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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : the mandalorian and reader do some reading

warnings, etc. : language, mentions of sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline.

His helmet is still off.

And the room is completely illuminated by the sunrise.

He seems to sense your hesitancy and after some adjustment his face is concealed once more as you gaze up at him.

“Sorry sarad, I must have fallen asleep without it on.” His voice is gravelly and thick with sleep as he looks down at you. He’s acting like it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you accidentally saw.

It might very well be.

You know his creed is precious to him, even if he says he is an apostate. You don’t want him to break it just for you and end up regretting it later.

“I don’t want to see until I’m allowed to.” That doesn’t really make sense and you know it. “Will I ever be allowed to? How does that work?” He sits up as you speak, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’ll explain it another time, right now I need to get you back to your room before someone realizes you're gone.” He’s crawled to the edge of the bed and he’s already pulling his boots on.

Oh yeah.

It was easy to fall into a fantasy of staying here with him. For a moment there you had completely forgotten that you were married, and expected in other places. You stand looking for your dress as he attaches his armor.

“Don’t change yet, it’ll be easier to sneak you back in if you aren’t wearing a shimmery gown.” He’s so quick with it, in the time it takes you to even find your gown he’s completely done getting ready. “Do you have everything?” He turns to face you as he takes the dress from you and throws it over his arm.

Your eyes dart to the shelf.

Your knife is up there.

He chuckles when he catches your line of sight.

“Not gonna happen, princess. Let’s go.” He takes your hand and hastily drags you out of the cabin. In the morning light you can see what he had been carrying you over last night.

The cabin was built partially on top of the lake. It must be a pain having to carefully step over all of the water but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scoops you into his arms and looks to be contemplating something.

“Is your bedroom window unlocked?”

That’s an odd question. But you know it is, you’re several floors up so you never lock it.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.” You can hear a grin on his face.

He starts walking, not really caring if he steps into the water as he carries you towards the castle. Once you're through the gardens and past the forest trail he adjusts his cowl to cover your face. You rest your head against his chest as he makes his way towards what you assume to be the servant's entrance. But you never hear a door open, instead he leans down to whisper to you.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Is he about to take off his helmet in broad daylight?

You don’t get a chance to question it as you shut your eyes and you feel the cowl ripped from your face, there’s an unfamiliar rush of air against your skin and the sound of a click and a creak.

“You can open them now.” He whispers again, you aren’t sure what you expect to see when you open your eyes but it certainly isn’t him standing on the outside of your window sill, balancing you in his arms.

You know immediately that it’s a mistake as you look down and find yourself several stories off the ground.

“Maker! What is wrong with you!” You cling to him tighter but he simply laughs as he peels you off of him to set you inside.

“Sorry, hand me your clothes.” There’s a sudden urgency in his voice that keeps you from arguing, you strip to your undergarments and toss him the things you borrowed, he doesn’t hesitate to throw your dress onto the floor. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You’re left staring dumbfounded as he jumps off the ledge at the same moment your door swings open and Elaine’s voice fills the room.

“I’m telling you, we don’t have to knock, she isn’t here, we’ll just wait for h-“ She stops and stares at you with wide eyes and your face gets hot at the implications of her words.

“Good morning girls.” You stammer out as they both look surprised to see you.

“Apologies for not knocking my lady.” Elaine bows as she says it, cocking an eyebrow in your direction but you don’t give her a reaction as you simply walk to the mirror to be prepped.

They seem relieved that you don’t have anything to say and you’re relieved that Elaine doesn’t press further as they begin to dress you. The gown Lysa chooses for today is a soft gray color, the fabric shimmers in the light and it sort of reminds you of the Mandalorian’s armor.

Nobody seems to have anything to say to each other this morning but you truly don’t mind. In a few minutes you’ll get to see him again.

And things are okay now.

Right?

You’ve established a mutual want.

But what does that mean?

Shit.

You hadn’t really talked about that. But that shouldn’t matter, he had practically confessed his love, he had given you his name.

You need to talk about it.

But he never wants to talk about it.

This time has to be different though, things are good.

It has to be different.

You don’t even realize they’ve finished until Elaine clears her throat.

