he heard light footsteps headed for the same darkened corner Billy had chosen. He knew exactly who it was—he had been paying attention to that specific tread for a long time. The steps stopped abruptly as they reached the corner of the house. There was a brief silence. Billy kept his eyes fixed on the line of trees visible across the side yard, fully expecting to hear those same footsteps moving away from him. Instead, he heard a quiet little sigh.

“I hear those’ll kill you,” Steve said softly as he walked up to stand next to Billy at the railing. He gestured at the cigarette in Billy’s hand. Billy stared at him and then snorted.

“Too late,” he said drily.

9. you should come with a warning label This one is a bit of a tease. I have a part 2 mostly drafted, but editing, boooooo.

Billy heard the door to Steve's room swing open, hard enough to slam against the wall. He glanced up to where his own door was open just a crack. He couldn't see Steve, but he could see the girl he had brought home. She was pretty. Tall, blonde, athletic. A little drunk and a lot angry, apparently.

"Come on, it's not like I lied about it," Steve pleaded. She whirled on him, pointing a finger.

"You should come with a fucking warning label," she hissed at him.

"Hey," Steve said, sounding offended, but she had already turned and was stomping toward the front door. It slammed behind her. Steve made a frustrated noise and Billy heard the door to his room slam shut, and then silence.

Fifteen minutes later, Billy was sitting at the kitchen table when Steve emerged from his room. This wasn't an accident; Steve always got snacky when he was drinking, especially if he wasn't getting laid. He was still wearing his date outfit and a scowl. Billy took a moment to admire the way his ass looked in his date jeans when he leaned into the fridge, and waited until Steve was sniffing a box of leftovers before he spoke.

10. A few lines at a time The postcard fic! I wrote it for the 2021 Big Bang. It started as a very different story, but I’m so happy with where it went instead.

“Billy is alive!”

Max burst into a Friday night D&D session in March and dropped that bomb, and Steve promptly dropped the glass he was filling at the sink. He took a few long moments to stare at the new crack in the glass before it occurred to him to turn off the water. He spent another minute slowing his breathing to something more manageable before he turned back to face the group eating snacks at his kitchen table. No one appeared to have noticed his reaction; their attention was firmly on Max.

Steve caught up to the conversation just as Max announced that she had, in fact, just gotten off the phone with her less-dead-than-previously-assumed step-brother. She was met with skepticism, even though they had all already lived through the miracle of Hopper reappearing, too thin and bearded and even more pissed off than usual, and telling an insane story about a Russian prison camp and the Upside Down. But this was different. After all, Joyce had told them all that Hopper was dead, and they had believed her, but they had all watched Billy die, and they could trust their own eyes.

Except that they clearly couldn’t, because Billy was alive and generally fine, living in California and calling his sister to tell her that he survived--surprise! --and was recovering in some lab.

This was so fun! I haven’t looked at some of these in a while. I’ll tag @passivenovember and @thatharringrovehoe, only if you feel like it.

#paper writes #My writing #harringrove #stucky

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

* * *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside.

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.“ He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

* * *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

* * *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions.

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

* * *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses.

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing.

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it.

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

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nighthaikyuu · 3 years

Text

heartbreak hours

— synopsis: various scenarios of heartbreak between y/n and haikyuu boys

— characters included: kuroo, timeskip!oikawa, ushijima, timeskip!atsumu,

— genres: angst angst angst!

kuroo

watching your best friend who you are in love with, fall in love w someone else

you wouldn’t wish this upon anyone else.

even your worst enemy.

you stood there by the gates, biting back the tears that threatened to spill as kenma beside you gave you a look of pity, knowing well that you were trying to put on the bravest face you possibly could.

you didn’t know how kuroo kept breaking your heart; after what seemed like months, you thought there had been nothing left to break. but clearly that wasn’t the case as you felt the sharp ache in your chest return, watching as his face flushed deeply, leaning in towards the girl who stood in front of him.

the first time was unlike no other; your body went completely still, the rush of your blood drumming in your ears as your brain slowly comprehended the words that came out of kuroo’s mouth.

“so guys...remember mina? we did that chem project together? well, I think I kinda like her...”

eyes widening, your gaze snapped up from your phone to kuroo’s face and oh did you regret it almost immediately. rubbing the back of his neck, he gave you a lopsided grin as a soft blush spread across the boy’s cheeks, a completely rare sight for someone who always appeared so cocky and confident.

you wondered how kuroo didn’t notice then. just how the light completely left your eyes. just how your face went ghost white, hands trembling at your sides as you sat there, heart shattering piece by piece.

months later and there you were, an empty shell of who you once used to be. days and weeks went by hearing about mina this! mina that! and every time you listened, despite each word only shoving the knife deeper and deeper into your already bleeding heart.

but you were tired.

turning around, you let the tears fall freely, choking back a sob. you felt Kenma’s hand on your back, patting you in soft reassurance yet you only cried harder.

“w-why couldn’t it have been me?”

oikawa

watching yourself grow distant with your s/o

slowly stirring your coffee with one hand, you stared outside the window as you watched the snow peacefully fall from the sky. bringing the cup to your mouth, you blew gently before taking a small sip, the sweet liquid tricking down your throat.

a soft ding! broke your trance, your eyes falling on your phone beside you.

[oikawa_tooru just posted a photo]

pressing your finger to the home button, you click the notification as instagram pulls up. within seconds you were met with a smiling oikawa, his arms wrapped around his teammates as they appeared to be at the beach. looking at the location tag, you realized he was in Brazil.

what used to bring a soft smile to your face as you’d take in the love of you life, instead you felt a deep sadness wash over you, lips tugging into a frown.

he hadn’t told you he was going to Brazil.

clicking the lock button, you turned your phone face down before turning your attention back towards the window as you continued to stare emptily at the streets and the people who inhabited them.

a certain couple caught your eye. both of them wearing their school uniforms, one you immediately recognized as aoba johsai’s, you watched as they walked hand-in-hand, the girl laughing at something the boy had said. stopping in front of the bus stop, the boy suddenly unwrapped the scarf around his neck before turning to his girlfriend and placing it around hers. face flushing, she looked away shyly before giving him an embarrassed smile, her mouth mouthing a warm thank you.

tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you wanted to look away, look away from the scene that unfolded before you that so achingly felt familiar; the way their eyes sparkled, fingertips within constant grasp, cheeks a soft flush of red.

before you knew it, a certain wetness washed over your cheeks as your chest tightened. blinking, you felt the tears escape your eyes as you sat there, still and unmoving.

by the time you took another sip of your coffee, it had gotten too cold.

you almost let out a bitter laugh.

oh, how metaphorical.

you and oikawa loved like fire. every single second of every single day was filled with so much love, that literally nothing would be able to put it out.

until he decided to go to argentina.

the devil in you didn’t want him to go. you wanted him here, to yourself, by your side. but you could never do that to him. so you told him to go for it, you told him you’d be here waiting and supporting him.

and so he did.

the both of you tried. but with your studies and his practice, plus the time difference and a million other uncalculated things, daily phone calls became weekly, weekly facetimes became monthly, and coming back home suddenly didn’t seem like it was going to happen.

and just like that, with nobody to tend to the weakening fire, the heat sizzled out, replaced with a coldness like no other.

you placed the cup back down, your grip tightening as the bitter taste of the coffee stung your throat. turning back to look at your phone, you reached out to grab it, barely noticing the way your hands shook as they did so.

pulling up your messages, before you knew it, your fingers began typing a message you knew was long coming.

[6:27] you: hey tooru, we need to talk.

ushijima

watching your s/o fall out of love with you

looking down at you shoes, it took every bit of strength in you not to cry.

turning around, hands trembling at your sides, you simply nodded before weakly whispering, “okay.”

please leave, I have more important things to do

I have more important things to do....

more important...

the words echoed through your mind as you walked out of the gym, lips trembling as you sniffled. staring up at the sky, you blinked repeatedly, forcing the tears to just go away but as your mind played the words for you like a broken tape recorder, again and again and again.

the tears only fell faster.

brushing them away with the back of your hand, you slowly walked back to dorm as the last few weeks played like a painful movie in your head.

one.

“do you want to watch a movie, toshi?” you asked him, pushing yourself up with your elbow as you laid across his bed.

pausing the video on his laptop, he responded shortly, “no, not really.” before clicking play again, his eyes not even once moving away from the screen.

“oh, okay.” you said dejectedly to yourself, a frown appearing on your face as you realized he didn’t even hear just how upset you sounded. getting up from his bed, you walked over to the door. turning around slightly, you let out a scoff as he continued to watch the video, gaze unwavering.

two.

frowning, you stared at your messages in disappointment. scrolling through the number of birthday texts you received from several of the other volleyball members, your classmates and relatives, your eyes were only looking for one specific name.

and it didn’t show up.

“he probably went to bed early...” you reassured yourself, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

the next morning when you woke up, you grabbed your phone in excitement hoping to see the text message you so earnestly waited for all night, yet the second you clicked on your messages, it looked the same as it did last night.

nothing.

three.

“how was your day today—?” you started when you heard him sigh softly, muttering words under his breath that you couldn’t hear.

turning your head to look at him, eyes slightly wide, he finally muttered, “let’s just not talk today, okay? I'm not in the mood.”

“oh...” your brows furrowed in concern, “did something happen—?”

“did you not hear what I just said y/n?” he asked sharply.

gulping, you nodded before averting your gaze to the ground.

you didn’t know why it took you so long to realize it. but it finally hit you like a shit ton of bricks, each one breaking your heart into a million little pieces.

the light you used to see in his eyes whenever he looked at you, had disappeared.

ushijima changed.

and so did his love for you.

atsumu

watching your s/o cheat on you

with a click of the door, you heard him walk inside, his usual endearing words echoing through the room until his eyes fell on you.

“what’s going on here—?”

“was I not enough?” you whispered quietly from the couch, your grip on the suitcase handle tightening.

“wait, what?”

you closed your eyes together as you took in a shaky breath. the images ran through your mind; her lips on his, his hands on hers, their bodies molded together.

placing your phone on the coffee table face up, you watched as he walked over to where you were, his confused gaze finally falling on the picture you had pulled up on your phone.

his eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned upon him, his pupils shaking, “Wait, that’s not what it looks like. I can expla—”

lifting your hand up, you said coldly, “there is nothing to explain. I'm afraid the pictures do enough of that atsumu.”

getting up from the couch, you grabbed the suitcase that sat beside you, filled with all the clothes and trinkets that belonged to you that you had thrown together in the little time you had left before Atsumu came back.

“y/n, please. let’s talk this out—” atsumu pleaded softly, his hand circling your wrist.

flinching at his touch, you pulled your wrist back before turning to look at the boy before you whose eyes widened as for the first time that night, he really looked at you.

your bloodshot eyes stared at him in quiet rage, fists tightening at your sides as you struggled to find the words to say. you wanted to cry. you wanted to scream. most of all, you wanted to know why.

but you knew it would break you.

“fuck off atsumu.”

turning back around, you made your way towards the door when you atsumu moved in front of you, blocking your path with his body, “please don’t go. please.”

“move.”

before you could take another step, atsumu wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you to chest, caging you in.

“atsumu—” you started, voice cracking as the tears you held in slipped past your eyes, staining his shirt as you felt his grip around you tighten.

no. you couldn't do this. you couldn’t let him do this to you.

gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed him back. your hand remained on his chest in efforts to create distance between the both of you. looking up, you saw his eyes flood with tears as he stared at you painfully, “y/n, please—”

“atsumu?” you whisper softly, the boy in front of you nodding furiously, “y-yes? what is it?”

your hand made its way up to his cheek, cradling his face as your thumb slowly swiped away the tear that had escaped his eyes, your own eyes welling up again.

“don’t keep overworking yourself, alright? and if you need anything, you know Osamu’s only a call away right?”

atsumu’s heart stopped, “y/n, what—?”

“mm and I wasn’t able to really get everything so, um, if you can put whatever isn’t yours in a box for me, I’ll have Suna pick them up for me.”

“y-y/n.”

“also, stop eating out so much. you know it’s not healthy and you need the right nutrients so you can keep playing volleyball, you understand?”

“y/n! please—!”

"oh and—” you leaned in, resting your forehead against his. closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss tasting like both of your tears as you pulled away.

“I hope you’ll be happy.” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word.

grabbing your suitcase, you stepped out of atsumu’s weak grip before moving past him and towards the door. hand resting on the doorknob, you said your final words, “goodbye atsumu.”

and then you were gone.

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway

character-specific taglist: @mkkhaikyuu @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball @findityourselffsworld

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader #atsumu x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #ushijima #ushijima hq #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #oikawa tooru x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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quokkacore · 3 years

Text

son of wolves IV [park chanyeol and byun baekhyun]

summary: your entire life, you’ve fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you’re infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it’s in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you’ve so grown to resent. it’s here that you begin to question everything you’ve ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, ANGST, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, war au, wolf!au

warnings: reader was drugged, language, MAJOR violence tw (gun violence and stabbing to be specific), animal death, threats of violence, loss of consciousness due to head trauma, body horror, horrible writing!!!

song recs: leave a trace - chvrches // lost it to trying - son lux // i will never die - delta rae // the legend of ashitaka - joe hisaishi // victory song - stray kids // pray for me // the weeknd & kendrick lamar // garden song - phoebe bridgers

word count: 10.0k

a/n: im srry this is so late pls dnt hate me

this is the final chapter of sow!! i’m so glad i finally finished it. i love this fic, i really do. but this is SOO overdue.

main masterlist // story masterlist

A fog hung over your head. You could barely see three feet in front of you, and everything was hazy. What you knew was that you were in the inner circle—it wasn't as cold. The sound of paws and feet crunching against the snow wasn't that far away from you. It stopped a few seconds later.

"Hello?" You called, slowly walking towards the sound. "Chanyeol?"

Again, the sound of paws and feet, but this time in the opposite direction. You reeled, now unsure of which way to go. A sense of dread was beginning to pool in your stomach.

"Sehun? Junmyeon?" Your voice was small and shaky, taking one step forward. "Chanyeol?"

You stood still, waiting for a sign, a sound. The forest was dead silent. When you tried to take a step forward, your body turned rigid. Every single hair on your body stood straight up.

And then, you began to shake. Just as the fog cleared, and two figures appeared in front of you. Both of them beaten bloody, chests heaving, eyes burning with rage. Chanyeol's shirt was torn, and there was a cut running across his chest, staining the ruined fabric. Tears were streaking his dirt stained face.

Baekhyun's left cheek was swollen, quickly turning purple. His right cheek was bleeding. But he seemed more steady. His sword was drenched in drying blood.

And then you noticed the wolves.

All four of Chanyeol's brothers lay dying all around them, warm crimson melting the snow as they bled out. You could hear them whining in pain as they did, legs twitching in pain.

You tried to call out to them, but you choked on black tendrils, bursting through your throat. Your jawbone cracked as they did, tremors wracking your body as you gagged on your cries of pain. All you could do was watch in horror as they charged at each other, hurling curses and obscenities at each other.

The tremors in your body intensified, your injured arm cracking as the black, oily coils shot forward, wrapping around your throat.

Spots danced across your vision, your head beginning to pound as you couldn't breathe. Your vision lost focus, eyes blurring with tears.

The last thing you saw was Baekhyun's sword impaling Chanyeol's chest, the iron bursting through his back. As his younger brother's blood splattered across his face and neck, Baekhyun's face broke into a sadistic grin.

A horrible laugh rang throughout the forest, and you awoke with a start, hands grabbing at your neck to unwrap inky coils that weren't there. You were sweating and your chest was heaving.

Slowly, you sat up, blinking furiously to allow your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. You could tell that it was still relatively early, maybe before nine. When you caught your breath, you wiped the sweat off of your brow. Your throat felt itchy and your head was pounding. Getting up was one thing, walking to the door was another. You were disoriented and dizzy, nauseous, even. You jiggled the door, and sighed when it wouldn’t budge.

You glanced towards the window, even though you knew it was too small for you to jump out of. Rubbing your temples and letting out a deep sigh, you tried to push all of the events of last night to the back of your mind, Baekhyun’s betrayal refusing to fade to the back of your head. You lay down on the bed again, processing everything you knew now.

You loved Baekhyun, you really did. Yesterday morning, when he had kissed you, you felt relieved that you were in his arms again.

But Baekhyun’s kisses, contrary to what you had originally thought, no longer felt as comforting or as safe. Even before he had thrown you to the wolves, metaphorically speaking. Chanyeol’s lips on yours permeated your mind, the memory stuck in your head.

You found that the more you tried to pull away from the thought of that tall, mysterious man, the tighter his grip became—deep down, you knew that only in coming closer would you be released. Vaguely, it reminded you of the toy your father had brought you once when you were a child, woven out of thin strips of bamboo. Sticking your index fingers in, and then trying to pull them out was impossible, as the toy stretched and its hold got tighter. However, when you pushed them together, the toy expanded, and your fingers were released.

Were three weeks even long enough to fall in love? Two, considering the fact that the first week he basically wanted to kill you? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that right now, Chanyeol’s safety, as well as that of his brothers and of Selyne, was all you wanted.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the front door. You turned to face the door, waiting with bated breath. Had they returned so soon?

You were disappointed when the bedroom door swung open, Yixing standing awkwardly in the doorway. He stared at you, emotionlessly, before he sighed and stepped inside. Your eyes watched his every move like a hawk, and scowled at him when he sat down on the chair where your clothes were.

“I’m here to do a check-up,” He told you, “You’re still recovering.”

“What, from my cold induced madness or the huge stab wound in my back?” You spat. He looked down, face not changing. He almost looked ashamed.

“I’m sorry you see it that way.” His voice was quiet. “I brought you some food and some water. You can eat that and then we can get started. I know you must be hungry.”

He pulled out a bowl wrapped in fabric, as well as a canteen from his bag. When he showed you what was inside—rice and some beef—you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. After last night, you weren't sure you ever wanted to eat anything again. Yixing shook his head once he realized. Which meant he knew.

"There's nothing in it," He said, sounding earnest. "I promise, Y/N."

You would have refused, but the pounding in your head seemed to be unending. It didn’t take long for your resolve to crack. You drank almost all of the water in the canteen, and you practically inhaled the meal.

“The troops left three hours ago. About a hundred and twenty soldiers total. Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae are leading them,” He informed you, fiddling with his clothes and staring at the walls.

You didn’t reply, too angry to do so.

When you finished, you allowed him to do his check up. He asked you about how you were feeling, how certain parts of your body felt, like your legs and your chest, if you’d been feeling dizzy or nauseous. He was done fairly quickly, and as he packed away the now empty bowl, spoke up again.

“Remember the time Jongdae dared me to sneak out into the Spearwood when we were younger?”

“When Minseok misfired and shot you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. How could I forget after the way your dad almost punched Min?”

He let out a soft chuckle, but there was no joy behind it. “I spent about three hours out there. I never told you guys, but I got lost pretty quickly. I panicked once I realized I didn’t know where I was. I thought I was gonna get killed by some animal in the name of the gods or something. You know how I panic.”

You nodded, humming, unsure of where he was going. “It was summertime,” He continued, “So it wasn’t as quiet as it is now. And about halfway through those three hours, I heard branches snapping behind me, and… this thing sounded big, Y/N. I-I just about shit my pants when I turned. Because I had never seen a bear so close to me before, and it was huge, and it was headed towards me.”

He looked up at you, eyes full of awe. “I was so freaked out, it didn’t occur to me to try and shoot it or to play dead or anything. All I could do was stand there, trying not to scream or provoke it. It walked right past me, and kept walking straight. I thought I should run or hide, until it turned back to look at me and… she spoke to me. Well, not speak, it was more like—”

“Like an echo in your mind,” You said, sitting up straight, “That… that was Mirren.”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “She wasn’t anything like they told us she would be. She was so… kind, and gentle. She knew I was afraid, and she promised she wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t hurt her. And I was a 19 year old idiot who had a sword. I wasn’t going to try and kill a goddess. So I followed her, and she took me as far as she could without being seen. We barely spoke. But when she told me to keep going, because that was as far as she could go safely, I was so grateful. I… I never would have expected that kind of mercy and kindness from one of the gods, not after everything we were taught. And then twenty minutes later I got back to the wall and Minseok misfired.”