“Kriff, sorry, thank you girls, you’ve done wonderful work as always.” It’s true. As you look up at yourself in the mirror to take in another amazing job done by them. You can’t even tell that you were being carried through the forest less than an hour ago.

“Thank you, my lady, shoes?” Lysa holds up a pair of flats and you nod, taking a seat at the vanity and hiking your skirt up a bit.

Shit.

You’re still wearing his socks.

In your rush you must have forgotten about them.

She stares for only a moment, her eyes darting up to your face before she removes them, slipping on your flats. You can tell by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly that she sees the dirt on the soles of your feet from your barefoot walk in the gardens last night, but thankfully she says nothing. After a beat of silence you cough awkwardly.

“Thank you girls, that will be all.” They nod as they both take their leave. You give them time to make their way down the hall before you grab your journal and some pens, as you throw the door open he’s there just like always. He doesn’t look like someone who had flown you up to your window this morning, he looks exactly the same as always. There’s no sense in concealing the smile on your face as you stare at him.

“Library?” You ask as he nods, you begin your trek and he still stands behind you but closer than ever before, just a step or two back. “Can we talk today?”

“Of course, princess.” A wave of relief washes over you as he says it. This might be the first time he’s ever had a positive reaction to that question. You walk in a happy silence until you arrive. Today you do not hesitate to sit in the nook, no longer haunted by the memories of what’s transpired there.

He stands sort of bashfully, looking at you and then at a few chairs nearby.

This is why you need to talk.

It’s things like this, your relationship is so vaguely defined and in the cold light of day, just Din, doesn’t know where to sit.

You scootch over a bit and pat the space next to you.

“Sit with me?” You say softly to hopefully ease the anxiety that is apparent in his body language. He relaxes a bit as he takes a seat next to you, you fit like puzzle pieces, like the nook was made for the two of you to sit comfortably.

It’s an added bonus that it’s far enough into the shelves that you’ll hear anyone coming before they see you.

He leans back against the glass as you open your journal, uncapping a pen and lazily doodling. You can feel his gaze on the pages but you don’t mind.

“What did you want to talk about mesh’la?” He murmurs as he begins to trace his fingers along your back, drawing shapes into the fabric of your dress.

It shocks you a bit.

His blatant affection.

Nothing could have prepared you for him to act like this in the daylight.

Of course he had humored you in the markets, and when you had been “together” he had always been kind but now his voice had a certain devotion to it, and he touched you like he needed to do it to stay grounded.

He almost seems… clingy.

It makes your heart flutter.

“I guess I just wanted to talk about this,” You gesture at him with the pen. “us.”

He hums softly in agreement.

“Okay, what about us?” He tugs gently at one of the ribbons on your corset, not hard enough to pull it loose, just hard enough to grab your attention. You shoot a glare at him, there’s no actual fire behind it.

“I thought you said you’d be good?”

“And you said I could touch you a little.” As he says it you roll your eyes before turning back to your drawings. You’ve been sketching the same curved line. The hook of his nose you had felt last night. If he recognizes it he doesn’t say anything.

“Fine. What exactly are we?” He resumes his tracing as you say it, it feels like a juvenile question, it’s what you would always ask your boyfriends back on Hoth after a few weeks of screwing around, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“What was it you called me in the gardens? Your lover? I could be that if that’s what you’d like me to be.” His fingers have moved to your shoulders now, the shapes on your pages have turned into rough outlines of what you remember his jaw is shaped like.

Lover feels too impersonal.

This is more than that.

He certainly isn’t your boyfriend, can you even have a boyfriend? Afterall you already have a husband.

Would Din want to be your husband someday?

Could Din be your husband someday? Kodo certainly wouldn’t just let you leave, the trade deals your family so desperately needed would be useless if you did. Is it too soon to be thinking such a thing? You have only just truly become emotionally involved but also you’ve spent every waking moment with him for several weeks at this point. And you’ve had sex.

Maker, why does this have to be so confusing?

“Is there maybe a Mando’a word for what we are?” You turn to look at him again.

He starts to say something but then he stops, seemingly changing his mind.

“How about kar’ta?”

“Kar’ta? What’s that mean?” You like the way the word feels in your mouth. His knuckles are dragging against your arm now.

“It means heart. You would be my heart and I would be yours.” His voice is warm and it feels like you’re sinking into his touches.

His heart.

You like that.

“My Kar’ta.” You say, looking down at your drawings, you have several mixed and matched faces, none of which seem to look right, you hold them up for him to see. “Do any of these look correct?”

He points to the one of the bottom left, the eyes are lopsided.

“That ones the closest, other than the eyes, none of the eyes are right.” You sigh, you already knew he would say that.

“They never are.” You flip the page and start drawing pairs of eyes. You’re silent for a few minutes, he continues tracing shapes into your back and you continue drawing, you eventually realize he’s mimicking your sketches.

You know what you want to tell him. It’s a strange pivot in conversation but you need him to know.

Your next words force themselves from your mouth. “I don’t love Kodo, I don’t even like him.” His movements stop, only for a second before continuing.

“I would hope not, I don’t know if you noticed but he’s a bit of a monster.”

“I know, I just wanted to say it. I just- I mean, I don’t think of myself as married to him, it’s more a title than anything else.” You hesitate for a moment. “And we don’t have sex. In case you were wondering.” You haven’t thought about that fact in a while.

Someday Kodo will want heirs.

It makes you shudder a bit.

Maybe Din will get you out of here before that happens.

He senses the tension you’re suddenly plagued with and he switches to just rubbing gentle circles against your back.

“Okay.” He speaks so quietly now.

“I don’t ever want to have sex with him.” You whisper, mostly to yourself.

It had always been an inevitable thing. A duty you had to fulfill. But that was before you knew who he was. Before you knew you had married a monster. And that was before Din, before your kar’ta.

“You don’t have to. I promise.”His voice is soothing but it does nothing to put you at ease.

It’s a promise he can’t keep.

But you don’t want to linger on this any longer so you nod, much to your chagrin he senses your hesitancy as he sits up.

“Hey, I mean it. If he so much as touches you again, I swear it will be the last time.”

“You can’t guarantee that Din.” He’s taking your sketchbook from you, setting it aside before holding your hands in his.

“He isn’t going to touch you. Ever again. I never should have let him in the first place.” His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as he recalls the memory, you can’t help but frown.

“I’m glad you let him, you wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t.”

That makes him go quiet.

You both know you’re right, if he had laid a finger on Kodo he would at the very least have been fired. Worst case scenario he’d be dead.

“He won’t touch you again.” He sounds firmer this time. “I’m sworn to you. No one gets to touch you unless you want them to, not even me.”

You want to believe that he could stop Kodo. That he could stop all six of his battle droids. It’ll be easier if you just let yourself believe it.

So for now you do.

You drop his hands and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay.” You mumble.

“Okay.” He tilts his helmet slightly to rest against your head.

You reach around to grab your book back. Opening to the page with the eyes.

“Which ones are right?” You point around the page. He analyzes them for a bit before taking the pen again, scribbling until he’s drawn messy but identifiable eyes.

“Like this.”

His drawing is crude but the eyes are nice. You carefully tear the outline of them out before placing them over the other drawing he had pointed out.

It almost looks right.

It almost suits the person you know.

He lets you stay leaning on his shoulder so you don’t bother moving as you flip to an empty page. You think for a few moments on what to draw.

The tiny toothbrush.

You think of the sketch of mismatched parts you now have of him and what you’ve been able to feel out and you subconsciously start drawing a child.

You give him Din’s nose, and dark curls. You don’t bother trying to copy his eyes, opting to instead give the little boy wide dark eyes. You scribble out several different versions of the child you’ve made up as he watches silently.

Eventually you stop and just stare at the page full of little faces staring up at you.

Does this boy exist somewhere out there?

It sort of seems that way, when you look at all the pieces of Din that don’t seem to make sense. The toothbrush, he had mentioned a kid at one point but hadn’t said much about it and now you know that he willingly showed his face to someone. Was it his child? Why did he have to say goodbye to his own child?

Can you imagine Din being a father? When you think of how well he takes care of himself it makes you worry a bit for any child in his care but then you think of how well he takes care of you.