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his hands in his lap. “That Chanyeol guy. He’s pretty much the only link between the human world and the forest, right?”

You nodded.

“So if he died or if Selyne died… the forest would lose its only possible bridge between the two. And that would make it harder for them to understand us, or to communicate easily.”

Again, you nodded. Yixing shrugged. “For us, that’s a good thing. The gods would have to communicate directly with us, and we could take them down when they’re vulnerable.”

You nodded, looking to the side and gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Why he felt the need to rub it in made no sense to you, why would he—

“Which is why it would be a shame if you were to escape.”

Your head snapped forward to look at him, eyes widening. He sighed, obviously nervous. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “It would be a shame if you were to overpower me and lock me in this room. An even bigger shame if you were to know that your bow and quiver are in the stables, and that the guards patrolling the east gate change shifts in about… fifteen minutes. A huge shame, really.”

You just about stopped breathing, staring at him wordlessly. Yixing raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to do anything or do I have to knock myself out?”

“Why can’t you just say that I locked you in here?”

“What, you really think they’ll believe that?”

You stood up, shaking your head. He was right, but that didn’t make you feel any better about knocking Yixing’s lights out. “Thank you, Xing. I can never repay you.”

Yixing waved his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. If anything, this is me repaying my own debt.”

You sighed shakily, and Yixing stood up. “Please don’t hit me too hard,” He said. You smiled, and shook your head, before throwing up your fists. Before you could do anything, he held up his hands. “W-wait, wait.”

“What?”

“Kick Baekhyun’s ass,” He ordered, “His head’s been getting too big for his shoulders, anyway.”

You smiled sadly, before nodding. “I’ll try,” You answered, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Yixing shut his eyes, grimacing. “Do it.”

With one final deep breath, you swung at his temple, and Yixing fell to the floor. You checked to make sure he was knocked out cold, tapping his face slightly, and setting off when he didn’t come to.

You changed into more suitable clothes to wear in combat, and slung on your snow boots and a dark blue cloak.

Before you left, you walked into the dining room, and looked towards the floor, before something glinting in the low sunlight caught your eye. Heart splintering, you picked up the necklace, and tucked it into your pocket.

This would have been so much easier if you’d been let out before the sun came up. You placed the hood of your cloak up, hiding your face and keeping your head down, hoping to not draw too much attention as you walked towards the stables. Thankfully, the path leading there was still relatively empty given that it was before ten.

When you got to the stables, you found your bow and arrow hung on the wall, right next to Ivan’s stall. For a moment, you considered taking him with you, but decided against it. It would be too hard to sneak a reindeer out in broad daylight. You would simply have to run as fast as you could and hope that luck was on your side.

So you hid the weapons under your cloak, and made your way to the east gate, where, just as Yixing had said, the parapet atop it was empty. And once you had broken the lock, and were outside, you were gone.

Immediately, you realized that the energy in the Spearwood was different. The air was crisper, seemingly even colder. If the forest had been quiet the first time you stepped into it, you could practically hear the sound of your blood rushing throughout your body. A few minutes into your walk, it began to snow, and you found yourself shivering already.

Once you were out of sight of the parapets, you removed your cloak briefly, placing the quiver and bow over it rather than under it for better access.

Being alone in the snow, with everything you knew now, filled you with an odd sense of nostalgia. If a month ago, someone had told you you would willingly march into the Spearwood to try and end the war, you definitely wouldn’t have expected this to be your course of actions, and you certainly would have expected to have different motives.

You did your best to retrace your old steps, but the past 24 hours, the fact that it had been three weeks since you came this way, and the difference in lighting made it significantly harder. You walked for about forty minutes, cautious enough to listen for the footsteps of anyone who might have followed you from Ironbend.

And while eventually you did hear footsteps, they definitely weren’t from anyone you were expecting. The fast sound of paws thumping against the snow, racing at you from behind barely gave you time to turn and spot the giant mass of white fur bounding towards you. With a soft, “oomph!” you were tackled to the ground, tumbling a few times before finally landing on your back in the snow. You opened your eyes to meet a familiar gaze.

We really have to stop meeting like this, y’know, Sehun declared as he stepped back, it’s weird.

“You’re the one that tackled me,” You argued, sitting up and brushing off the snow that was on your cloak. “What are you doing so far out of the inner circle?”

Sehun shook himself off, before staring at you seriously. Emergency patrol. Mama sensed danger.

“She was right,” You said with a nod, “Is she safe?”

Why would she be keeping herself safe? He sounded kind of exasperated.

“Because she’s the target, Sehun. The three troops they brought out are looking for her.”

All of the playfulness in Sehun’s demeanor seemed to evaporate. Shit. Junmyeon knows where she is. Get on. I’m taking you to him.

You got on his back, and he huffed slightly at the new sensation of having to carry you. Sorry if it gets bumpy. I’m not really used to having people ride on my back... That’s usually Junmyeon’s job.

“Shut up, you overgrown spoiled baby,” You answered warmly, “It’s okay. As long as we get there in one piece.”

Did you get there in one piece? Kind of. You had to cling onto him and lower yourself to basically lie on his back. Otherwise you bounced too much and you risked falling off of him. The wind ripped your hood off, whipping your hair in the process and drying your eyes.

He slowed down once he approached a clearing, where you could easily see the brown wolf standing in the white snow. He turned once he heard Sehun’s paws. When he noticed you, he seemed rather taken aback.

Y/N? What are you doing here? Why did you even leave? He asked when you got off of Sehun.

“I needed to warn you. All of you. Selyne is in danger.”

She’s the warden of the forest, he pointed out, I think it’s an occupational hazard.

You sighed, annoyed at how willing the both of them had been to brush off your warnings so easily. “This is different. More than a hundred men are in the forest right now—all of them armed with guns, I might add—trying to find her, because they know that if she dies, Chanyeol loses his link to the forest and any hope for negotiation and bridging the spirit world and the human world is gone. You need to warn her, now.”

Junmyeon, evidently stunned speechless, looked between you and Sehun for a few seconds, before his gaze settled on you finally. We knew about the troops. We didn’t know about their plan. How did you find out?

You pursed your lips. “My… I used to be close to their leader. He’s… the swordsman.”

Shit, Sehun swore.

Fuck, Junmyeon agreed.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes widened at the distant sound of the deep voice, turning your head to see Chanyeol, trudging through the snow. His eyes were wide, and when he recognized your face, he began walking faster.

Of their own accord, your feet started moving in his direction. You ignored the voices of Sehun and Junmyeon trying to catch your attention. He sped up again, now making his best attempt to run to you, even though the snow passed his ankles. Your heart pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears, you sped up as well. As the distance lessened, you took in the familiar features. The pelt that kept him warm, the mask held back atop his dark hair, his cheeks streaked with blood he’d painted on, the round earrings dangling from his prominent ears.

Finally, he was within arms reach, and he reached out his arms the same way you did. His gaze was desperate, almost unbelieving that it was really you. The two of you collided, lips smashing against each other as his hands gripped you in several different places, like he was trying to make sure you were tangible. First at your waist, then your back, until finally, they gripped your face tenderly, calloused hands holding your face. Your hands wrapped around his neck, standing up straight to reach his lips.

The state of catharsis his desperate kisses gave you confirmed it. You knew in your heart who you wanted.

When Chanyeol pulled away, you wiped away the snowflakes that had fallen on his cheeks and nose. “Y/N,” He murmured, “You came back.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

”I had to,” You said softly, nuzzling your nose against his cheek, “I needed to warn you about what’s coming.”

His face fell slightly when he heard your reasoning, but he didn’t step away. “Y/N, I… I shouldn’t have let you leave. A-and I shouldn’t have said those things I said. I was… scared. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, breaking away. “Right now, we can’t focus on that. I need you all to listen to me. I know what the troops are trying to do.”

He nodded, eyes turning serious. “Come on,” He said, turning you to face the clearing. The two of you paused when you noticed the two other wolves sitting in the clearing, watching you bemusedly.

I told you something happened, Jongin said to Kyungsoo, Now you owe me your next part of the hunt.

Chanyeol scowled, and had this not been such a serious moment, you would have laughed. The two of you walked back over to the quartet, where you greeted them all properly. Not wasting any time, you went over the basics. How you’d been found by Baekhyun and taken back to Ironbend, what you told the Council in an attempt to get them to consider a truce, how you managed to escape. Baekhyun and his plan. The danger that Selyne was in, and by extension, the danger that Chanyeol was in.

“She needs to hide, now,” You told them once you finished, “Chanyeol, you might need to hide, too.”

“I’m not going to hide,” He fired back. “This is my home. They’re threatening my mother. I’m not about to stand back and let them do it.”

You stared at him, gripping his forearm. “Chanyeol, Baekhyun knows. He told me he would kill you.”

“And I’m telling you I’ll kill him.” Chanyeol’s eyes were wide, serious. “Y/N, I’m more expendable than Selyne is. If I die, it’s a major setback. If Selyne dies…”

It’s the beginning of the end for us, Kyungsoo completed, The magic of the forest will become unbalanced if it loses one of its Pillars.

And if the magic of the forest becomes unbalanced, we lose our strongest wall of defense, Junmyeon agreed. It’s our job as our mother’s sons to lead in her place in moments when she can’t. One of those moments is now. Chanyeol has to fight.

You clenched your jaw. “Fine,” You bit out, “But someone needs to go warn Selyne, right now.”

Chanyeol and I can go. Jongin, Kyungsoo, you both need to gather the other wolf packs. Call the bears as well, any other animals that can defend the forest. Foxes, coyotes, birds of prey, lynxes. Call the raccoons if you have to. This is life or death. Junmyeon straightened his posture. Sehun, you show Y/N how far the troops have gone. Stay hidden. Let’s rendezvous in an hour and wait for Kyungsoo and Jongin with the reinforcements.

We’ll go as fast as we can, Jongin said, before turning to Kyungsoo. Let’s go.

Sehun lifted his head to gaze at you. You heard him. Get on.

You nodded, turning to Chanyeol, who was about to get onto Junmyeon. “Wait.”

Chanyeol’s eyes softened as you approached him, reaching into your pocket. You tucked the necklace into the palm of his hand, closing his fist around it. “Be careful,” You begged him, “I didn’t betray an entire village just for you to get yourself killed.”

He gave a soft smile, his other hand grasping yours. “I’ll come back to you,” He promised. You peered into his eyes, wanting to say so many things.

Gross, Sehun interrupted, and Chanyeol’s smile disappeared immediately. “Don’t be a dick.”

He’s Sehun, Junmyeon mumbled, giving something akin to an eyeroll, Kind of impossible for him not to be. Now come on, we need to go now.

Chanyeol offered you one small, final smile, before he and Junmyeon sped off.

You turned to Sehun, getting on his back. “Is it that hard for you to not be an asshole?” You asked, tone warm and teasing.

You all love me anyway, he replied. His cheekiness was not missed. The two of you took off immediately afterwards. You remembered to lower yourself and stay close to his back. Sehun explained that the magic of the forest was affecting the troops, leading them on the wrong path.

They’ve been going in circles for about two hours now, Sehun snickered, But we can’t just let them trample through the forest without teaching them a lesson.

“Be careful once we get closer to their location,” You said into his ear, “They’ll probably have scouts patrolling within a few hundred meters of their formation on all sides.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

The pair of you slowed to a walk, and you got off of him, pulling out your bow and nocking an arrow out of caution. Silence reigned over the forest, making the sounds of your boots crunching in the snow cringeworthy and deafening. The two of you were nearing the top of a hill, approaching its steep summit. As you approached it, the sound of stomping and snow crunching became louder and louder. You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowing significantly.

You stopped at the sound of a familiar shout. The boom of the voice actually made Sehun’s ears lower, the wolf flinching at the noise.

“Regroup!” Jongdae yelled, “We’ll stop for ten minutes.”

You stared at Sehun, who in turn gazed at you before cocking his head at a large boulder that should give you both some cover. Slowly, as quietly as possible, you both approached the snow cap rock, before Sehun peeked over the edge of the rock.

They’re at the base of the hill. If you’re gonna come over here, be careful.

You leaned over the side of the rock, releasing the tension in the string of your bow.

120 sounded like a lot of men, you realized, but the visual was somewhat underwhelming. They easily fit in the large clearing at the base of the hill. Seeing them all huddled together in the cold brought you an odd sense of comfort.

Seeing Byun Baekhyun and his two lackeys had the opposite effect.

Baekhyun, Minseok and Jongdae were excellent military strategists. They were better than you, that was for sure, and you came from a long line of military leaders. They worked even better when the three of them worked together. In previous campaigns in other places, they’d done great damage with even smaller troops. You knew damn well that they would turn this relatively small group into a well oiled killing machine, and use each man to the best of their ability.

Still, you knew they had some weaknesses in their formations. Every formation did. They were very susceptible to being attacked from the back. It would catch them off guard very easily.

What are you thinking? Sehun asked.

“They can be very vulnerable from the back,” You whispered, “This is their standard formation. I doubt they’ll change it now that they’re this deep—takes too much time, lowers their guard. See the back line? Those are the reserves. They’re generally the strongest men, but they’re more spread out. That’s where Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok are, also—their leaders. The ones meant to be fodder are generally put on the front line.”

That’s… interesting. But an attack from the back would mean taking out a small group of strong opponents, and then fighting a larger group. That’s… not ideal. We would tire ourselves out.

“There are bound to be more than 120 animals in the forest willing to defend it,” You pointed out. “They’re used to combat at a distance, especially with the shoulder guns. If we can approach them and overwhelm them, we might just be able to get them to retreat.”

You watched as Baekhyun, Jongdae and Minseok had a quiet discussion between the three of them, Jongdae’s hands gesturing wildly.

“Jackasses,” You grumbled, before stepping back safely behind the boulder. “Have we seen enough?”

I think so. It looks like they’re going to keep heading west. Which is good. Mama’s den is east. Let’s get back to the rendezvous point.

You nodded, exhaling softly. You stole one last glance at Baekhyun before you and Sehun trudged down the hill, putting some distance between the troops and you both before you mounted the wolf and broke out into a run. You kept your eyes open as he ran, hoping the winds would dry the tears in your eyes.

You were the first ones back in the clearing.

“You’re sure we’re in the right place, right?” You asked, just to be sure. Sehun sat, shaking some snowflakes off of his snout. This is where the pack scent is strongest, and I can still see the tracks from where we all split up, so yes. And look, that’s where you and Chanyeol… swapped spit.

“And you say Chanyeol and I are the gross ones.”

Sehun laughed. Well, that’s what it looked like! Human displays of affection are so odd. At first I thought you were trying to eat each other.

You shook your head. “No. Not at all,” You answered with a laugh, “It’s actually—”

Sehun’s head turned, ears perking up. Your speech died in your mouth, watching as a few seconds later, Chanyeol and Junmyeon came into view. They made their way into the clearing, and stopped right in front of you. Chanyeol slid off of Junmyeon’s back, stretching his legs when he did.

It took her some convincing, but Mother is safe. She’s in one of her secret dens, just in case.

You sighed in relief. “Good.”

We also found Beval and Emyr on our way there. We made sure to warn them.

Well, what did they say? Sehun asked.

Beval is rounding up the birds of prey as we speak. He’s also sending them some heavy snowfall and winds—he called it a welcome gift.

You smiled as the remark before Junmyeon continued. Emyr is rounding up the deer, and he’s sent out a message to any smaller animals to stay in their dens. The deer will be joining us, but they’ll stay at a distance so they can treat the injured.

“Selyne sends her blessing,” Chanyeol added, looking at you. “She also wanted me to return this to you.”

Chanyeol stretched out his hand, holding out a familiar black sheath with a leather band. The silver guards and the pommel of the sword seemed to glow in the daylight.

“So that’s where that went,” You mumbled, more to yourself. You looked up at Chanyeol after you had grabbed the sword. “Thank you.”

He waved his hand. “This is important.”

So, what now? Sehun asked, Wait for the reinforcements?

I suppose so, Junmyeon answered, before eyeing you and Chanyeol. He turned to face Sehun. Mother actually wanted me to talk to you about something. Come on, let’s go.

What on earth could she want you to nag me for at a time like this? I—

Junmyeon bared his teeth, growling in a move that surprised the three of you Sehun’s words died abruptly. Sehun, he hissed, eyes darting between the youngest wolf, and you and Chanyeol, Come on.

...Oh. Oh! Okay. Yeah. It’s probably that… thing I was talking about with her yesterday. Okay, yeah, let’s go.

The two wolves stalked off, Junmyeon nagging the entire time.

You looked up at Chanyeol, before tying the leather band securely around your waist. “Alright, we have some time to kill. Do… do you wanna talk about that night?”

Chanyeol slumped forward, looking downwards. When he looked back up, he nodded. You leaned against a tree, crossing your arms.

“I was an ass,” Chanyeol admitted. “I was unfair to you. But… I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just… I was terrified. I’ve never felt so vulnerable with someone else, before.”

“Chanyeol…”

“I love you. I don’t—I don’t know when or how it happened. And I was so angry when I didn’t go after you. And then when I finally did, it was too late. We didn’t find you. I just… lost it kind of.”

He showed you his right hand, where the knuckles were bruised and cut.

“What did you even do, punch a tree?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

He pursed his lips, ears turning red. “Well…”

You bit back a laugh, and tried hard to hold back the smile trying to break onto your face.

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut up,” He huffed, trying to hold back his own smile now.

“You’re… you’re really something,” You said. Chanyeol shrugged and his face fell again.

“I fucked up. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you away,” You countered, “I was scared, too. Terrified. But after everything that’s happened since then, I know what I want. I want to stay here, with you, and I want to protect this place.”

“Y-you’re gonna stay?”

You looked down, shutting your eyes. You thought over the life you’d had in Ironbend, all of the friends and family you’d ever known. All of them united under one cause, and here you were, about to throw it all away. Guilt swam in your chest at the idea of having to consider them enemies.

“I want to be with you,” You hummed, grabbing his hand, “And if they knew about us, they would kill me.”

His hand squeezed yours. “I’m not going to let them.”

You smiled sadly. “I’m not going to let them hurt you, either.”

He opened his mouth to say something, when the sound of rustling in the distance caused him to turn his head. Instantly, the two of you reached for your weapons.

It’s them, Sehun called, running back into the clearing. It’s time.

You looked at Chanyeol, who squeezed your hand again. “Let’s do this.”

This would have been a lot faster had it been summer. So many animals were hibernating, and while there were still more animals than there were humans, you still wondered whether or not it would be enough. These animals didn’t have the types of weapons that the humans did, save for your sword, bow and arrow, and Chanyeol’s dagger.

A total of 361 animals showed up. Chanyeol’s four brothers, and a total of 97 wolves from different packs scattered throughout the Spearwood, for a total of 101 wolves. It made sense to you that the majority of animals would be wolves, given that Selyne was the one that was threatened the most. Other troops included 51 birds of prey, 46 foxes, 29 coyotes, 32 bears, 55 deer, 19 raccoons, 11 lynxes and surprisingly enough, 17 squirrels.

You weren’t sure whether to be surprised by the fact that squirrels had decided to show up or that the vast majority of them—along with the raccoons—came armed with relatively large jagged rocks to throw at the small army.

At first, the animals were skeptical of your plan. You didn’t blame them. A human, a foreigner, trying to lead them into battle? It didn’t sound safe.

The plan was simple enough. Wait until the troops reached one of the streams, so that it would be difficult for them to cross. Start an aerial attack with the birds of prey, the squirrels and the raccoons, then the front line of animals would attack the back line. The second, third and fourth lines would attack all around, and eventually the lines would open up towards the north, in an effort to push them back. The deer would be waiting past the stream, out of sight, waiting to work on the injured with their magic. You made sure to explain to them how the guns worked, and what needed to be done to heal the wounds.