Selflessly.

He’s probably a good father. That must be where his protective nature comes from.

His laughter breaks you out of your trance and he points to one of the drawings, the boy in that one has the largest eyes, and the pupils take up nearly the entirety of them.

“You got his eyes right in that one.” He says as he chuckles.

“What?” You stammer out.

His eyes.

“I assume you’re trying to figure out who he is? None of these are even close, but those eyes, those are his.”

Of course he knew what you were doing, nothing got past him.

You wait for more but that’s all he gives you.

You can wait longer, until he’s ready to talk about it. Based on the way he sighs you think that moment might be right now but he says something else instead.

“I don’t think I’ve apologized yet for what I said. Truly apologize.” You close the journal on your own this time before setting it down.

He’s talking about what he said.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

He knows you haven’t simply forgotten about it. Afterall, how could you?

“It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I didn’t mean a word of it.”

You want to believe him terribly, but that nagging feeling in the back of your mind is persistent. A reminder that any moment he could decide to stop being Din, and go back to being nothing more than your shadow.

“Why did you say it then?”

You don’t want to have this conversation either. The last thing you want to do is relive those moments but you aren’t an idiot, your insecurities will eventually bubble up, it’s better to take care of this now before it grows into resentment. He’s leaning back again, out of your peripherals.

“I meant it, when I said that I ache.” Is he sitting like that so you can’t look at him? “None of what I’m about to say is a good enough reason to explain my actions, nothing ever could be. You control my every thought and decision, sarad. I suppose I just thought that it would be best if you hated me, that it would make the pain dull, instead it only served to make me realize that I cannot live without you.”

That’s one hell of a proclamation.

“You wanted me to hate you?” As you say it you feel Beskar rest against the back of your shoulder.

“For a while. It seemed like the least painful option. I deserved- deserve, your loathing. At first for feeling the way I did towards a married woman, a woman I was supposed to be protecting and instead was picturing naked.”

Hot. It’s hot in the library. It hasn’t been hot in the library for some time.

“And then I saw the two of you together. And I knew immediately that you did not feel an ounce of love for that thing you were forced to wed. At that point I simply needed you to hate me to soothe the ache that signified that you could never be mine.” He sighs, and there’s a moment of hesitation before you hear the hiss of air you’re becoming all too familiar with. You aren’t exactly sure what you expect, it definitely isn’t the feeling of several kisses being peppered along the curve of your shoulder but you certainly aren’t going to complain about it. “I did not know weakness before I met you, you have turned me from a man made of steel to one of glass.” His voice rings clear and unfiltered throughout the room.

He plants another kiss into your hair, there aren’t any traces of lust behind the action, just a pure adoration, he brushes a bit of your hair out of the way and for a moment you feel the bridge of his nose press against the back of your neck before he places one final, chaste kiss against your spine. When he speaks again his voice is modulated once more.

“I don’t want your forgiveness, I certainly haven’t earned it.” He finally leans forward so he’s back in your field of vision. “But I will. Someday I will be worthy of you, I promise.”

He already is. He always has been.

Will you ever get used to this? His genuine affections? It takes your breath away more than the sex did, the way he talks about you like you are not a woman, but a deity. The way he removes his helmet as if it doesn’t mean anything, just so he can feel you against his lips.

There’s no sense in telling him that’s all you needed to hear. You know him, he won’t accept that, he’s far too stubborn. So instead you opt to make things more lighthearted.

“How do you plan to make it up to me, my kar’ta?” As you say it you can visibly see some of the stress leave his body, thank the gods.

“I have plenty of ideas.” The way he says it makes your heart flutter and you nearly forget that he’s promised not to fuck you. “I was thinking I could take you to the library tomorrow.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t sort of kill your buzz, considering where you’re currently sitting but he senses your reluctance and chuckles. “The big one, in the city, cyar’ika.”

“Oh.” You can’t help but laugh along with him now. “You know, you’re getting better at talking, about the important stuff that is.” You give him a smile.

“It’s easier when you don’t look at me.” He says it a bit abashedly.

“Why is that?”