The troops would be given a wide berth on all sides. The signals to attack would be given via howls, or in the case of the birds of prey, a screech.

Each wolf would be leading from a different direction. Junmyeon would be leading the front line with Chanyeol. Jongin would lead the second line, Kyungsoo the third, and Sehun the fourth lines.

You would be on the front line as well. As the groups separated, the forest seemed to fill with fog. You followed Junmyeon and Chanyeol, who were following the scent of the human troops as they led your group of about 50 or so animals. The only sound you could hear was the sound of snow crunching beneath you. You could barely see anything as the fog hanging overhead seemed to seep into the forest the closer and closer you got. You tried desperately not to think of your dream.

The wind blew harder as well, whipping your hair every which way, drying your eyes. Snow fell even heavier. It became slightly harder to trudge through it.

As your group came to its waiting point, one of the birds—a hawk, you saw—flew overhead before flying back up into the fog overhead. That was the signal to stop and wait.

Junmyeon stopped, turning back to the group. Chanyeol held his hand up, signalling for everyone to stop and wait.

You couldn’t see the troops yet, but you knew that they weren’t too far away. The dense treeline simply made it difficult to see anything that wasn’t a hundred meters away. All you could do now was wait. Your eyes met Chanyeol’s for a second, and he flashed you a soft smile. You looked him once over, your heart doing a backflip when it saw the opal necklace resting against his shirt.

“Be safe,” He mouthed at you, and you nodded as he pulled down his mask.

“You, too.”

The silence of the forest was shattered by a gunshot. You both turned to face the direction the sound was coming from, which was straight ahead. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, flexing your fingers. Your fingertips were numb from the cold. A second gunshot echoed through the forest, your stomach began to sink.

Gripping your bow, you tried to recall how many bows you had in your quiver. 35, 36? No more than 37, that was for sure.

Y/N, You heard Junmyeon say, flinching when a third gunshot came. You nodded once in his direction. Get on. Chanyeol will get off once we’re close enough. Your bow won’t work up close.

“Okay,” you mumbled, approaching them slowly. “We’re not too heavy?”

It’ll be fine, the wolf huffed, Just don’t take too much time with those arrows.

“Got it,” You answered, getting on, right behind Chanyeol. You made a mental note to suggest a saddle for them—if they knew what a saddle was, anyway.

“Hold on to me,” Chanyeol murmured, “Don’t pull out your bow until I say so.”

You nodded. “Be careful. Both of you.”

A fourth gunshot sounded, and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“I’m gonna kiss you so hard when this is over,” Chanyeol whispered.

Gods, Sehun’s right, Junmyeon grumbled, You two are disgus—

A shrieking noise rang across the forest, and all of the hairs stood up on your body as you registered as the sound of a hawk’s screeching.

Now! Junmyeon yelled, beginning to charge forward, all of the other animals running behind you.

“Wait for my signal,” Chanyeol told you, “Stay alert.”

You didn’t reply, too focused on thinking about what was about to happen. As Junmyeon and the other animals weaved through the trees, you began to see something in the distance, barely outlined in the fog. Two more gunshots sounded, sparks glowing for a split second in the mist, perfectly giving away their location.

They were closer now. You could hear murmuring, shouting. The sound of running water, albeit a bit softer than the voices. Any second now, they would hear you.

“Now!” Chanyeol told you, as a large, dark mass came into view, slightly blurred by the fog. You pulled away from Chanyeol, pulling off your bow and nocking an arrow quickly.

“What is that noise!?” You heard a voice yell. You couldn’t recognize who it was.

“STAND FIRM!” A loud voice ordered. Jongdae.

A single figure burst into view, and you knew it had to be a scout. The young man turned, and his eyes widened when he spotted you, grimacing as you aimed your arrow at him.

His mouth opened wide, and he began to screech, “From the nor—!”

Your arrow pierced his chest, and you forced yourself to look away as he fell to the ground.

“The north!” You heard Baekhyun say, “FACE NORTH! NOW!”

You pulled out another arrow and nocked it as well, just as the troops appeared in your line of vision. You spotted Baekhyun almost immediately, but couldn’t bring yourself to aim directly at him. Instead, as the animals charged, you let it fly into someone right behind him, hitting the man straight in the eye. The arrow whizzed past Baekhyun’s head. His eyes widened momentarily when he saw you on top of the wolf, sitting behind Chanyeol’s familiar face, before it twisted into a hateful sneer.

“Attack!” He cried, “Fire, NOW!”

The first gunshots were fired, thick rocks still raining down on the men, hawks and eagles swooping down to claw at their faces.

As Junmyeon turned, he slowed down enough for Chanyeol to jump off. The man pulled out his dagger, charging straight for a soldier of similar stature.

Your turn, Y/N, Junmyeon said, You run out of arrows and I’ll call in the second line.

“On it!” You answered, aiming another arrow.

The two of you made an unlikely duo, working surprisingly well. Junmyeon knew to run slightly away from the fighting, because up close your arrows wouldn’t be much help. Running parallel to the front line, you fired arrow after arrow into the crowd. You even managed to get him to dodge a few bullets. One grazed his side, causing him to yelp, and you countered by sending your arrow into the neck of the man who shot at him.

Truthfully, you tried not to aim at the people you knew. It was too difficult, seeing their shock and the look of betrayal cross their faces for a split second before you fired your arrow. But that was difficult, because everyone knew you, the same way they knew their father.

You couldn’t imagine what they must have been thinking, to see someone who they thought would become their leader in the future fighting alongside their supposed enemies.

All around you, chaos reigned. The rock flinging had slowed down, but birds were still diving down to attack men at random. The men at the other side of the troops were trying to spread out, to extend the front line, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. In the distance you watched two men try to fend off a grizzly bear. You had to turn your attention elsewhere, but from the looks of it, they weren’t winning.

Soon enough, you were down to your last arrow. Which, in a way, was good, because you could tell Junmyeon was beginning to slow down. The sooner he had less weight to carry, the better.

Do you see Chanyeol? Junmyeon asked, and your eyes scanned the front line, stopping when they landed on Chanyeol fighting hand to hand with a soldier. He was on the other side of the battlefield. “I see him,” You answered, “Junmyeon, let me off now and call in the second line!”

What about you? He asked as you slid off his back, firing your final arrow into a man aiming at a bar, cringing when you recognized him as the baker’s son. “I’ll be fine,” You insisted, slinging your bow across your chest, before pulling out your sword, “Just call them, now!”

Taking off before he could answer, your legs set off. As you ran, you assessed the damage. Some animals lay injured or dying, others running off as they got injured, probably to circle around to the deer.

Your breath puffed out as you made your way towards Chanyeol. You heard people call your name, some even calling out for help, but you refused to spare them any glances. You wondered if they had seen you charging in… they probably hadn’t.

When you were about fifty meters from Chanyeol, someone stepped in front of you. Looking up to meet their eyes, you saw Minseok, holding his spear up and eyeing you defensively.

“Get out of here and they might just let you live,” He grunted. You held your sword out, eyeing the movements of his right arm.

“As if you would let the gods live,” You quipped, “In the grand scheme of things, I’m no one.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to have to do this.” His voice was shaky, glancing to the side to avoid your eyes. “We’ve been friends for years, I would never forgive myself if I had to—”

Thwap! You turned the blade so that when you hit him with it, the flat end hit the side of his head. The edge still drew some blood, though, and Minseok stumbled back, giving you just enough time to lift your leg, kicking him square in the chest. He stumbled back even further before falling to the ground, breathless. You hopped closer, hoping to knock him unconscious without hurting him too much.

Looking at him, your heart ached. As you lumbered over him, grabbing the collar of his shirt, you frowned. “I’m sorry,” You murmured, before knocking his head into the ground once, twice, three times, until his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

You had no time to check whether or not he was still breathing, instead standing straight up and taking a deep breath before starting to run again. As you did, you heard Junmyeon’s howl echo across the forest. Weaving through the trees, you knew more help would be here soon.

And it did, the second line appearing towards the south within a matter of seconds, sandwiching the troops between two groups of animals. As you got closer to Chanyeol, you felt something pull you back by the cloak, letting out a yelp as you fell to the ground. You fell on your butt, pain traveling up your back. Looking back to see what had snagged your cloak, you watched as Baekhyun ran past you in an attempt to get to Chanyeol, who had his back turned as he fought off another man. Baekhyun didn’t so much as spare you a glance.

You stumbled to your feet, eyes widening as you watched Baekhyun pull out his sword. Your feet somehow seemed to fly across the snow, your body going into overdrive. You’d seen this strategy before. Someone would distract the target, only for Baekhyun to come in and strike them down from behind.

You knew what would happen if you didn’t stop it. Slowing down for only a moment, you picked up a large rock that had to have hit some poor man in the head. Not even hesitating, you chucked the bloody rock at Baekhyun’s feet, causing him to stumble.

That gave you the advantage, making a beeline in front of him, practically back to back to Chanyeol. Your smaller sword met Baekhyun’s with a loud clang, the look on his face turning incredulous when he saw that it was you.

Baekhyun had always been a better swordsman. Every time you had asked him to help you train, it always ended with him pinning you down. But right now, you couldn’t afford to lose. You simply couldn’t.

“You just had to come and ruin everything,” He grunted, countering with a parry. You blocked it, your swords sliding against each other. You pushed him back, breathing heavily.

“I’m not gonna let you destroy this place,” You answered. He let out a scoff.

“What are you gonna do, huh? You never miss a shot,” Baekhyun growled, “And yet you missed me. What is it, honey, still got a soft spot for me?”

Your swords met again, your arms buckling with the strain. You couldn’t meet his eyes, you realized as your eyes filled with tears.

“We have you outnumbered. Call off the attack now,” You pleaded, sounding too desperate for your own good, “It’s not too late, Baek—”

“Oh, darling, I’m not stopping, not until I destroy all of it. Not if I have to burn—” His sword slashed forward, barely missing you as he roared, “—The entire Spearwood to the ground, not if I have to burn down all of Ironbend to get rid of every piece of fucking vermin in this place.”

You stepped forward, tears burning your dry eyes, and that was your mistake. In your attempt to parry, he sidestepped you, knocking you to the ground with a harsh shove. Your blade fell out of your hand, landing in the snow.

As you fell to the ground, you met Baekhyun’s gaze for the first time since your swords clashed. You were surprised to find tears streaking down his face, as well. His eyes looked like that of a wild animal, bewildered and desperate as he lifted his sword, ready to come down at you.

“And if I have to kill you too, my love?” He let out a single humorless laugh, a sad, cold smile gracing his beautifully twisted features, “So be it.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as his sword began to fall, curling into yourself as you did. You didn’t want your last sight of the man you once loved to be this distorted image of him, drunk on the pursuit of power. All you wanted was the end.

Only, the end never came. Not in the way you expected it to, at least. Because a split second later, you heard Baekhyun gasp, and a deep, guttural groan came from above you.

Your eyes snapped open, face contorting into an expression of horror as you saw the tip of Baekhyun’s sword peeking out of Chanyeol’s back, dripping blood. You watched as Chanyeol lurched forward, Baekhyun pulling off the mask, glaring up at his long lost brother with what you could only describe as bitter rage.

“You look just like the old man,” He muttered spitefully, “Go figure.”

Chanyeol didn’t answer, groaning out before coughing. Blood spilled from his lips.

Your heart began to pound, and all of the noise around you seemed to fade into nothingness. All you could focus on was the blood staining Chanyeol’s tattered shirt a dark red, dripping onto your pants and his white pelt. The only noise you could hear was your own labored breathing and your blood roaring in your ears, not feeling the trembling in your necrotic arm.

You barely even registered the ear shattering wail that echoed across the battlefield, inky black tearing at your skin as they branched out everywhere. Your eyes rolled up back into your head, your body convulsing.

You didn’t see the way they wrapped around every being within a thirty meter radius, squeezing with a vengeance. You didn’t see the way the wolves, who were on the other side of the battlefield stopped in awe to watch as you attempted to destroy everything in your path. You didn’t see Baekhyun get ripped away from Chanyeol, getting lifted some ten feet into the air as his eyes widened in terror, because he had only ever seen you hold back one of these fits. You didn’t see the few men who weren’t in your grip freeze, only able to watch as men and animals alike struggled to free themselves from you.

You didn’t see. But Chanyeol did. He watched as all of this happened in less than ten seconds, before one tendril pulled out the sword, causing him to tumble to the ground right next to you. He fell to his hands and knees, wheezing and spitting out more blood that fell from his mouth.

When he managed to register what was going on, he crawled over to you, one hand pressing down on a rapidly bleeding stab wound he couldn’t even feel due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. He watched as your hand bent back and forth, contorting impossibly. Cringing at the sound of the cracking bones and your incessant screaming, he leaned over you and reached out his free hand.

If this didn’t stop, you would kill everyone and everything in your grip and get yourself killed in the process. He grabbed your free hand with all the strength he could muster, trying to ignore the stiffness in your joints. His fingers tried to get your own fingers to grip the opal on your necklace, but nothing happened.

“Please,” He wheezed, “Please, Y/N.”

With your cries ringing in his ears, he ripped his hand from the stab wound and touched your necklace, staining your neck red as he did, before bringing your hand to his neck, from where a second opal was dangling. His necklace, the one you had returned to him only an hour or so prior.

He coughed, cringing again as blood splattered across your face. “I’ve got you,” He croaked, “That—that night, when you asked me to make it stop, Y/N, I’m—I’m here, I’m trying. Please.”

Your screaming began to quiet, and his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. “Pl—please, Y/N. Please.”

He knew it must have taken less than a few seconds, but it truly did seem like an eternity to him. The tendrils recoiled back into your arm, letting go of all of the creatures you’d had in your grip. Baekhyun fell into the snow a few feet away from you, the wind knocked out of him. Your screaming stopped, and your bones snapped into place, but your sobs didn’t stop, not as your body wracked with pain as the aftershocks kicked in.

The shock wore off on the remaining men within a minute or so, most of them beginning to flee north, dropping their weapons as they went. Jongdae came forward, already having guided an unconscious Minseok onto his reindeer. “Baekhyun, we have to go now.”

Baekhyun looked up, breathing unevenly. “No, not before I kill h—”

“There’s no time!” Jongdae barked hurriedly. “He’s gonna die anyway, look at what you did to him. And the more you stay, especially after everyone heard what you said about burning Ironbend to the ground, the worse it’s gonna be for you. So get on the damn reindeer, now.”

Baekhyun faltered, sneering before hurrying onto the reindeer. Your eyes cracked open as Jongdae got on the third reindeer, and they rode off north, presumably to lick their wounds and try and explain everything to the council.

You looked up, just as Chanyeol toppled over on top of you. You ignored the screaming in your arms and the tension in your jaw as you rolled the pair of you over, eyes brimming with tears again when the smell of blood hit your nose.

He looked so pale, beneath you. Your hands pulled his head gently onto your lap, before one of them began cradling his head. The other tried desperately to press down on the wound, but the stiffness in your arms didn’t help much.

“You can’t die like this,” You whispered hoarsely, “I just came back.”

He managed to quip a smile. “You’ll be alright,” He crooned, one hand limply. “It’s—it’s your turn now, to ride with my br—my brothers.”

“No,” You begged.

Chanyeol! You both turned your heads as the four brothers in question ran up to the both of you.

“Hey,” Chanyeol murmured, as if he wasn’t bleeding out beneath you, “That wasn’t... very fun. I… I don’t wanna do that again.”

You idiot, Junmyeon said, voice trembling, the usual chastising tone he had now empty. What’s mother gonna say when she finds out you went and got yourself killed?

You can’t die, you ass, Sehun added. You can’t.

He’s not going to.

Your head snapped up, just in time to watch two figures leap into view, a third lumbering behind them, a fourth flying overhead. Quickly, just as everyone else registered that it was the gods, your head bowed in respect.

Beval landed on a branch overhead, the fog clearing. Selyne and Emyr stopped before you, as Mirren began to round up the remaining animals, directing them across the stream.

Chanyeol, Selyne murmured, tone anxious. You never would have expected that from her. What have you done?

“What I had to do to keep you all safe,” He answered, meeting the she-wolf’s gaze. His eyes moved to look at Emyr.

“My king. I’m sorry for all the loss the forest has felt today.”

Emyr shook his head. It will mourn, but it will forever be grateful for the sacrifice you all made to keep it safe. We will honor you. Heroes, all of you.

You were trembling as you kept your head down, trying to memorize each corner of his face. Every mole, every blemish, every eyelash.

Even you, Y/N.

Your head snapped up, meeting the gaze of the deer god with your tearful eyes. “Th-thank you, great king,” You replied, “But we only did what was right.”

Indeed. But I do believe you deserve more than honor. You’ve sacrificed much. Daresay, I think you’ve proved yourself to me and to the forest.

You didn’t know why your heart sank. Despite this being what you set out to do, you didn’t feel victorious. “Oh,” You murmured, unsure what to say as Chanyeol shifted his head below you.

Oh? Selyne quipped, You’re being bestowed a gift by a god and that’s all you can say?

“I don’t want it,” You blurted, more tears running down your face. You couldn’t control your mouth even if you wanted to, shaking your head. All you could do was weep and stare down at Chanyeol. The light in his eyes seemed to be getting dimmer. “Give it to him, please. He’s done more for this forest than I ever could. Please heal him, my king, please.”

Fascinating. You would allow yourself to die if it meant that Chanyeol would live?

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Chanyeol whispered. You shook your head at him, before nodding at Emyr.

“Yes, absolutely, yes. Without a doubt. Please don’t let him die.”

What would happen to us if I, as the king of this forest, simply allowed all of my subjects to live in their time of dying? Maybe this is for the best, child. This is his fate.

“No, I can’t let that happen!”

Why not?

“Because I love him. Please, please don’t let him die.”

Emyr stared at you for a long time. Until finally, he gave you the closest thing a deer could give to a smile. Very well, he agreed. You’ve learned, girl. You’ve let go of your pride and you have sacrificed everything you previously had for our home. I will heal him… and I will heal you, as well. You’ve earned it. Both of you.

You sighed in relief, slumping over Chanyeol. The deer god approached you both, before pressing something akin to a kiss on your forehead, and then doing the same thing to Chanyeol’s hand.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, your body seemed to sing as it jumped into the air of its own accord, Chanyeol right next to you. You watched as the wound began to close, before you felt the sensation of a weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Your eyes moved to your arm, watching as it returned to its natural color, the scars of the bite Sehun had given you fading.

You landed on your feet, managing to catch Chanyeol before he fell to the ground. He groaned, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” He admitted, “But I’ll live.”

He faced Emyr. “Thank you, my king. I can never fully repay you for what you’ve done.”

So long as you continue to protect us as you have all your life, consider your debt repaid.

You bowed your own head in respect. “Thank you. I promise to protect the forest until the day I die.”

I never would have expected it to end this way, Selyne said. I never thought I would thank you for saving my son and protecting me.

You looked at Chanyeol, who smiled weakly at you.

Um, I hate to ruin the mood, Kyungsoo mumbled, But they didn’t actually surrender. They retreated. They’ll be back. What’ll we do then?

Your smile faded, heaving a deep sigh. Baekhyun was still out there, currently on his way back to Ironbend—but he wouldn’t get off easily for essentially leading 120 men on what as basically a suicide mission and getting more than half of them killed. And he would definitely get in trouble for what he told you about being willing to burn Ironbend to the ground.

With luck, this would mean severe consequences for him. His reputation would likely suffer, and he might even get booted from the council. But now that you were gone, who was left to govern after your father passed away? You could only hope someone like Yixing would pass on to lead.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure how to answer. But in your silence, Chanyeol spoke up, reaching for one of your hands and squeezing it tightly.