“Before you I never felt like someone could see my face. Yet everytime you look at me it’s like I’m not wearing a helmet at all, like you’re staring right at me.” He takes your hand and brings your fingers to the bottom of the helmet, tilting his head down slightly so you can feel his lips as he kisses the pads of your fingers before withdrawing them.

Maker.

Yeah, you’re never gonna get used to that.

Eventually he gets up to find some books, bringing you a mystery romance novel, you wouldn’t normally pick it for yourself but the cover art is interesting enough to draw you in, he appears to have some kind of maintenance guide on ship engines, you have no idea how he reads that kind of thing. As he hands you the books he motions for you to stand, when you do so he sits in the nook horizontally, with his feet up on the cushions, his back leaning against one of the surrounding shelves, motioning for you to sit between his legs.

You want to protest that it won’t be comfortable for him but your resolve simply isn’t strong enough to resist as you crawl between his thighs, your back resting against his chest as you hand his literature to him. The nook isn’t really built for two people to sit like this, it’s a bit cramped but you couldn’t be more comfortable, you want to make sure he’s okay with this position but he’s already got his book open, held in one outstretched hand so you simply open yours, placing it on your bent knees.

It’s surprisingly good. You’ve always had a preference for campy, over the top romance books. The sort of books with shirtless men riding horses on the front. The more ridiculous the better. But you’re completely absorbed by the story you find yourself in, gasping every so often at the reveals.

It’s shocking once you realize you’ve already made it to the last chapter, you had completely forgotten you were lying against Din until you turn and see that he must have finished his book at some point because now he’s reading yours over your shoulder.

“Can we finish this before I take you to get your dinner?” He mumbles, leaning forward slightly.

There is a peace to this situation that you’re sure you’ve never known.

This is the kind of life you could have with him.

You can’t seem to find the words to respond, and the lump in your throat won’t let you make something up so you nod, and you lean your head back against his chest and continue where you left off.

You like the ending. Much to your surprise the story ended happily, you had even teared up a bit when you realized everything was going to work out for the love interests. You might let him pick books for you more often, as long as he lets you find him something less boring to read. There has to be at least one exciting book about ships in here.

If there isn’t, you’ll find him one tomorrow when you go to the city library.

He sits up, which of course means you also sit up. He lets you stand first, your legs are stiff from being in the same position for hours but you find your footing quickly. He seems to be having no issues as he’s putting the books back.

You’re waiting for him to take your hand so you can fetch dinner, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, when it hits you, you feel like an idiot.

He isn’t going to take your hand.

Because you’re leaving the library and someone could see.

You plaster on a strained smile before leaving, thankfully he says nothing about your hesitation as you begin walking towards the kitchens.

Leo is of course waiting for you by the entrance. (You’ve come to accept that he’s simply everywhere at this point.) And you do the same thing you always do, he asks what you’d like to eat, you tell him whatever they’ve cooked, he insists you can request anything you’d like, you insist you’d like what they’ve cooked.

The only difference this time is that you ask for seconds.

He disappears in a huff before swiftly returning with several sealed dishes, as always he hands them to Mando and not you.

✩

The two of you return to your chambers and when he steps inside you lock the door behind you.

“Sit.” You say it as sternly as possible. Like it’s an order. He sets the food on the floor before sitting with his legs crossed next to it. “You’re gonna eat, this is non-negotiable.”

He immediately begins to protest but you shush him.

“You don’t need to feed me anymore. I can take care of myself.” He starts trying to stand but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders and push him back down.

“Clearly not, you didn’t eat once today, I’m sure of it.” You frown down at him.

“Neither did you.”

“That's because I was watching you! And now to make up for it I’m going to eat real food, not ration packs.”

He doesn’t budge, still staring at you blankly.

“Listen… if you do this, I’ll reward you.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively.

You hadn’t really planned to give in so soon but you’re only human, he had gotten you pretty fired up in the library today whether that was his intention or not.

And you certainly aren’t going to say it, but you miss being with him in that way.

“Are you trying to bribe me with sex?” The disbelief in his voice is apparent, you ignore it, dividing up the food, making sure his portion is considerably larger, they always give you too much food anyway.

“Is it working?” You set the plate in front of him, batting your eyelashes innocently. He coughs nervously, leaning back.

“No. I don’t want sex to be a currency with you, I want you to want it.” His voice is strained and you can’t help but smirk.

“That’s a shame, because you’re going to eat either way.” You stand, walking so you're behind him, sitting back to back, your plate in your lap.

“That’s a wild assumption, princess.” His voice is still modulated so you know he hasn’t made any attempts to listen.

“I thought you were trying to earn my forgiveness?” That shuts him up. He grumbles for a few moments before you hear a hiss and a clunk as he sets his helmet on the floor. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sound so smug, you can only use that reason so many times before I stop giving in.” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, it makes you grin.

“Speaking of your road to redemption, can I ask you any questions I want now?” You swallow a bite as you say it.

“Sure, I’m not going to guarantee an answer, but sure.”

“What was on the flower, the one I gave you for your birthday?” He groans the moment you ask it.

“Please don’t make me say it, I know you know.” He sounds terribly embarrassed but you’re simply furrowing your brow in confusion. Are you supposed to know? You think on it for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully before your eyes go wide.

“Was that a piece of my nightie that you ripped the first time we-“

“Yes.”

Your face couldn’t possibly get any redder and your smile couldn’t possibly get any wider.

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” You can’t help but tease, he’s so rarely flustered in lighthearted moments like this.

“There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.” You hum softly at his response. “I’d like it if you did know them.” He always has to have the upperhand, he can never just let you tease him without leaving you breathless.

“I’d like to know everything.”

“I’d tell you everything.” He sounds so sincere.

But he doesn’t sound ready.

“When you really want to.”

He’s quiet, briefly, and then he reaches back to set his empty plate down next to you, you aren’t even halfway done with yours. You turn around as he stands, you didn’t hear him put his helmet back on but there it is.

“It’s late princess, I need to go home.”

There’s undeniably disappointment on your face as you stand, following him to the door.

“You don’t want to stay? I’m pretty sure I owe you a reward.” You give him a hopeful smile and his glove covers your eyes, your heart is racing.

There’s that wonderful hiss of air. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world.

You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.

And then you feel a soft kiss on your forehead.

In an instant the glove is gone and the helmet is back in place as if it had never moved.

“Good night, sarad’ika.” You feel ridiculous as you pout at him.

“You can’t be serious.”

He chuckles as he opens the door.

“Are you really going to turn me down?” You reach past him to try and close it again but he holds it open, still laughing.

“Yes, I am. Tonight I am.” He’s got one foot out the door now.

“Din… I’m giving you permission, I swear, it’s fine.”

“I’m afraid it’s not gonna happen tonight, cyare”

For Maker’s sake you’re practically begging him.

“Then when?” As you ask he leans forward, just a tiny bit.

“When you really want to.”

And just like that he’s leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Cocky bastard.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 7 months

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The Princess and the Duke: Chapter 3 Eye of The Storm

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: SA mention/implied, Dave gets violent with the SA'er, alcohol, past SA, trauma, women having to take precautions because of men's shitty behaviour, drinking, male masturbation, sex work, cam work, let me know if I missed anything.

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Word count: 4.2k~

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The next few weeks pass without incident, your mom seems to take a break from her current fling. That, or she’s getting better at hiding it.

But you’ve decided it’s none of your business anyway. You’ve set up your room to block the light better, re-arranged a few bits of furniture, and ditched the sad beige sheets for black and purple satin ones.

You’re almost certain Dave caught you looking at him the other day when he was swimming. Fucking yourself to the thought of him in the shower became a regular occurrence after that. You hated yourself a little for it, but at the end of the day, light masturbation over a fantasy couldn’t hurt anyone, right?

You shake it off as you prep for your stream, your new cream and gold masquerade mask in position as you sit in a gold silk robe and black lace panties. You log in to your Cam Dolls account and start up the test footage lobby.

You nod to yourself as you flop down onto the bed, testing out the angles as you lay on the bed with a sweet smile on your face. You practice a few poses, making sure your face is nice and concealed with the new mask before resettling into your office chair.

You check your inbox, grateful for the automatic filtering of images the site provides. You have the option to click through to view any image that comes in, but the default blur protects you from what you can only estimate have been thousands of dick pics men have sent over the years.