“We’ll be alright,” He said, “Come what may—we’ll be alright.”

taglist: @delightpcy @chanyeolscoon @xxbluestrifexx @imsoba @chogiwhy127 @always-wishing-for-rain @riajae

#exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo au #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #byun baekhyun x reader #park chanyeol x reader #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun angst #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop imagines #my writing

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

Hello! I want to start by saying that I’m totally in love your BSD works. If it’s alright, I wanted to make a request~ I’d love to see a Kunikida x Reader (preferably she/her) angst fic 💔 with the prompt “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” (coming from the reader)

It might be something related to a case they work on that contains a controversial topic and the reader turns out to be morally grey about it, creating a contrast with Kunikida’s snow white, ideal morals and maybe triggering his past traumas. Or anything else that you think would create a beautiful angst with Kunikida, this was just an example! The ending is also up to you, you might just finish it in a dark, angsty mood or shift to fluff/comfort; I’d probably prefer the second ending but if you don’t feel like it, I’m alright with anything!

Oooo I don't get requests for Kunikida much, so this one made me super excited to write! I hope it lives up to your expectations.

The gray between right and wrong |Kunikida x Female Reader|

Prompt|“Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.”|

Warnings| mentions of implied abuse ( the case being worked on)

Notes- there are she/her pronouns used. (third-person for a few paragraphs)

Words- 2163

Beneath what appears is always an underlying layer of difference. Between the right and the wrong, there is always a between. Separating black from white lay a thin sheet of gray. With every decision, there is indecision. No mortal can exempt themselves from these concepts. To be morally white is to ignore being human. To be perfect is to ignore your imperfections. Even those with the strongest of morals have moments of doubt and indecision. There is always the what if I was wrong. While a person's morals appear crystal clear and white to them, to another, to society, their morals may not be as clear as they say. While one may say that theft is gray, one may also argue theft is black. It can be gray because theft may lead to survival. While the counter-argument says it is black, as it takes what could have helped earn somebody a living without giving in return. As long as the person believes they are right, their morals can be completely white. Such a person does exist, a person who sees it all, every right and wrong choice, every counter and rebuttal, they do exist within the mundane world. Such people turn to their ideals as a way of living life. Such was the case with the agency’s Doppo Kunikida. A man whose life was completely planned out, a man who lived his day on a schedule created for his specific needs. His every movement a routine planned out without a second of hesitation. There was another within that agency who found her morals to be pure and untainted. To him, she was the ideal woman, level-headed and strong on her own. Somebody he could rely on, without worrying his schedule would suffer.

The case the two were working on was fairly simple, but involved complicated matters. Drama among the home was always complicated. While upfront one would say the situation was dreadfully obvious, another could notice something missing. These situations, especially involving abilities, can become a tangle of lies, deception, and cunning twists. This was one of the few cases one could rely on their moral sense of justice. These situations were the trickiest, lying within morally gray areas of different sizes and classifications. He looked at her walking while jotting small notes and thinking to herself. He wondered what was on her mind as they went on their way to investigate the crime. “Is there something bothering you?” he asked before looking down at his watch, it was alright to slow their pace. Arriving too early would disturb the latter of their day. Judging by their location and the remaining distance, they could half their current pace and still be thirty seconds early. Best not to risk it considering traffic and unforeseen issues could arise at any given moment. Slowing down just enough to talk would not hurt though, even if they came into a disturbance, they would be there on time.

Looking at him with e/c eyes, you shrugged. Closing your notebook and pocketing the pen you had been holding. If there was something on your mind, it would be the confusing state of this case. On one hand, there was black, murder, and on another hand, there was something else. It wasn’t white or gray, but closer to a blackening gray. Murder was wrong, no matter what, at least that was how Kunikida, your partner, would view it. To him, there was no doubt in his mind that this case was going to end in the pursuer being sent to jail, tried for the sin they committed.

Then why, why was it that you found yourself morally gray with this case? You had never been so unsure of an answer before. An accidental murder, an act of defense, an act of pure hatred. Did these concepts change the black to gray? Murder stayed indifferent, it stayed wrong, but could it be justified? Surely Kunikida would agree that at times certain morals had to be bent, laws had to be made to accustom these morals. So you answered him honestly, for lying in itself was never the right decision, even in the event to spare another's feelings, you were honest and down to earth with your approach. “The case is bothering me, that’s all.” It was not a half-truth, simply not the full reason. He never asked why, just as you never pressured to why he had so many ideals written out in that notebook of his.

Stepping inside the warehouse where the case had originally started, one of the family members stood waiting. After your kind introduction, the woman, in her late twenties, answered little of what pressed on your mind. Though she did make one small flutter of anxiety run rampant over your heart. Like a stampede of gazelle rushing to escape a predator, your heart pounded under the force. While she covered her words with unsure and terrified stillness, her hands had trembled and her words contradicted with the smallest of minuscule details. It reminded you of a memory you had. So the question softly fell in the silence. Your words pin against the stone; an unpleasant ding to stir up the room. So morally confident that an accidental death inflicted by self-defense as an ability activated unconsciously for the first time was unpunishable. Sometimes, bad people get karma in unimaginable ways. The fault falls on the cruel ways of that person. “You're the wife, so you should be able to answer with honesty. Was he kind to you and your daughters? Did this man ever hurt them?” with a horror-stricken face, the woman leaped from the box she had fallen onto earlier. Her face contorted in rage and shock. For a moment, a fading bruise showed itself on her wrist.

With a confident stare, you met her quivering eyes. The smallest tear pooling out of the corner. With such tender lips, the woman looked to the blonde you cared so much for. When her eyes settle back onto yours, she held nothing but regret. “He would have killed her, my baby girl.” She whispered such words softly, and you nodded. Walking her out with shaking hands, you smiled. “Your child did nothing wrong. The fault lays within the attacker.” Was it those words that triggered the beloved blond? So focused on comforting the mother you had forgotten you had him with you. So overly confident in your decision, you did not realize how morally gray that sentence had been. No human, no matter how evil deserves death's punishment. For most that punishment is nothing but freedom from hell. That was something you had learned from another co-worker. The suicidal maniac had a thing for death and would say the harshest yet most delicate sentences that stuck with you.

Kunikida stared in shock, never had he imagined she’d speak such words. Somebody who had fit all his ideals, somebody whom he had connected with, was justifying the slaughter of a man. It didn’t matter whether this man had hurt others, you locked a criminal up, you did not murder them. Murder, no matter the reason was murder, there was no right or wrong when it came to murder. As he listened to those words, a memory peaked inside his head. There were reasons he believed in what he did. Criminals have families, mothers, and fathers. If you kill a murderer, then the amount of killers does not decrease. The world would never be peaceful if all justice did was kill. An even punishment was required for the crime. His eyes couldn’t leave you, even as they narrowed and his brows dipped. His head shook in both shock and resentment.

Your heart nearly dropped from its cage. The look on his face was never a look you had thought you would find pointed at yourself. You knew you were right about this. Though your mind knew the decision; the thought you had come to was wrong. That it wasn't morally right, but it wasn’t wrong either. In fact, it was that heavy gray spot so many people trapped themselves within. You denied it though, saying your decision was not gray, but white. The longer you stare, the more an image is painted into your head. A loved one looking at you with such hatred, even you loathe yourself. It had been Kunikida who pulled you from that spot and showed you the light of the world. He had been the one your morals aligned to. It went silent, like the moment just before the tsunami’s wave came crashing down. When the torment of peace faltered, your hands came up to your chest and your eyes fell silently shut. Shaking your head with a striking, stabbing feeling in your gut words parted through your lips. A muffled scream, a plea to not he was not so harsh with you. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” those words seemed not to reach him at first. His voice lashing out as if your words had been the lightning to this storm.

Though his voice is not loud, his words stuck with a heavy weight. “How could you say something like that?” he hissed through confusion and disappointment. Though his anger was no longer purely directed at her. The memory stirred within his mind, pulling the feelings he had about this topic to rise. “No matter how you look at it, nobody deserves to be slaughtered. A loved one always ends up feeling the fault, blaming themselves and hurting.” There would never be an exception. Even the most hated, dangerous, and cruel criminals had people mourn their death. Yet, he could not look past that to see the suffering he was causing the woman who stuck by him.

The louder his words became, the more they echoed and tore at your heart. With every passing second, you became less sure of your morals. Unsure if what you believed was truly above the others. Were you destined to be alone and isolated forever, to morally set for others to care, but not enough for him? Your voice repeated the same line again, this time your eyes leaked water. Rain was adding itself to the storm. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” The words escaped your lips again as the thunder sounding about stopped abruptly. The only sound came from the rain; your soft tears. The smallest hiccup of your voice, as you tried to explain your reasoning, to explain the memory that drove you to think in such ways. To explain the view of such a thing from a female's perspective. Sometimes violence was the only thing to keep yourself alive and safe. In extreme situations, accidentally killing somebody happened. Bashing one over the head to keep them from harming you was the easiest way. Sometimes, those actions went too hard, and instead of simply knocking them out, they bled to death from the inside out. So why, why did he have to look at you the way they always did? It wasn’t fair, being a woman in an abilities world. These accidental deaths happen more frequently, men and even at times other women who seem to think they can get away with things, become victims to an ability reacting on its own, something appearing for the first time.

Kunikida glanced at the time with conflicted thoughts. His mind trying to settle on what he should do. For as much as he hated pushing things back, he knew he had hurt you. He’d never meant to lash out like that, especially not against you. Everybody had reasons for believing what they did, surely you did as well. Watching your shaking form, his arms grabbed onto you and pulled your head to his chest. The waves fell to a calm, a single drop of water plummeting before they were no more. Shock taking over your body as he embraced your shaken form. He whispered a word he did not often use in his large vocabulary. For you, he could set aside pride and show you a softer, caring side. “I apologize for… lashing out like that.” He found it so difficult, apologizing despite the difference in your opinions regarding this matter. He owned you a celebration for solving the case, but he’d brought you to despair instead. Deep down guilt flooded him, and he held you closer until the sniffling of your nose had stopped, and your shaking had come to a close. With a light smile, you reached to his cheek.

“It’s alright…” you whispered watching as the blonde pulled away and lightly patted your back, before looking down at his notebook and schedule the rest of his day.

"Great because I planned a small relaxation for later," he grumbled, with a slight red to his cheeks. This was out of the ordinary, but he'd been free enough to add it.

#bsd #bsd angst #bsd angst to fluff #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #kunikida #kunikida x reader #kunikida angst #kunikida angst to fluff #kunikida x reader angst to fluff #angst to fluff

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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind.

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall.

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick.

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head.

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead.

Not that you’d noticed.

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?”

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.”

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?”

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.”

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.”

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?”

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year.

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs.

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.

“So it’s back to its normal price?”

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle.

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time.

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good.

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder.

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really?

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick.

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.”

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.”

And then you look up. Properly.

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what?

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?”

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now.

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car.

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries.

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries.

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?”

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain.

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss.

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you.

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies.

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this.

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top.

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you.

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne.

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.”

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate.

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth.

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.”

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?”

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you.

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?”

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.”

“And you lost them all?”

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.” You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one.

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours.

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.”

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness.

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?”

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …”

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?”

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.”

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you.

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you.

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care.

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops.

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away.

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you.

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#nick wasicsko #nick wasicsko x reader #nick x reader #show me a hero #nick wasicsko fanfic

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khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years

Text

Cast Aside

That’s okay! I usually hate requests that just ask for a character, but this time I thought of something, so it’s okay!

I really hope you enjoy this scenario because it took fucking ages to write, but either way, feel free to come scream at me with your thoughts! Have a great day~

Click Me

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

You smiled as the gentle breeze washed over you, the sound of rustling leaves filling you with such peace, you could almost forget your current troubles. It was such a shame that your life of freedom was to be cut short so soon, instead, you would be taken by the Kitsune your village worshipped. After that, it was impossible to say. You might not even survive the encounter.

The only comfort that you were allowed was the fact that you were alone. Though unable to escape due to the wooden pillory that currently restricted your movements, you found that being surrounded by nature and not having the cruel villagers to bother you made it so much easier to accept your fate.

Until the sound of fallen leaves crunching reached your ears. The moment you heard that sound, unmistakable panic began to fill your body, swallowing you up completely until you were struggling with all your might against the restraints that you knew would never break from your efforts.

“So, this is what humans will resort to…”

You went still the moment he entered your vision, standing tall yet relaxed, disgust apparent on his features. A kitsune with hair both as white as snow and as red as the flames you loved to stare at, at night.

“What is your name? Little human…” He questioned, his head tilting to the side while your eyes ran over his figure, taking in the strange sight of his tails. Half white, half red. Yet the one in the middle, that you could only barely see from behind his head, was split in the middle perfectly.

Such a strange sight to see before your life ends.

“…(Name)…”

You knew it wasn’t right, to give your name to the creature in front of you. Supposedly gods of great mischief, giving your name was practically inviting trouble to your doorstep, and yet somehow, you found yourself unbothered by the idea of the Kitsune knowing who you are, who you were before this humiliation.

“…Your village offered up human women to my old man. Before he died. Never like this, so tell me” He paused, moving forwards to run a hand over the sturdy wood that held you hostage to the situation, the pillory burning away in an instant; leaving you completely unharmed.

“Why are you not treated the same? Have your people grown weary?” He pressed, watching you with only the faintest hints of curiosity while you stood to your full height, rubbing at your tender wrists. Standing like that since first light had been unbelievably uncomfortable, your wrists felt like they were burning and thrashing about like you had just before certainly hadn’t helped any.

“Are you really so interested in my story? I’m just a human” You pointed out quietly, glancing at him in time to see the slight nod of his head, a surprisingly graceful action from a kitsune that seemed so casual.

“They don’t see me as one of them. My family, killed during the night for claims that were untrue and after that, I was captured, called a witch and punished by being declared ‘sacrifice’ for the kitsune god” You explained, your voice soft as you spared the village a quick glance; even if you couldn’t see the place you had called home all your life, you knew it was there. That they had most likely forgotten about your existence already.

“Ridiculous. If you were really a witch, you would not have been found out, let alone caught” He scoffed, his ears flicking about from atop his head with each noise that sounded out in the seemingly peaceful clearing.

“I have refused each offering since the passing of their so-called god. I am not my father, I will not take a human for my needs” He muttered out flatly, turning his back to you swiftly while his tails swayed about behind him. A thick, fluffy wall between the two of you.

“But if they have casted you aside…you are welcome to come with me of your own volition.” He added, glancing back towards you while you blinked in surprise, not quite able to grasp a hold of the sudden opportunity that had been offered to you.

~ ~ ~

“Is something the matter?”

You looked back at Shouto slowly, a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips while you shook your head; memories of your first encounter with the kitsune flashing through your mind. As it always did whenever you thought of the past, before you met him, before you were introduced to a life full of love and warmth.

“No, no…it’s just…such a beautiful day” You whispered, turning your head back to look at the surrounding scenery, a silent appreciation filling you while strong arms wrapped around your midsection, pulling you back into the well-muscled chest that belonged to your one and only.

“…Just like that day, right?” He questioned, his lips brushing up against your ear while he nuzzled you tenderly, showering you with the love and affection he would often need to assure you that you deserved. Shouto found it impossible to comprehend, just how much you struggled to love yourself. To let yourself enjoy such a quiet, happy life.

However, he also understood that the best way for him to respond, would be to support you when you needed it most, to be there for you.

“Mm, exactly like that day…hard to believe it’s already been five years” You let out a breath, your eyes fluttering shut while you leaned back into Shouto, silently appreciating the way he held you close.

“Well, time does pass quickly” He reasoned, lifting you into his arms before walking off inside; causing your eyes to snap open while you squirmed within his hold, confusion setting in.

“Shouto, what are yo—” He cut you off with a heated kiss, stealing your breath away as he always did before laying you down on the modest bed that you shared with him on the nights he didn’t spend wandering around the area.

Your head spun as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, only to have his lips against your once again, deep and meaningful kisses distracting you while his hands explored the body that he had explored countless times before now; he most definitely was not afraid to say that he never tired of you.

You were perfect, at least, you were in his eyes. So perfectly imperfect, human. The love of his life.

“Just…enjoy this, let me love you”

Before long, Shouto was between your legs, naked and pressed up against you while your arms pulled him closer still, wrapped around his neck as his lips trailed along your neck, littering your sensitive skin with kisses and playful nips.

His hips moved at a slow yet steady pace, one that you could not rush and instead chose to enjoy, soft moans making his ears twitch each time he moved just right. It wasn’t often you could enjoy such a nice moment. Usually, he would coax you into a state of bliss before filling you with his knot until you could take no more; but occasionally, when the moment called for it, Shouto would take things slow. So that you might lose yourself in a world of warmth and pleasure, to enjoy a slow build-up of desire.

Shouto Todoroki was not a kitsune that was very good with his emotions and stating them clearly but for you, he tried. For you, he put in that extra effort and left his comfort zone, if only to see your smile. To hear your happy voice.

“Shouto…”

He groaned out quietly at the sound of your needy whisper, his name sounding nothing short of heaven from your plump lips. He could die happy, right then and there, but instead, he merely immersed himself in your body, thrusting his hips until you were moving against him, trying to fit his knot inside of you before he was ready to fill you with his seed. A habit you had developed early on in the relationship; though he didn’t mind too much.

It felt amazing and admittedly, made him finish faster, having you squeeze down on him like that so soon.

“(Name), not yet…” He moaned into your ear, moving his hips just a little harder, in hopes of satisfying your need for more; he had plans for you.

“Not yet, soon” Shouto promised quietly, his tails beginning to wrap around your body once a whine of disappointment began to build up in the base of your throat. You weren’t an omega, just a human. However, hearing such a noise set off his instincts and his instincts would always demand that he comfort you until you were happy once more.

“Shh, soon…I promise” He whispered, closing his eyes as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, his thrusts beginning to pick up in pace as his knot throbbed, slowly swelling up while he neared his end. From the way you were moaning, whining out in protest, he could tell you were just as close and just as desperate for release as he was.

“Inside…please? Fill me up…” You bit your lip as you spoke, face heating up in embarrassment when Shouto paused for a moment, his pace immediately picking up seconds later. It was so very rare of you to ask for that, Shouto always knotted you when he made love to you.

Yet you rarely ever asked him for that specifically. Usually during his ruts to satisfy his instincts; there was something different about hearing it without prompt. It set something off inside of him and soon enough, he found himself burying his knot inside of you over and over again.

Right up until the point he could no longer pull out of you, his knot throbbing as he released his seed inside of you, spurring on your orgasm; leaving you a panting mess beneath him, your body glistening from sweat in such a way, he found himself moving his hips whilst still inside of you.

“A-Ah, S-Shouto…Shouto wait!” You moaned out as his hips continued to move, the feeling of his knot tugging at your entrance with each thrust driving you insane while he trailed kisses up along your neck, stopping only to claim your lips in one final kiss, his tongue greedily prodding at your lips; demanding you appease him by opening your mouth to him.

He wanted every inch of you, you were his and he needed you to know that. You were Shouto’s perfect imperfection, his weakness and his strength.

His everything.

#shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #reader x shouto #reader x todoroki #kitsune au #kitsune!shouto #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #smut #requests #cheeky kitsune

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ihearthes · 3 years

Photo

Quarantine Christmas Part 2

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Smut Word Count: 2768 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

Part 1

December 24, 2020

“Smith!” he bellows way too early and cheerfully as he pounds on my bedroom door. “Happy Christmas Eve! Come on! Let’s go for a jog.”

“Arrrrggggghhhhh,” I growl. “No.”

“If you hike the Hastain Trail with me, I’ll spring for coffee afterwards.”

“Go away, Styles.” Drawing the pillow over my head, I try to block out the sound of his voice.

“Fresh air will be good for you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not on your life. I hate hiking alone.”

“Fine!” Throwing the covers off, I don my newly cleaned leggings, sports bra, and a t-shirt before opening the door and marching past him in my tennis shoes. “Bully,” I accuse.

“You’re mad that I’m forcing you to take care of yourself?” Although he sounds offended, that smirk is back.

“Whatevs, Styles. Let’s go.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He sets off at a brisk pace, and I trail behind him slightly. After all, I’m still waking up.

“Keep up, Smith!”

Just to be ornery, I slow my stride, taking my time examining the plants next to the path. When I next glance up, Harry is a solid quarter mile ahead of me, and I contemplate turning back, finding a picnic table and taking a nap on it until he’s done.

But no. That’s not to be, as he turns and jogs back to me, keeping his legs pumping as he moves backwards.

“You’re going to trip on something,” I caution.

He grins. “You care about me!”

My eyes roll so far back into my head that I swear I can see my own brain. “No. But I care about Glenne, and she would be mighty upset if I had a part in damaging you.”

“Mhm.” The smirk is back, and as hard as I try to keep a sour look on my face, it’s challenging. “Where was Christmas supposed to be?” His question is casual, but it causes me to flinch.

“Indiana,” I snap off the word like one would a twig on a dying tree. Immediately, I feel guilty. “Sorry.” My mumble is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear and nod in silent acceptance. “You don’t deserve rudeness. What about you? London?”

“Holmes Chapel. With my mum, my sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Is it cold there this year?”

“Fairly mild. And Indiana?”

“Cold, cold, cold. Maybe even snow still on the ground.”

“Yeah. Christmas in Los Angeles is quite different.” Harry gestures around the trail, and I smile.

“Definitely.”

“What are your favorite traditions?”

By the time we loop back around to the start of the trail, we’ve exhausted the topic, and I realize my mood has improved tremendously.

“Thank you, Harry.” The words are soft, and I try to insert as much authenticity as I can into them.

I have the pleasure of watching his eyes soften as he observes me over the top of the car. “Coffee next! And a trip to the grocery!”

“Grocery? You’re cooking?”

“WE are baking and then cooking.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re going to create a mashup of our traditions.”

“No fucking way!” I exclaim, excited at the prospect. Sitting up, I search for a piece of paper and a pen. “I didn’t bring my purse, Styles. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Confused, he gazes at me while at a stoplight.

“I need to write down the ingredients we need to buy. Let’s see. We can’t make some of the cookies we each like because I don’t know if Glenne has cookie cutters in the right shapes. So how about some ginger biscuits?”

When he nods, I gesture for his phone. “Come on, Styles. I need to look up recipes and make sure we get the right ingredients.”

Reluctantly, he unlocks his phone, handing it to me. “No snooping,” he warns, shaking his finger in my direction.

“Puuuuuuullllllleeeeeasssse. As if.” Using his browser, I search for a recipe for the ginger biscuits for him as well as one for thumbprint jam cookies, copying the ingredients into his Notes app.

“Now, for dinner,” he begins, and my fingers pause as I wait for his next words. “Mum used to do a roast, but I don’t eat meat anymore. Just fish. And your family always does turkey. How do we compromise on a protein?”

“Scallops? Salmon? Both delicious and something I would consider fancy enough for a holiday meal.”

“Excellent!” Harry declares. “And can we agree on brussel sprouts and yams?”

My whole being is excited at the prospect of this meal with Harry. Suddenly there’s a silver lining to spending my favorite holiday away from my family.

As he turns off the engine, I rest my hand on his wrist until he twists to look at me. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You already said that.” He rolls his eyes, but the crinkles send a different message.

Less than 30 minutes later, we’re back in the car with the trunk full of groceries, including prosecco. After stopping for the promised coffee, we return to Glenne and Jeffrey’s house, unloading the food.

“Mind if I take a shower before we start?” I ask, looking down at my clothing. “I feel dusty still from the trail.”

“Let’s both shower --” He stalls at my shocked expression “-- in separate bathrooms, Smith. Then let’s see who can put together the worst Christmas outfit from whatever we can find in the guest bedroom where we’re each sleeping.”

A grin crosses my face. “Oh, you’re going down, Styles!” Rushing out of the room, I’m confident that my ears are playing tricks on me because I think he responds with “I would love to go down on you.” He must have said something completely different, and I shake my head to clear the thought.

When I emerge later, I’m wearing my grey sweatpants which I’ve pinned garland to along with one of my green hoodies and a giant wreath draped around my neck like a necklace by a red ribbon. Arriving in the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Harry wearing a skirt of wrapping paper over his also-grey sweatpants, along with a variety of bows stuck to his Green Bay Packers hoodie.

He shrugs, “Apparently they use that guest bedroom for storing wrapping paper.”

I laugh as I pluck one of the bows off his hoodie and place it on my chest after removing the wreath.

“You win,” I concede. “I’m surprised there’s so much Christmas stuff in their house.”

“Eh. The Azoff family celebrates everything.”

“Lucky us, then.”

Side by side, we create the dough first for the ginger biscuits and then for the thumbprint cookies. After he slides the first pans into the oven, Harry crosses his arms. “Scrabble while we wait for them to bake?”

“Oh, it’s on!” I agree, and we settle at the dining room table to play the game.

“Fine. You win,” Harry pouts over an hour later as I play my final letter which manages to be on a triple word score tile.

“Woo hoo!” Stuffing one of the ginger biscuits in my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “These are pretty good. I might make them again next year.”

“Same for these,” Harry grins as he chews on one of the thumbprint cookies. Crossing his arms on the table in front of him, he leans toward me. “Now how about you tell me exactly why you turned down my account when Glenne offered it to you?”

Shock courses through my body, and I freeze, knowing my face is likely turning into a candy cane red.

“She told you?”

“Of course she told me! I had specifically asked for you, so I was a bit heartbroken when she told me that you refused.”

His word choice makes me raise an eyebrow. “Heartbroken?”

“Devastated? Wrecked? Disappointed? Take your pick, Smith.”

Swallowing, I make eye contact with him. “I’ll tell you why I turned down our account if you’ll tell me why you call me Smith.”

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his green eyes bore into me. “Because you remind me of a Granny Smith apple.” Confusion must sweep across my face, as he continues talking. “You’re tart at first, but you can be sweetened. I’ve witnessed it in the past as well as just the last two days.” His face colors, but he continues speaking anyway. “Plus I suspect you’re incredibly juicy, and I would love a sample.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Harry Styles just made a very obvious overture? Yes. Yes, he had. My eyes float over his face, searching for any indication that he’s lying, but the sincerity is striking.

First I look at my entwined hands, and then I decide to show the same courage he has exhibited. “I turned down your account because I couldn’t possibly work for you when I’m this attracted to you. It’s bad form to want to --” I can’t decide on the appropriate word, so I settle for “-- jump your client.”

The smirk is back, and it’s followed by an uproarious laugh. “This is too rich! To think that we could have been having some sort of relationship all this time is mind-numbing.” Rising, he holds out his hand. “How about we consummate our mutual attraction?”

“In the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve?”

“You got a better idea of how to spend our time?”

“Swimming?” I tease.

“Smith?”

“Yeah?”

“Take my hand.”

His words and tone make it clear that he’s interested in moving forward with this. My own body’s response is in sync with his. Gently, I place my hand in his as I rise from the table. Twisting his body, he also shifts his hand, leading me in the direction of…where? A bedroom seems too rushed. Not that my hormones would agree.

But no. We walk down the two steps into the living room where he turns on the Christmas tree lights before settling on the couch and tugging my arm so that I join him. “Oh, wait.” Rising, he approaches the sound system, and soon the strains of Christmas music fill the space. Returning to my side, he settles with his arm around me.

“Smith…” His words are a whisper, and I rotate my head in his direction as he brushes his finger over my cheek. When our lips meet, I swear I can hear the angels sing. His mouth is soft and tender, and I twine my fingers through the hand draped over my shoulder as I open wide to allow him to enter. Our tongues tangle in heat and dampness that also seems to pool between my legs. He tastes of the lemon curd thumbprints we had jointly made, and I relish the flavor, wanting more.

Shifting closer to him, I tilt my head to provide greater access, and his hand drifts to my sweatpants. Withdrawing from me, he examines our clothes. “Mind if I remove this garland?”

“Not at all,” I purr. “As long as I can get rid of these bows.” The wrapping paper skirt had already been ruined when we sat down for the Scrabble game.

Rather than unpinning the garland, though, he hooks his thumbs into my waistband and draws the sweatpants over my hips. “Up, Smith.” I lift my bum as he removes my bottoms, leaving me in my panties.

In return, I inch his hoodie up his chest and off, tossing it over my shoulder, heedless of the bows that seem to desire to stay attached to the musician. Can’t say I blame them.

“Hmmmm,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again.

When we come up for air, my hands have managed to roam his chest, tweaking his nipple and wrenching a moan from his mouth. For his part, his hand has drifted over the small piece of cloth separating my treasure from full access. His thumb rubs a pattern over the fabric, and soon I’m panting.

“Fuck,” I mutter as we separate.

“Yes please” is his cheeky reply.

“Dork,” I indict.

“Mhm. Take off that hoodie. Please.”

Willingly, I oblige. Before the material has hit the floor, he’s capturing my nipple in his mouth, and I throw my head back as fire stokes through my body from my tits to my core. “Shit,” I proclaim.

His fingers return to the scrap of cloth covering my center. As his thumb teases my clit through the silk, a finger slips underneath and into me. Without thought, I cry out, my lower body rising from the bed to get closer to heaven.

“Been a while?” His voice is rough, sounding like sandpaper as he dislodges from my breast.

“Too long,” I pant, “but you’ve always had the power to bring me to the brink just with a look.”

“I see,” he smirks, and normally I would want to smack him, but this time, I find it endearing.

“I want --” I gesture to his sweats, and he grins.

“If I refuse?”

“Then my treasure box can close pretty quickly if I don’t have something in my hands.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” Shucking his sweatpants over his hips, I find that he’d chosen not to wear underpants as his cock springs upwards into my waiting hand.

“Shit. I need lubricant.” I complain.

We gaze at each other, the lust clear. Jumping up from the sofa, we race together to Glenne and Jeffrey’s bathroom. I scour the lower cabinets while Harry throws open the linen closet. “Got it!” he announces, holding the bottle over his head.

“Thank God!” My relief is real. Grabbing the bottle from him, I find I can’t move. Now what? Where do we go? We can’t very well do the deed in their bed.

Grabbing my hand, Harry once more takes the lead, and we end up in his guest bedroom. I gesture at the bed, and he strips off the duvet before lying down on his back. Crawling onto the mattress, I settle between his thighs, tilting the bottle of lube and squeezing a fair amount into my hand. Relaxed, I hold my hand over his cock, allowing droplets to fall. His eyes plead with me, and I grin at him.

“Impatient, Styles?”

“Desperate for you, Smith.”

With that pronouncement, I wrap both hands around his length, allowing my fingers to glide gently along his shaft. One hand falls underneath where I can tickle his balls playfully. When his hips start bucking, I withdraw from him completely -- albeit slowly with a final few long strokes.

His eyes fly open, and he pats the bed next to him, so I lie there.

“Smith…”

“Shhhh. Hush, Styles.”

Miraculously he doesn’t say anything, but he does reach out and shift aside the fabric over my vagina before he delves a finger inside. I know I’m wet. Hell, I can feel the dampness.

His finger teases me, and I writhe under his attention.

“Fuck, Styles. I’m gonna…”

“Do it!” he orders, and my lower body creates a bridge as my hips rise into the air while my thighs tremble in ecstasy.

As I land back onto the bed and earth itself from my recent visit to heaven, Harry carefully removes my panties and throws them over his shoulder.

“Condom?” He inquires.

“IUD. You clean?”

“Yep. Got tested not long ago. You?”

“Fuck me, Styles. We deserve this.”

“Indeed,” he grins just before he plunges into me, and I cry out at the feel of his length inside me, filling me and touching every part of me.

“Shit.” My breaths come in short spurts as he pumps into me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as my second orgasm starts building. “Shift to the left, Styles.”

“You got it, Smith. Can you scratch at my back?”

“You bet.”

The communication is nice as we guide each other to what pleases us the most. As much as I want to take our time, it’s not nearly long enough before I feel my insides begin to clench in a familiar way.

“Fuck, Styles. I’m coming!”

“Me too, Smith! Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” He stretches the word into multiple syllables as I feel his seed squirting into my womb, stopped only by my birth control. His fingers reach between our bodies as he manipulates my clit until I see stars and arch my lower body to become closer to him.

Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is as uneven as my own.

“Merry Christmas, Smith,” he murmurs while we’re still joined.

“Merry Christmas, Styles,” I reply, hugging his body tightly to mine. No telling if we have a future, but this holiday is going to be one for the books.

A/N: This short story is dedicated to those who aren’t able to join family this Christmas due to the Coronavirus. Be safe. Be healthy. Make the best of the situation. Sending you BIG HUGS!

#harry styles #original writing #my writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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something-very-special · 3 years

Text

Impressions

I know I’m way behind on progression through Replicant (insofar as anybody can be ‘way behind’ in the sense of playing a video game for personal entertainment), buuuut I figured I’d share a few thoughts.

Presently I’m doing sidequest mop-up post-Barren Temple, for reference:

So just to get this overall out of the way, I am legitimately fascinated by the differences between NIER and Replicant. This is something I picked up on when I played RepliCant to grab footage for my LP, but given my extremely limited understanding of Japanese all I could get was the tone between characters and to my unpracticed ear they sounded pretty different. I always assumed that Weiss was somehow even more condescending to Brother and hah hah, wow. Even kind of expecting the dialogue and delivery differences I was not prepared for some of the dialogue and delivery differences. Weiss just straight-up insulting BroNier on the regular, not even doing sarcastic eye-rolls like he does with Papa. I don’t remember the exact line that set me off but somewhere in the Barren Temple I was just laughing my ass off at how much of a dick Weiss is.

Thought the ‘miracles’ conversation in the Junk Heap was interesting, too. I remember Papa Nier telling Weiss to stuff it because ‘those kids need a miracle’ and Weiss kind of backs down-- obviously doesn’t believe it, but he knows better than to push. And Brother tries but Weiss is just not having this optimism bullshit. Little things, but the tenor of the relationship is definitely different.

One of the more interesting aspects early on is the way the Lunar Tear is treated. Obviously I don’t know if this was part of the original game or a script adjustment, but Brother talking about the Tear as a source of money as opposed to Father saying it can grant wishes was interesting. Maybe it was to justify that Kaine just has a whole necklace of the damn things and therefore it’s rare but not literally magic, but it always sounded like it was just meant to be taken as a myth to me anyway. Then again, it’s established in the Grimoire that Brother has a fixation specifically on making money so he can support himself and Yonah (versus Papa Nier, who has obviously already established himself as an adult rather than a kid still figuring things out and hoping that enough money will solve all their problems).

Where the dialogue doesn’t diverge is interesting, too. Mostly I’m talking about the scene after defeating Hook. I always found Papa Nier exclaiming “You’re going to live, Kaine!” and “Yes, we’re friends now!” to be obvious holdovers from a younger protagonist just goddamn hilarious when Papa Nier is saying them. They’re still really funny with Brother Nier but just remembering Papa Nier doing the exact same delivery in his deep, manly voice just re-elevated the whole scene into comedy gold.

All of that is really why I was interested in getting the game so already my money is well spent. But there’s some other stuff:

They butchered the OST! ...or so people keep telling me on Youtube. I admit I do think the re-orchestrations is largely inferior to the original (although there are some that are at least as good in a different way, and whatever they did to The Lost Forest -- which was one of my least favorite tracks in the original -- I really enjoy) but I wouldn’t call it a butchering and I highly suspect that if I didn’t have the eleven years of the original OST and its association within the game itself I wouldn’t bat an eye, it still all sounds great.

Also, a weird observation, but I found that the soundtrack sounds much better coming out of the TV speakers than through headphones. I’m not sure if somehow it was optimized for play through external speakers, or maybe just not hearing the added orchestration right up against my eardrums, but when I went to the Lost Shrine with headphones on I was admittedly disappointed, but going to it again and listening through the TV it worked significantly better.

(I’m not sure if this is necessarily a factor, but the booklet in the White Snow edition mentions that the new soundtrack was all studio mixed rather than having the individual tracks layered. While I don’t think that would have an impact on music quality it almost definitely makes a difference in the way it’s produced.)

I miss chest-thrusting to double jump Movement overall feels much more refined and polished. It’s not as slick as Automata, but it definitely feels like a natural evolution of the original game, and as an apologist for NIER’s combat I can appreciate that. A little more responsive, I appreciate being able to move while casting magic, and it still has a bit of a crunch behind weapon impact (although I wish it felt a bit heavier).

But goodness I miss the stupid animation for double-jumping. I mean sure, an aerial somersault is a classic indication of a double jump, but I just loved that Nier would chest-thrust so hard he would break the laws of physics and ascend higher.

It also feels a bit like the aerial dodge was nerfed for movement purposes? I really don’t feel as much horizontal thrust to get a running start after diving off the Library balcony.

Fully voiced? Fully voiced?! I knew this was happening but I totally forgot until the NPC villagers started talking to me! Some of the incidental deliveries are a bit awkward, but as somebody whose glasses prescription is a decade out of date I appreciate this immensely.

The item guy in Seafront just being from the goddamn Bronx is a thing of beauty.

BroNier does fit into the Village better. One of the little details I love in the game is that each bit of civilization has its own style. The maps aren’t large enough to really convey how long travel takes, but the different styles between the Village and Seafront just kind of helped to ‘place’ the characters in a really neat, subtle way (Emil’s sash identifies him as ‘belonging to’ Seafront, which is actually pertinent when you get that sidequest where you find the letter from his science-mom in town! I assume she always wore a kicky sash when she went to work in the underground child torture bunker.)

Facade obviously also has their own style, but it’s... hard not to appreciate.

Papa Nier’s dress doesn’t really ‘place’ him anywhere, which doesn’t feel weird for the main character, and I feel like it’s implied that he isn’t really from the Village in a meaningful way anyway and kind of drifted in at some point after Yonah had been born. But younger Brother Nier is actually wearing the local fashion and it’s a neat little detail that I didn’t appreciate back when I played PS3 RepliCant. (Probably because I didn’t bother talking to any NPCs what with not being able to read the dialogue, so I never really had him standing next to anybody for long enough to process.) Older Brother Nier takes on a very different outfit that winds up displacing him from the rest of the Village (and any other towns), which is a pretty nice visual metaphor, too.

I have a confession to make. I still enjoy fishing in this game.

Yeah I said it. I’ll say it again too-- I like the fishing minigame. I happily blitzed through the Fisherman’s available Gambits, and then just caught five sharks while I was hanging out, and then also caught the sandfish ahead of time, and also wound up with a half-ton giant catfish (??!?) trying to remember where the black bass are located.

Cart me away.

Related but I laughed far too hard when the fisherman says “the WESTERN beach”. I wonder why they changed that line. I just can’t imagine.

And those seals. Always a delight to go to early Seafront and just plant yourself between a couple of seals. Watch the ocean. Listen to the music and the waves. Watch the seals lazily roll around and make cute seal barks.

The most depressing thing about the timeskip is losing those seals.

My garden--! The gardening timeskip exploit was fixed due to a difference in PS4 architecture. :/ I know there’s still an exploit involving time zones but I didn’t go in knowing that and I was horrified when I adjusted the system clock only to find my crops weren’t growing. Is Legendary Gardener still a trophy? Fffffuuuuu

My BARREN TEMPLE. The Barren Temple is, to me, a legitimately funny dungeon, between Sechs getting himself abducted, Kaine getting herself abducted and Nier and Weiss just sighing in resignation, and the whole concept of the rules-based challenges. And the adjustment they made to the Prince’s dialogue before you meet him is so good-- the original felt a little disjointed and felt like it ended with the Prince being confused. It was still funny, but here Weiss just gives zero fucks about insulting the Prince (and presumably knows that’s exactly who he’s talking to) and it’s just great.

And I say all of that because I just died laughing when I got to the infamous Racing Wolf room and saw they outlawed evasion.

Evasion works differently in this game anyway so you wouldn’t have really been able to do the same trick before (dodge roll; in the original release you would dodge roll forward by tapping the button, but a default evasion has you backstep. Of course you could arrange BroNier to face away from the trap and then evade, but it would be significantly dicier, and I feel like the pattern on the shots was awkward enough that you wouldn’t have an opening in the second row (and probably would’ve have dodged your ass right into the bullets anyway). But just that they acknowledged the trick and then flipped you off with it was amazing. Aggravating? My amusement far outweighed my frustration since the Defend trick was still solid.

It also felt like more rooms outlawed jumping? That I can’t corroborate (I was really focusing on whether they did something to Racing Wolf, which is of course the most traumatic of the rooms) but I feel like it wasn’t as easy to cheese some of those rooms as it had been previously.

Dark Blast is amazing. Cheesed the shit out of the actual ‘Evasive Mouse’ room, though. I remember having some difficulties when the miniboss shows up since you can’t dodge out of the way of his lava pillar attack, but I just circle-strafed with Dark Blast and he died comically quickly.

This is actually more relevant to the magic as a whole, but in the time since I first played NIER (so... probably the time I fifth played NIER) I learned more about the little intracacies of the magic system. Like, really little intricacies, like how you can use magic with just a button tap and it actually has different effects... like Dark Blast dealing significantly more damage. It’s not as easy as just holding down the button and getting the multi-shot off the charge, but for a single enemy like that just rapid-fire tapping the button chews through the lifebar.

This tap strategy is really appreciated for Dark Hand (forward thrust punch) and Dark Lance (which is even better thanks to the game’s lock-assist-- a much appreciated quality-of-life adjustment), and I look forward to getting Dark Execution because of its fast activation feature (spreading the lances in a forward cone in front of you, extremely useful for crowd control when you can’t afford to wait for Execution to charge up).

Fragile Delivery still sucks. I don’t know why I had such a terrible time with the first Fragile Delivery but I broke that... Ming vase or whatever you’re delivering half a dozen times. Send that guy a steel rug instead, Guard #3, he is not worth whatever piece of art you had me destroy six times.

And the game still holds up. This is probably a ‘needless to say’ thing but yeah, this is still a great game. I always have a little bit of apprehension going back to something I loved just in case there’s a rose-colored effect going on. Not that I really expected that to happen with this game (I’ve played NIER recently enough that I didn’t think nostalgia would blind me) but, you know, always a possibility.

(That and that the remaster would be... perhaps of dubious quality. It happens.)

Nope! Still engaging. Still charming. I’m always impressed to go back to this game with all the knowledge of its inevitable misery and remember that it’s also just plain funny. NIER is one of those games that’s just like I remember it but better every time I go back to it.

I’m so glad that Automata did well enough to spur greater interest in this game. It really didn’t get the chance it deserved back in 2010 and now it’s topping some of the sales charts. That’s fantastic.

Just... fantastic.

#NIER #NieR Replicant #Musings #Now I just need Threads of Fate remastered and my life is complete #SE don't do that I know you'll ruin it

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astraljedi · 3 years

Text

Oblivion | Part I (The Mandalorian)

Summary: The Mandalorian was summoned to Nevarro by Greef Karga for a specific quarry after one of his favorite hunters is presumed dead.

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader (she/her)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mention of death, lost of memory, violence, blood, abuse, curse words, drugs and some traumatic shit. ALSO SOFT DIN

Word count: 3K+

A/N: I’m new to the Star Wars fandom and to be honest I’m a little scared posting this. Please don’t scream at me if I made any mistakes, I’m still catching up with everything. Also, this is going to be a two part story and It has taken me about three days to fully finish the first part, so I hope you guys enjoy and happy new year’s eve!

The warm volcanic air of Nevarro greeted The Mandalorian as he exited the Razor Crest and headed towards de cantina to meet with Greef Karga. As per usual, everyone's eyes landed on the shiny beskar helmet while The Mandalorian quietly walked by himself with his Amban sniper rifle on his back.

Walking into the busy cantina, Mando moved towards Karga, sitting on the room's far end. "Mando!" Karga greeted him, ushering him to sit down on the opposite seat before Karga.

"What's the job?" Mando asked, cutting straight to the point and skipping the "friendly" welcome. Karga sighed, his hands landing on the beverage on the table.

"Right to the point, okay." Karga began. The Mandalorian watched through his visor at the man before him, who leaned in closer, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on the private conversation.

"No offense, but you're one of my faithful hunters who knows how to get the job done, no questions asked. But I also have my favorite hunter, similar to you, without the beskar armor." Karga announced, his eyes wandering around the others surrounding them inside the cantina. He didn't want to drive more attention to the table, more than its already been drawn by the beskar armor. "She's strong, straightforward forward, and never fails me. Reasons why I gave her the quarry only her or you could've handled, especially when the rich would pay any amount to end any theft from their fortune. You were away with other pucks, and she was free, so I gave it to her."

"Let me guess, she failed you, and now you need me to do the job?" Mando sighed under his helmet, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We presume she's dead; some members of the Guild found her ship raided and full of blood. It's a loss we all felt deeply, which you don't see a lot in here. She cared for everyone, and it rubbed off on some of us. Her death is on that quarry's life, and I count on you to avenge her death." Karga was resting his back on his seat, waiting for a response from the hunter in front of him.

"Do I need to bring them in alive?"

"No, only bring the body for confirmation." Karga disclosed, sliding the puck over to Mando with the tracking fob. "It's double the amount of what I originally offered. It's going to be a heavy payday for you, Mando."

"She was that good, huh?" The Mandalorian stood up from his seat, hanging the sniper rifle again behind his back. He was a bit curious about the girl and how comparable she was to him.

"You might have seen her before. She used to work here from time to time in the cantina. And now that I think of it, one time you came here to meet with me, and she was serving me the drinks that day." Karga remembered, and so did The Mandalorian. "The bounty's last known location was Maldo Kreis. Good luck, Mando."

On the way back to his ship, Mando was deep in his thoughts. He remembered that day very clearly.

He remembered the girl. How could he forget?

"I don't want to be rude, but I would offer you a drink, but I know you can't take that shiny bucket off." Y/N chuckled, grabbing Karga's empty cup to replace it with a new one full of spotchka. She had watched him arrive earlier into the cantina; her older brother used to talk about The Mandalorians when they were children. She had never seen one in person before. She watched him glide through the people in the cantina towards Karga, how only a few dared to look at the man in the beskar, and others had their eyes on the floor. Too scared to even look at the feared hunter.

Karga chuckled at her comment before taking a sip of his new drink. Mando tilted his helmet at her in curiosity. She wasn't intimidated by him and made a light joke about his armor.

When The Mandalorian didn't answer, she sighed and looked away from the tinted T shaped visor. Y/N walked away with Karga's previous empty cup and headed towards another table to serve them with her funny jokes instead, where others will appreciate them.

Thankful for the helmet, he heard Karga tell him about the previous bounty Mando had captured, how he never disappoints in getting the job done. "You might give my favorite hunter a run for her credits." Karga joked, emptying his second drink of the day. But The Mandalorian's eyes followed the girl. She was behind the bar now, laughing with her other customers as she leaned herself on the counter. Her mid-length dark hair bounced around every time her shoulders moved from her laughing and her tiny figure moving around the back of the spacious bar, gliding through without a hassle. "Y/N! Get your pretty face over here with another refill, sweet face." Mando's eyes shifted to the very drunk customer far away from the bar where Y/N stood.

She laughed at the drunken state he was, filling up his cup with some water instead, cutting him off from his usual drink. "That's enough for the evening, Gyan. You have a family to get to, remember?" Her sweet voice passed right him, the sweet scent from her hair hitting him with a whiff.

Y/N, now the girl who he watched over had a name.

Many people were intimidated by the beskar armor, but she didn't even flinch from making a joke about it. Even after he didn't answer her, she didn't shake in fear, and she walked away disappointed. Was she expecting something else? The Mandalorians came across as cold and people of not many words. She knew that, but deep down, she didn't believe it entirely from all the stories others would tell about them and their creed.

Mando landed on the ice planet two days ago.

Tracking down the bounty was surprisingly too easy, Mando thought. The tracking fob immediately started going crazy on the first day while he hunted around the planet. Once he found him, he watched his every move.

Not only did he want to assure a good plan, but he also wanted to figure out how the girl got herself killed for a simple quarry that didn't even bother hiding.

Maz was wanted for theft, and he owned a lot of people's credits. The usual. Maz had the same routine strangely; he visited the markets early, creating chaos with innocent villagers, and then spent the rest of the day in a cantina with possibly other bounty's.

One of the things Mando noticed first was that Maz wasn't ever alone. He always had to be surrounded by people to praise him and make sure he felt he had the power. Maz still had six guards with him. Four of them guarded the outside. While two were by the back of the cantina, the others guarded the front door. And that left the Maz and two other bodies with him inside.

Mando could quickly grab the guards in the back successfully and then attack the ones in the front before dragging them with the rest of the bodies behind the cantina. He liked those odds.

Part of his evening entourage, he brought one woman with a metal neck collar hooked on to a chain for him to drag her around like some pet. The woman had barely any clothing on for the shivering weather, and it was torture and cruel.

They had her wearing a tiny leather top that did nothing to hide the purple bruises on her neck and shoulders. Mando also noticed marks that could only be caused by a whip on her exposed back. She also wore a torn skirt that didn't cover much of her barely functioning legs. But Mando never saw her face. They always dragged her around with a bag over her head.

The Mandalorian prepared for his attack on the third day. As planned, he managed to seize the men on the back of the cantina without any problems. And then he followed with the other two guards by the front door. Maybe the guards were for appearances because they went down quickly and quietly, or The Mandalorian was that good. Mando swiftly dragged both bodies towards the back and huddled all four of them in a pile against the bar's walls.

The cantina's door unlatched and revealed The Mandalorian standing under the frame while the snow flew into the cantina. Immediately, all eyes were on Mando as his eyes scanned the place, looking for Maz. The air in the cantina stiffened at The Mandalorian's presence. Every single pair of eyes followed him while he proceeded to take a seat by the bar, a safe distance to the corner of the room where he spotted Maz with the girl sitting down on his lap miserably.

"Two chowders to go," Mando ordered, trying to blend in as he wasn't there for a quarry. He passed some credits to the bartender while his eyes caught a glimpse of the girl's face when she moved uncomfortably on Maz's lap.

"Y/N." Mando thought to himself, how could he forget her? Her hair was longer, and she looked slimmer, probably caused by the lack of meals Maz didn't give to her. Mando's blood boiled as he watched the dirty man's hands caressing Y/N's bruised and sensitive skin while he chatted away with another person sat on the table as well.

Y/N dozed off, her head feeling heavy, and her exhausted body was about to give out on her. She couldn't even remember how she got there and what they gave her to tame her down. Everything was a blur.

If she could, she would've blown up the whole bar into ashes. Make every living being that touched, drugged, and tossed her around to burn into oblivion.

Mando had a plan to grab Maz, but it flew out the window once he noticed who the girl was. The seat that Maz's "friend" occupied was now free, and while "waiting" for his chowder, he slipped into the empty chair.

He regretted his change of plan the moment his eyes landed on the poor girl. The open wounds that would heal into scars horrified him. It angered him the most. Mando was going to make Maz pay for every mark he left on her body. "A Mandalorian? Thought those only existed in stories." Maz tried to hide his widened eyes from the hunter. Mando smirked under his helmet, sensing the fear in Maz's eyes.

Mando's hand rested on top of his blaster that rested on his side. Tilting his helmet, he studied and watched Maz, and he knew the guy would never be the criminal to carry a blaster. He needs a pack of guards because he didn't even know how to handle a blaster by himself. He was all about appearances and less about his fighting skills. "And now they are going to exist in your worst nightmares."

The first shot from Mando's blaster went off and hit the closest guard to Maz in his chest. The first guard's body fell to the floor with a loud thud while others either stared at the fight that was about to break down, and some decided to leave the bar. Before it, all got a little too messy for their liking.

Maz shot up from his seat, not caring that Y/N had fallen to the floor. He gripped on the metal chain tied to her neck collar and dragged her up to her feet as he made a run for the door. Mando had purposely let Maz get a head start; he knew he couldn't get too far with Y/N's weakened state.

The final guard, who was the furthest, made a run towards the hunter, but Mando was quick to his feet and grabbed one of the knives on the table and flew it across the bar for it to land on the guard's shoulder. Stomping his way towards the guard, he hovered over his unbearable body and sent his final shot from his blaster to his chest.

The bartender rose from behind the bar, where he had found shelter from the fight. He watched as the hunter exited the cantina to catch up to Maz, who hadn't gotten very far as Mando had anticipated.

One thing The Mandalorian didn't expect was seeing Maz holding a blaster to Y/N's temple. "God, she can't even lean on him for support from the pain she's in." Mando thought to himself, his grip tightening on the snipper he pulled out from his back. He aimed it at Maz, taking slow steps towards his quarry.

"Give up, Maz. We both know you don't stand a chance." Y/N heard Mando's filtered voice from afar. She was thrown around by Maz for a long time, that the little hope she had of being rescued from the torture had faded every time the sun left the horizon and left her in complete darkness.

Maz had the safety on his blaster. What an idiot.

Mando was about to shot at Maz's shoulder when suddenly, from the corner of his eyes, he watched Y/N slip out a blade from the waistband of her skirt. She must have gotten it after she fell from the first guard laid on the floor after Mando shot him. Maz didn't even know what was coming for him.

Y/N used the little energy she had and pushed the knife into Maz's abdomen, causing him to force her out of his grip and fall on to his knees from the sudden pain. He shrieked in pain while holding the knife still pressed into his body in shock. "He did tell you that you didn't have a chance." Y/N coughed only a few feet away from him, looking straight at Maz as the blood-stained the pale snow underneath him.

"Should've given you a painful death the night we took you." Maz groaned, pulling the knife out of his stomach. "You were worth-" Maz's words caught short, Mando shutting him up with a shot to his chest. Maz's eyes rolled back, and he fell onto his back on the snowy ground.

Tears spilled out of Y/N's eyes. She never thought she was going to make it out alive at all. "Hey, we need to get you out of this weather." Mando knelt to her level on the floor, wrapping his cape around her shoulders to bring in a little bit of warmth to her body. She nodded in response, but before she could force herself to stand up, he already had her in his arms pressed into his chest.

Instead of going to his ship, he preferred getting those chowders he had ordered earlier for her to eat before the flight back to Nevarro. "You might want to eat first." His voice was soft, caring for the petite hunter before him.

Food. Y/N hadn't had a warm meal in such a long time that she devoured the first bowl of chowder too quickly for her liking. Mando sat silently across her, watching her finish up the first bowl in minutes. "Want the other one?" Mando asked, sliding the second bowl towards her.

"Please, I'm starving." It was good that she was eating. The drug that made her doze off was wearing off quicker thanks to the food. The other great news was that Mando had managed to break off the metal collar from her neck. She was free to walk and eat without the cold metal pushing up against her neck. "Thanks again for everything." She went from living a nightmare to finding some peace. Maybe it won't last that much longer, but she enjoyed it a little bit. She enjoyed the hot meal.

After she finished the second bowl, Mando brought the empty dishes to the bar counter a few feet away from the table where he previously sat with her. He tried passing the bartender some extra credits for the mess he caused earlier, but the bartender refused to take the credits. He was merely glad that Maz was gone from his cantina.

Mando nodded as a thank you towards the bartender when he gave them extra food for the flight. "She suffered a lot in the hands of those criminals. I'm glad she's safe now." The bartender explained to the hunter as they both watched her from afar snuggled up into Mando's cape.

After Y/N and The Mandalorian said their final goodbyes to the cantina's owner, he pressed her close for her to lean on him as they walked to her rhythm towards his ship with Mando dragging Maz's body behind him with the same chain Maz had tied up to Y/N neck collar. Y/N was grateful for the food, but she was even more when Mando's ship greeted her with its warmth. "I have never been this excited to see a Razor Crest before." She chuckled, her cheeks gaining a slight red tint.

Mando moved around the ship, trying to gather up a couple of blankets he had stored away. "I don't have a change of clothing, but I did grab these for you."

Y/N mumbled a thank you to Mando and pulled off his cape from her shoulders to replace them with a slightly thicker material to keep her even warmer. "I suggest you rest for a while if you can." He suggested, sitting on the pilot seat and getting the ship ready for departure. Y/N made herself more than comfortable on the chair behind him by the right side of the cockpit.

Y/N relaxed her shoulders as she let the soft material of the chair rest snug to her body. "Thanks again for rescuing me, metalhead." She mumbled, sleep consuming her quickly.

Mando snorted under his helmet. Even after going through what she did, she managed to make fun of him. He watched her over his shoulder, her chest rising up and down while she faded into her deep sleep. He pulled himself away from staring and sent the Razor Crest into hyperspace after placing the coordinates to Nevarro.

"You don't need me to rescue you. You saved yourself out there." Mando whispered, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

#The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian Imagines #The Mandalorian Imagine #The Mandalorian x reader #The Mandalorian fic #Din Djarin imagines #din dijarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian Fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal fics

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btsmosphere · 3 years

Text

How to Win at Christmas in 7 Easy Steps | KSJ

~summary:

How to win at Christmas... and maybe meet someone along the way. The story of how Jin ended up crawling through your hedge dressed as santa on Christmas eve. And how you were totally not heading to his house for the very same reason.

Jin x reader

~word count: 2.6k

~neighbour au, idiots to lovers, humour, crack, getting together

Rating: pg

Warnings: general chaos and gardening shears

~a/n: thank you to an anon for this idea for the ‘kim seokjin’ bingo square! (my requests are no longer open) I had a lot of fun with this one!

Step 1: pick your battles

Jin stared out of the window.

How dare she?

His neighbour across the street was currently on a ladder, fastening the end of a large string of lights to her house.

Previously, he had thought she was quite cute whenever he passed her in the roads.

But he would have to push that aside, given she was to be his nemesis now.

This was war.

The declaration was loud and clear, staring him in the face outside his window. If he wasn’t so intent on despising it, he might have admitted that the lights looked very good. There were fairy lights around the windows of the house, and hanging from the roof like glittery icicles.

Even the wreath on the red front door had little lights glimmering from within the foliage.

The final straw was really the series of colourful stars forming a stripe across the middle of the house. Other than those, he would say his decorations were roughly the same as these new arrivals.

Which was why it was very clearly a direct attack.

Step 2: make the first move

Looking between the Christmas lights on the shelf in front of him, Jin wondered if he was reading too far into it.

He was sure the stars on the left were the exact ones you had on the front of your house. Would that be too obvious? Settling for the ones on the right, although they were slightly smaller, he walked further into the store, looking for something that would really make his house stand out.

Half an hour later, a large wire Christmas tree could be seen walking across his front lawn, emitting several curses as it went.

Eventually, Jin managed to place it in such a way that it nestled among the plants in his garden without squashing any, and he hurried to switch it on.

Standing back, he admired his work with hands on hips. Perhaps he wasn’t very subtle, looking between your house and his, but he liked what he saw. That would show you. Stars bedecked his front porch in a very pleasing way, and now he had a Christmas tree lighting up his lawn.

What could be better?

A nagging hum nudged at Jin until his eyes cracked open, cursing as he found his room still dark. Legs still tangled in his sheets, he flipped himself over in order to peek out of his window.

The early morning light made him squint, but the moment his eyes were adjusted, he swore out loud.

As it turns out, the source of the humming sound was an inflation device, pumping air into a massive snowman on your lawn. It did look slightly like a melting marshmallow, but as it grew it grinned maliciously up at him, stick arms wobbling tauntingly.

He just gaped, dumbfounded, wishing he had thought of that.

Looking in panic down at his own decorations, he was alarmed to note that his Christmas tree would only look nice at night. Now that daylight slowly seeped into the sky, it looked more and more dull.

“Oh shut up,” he scowled down at the snowman’s growing grin.

A smart move on your part, he thought bitterly. Show off.

Step 3: make another move when your first one fails

Jin would settle for nothing less than a real showstopper.

He had gone to another shop this time, a little further out of town, but, most importantly, bigger. And therefore it would contain Christmassy treasures you could only dream of, little miss look-at-me-I-have-a-snowman.

He bypassed garlands, trees and wreaths, ignored the ‘Santa, stop here!’ signs and those weird window stickers he would never understand. Maybe he had been too optimistic about finding his Christmas holy grail in this place.

But then he turned the corner.

He had just entered a treasure trove. He had the surreal sensation that he was being bathed in a golden glow from the splendour before him.

Now this was more like it!

Everything in this section was large enough to fill his car, a life-size moving Santa beckoning at him from one side while a fake reindeer scuffed its hoof on the ground, mechanical whinny uttering from its mouth.

Walking further in, he identified the golden glow as coming from a large nativity scene. Rather disappointing, if you asked him.

But it couldn’t be helped, so he quickly came to terms with this and found himself not long afterwards debating between a full size sleigh and an igloo.

Chewing his lip, he rotated, assessing both of the items, which were on opposing shelves. The igloo would look very wintery alongside the white lights on his house and the tree in the garden… but maybe not quite Christmassy enough. A sleigh, on the other hand, was unmistakeably festive-

-and being stolen right in front of his nose.

He was rather taken aback to find a woman already halfway up the aisle with the box under her arm when he turned around. A strangled yelp escaped him as he realised it was the last in stock, and he had just been robbed.

Hearing him, the woman turned around.

It was you.

“Oh, hi Jin!” you exclaimed, grin taking over your face. Meanwhile, he just sputtered, mouth hanging open in outrage.

“Um, your lights look really good!” you spoke again, quirking an eyebrow at his silence.

The cheek of it!! He could not believe you had the audacity to speak about decorations in front of him like this.

“Thank you,” he spoke curtly, “yes, they do.”

“Okay,” you laughed lightly, “I better be going. See you around.”

Grumbling to himself, he spun back around forcefully, coming face to face with the igloo he would have to settle for.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he hissed at said igloo, “you are gonna be the most glorious, majestic igloo this side of Seoul, or else! We’ll see who’s laughing in the end.”

In the end, admittedly, it was actually the shop assistants laughing at the man who seemed to have punched above his weight in Christmas props.

Staggering out of the door, he finally dumped his haul into the back of his car and took a breather leaning against the door. His house had better look spectacular after this.

Step 4: implement step 3

Jin would like to describe himself as modest. Among many other great things.

But even a modest man such as himself had to admit, his decorations looked pretty darn good.

Since fate had so cruelly stripped him of Santa’s sleigh, he had gone all out with the igloo. It stood proud and strong in the middle of his front lawn with presents stacked up at the entrance and a couple of little polar bear cubs just outside.

They even had little hats on.

He was sure the fearsome army he had created would scare you into submission. After all, no more items had appeared over at your place yet.

You probably bought that sleigh just to spite him. Classic sabotage tactic.

Shaking his head, he turned to go inside for a well-deserved cup of hot chocolate.

Step 5: contemplate defeat

When Jin opened his curtains the next morning, he almost fell over in shock.

At first, he thought it had snowed.

But he was mistaken, unless a snow cloud had in fact visited and snowed very specifically on your house.

When the hell had you found the time to do that? Or the ladder to do that? Your roof, as well as the tops of your windows and porch, were dusted in white. And the more he looked, the more he saw. You had even sprinkled some on your wreath!

Worst of all, that damned sleigh sat smugly in front of it, the cherry on the cake.

Begrudgingly, he was impressed. He should take a leaf out of your book when it came to intimidation tactics. Because they had certainly succeeded on him.

How on earth had you accomplished all that?

He sat down heavily in his kitchen, deliberately leaving the curtains closed for now. He leaned heavily on his elbow as he stirred a mug of tea, thoroughly fed up.

What was this feeling?

He had never met his match before. The smug satisfaction of victory had been rudely swiped from his fingertips by you.

But while he stewed in his disappointment all day, it seemed you had been busy. A knock on the door later heralded your arrival with a steaming plate of mince pies.

Oh, so you had to be better at baking too, huh?

“Oh. Hello,” he greeted as he stood in the doorway. His hand still gripped the door in his surprise.

“Hi,” you smiled, “would you like any of these? Maybe you already have some since you’re the only other one on this street with any Christmas spirit, but I thought I’d stop by and offer-“

“Yes. I would like to try some,” Jin cut you off, jutting out his chin. Then, realising himself, his eyebrows drew together and he uttered a sheepish, “thank you.”

Even your laughter sounded like Christmas, tinkling like bells as you followed behind him.

Once he had brewed tea for both of you, he completely forgot his intention to spit your baking back out in a dramatic display of disgust. His disappointment in himself only grew when he found himself reaching out for his third one, only then remembering that he was supposed to be opposed to your insufferable ability to do Christmas better than him.

It was only when it started to grow dark that the two of you realised the time you had wasted just talking. And only a small part of Jin offered to pop over with Christmas baking of his own purely to prove he could do it better than you.

A weighted breath left him as he shut the door behind him.

This would not do. He had to stay true to his ulterior motive, for goodness’ sake!

Across the road, your lights flicked on and he made another unfortunate discovery. Those weird window stickers might have been a good investment after all.

Silhouetted by the warm light of your house, a row of houses stood along the windowsill, dark blobs of snowflakes floated on the glass above them.

Tomorrow, he would completely coat his house in lights and wipe that smug, arrogant, gorgeous smile off your face.

Step 6: make a last ditch effort

By the time Christmas was only a few days away, your little competition had become quite obvious.

Your road lay in darkness, a few lone strings of lights flickering on the odd house… and then the vision was assaulted by two houses opposite each other: yours and Jin’s.

However, Jin only looked out with satisfaction. The plants around his lawn were lined with glittering lights, and more still were piled on the igloo that had become his centrepiece. Even the polar bear cubs had been ensnared in the cheery twine.

As he watched from his window, a family walked along, two kids clutching their mum’s hand. The abundance of light helped greatly by illuminating their smiles as they gazed at the lights on display. But to Jin’s dismay, they turned to your house first, pointing at all the things decorating it and jumping up and down in excitement.

Just a passing glance was thrown at his, before they were on their way.

His hands curled into fists. This simply wasn’t good enough – he had to win at Christmas. He always did! Who were you to threaten the reigning Christmas champion, Kim Seokjin?

There was a chance this was a questionable idea.

Just a small chance.

A little, teeny-weeny, itty-bitty chance.

However, this thought only crossed Jin’s mind as the twigs in the hedge he was currently crawling through nearly ripped his santa hat off his head.

Clutching it tightly to the top of his head, he shuffled a bit further.

It was a strange sight, from your end. As you stepped quietly across your back garden, a movement caught your eye. Freezing where you stood, you had to bite back laughter as Santa himself clambered inelegantly to his feet at the other side of your garden, emerging from below the hedge that divided your house from next door.

Just as he bent down to brush dirt from his red fuzzy trousers, you spotted what he was holding.

You were certain you hadn’t asked for a pair of gardening shears for Christmas.

Then Santa’s head raised, and your suspicions were confirmed. Eyes meeting yours, you could see the thought of I fucked up flit across Jin’s face. Very quickly.

“Um, err- merry Christmas!” he cried in a gruff voice, throwing his arms out.

And then very hurriedly tucking them behind his back as he remembered what he was holding.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you pointed out.

“Well, um,” he glanced at his watch. It was still Christmas eve for a few hours yet, “I wanted to get to you early! You’re right at the top of the nice list… Hold on! What’s that!”

Following his gaze, you quickly chucked your own pair of shears behind a tree.

“What are you talking about?” you smiled sweetly.

“Were you going to sabotage my Christmas lights?” he cried, cocking his hips to the side and placing a hand on them, still clutching his shears.

An eyebrow raised indignantly. You just laughed.

“Clearly you thought of that first.”

“Yes, that’s right, I did!” he exclaimed, pointing the shears towards you and tilting his head as he berated you, “so don’t you go stealing my idea- why are you laughing?!“

Trying desperately to calm down, you put a hand over your mouth to little effect.

“Why don’t we just go inside?” you giggled.

“I’m sorry?”

“Come inside,” you repeated, “it’s Christmas eve, and I could do with someone as festive as you.”

“Is all this not festive enough for you, Miss Christmas?” he challenged, gesturing towards the glow emanating from the front of your house.

“Miss Christmas? You’re literally dressed as Father Christmas,” you appraised.

“Good point,” he shrugged.

Smirking, you opened the door and waited for him to follow you inside.

“So you… you knew I was trying to one-up you?” he asked as you got two mugs out.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed.

“I’ve never known anyone who can decorate like you,” he sighed, “what’s your secret?”

“Like I would tell you that,” you chuckled.

“So cruel,” he lamented, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, “what can I ever do to make you tell me?”

“Go out with me,” you laughed.

Nearly choking on air, Jin stared at your back as you continued making drinks as if you had said nothing.

“What?” he gaped.

“I said, go out with me,” you explained, finally turning around, “on a date. I like you.”

Blinking rapidly, he swallowed against the fluttering in his chest.

“Can’t say no to that,” he stuttered, “can’t have you teaming up with anyone else, now, can I?”

“I’m not normally so competitive,” you laughed, the bells tinkling once again.

“So why-“ Jin frowned, but he cut himself off, eyes widening, “wait- was this- have you been… flirting with me?”

“No,” you replied, “I’ve been winning.”

“Yah! I definitely won! What are you talking about?!”

Step 7: maybe accept love as a consolation prize

Thanks for reading! Please reblog x

Taglist (message me to be added): @aianloveseven @preciouschimine

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bulletproofscales · 3 years

Text

the realest of selves

this is the namkook fic i told yall i was working on, the birthday friend already recived it so i thougth id post it! its not feederism and its very fluffy. hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723872/chapters/70426767

9/9 chapters 6.4 words

tags: established relationship, misunderstandings, fluff, happy ending

the one where jungkook falls in love again through namjoon’s poems, without knowing its him

Moma Muji.

That's the brand of the notebook Jungkook has in his hands… or, hand actually. It's rather small.

Must be passport sized.

He doesn’t own one of these.

He fumbles with it curiously. No, Jungkook doesn’t pick random objects he finds laying around; his mother raised him right.

But this wasn’t just any random object, this notebook had been left abandoned at Jungkook’s favorite desk in the college library. Specifically perfect because nobody used it: desk free of bumps from the scribbles or from people who wrote with too much force, minimal amount of gum stuck beneath it (He aspired for zero, but his dreams had been crushed pretty early on to his college life). The positioning was perfect too, far enough that the library’s wifi didn’t reach it, which was practically useless with the amount of work covered students plaguing the place constantly; but if he needed too, he could connect to the wifi from the classrooms nearby (And Jungkook went to the library at night time so… no classes happening at all)

It's the perfect desk and if something was left forgotten here, then it means it isn’t his anymore.

Which means he has the right to investigate.

The ragged, leather like texture feels expensive against his fingers. If he had to name the color, it would be a slightly darker version of a persian green; it's pretty. Jungkook can’t imagine someone using this for any academic purposes, given the size. He keeps playing around with it in his hands, hesitant.

It is one thing to pick up a stranger’s notebook on the desk, but to open it? It's a completely different violation of privacy. And he said it before: his mother raised him right.

Muji is an artsy brand right? These types of stationary notebooks probably have an information slot where he can find information; a name at least. Something to make hipsters who buy Muji, feel like their notebook is more special and personalized.

If he wants to find the owner he has to open it, doesn’t he?

No. Jungkook could simply deliver it to the librarian and let the owner look for it themselves.

Curiosity is killing him, though. To the point he was already opening the notebook even before he finished that thought. Eyes wide and fingers eager as he leans forward to find what he is looking for.

This notebook belongs to:

the Real Me

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This person is more hipster than Jungkook had even prepared himself to.

That tells him… absolutely nothing.

Hope you’re happy, Jungkook thinks to himself, directing it to the random hipster stranger.

As spiteful as he is of this infuriating halt that was brought to his detective adventure, he has to admit, the vulnerability of the stranger’s answer did absolutely nothing to calm his curiosity.

There's a few moments of quiet, just Jungkook and the first page staring at one another, as if daring him to look further, to sink deeper into the real authentic version of someone he has never even met.

I promise I won’t judge. He thinks apologetically as he flips the page.

In the blood you shed in the winter i was born red

Plum blossom in the snow:

Camellia,

Daffodil

Yeah, yeah, you can call me whatever you want

Listen up, winter you’ve bloomed me

Now I’m going to burn my branches blue

06/01/20

He gasps, as if Jeongguk had been holding his breath the entire time while reading it.

Moma Muji, passport size.

He looked it up when he got back to his dorm. It is in fact passport sized, the same exact measurements as a passport: 4.92 x 3.36 inches. How funny is that?

Jungkook had intended to continue reading in the library. But after...that, a feeling took over him that he was opening in a place far too public for the realest self of the (apparently) poet.

A poet…

There's a dreamy sigh that leaves his lips.

Anyways! The point is he took the notebook to his dorm and is now preparing himself to read more of it; from the safety of the locked door.

I’m real good, but a little uncomfortable

I’m still not sure if I’m a dog or a pig or what else

But then other people put a pearl necklace on me

So much blabbering

One says ‘run’ another says ‘stop’

This one says `look at the forest`

That one says ‘look at the wildflower’

My shadow, I wrote and called it ‘hesitation’

So they really are a poet.

In the back of Jungkook’s head he had expected for that first one to just be a silly quote this person added to the beginning of their notebook; maybe from a song from a band that they brag about listening to before it was popular.

But it's not…. this person is a poet…

This person is a romantic . The thought comes with a warmth that spreads across his cheeks.

It's obvious, these are romance poems. The first one, speaking about falling in love in the winter, about how delicate the poet’s significant other makes them feel; as delicate as these winter blooming flowers, comparing himself to a plant that burns under their love even during the winter. Love is getting them through the cold.

The second poem, however, is a lot less optimistic. Clearly the poet is battling their own feelings of inadequacy with the flattering words of their partner. They think of themself as a pig or a dog while they’re being treated with love. Different directions and orders are being directed to the poet are the contradicting opinions of themself: the ones they hear of their own and the ones from their partner.

So they’re probably in a relationship , he thinks with a little apprehension.

Not that it matters to Jungkook what this literal stranger is doing with their romantic life. He has to remind himself that, given that just the two poems had been able to give Jungkook a sensation of… odd familiarity; as if he knows this person already. It seemed as if with those poems he had gotten a glimpse of the poet’s two sides.

Obviously, the poems already showed two sides regarding the theme of love: safety and doubt. But aside from that, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way of expressing these sides: while the first poem was melodic and metaphorical, the second one held a language that sounded just a lot more accessible and down to earth.

This person must have thought about this relationship a lot.

It doesn’t matter, and it most certainly doesn’t affect him; so Jungkook shuts the notebook closed. He’ll just go about his day.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches.

Why does Jungkook remember the exact size?

Hell, why is he thinking about that notebook at all?!

Jungkook had rushed out, stumbling into his running shoes and beanie. Joonie had invited him to go out for a run even though they’re well into winter. And Jungkook… he is smitten enough to say yes.

But, nobody can blame him. He always has so much fun when he is with Namjoon… Or well, he tends to have fun, when his mind isn’t keeping him distracted with useless things!

Useless things like the way Namjoon’s route goes by a huge Camellia bush.

Yeah yeah call me whatever you want

Would Joon like it if he called him Camellia? Would his branches burn blue with love?

“Jungkook-ah, you’ll trip if you keep running that deep into your head, baby.” His endeared tone calls him out of the deep trance. His voice is a little breathless from running, he does so effortlessly while talking after years of taking this same route. The youngest has to shake his head a little bit, for a moment, Namjoon’s voice still sounded a little bit far away.

“You look like you saw a ghost, whats up?” For some reason, his boyfriend’s obliviousness only leads Jungkook to one conclusion: Namjoon hasn’t noticed the Camellia bush.

Of course he hasn’t, why would he?

Jungkook… Can’t ignore the sour disappointment in his tongue.

…

Odd.

They’ve stopped running now.

You still have to answer something, Jungkook.

“Oh.. I was just-..” He cuts himself off. Doing what? Judging Namjoon for not meeting the standards of a random poet?

“Those flowers are pretty.” Jungkook finds his voice a little softer, gesturing to the bush a little bit behind him; still at arms reach. He can’t help but sound shy, the answer he came with on the spot was… rather silly.

But, at least it was true , he thinks as his eyes linger over the gorgeous splashes of pink.

Namjoon’s expression is startled for a second, before melting into tooth rotting fondness. “You like Camellias?” Jungkook can feel the older’s eyes on him, tender and loving; before his hand is reaching tenderly for the bush.

He can’t lie, Jungkook is a little hypnotized by the way Namjoon’s knuckles look caressing the flower carefully. “So, do you?” The young hadn’t realized he had forgotten to breathe at the sight, Namjoon’s voice grounding him yet again from his wandering thoughts.

His nod comes hurriedly, thank god Namjoon is used to his spacing out; his chuckles help Jungkook’s shoulders sag down relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he had tensed them in the first place. “They only bloom in the winter… Feels special.” A shy smile grows on his face as he eyes up at Namjoon; he is already staring at the younger with a soft look.

“Who would have guessed you knew about flowers.” There's something gently amused about his tone, playful and flirty. It still makes Jungkook feel exposed.

He doesn’t know about flowers. He just looked up the flowers on his way from the library. But of course Namjoon would pick up on it, his boyfriend has been into botany since before they even started dating.

Meanwhile Jungkook… has no excuse. He tries to hide it in his face. “Only after spending so much time with you! ”He exclaims softly, nudging his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. Jungkook hadn’t realized they were so close, his hand goes to meet Namjoon’s where it's cradling the flower. “Do you have one of these?” His voice comes out quietly, too caught up admiring the sight of their big hands holding the almost hyperbolically delicate flower.

Do you imagine the poet cares for Camellias and Daffodils?

Namjoon chuckles softly, for some reason, it feels like he is reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “No, they’re a little too hard to maintain just for a pretty flower that comes once a year.”

Oh… He can’t help his disheartened reaction.

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” Jungkook’s eyes snap from where they were stranded on the flower, Namjoon’s hand isn’t there anymore; but he can distinctively feel a hand gingerly tucking a strand of hair into Jungkook’s beanie. Handling the younger in a similar fashion than he did the flower. “We can come take care of this one every once in a while; I’m sure I got some ericaceous fertilizer saved up.” His eyes meet Namjoon, smiling tenderly.

Jungkook can feel his chest tighten in affection. A grin spreads across his face. “This is just an excuse for you to take me in more runs with you, isn’t it?” He can barely hold his accusing laugh, launching forward to press his fists to Namjoon’s chest; it earns a roll of his eyes, but Jungkook can the tremble of a laugh under his hands.

“Can’t even start a nice project with your boyfriend anymore. Romance is so dead.” His attempts for sound annoyed are laughable. And the answer only makes it more obvious what Namjoon’s intentions truly were.

Romance can’t be dead, though. Not as long as that Moma Muji, passport sized, 4.92 x 3.36 inch notebook is sitting in his dorm.

He feels guilt as he side eyes the notebook laying on his bedside table. Especially with the feeling of Namjoon’s plush lips lingering on his cheek from when he just dropped Jungkook by his room.

Especially when that persian green cover is a mocking reminder of the Camellia bush they encountered; reminding Jungkook that the flower mentioned in the poem has no relation to Jungkook’s life outside from the confines of that green leather cover.

Reminding Jungkook of how… oddly disappointed he is by that fact.

He plops heavily on his bed, arm reaching for his bedside table. When he grips the notebook and opens it, he does it spitefully.

I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed it up

But I’m even thirstier than before

Is what I know really an ocean?

Or a blue dessert?

Maybe it's the soothing feeling of his stomach full from the food he had with Namjoon after his run.

Maybe it's the dark outside his window, allowing his thoughts to think of someone, somewhere, who can’t have enough of their lover.

He doesn’t know… But he manages to fall asleep.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover.

The guilt follows him like a shadow.

Damn, he is even thinking in poems now.

He can't help it! He can’t help the way that, despite Namjoon giving him everything, he still longs for a romance like the one in the poems. Everyday, Jungkook sinks a little deeper into the vulnerable self of the poet; his heart fluttering at their verses while simultaneously expecting Namjoon to keep up with him. Keep up with his sensitive tugging of his heartstring that his boyfriend doesn't seem to be syncing to.

In fact, Namjoon seems to be more weary of Jungkook’s attempts at romance. Acknowledging them for sure and just, he isn’t de--escalating his gestures… But… he seems weary of them.

We need the scenery of the night more than anyone

You are the only one, that comforts me more than anything

Thinking “don’t think” it's a thought on itself, you know?

With your falling eyes I look at the night sky again

We are each other's night view

We are each other's moon

The poet said, and Jungkook thought while standing on the balcony of Namjoon’s apartment. The both of them are way too under-dressed for the weather; clouds looking menacing above them; hunched over the railing shoulders pressed together.

It's calm, however, Jungkook feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. Too many words, too many emotions that he can feel bottling up in chest; threatening to spill in a way that he fears is quite too vulnerable to present to Namjoon.

“I really need moments like these.” It feels as if with the help of the poet,Jungkook was able to really grow more comfortable voicing out his thoughts like these. A fear he had to explain to Namjoon when they first started dating, nervously reassured him that he did want a relationship; despite his lack of enthusiasm.

He was so embarrassed back then… Still dealing with the aftermath of a self-homophobic past.

“What about them?” He can feel Namjoon side-eyeing him with a smile.

Of course he doesn’t get it.

That’s something else Jungkook has been losing his grip of: the snarky comments that come out of Namjoon's… inadequacy? He shouldn’t even be calling it that, not when Namjoon has given him everything. It's just, lately, the more Jungkook grows in his romantic acts and words, the more it seems Namjoon is just… playing dumb.

He isn’t picking up any of his signals.

It's getting frustrating.

It's like Namjoon is just backing down when things were starting to get serious for them.

And that fucking hurts.

“Nothing, forget it.” He mumbles eyes still strained on the city infront of them. “It's getting late anyways, I should probably head back.” He can’t hide the distance in his voice. They had agreed Jungkook was staying over, and it's obvious how that objection hangs off Namjoon's tongue as he stares a little widened. Jungkook answers before he can speak. “I have early class tomorrow, it's better if I go from my dorm.”

Somehow, the disappointment grows on his boyfriend’s face more at that. “Oh…” Jungkook fights the urge to kiss the pout off his pouting lips. “Yeah you’re right it would just be… inconvenient to stay here.”

When Jungkook leaves, he feels a heaviness in his chest. But he chooses to ignore it.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages.

24 of them, ruled, though only 16 are being used. Jungkook knows because he counted them, even if he hasn’t gotten to read everything he skimmed through the pages in a weak attempt to distract his mind. The unnecessary but easy counting of the pages, most of them double-sided in their use, except for the last one (They must have gotten tired of the ink bleeding through the pages, Jungkook asumes), helps keep his mind off last night.

Not that he has anything he needs distraction from. He is fine.

Him and Namjoon are fine .

No big fight occurred, no insensitive one sided fallout, no revolutionary discovery. But why does Jungkook feel so… off?

So neglected, so scammed, so robbed of a romance he could be having but doesn’t have. That Namjoon doesn’t let him have.

Jungkook always does this, he always feels so intensely, always too needy and too ready to fall in love. At a speed and intensity that doesn’t match others. He had revealed so much of himself to Namjoon, had been so open about his devotion, his complete and thorough adoration; and he convinced himself to believe Namjoon was okay with his arduous loving.

But if Jungkook took a second to think about it, he had been a fool to think that. Namjoon, his Namjoon is a philosopher by default, a thinker, he dissects, and recognizes, and categorizes, and doubts . Namjoon has so many doubts. About everything really, so perceptive of his surroundings he theorizes about things that aren't his business, except they are because Namjoon has an interest for every little thing in this world.

And it's as enamouring, as it is deadly.

Namjoon questions, questions himself, his intentions, his moral, his relationships, his worthiness .

It’s been four years.

But it's never too late for Namjoon to have second doubts. Even when Jungkook is sinked… so, so deep..

Maybe they aren’t meant to b-

Maybe Jungkook should read a poem.

Parting is to me, a tear that blooms unknowingly in my eyes

All the things we couldn’t say flow out

And lingering feelings crawl up my face

Parting is the reward that comes only at the end

Of my play of lies

It feels like hours as Jungkook stares at it, entranced. Only when he sees a teardrop make the ink bleed and smudge, is when he is snapped out of it.

He sets the notebook down in his night stand. Jungkook doesn’t feel like reading anymore of it, the knot on his chest only tightened by the unhelpful words of the poem.

He read enough .

Jungkook curls to his side dejected, as if offended at the poet and his own relationship problems.

Maybe romance is dead after all.

He feels his shoulders tremble in what's a sob shaking its way out of his lungs. Is he really going to give up Namjoon? Just for a romance that clearly isn’t as perfect as he thought it was?

He can’t.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used.

That's what he thinks when his hand reaches for the notebook almost in a hurry. Jungkook had run back from that dreadful early class, he was barely able to concentrate, a plan forming in his head just as he was about to go to sleep dejected and sad. It kept him all night from the nerves of it all. He has to make things right, and the lack of sleep didn’t stop his adrenaline as it made his mind wander even with the professor explaining in front of him.

The point is Jungkook has the notebook and is desperately running to Namjoon’s apartment.

Guess all those winter runs served some purpose at least.

Maybe he is being stupid for running in negative number weather in clothes that were apropriate for his ac-heated classroom. But fuck it.

Romance is alive, and Jungkook is the breathing, sprinting, embodiment of it.

When he reaches Namjoon’s apartment, his throat feels like it has shards of ice poking at it with every deep swallow of air, the skin across his cheeks and nose sporting a blush from the cold and knife-like wind across his face running here. His hair is a mess, there’s definitely sweat stains under his arms, and he most definitely looks insane.

He also kinda forgot to tell Namjoon he was coming over, he knows his boyfriend’s schedules and routines so he should be home right now. He always has friday morning’s off. So he doesn’t bother letting Namjoon know, rather fumbling with his shaky, numb fingers to reach for the spare key. The ends of his hands are also red from the cold, tingling and making his movements clumsy.

But he manages to put the key into the whole regardless. And feeling quite proud of himself and with adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he opens the door.

Namjoon is standing near the door, hunched over halfway through putting on his shoes, looking up surprised. It seems as if adrenaline was only willing to get him this far, as it leaves Jungkook’s body completely.

“Babe…” Namjoon’s voice is cutely stunned, with his eyes widened and plump lips adorably parted with a mouth that stays ajar. “What are you doing here?”

“Where were you going?” Jungkook asks instead of answering. His voice is embarrassingly small for someone who took a 35 minute run without an ounce of doubt. Maybe he's just out of breath.

Oh god, Namjoon was leaving, he has stuff to do Jungkook came at a bad time, he is probably over exaggerating and took all of this way out of proportion and Namjoon didn’t even think anything was wrong at all and he is just making a big scene for nothing being the big, needy baby that he is; bothering Namjoon with his useless emotions-

“Your dorm.” He replies so simply, like sinceirty costs him nothing when it's to Jungkook. “I asked first though.” And his tone isn't accusatory as it is teasing.

Namjoon doesn’t specify, but something inside him wants to believe the older was on his way to do the same as Jungkook.

“I...I wanted to tell you something?” He can’t help but sound doubtful. Even when he knows Namjoon is on his way to see him, even when his eyes are soft enough to melt the shard of ice growing on Jungkook's throat; he can’t seem to recognize if it's from the run or the anxiety. “It's kinda silly, though.” He can’t help but coax that out as well. from the outside one would consider Jungkook is belittling his feelings, yet belittling it makes it less of a big deal and maybe it can calm the speeding rate of his heartbeat.

“It must be important if you came right after class.” Namjoon says taking off the single shoe he had managed to put on and properly stand up straight eyeing Jungkook. “Did you run all the way from the bus station? Jungkook…” He scolds, taking Jungkook's frozen hands into his own bigger warmer ones and drags him in.

Jungkook for a moment has to hold back a snicker imagining Namjoon’s reaction if he knew how he actually got here. And he looks so cute with his small frown and determined expression already. He can feel his own heart sizing up as Namjoon drags him by the hands into the couch, hushing about Jungkook being too careless and too underdressed as he drapes a heavy blanket over his shoulders.

He feels cared for, it's nice.

It's only when Namjoon forced a hot cup of tea into Jungkook’s hands, that they slowly start to regain their feeling, that the older sits back down next to him on the couch. His eyes are concerned, unsure, as if all this had just been an excuse to make time, before he inevitably has to ask. “What-uh--What did you want to tell me?” He manages to smile, but Jungkook knows him all too well.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t falter though, he is ready to do this. He needs to do this.

“You...you’re probably wondering what happened to me yesterday.” Namjoon’s expression drops at that nodding a bit quickly, eagerly, and all too endearingly. Jungkook really made him worry, didn’t he?

“I was upset over some rando’s romantic poems,because--well its stupid but- they were so corny and romantic, they actually made me doubt what you and I have.” He can't help the incredulous tone of his voice because, saying it outloud finally, it really is so ridiculous. Jungkook shakes his head smiling, as if humored.

When his eyes find Namjoon again, they melt with love at the older’s stunned expression. “I convinced myself we were out of sync, or that you weren’t getting anything I sent your way. But it was just those stupid corny poems getting to me.” He sets the cup down, hands warm enough to hold Namjoon’s.

“But I am stupid, and corny, and in love.” He feels his own cheeks burning. “So I want to dedicate these poems to you.” Jungkook knows his smile is giddy like a childs as he reaches for his pocket taking the infamous notebook and handing it to Namjoon with an excited smile.

His boyfriend still looks stunned, and Jungkook can only think about how much smaller the passport sized notebook fits in his hands; even when Jungkook’s own hands aren’t particularly small, it's his boyfriend’s fault for being so family-sized.

With a great amount of strength, he forces himself to stop looking at his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands as he skims through the pages. He is a little surprised to find a frown on Namjoon’s brow, an anxious feeling settling over the younger at the bottom of his stomach.

“How much did you read of it?” Namjoon asks eyes staying glued to the notebook on his lap, avoiding Jungkook’s wide vulnerable eyes.

“U-uh.. I read… I read the first five, though--though the fifth one isn't romantic I only want the first four of them for you. They--I think they fit perfectly into my--my feelings for you.” Jungkook is growing nervous by the second, Namjoon’s eyes stay strained on the notebook, as Jungkook grows more and more convinced that he is exposing too much too intensely again.

“So you didn’t read the whole thing.” For the first time since Jungkook handed him the notebook, Namjoon’s eyes traveled to meet Jungkook’s unsure eyes. He can’t find his voice so he just shakes his head, and that makes his boyfriend's shoulders relax with a sigh. “Okay that explains it.”

“Ex-Explains what?”

“None of those poems are romantic, Jungkook-ah.”

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (allegedly).

“How--how would you know?” Jungkook asks almost defensively, as if standing up for the stranger poet with fanaticism.

Namjoon winces as if it pains him to say it. “I left the notebook by your desk, its uh--mine.” He was avoiding Jungkook’s eyes until now, staring up at him vulnerable, but with a small smile. “They aren’t romantic poems.”

Jungkook’s world stops for just a second, the shock is evident on his face. He is beginning to open his mouth to speak again but he can’t find anything in his seemingly hollow head to say anything. “Well...That’s embarrassing.” He manages to say, feeling the tip of his ears burn.

He made that whole love scene.

“I believe the reader can find more than one structured meaning to the poems, it's not that my meaning is above yours just because I wrote it.” Namjoon explains, and maybe it's his imagination, but he sounds a lot more comfortable having seen his own loss of words on Jungkook’s tongue. He is handing him back the notebook, the older’s smile is almost as giddy as his when he first started his monologue.

“That sounds like bullshit to make me feel better.” He manages to joke with a grin.

“You should read it, the ending” Namjoon’s smile turns warm. He didn’t deny it. Sounds like, thinking the creator’s intentions are equal to the perception of the auciende, is bullshit after all. “It's kinda important.” There's humor in his voice and a pout forms on the younger’s lips.

“Well I liked to appreciate them one poem at a time!” He defends but it's harmless under Namjoon’s loving stare.

“You could have just recognized my handwriting, baby.” Jungkook’s face blushes in embarrassment.

“And take away all the mystery? No.”

Jungkook’s fingers are hurried and clumsy as he flips over the pages, at first eyeing the poems that had already plagued his mind for weeks. And as he continues forward finding more scribbles and poems, only recognizing a word or two before skipping until he reached the last pages. His heart threatened to beat its way out of Jungkook’s chest.

He is pretty sure he is on page 14 when he meets what he is looking for.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend).

Jungkook

His own name stares back at him as he prepares himself for what's next. But he can't find it in himself to feel afraid, not with the weight of Namjoon’s adoring eyes on him.

If you’ve reached this part is because you managed to read through this notebook and whatever I coax out of myself to write in it. I

If you reached this part, then it means you managed to get through all the ugly that I put in here, all my doubts and fears and sour thoughts, I displayed them to you.

Because you make me believe that all my ugly insides are worthy of love; that my entire self is somehow deserving of you. You make me want to show you my realest self.

So, I did. And even if it hasn’t happened I’m terrified of the thought already; no one has made me sink as deep as you, while simultaneously lifting me up higher than ever.

For some reason, I get the feeling I’m exaggerating, since you always find a way to love the unlovable parts of myself. But despite that, I want to give you something pretty, and worthy of love.

I used to be one of those whatever people

I didn’t believe in what real love is

I used to say habitually “I want to love”

But I found myself. The whole new myself.

I met you and did I realize that I’m a book

I want to be the best man for you

It's probably naturally because you are my world itself

You are my beginning and the end itself

I wanna become part of your bookcase

I wanna interfere in your novel as your lover.

What would it be like if I really went to you?

If I went to you, would you be sad?

If I am not the one, what would I be?

In the end, would you leave me too?

The wind wind wind that grazes me

I hope that isn’t just this.

My feelings are blue blue blue

My entire head is filled with blue

How much much much

How much much much you…

You’re my person

You’re my wind

You’re my pride

You’re my love

You’re my love.

Jungkook, I want to share my ugly and my pretty with you, I want to let you see me whole .

Would you move in with me?

“You...You didn’t just imagine me acting off sync.” Namjoon breaks the suffocating silence as Jungkook’s widened eyes leave the sixteenth page of the notebook. It looks like the older’s expression has softened, even if sadly. “I thought you had read it all and just...didn’t know how to reject me.” He smiles but it's gloomy eyes avoiding the younger, as if he had assumed this was a fact.

A little bit of Jungkook’s heart breaks at that.

A life shared with Namjoon, Namjoon who trusts Jungkook the deepest parts of his being, that trusts in Jungkook’s ability to love, to treat him delicately around ugly insides, and grounding against a weak trembling frame.

Like he looks right now, eyes nervous and strained on Jungkook as his hands fondle with each other shoulders raising and falling shakily with quivering breaths. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think twice.

Both his hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulders, making sure his entire attention is on him. Namjoon's lowered head perks up startled. “Joonie… I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out the way you intended.” He smiles apologetically and he lets his hands slide down Namjoon’s arms and onto his fiddling hands. “But it's not like it matters.” His tone it's relaxed but it doesn’t seem to calm Namjoon, not even with the stroking of his thumbs over the older's hand.

There's a question rising up the older’s throat but Jungkook doesn’t let it. “It doesn’t matter because... I want to move in with you.” He sees all the tension leave Namjoon’s expression into pure surprise, endearing enough that it coaxes a giggle out of Jungkook, tugging his bigger hands closer to him, kissing him softly; surprised to find Namjoon kissing back with what he can only imagine is all the pent up emotion from this week.

He doesn’t question it for long, he can never think all that much when Namjoon is kissing him.

“Where are you going? We already have everything.” Jungkook questions his boyfriend as he starts to exit their apartment door; which is currently filled with boxes they just brought back from Jungkook’s former dorm.

“I just have one more thing to get from my car.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and without any more explanation he leaves through the door. Leaving Jungkook by himself for the first time in this entire hectic day.

The apartment looks messy, or well, messier than usual; Namjoon always tried to be neat for his boyfriend’s sake, and succeeded a few times. Most times, Jungkook would find him covered in work and would offer to clean for him, claiming to be ‘trophy wife’ material. Its catastrophic now, covered in boxes, Jungkookisn’t a hoarder but Namjoon’s apartment is what one would politely call ‘cozy’. It's catastrophic, yet Jungkook can only feel his heart size up in excitement and giddiness; as if completely unaffected by the mess like he normally would.

It's just hard to focus on the mess, when every time he tries to he sees traces of himself in this apartment: in his box of old CDs that will go in a shared collection with Namjoon’s, or how his boyfriend indulged him by taking Jungkook’s energy crystals out of the moving box and into the spaces of the apartment here they belong (even when it's obvious he doesn’t believe in them for a second), or the way Namjoon got some of Jungkook’s photos printed out and framed so they can decide where to hang them sometime this week.

He’s only been living here for half a day, and Namjoon’s place is already his.

Well, to be fair, Namjoon has been his for a considerably longer amount of time. And that fact alone is enough to make Jungkook stand just the slightest bit taller than before.

Yes he is proud, sue him.

“Back.” Namjoon announces softly shutting the door, and taking out his snow soaked boots, with a hand suspiciously behind his back.

In a wave of confidence Jungkook can’t help the flirty smile as he walks over to his boyfriend. “Yes, back.” A hand settles over the short hairs of Namjoon’s nape, caressing softly. “What’s behind it?” He tilts his head to the side with a smile that tries to be seductive but only manages to be bright.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” Namjoon’s face splits into a grin staring down slightly to Jungkook; he isn’t that short! It's just… they’re so close.

“No you can not. I own this place and I’ll establish a customs directorate right at the doorstep.” His grin is wide, cocky almost with its jokes; hands still mindlessly playing with Namjoon’s hair with arms hooked over his shoulders.

“You own the place? Does that mean you’ll pay your share of the bill?” A raised eyebrow is all Jungkook needs for his facade to collapse.

“Nooo, I think you misheard me. I just said this is my boyfriend’s place? My super generous, compassionate and broken college student boyfriend, he is great.” If hsi tone sounds desperate he doesn't care, it makes Namjoon chuckle, and that's all that matters. “No customs. But please show me? Please?” Maybe he is whining, laying limp against Namjoon’s firm torso while he whines like a child.

But you can’t criticize him for it, when it works.

“You are impossible to resist, you know it's not fair.” He says rolling his eyes and shoving Jungkook off of him, with the hand that he has available. Once they're at a comfortable distance he reveals.

A potted Camellia.

“I bet that mean poet had you pretty bummed about not having one of these.” His tone is joking but soft, adoring as a pink tone spreads over his cheeks.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he nears Namjoon again, the potted plant being the only thing separating them. “He did.” He meets Namjoon’s hands helping hold the weight of the plant. Today, his hands are cold instead of Jungkook’s. “I’ll have to make him pay me somehow.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some way.” Namjoon mumbles but leaning over close enough that Jungkook understands. Placing a soft peck to his lips.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed, with a cut Camellia on a whiskey glass with water next to it. Both manifestations of how Namjoon is just as stupid and corny and in love as he is.

#namkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #fluff #established relationship #poetry fic #happy ending #misunderstandings

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