DukeSilver09 sent you a photo.

The notification shows up mere seconds before you’re due to start streaming, but on some strange whim you open it, almost hoping to see what your most generous patron is packing. He’d recently removed the anonymous flag from his username and when you had looked back through the transaction logs, you’d almost fallen off your chair at the lifetime tip total.

You click the image and there’s a strange warmth in your chest as you see the beautifully captured photograph of a single flower in a vase. A lily. Pink hues bleeding through the centre of the white petals, orange anthers almost luminous in the evening light.

You look up to see you’re already overdue to start. You yelp softly to yourself as you hit the space bar, starting the stream.

~*~

Dave hopes Luna likes lilies, he’d seen the bouquet at a local florist, purchasing it on a whim as he thought about how much your mom might like it. He was really trying, especially since she’d clearly taken a break from Bryce.

But your mom was in one of her usual moods, punishing Dave for her mistakes, for the fact she wouldn’t be able to see Bryce for some time. So, the flowers had gone unnoticed, or actively ignored, so naturally, his thoughts drifted back to Luna.

Because if they didn’t drift to her, it would be you he’d be thinking of, and he can’t let those thoughts take root. He had taken a photo of the single stem, choosing the prettiest of them all, and snapped away for over an hour until he got the perfect shot.

As long as the job goes well tomorrow, he’ll be home by dinnertime. He wonders absently if you’ll be home, you’d been texting frequently throughout the business trip, and he justifies it by telling himself he’s just trying to be a good stepdad.

“Hey there Daddy, you miss me?”

Dave’s mind goes blank as he discards all thoughts about his life at home as he reclines on his bed in his hotel room in Tbilisi. Luna has recently started calling her viewers Daddy and it nearly gave Dave an aneurism the first time he heard it. She’s dressed in Dave’s favourite set, the black lacey thong and matching bra with peekaboo slits. Her nipples are already stiff and inviting.

“You bet I did baby.”

Dave hums under his breath as he pulls his dick out of his sweatpants, it’s too hot and he wishes he were nude, but after the incident in Borneo he vowed to never sleep commando on a mission again.

“I’m missing you so much,” She says with a soft coo as she pouts at the camera, “Haven’t gotten laid in weeks, and these toys just don’t cut it. Might put on a slutty red dress and try my luck this weekend.”

Dave watches in reverence as Luna goes through her new routine, with a generous sprinkling of Daddy added in for effect. He comes hard over his fingers and abs, breathing heavily as he hears Princess Luna come undone as well. A name falls from his lips without thinking, your name, but it’s not until he’s coming down from his high the realisation hits him.

He’s thinking less and less about Princess Luna when he watches her, and more and more about you.

~*~

It’s been a week since Dave got home, and he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. Your mother keeps nagging you about getting a job, or maybe even re-applying for the bar. She assures you lawyers get better pay in Texas due to the cost of living being so much lower than somewhere like New York.

But you’re just not interested.

A notification comes up on your phone as you’re sprawled out on your bed, covered in just a hoodie and yoga pants.

Dave: Have you seen my USMC hoodie?

You look down at the olive-green article of clothing swamping your upper half as you smile. The USMC logo faded and worn, but still very visible as it stretches across your breasts, and you chuckle to yourself. It still smells like him, even though you stole it weeks ago, before his business trip to the Middle East. You should feel guilty, you should wash it and put it back where you found it, but you don’t want to.

You: Not seen it, sorry old man.

Dave: Dammit woman, relent with the “Old Man” shit.

You smile to yourself as you know he’s been watching Parks and Rec, the tongue-in-cheek use of “Dammit woman” something he’s picked up from Ron Swanson.

You: Never, also, I have a bone to pick with you.

Dave: Oh?

You: The Last of Us is fucking sad, I gave you a light-hearted, whimsical series about friendship and joy. I just cried my fucking heart out over Bill and Frank.

Dave: You started watching it without me?

You scoff, as if he has any right to be annoyed at you after the cold shoulder, he’s been giving you.

You: Not my fault you’ve been avoiding me.

You hit send and instantly regret it. Fear pools in your stomach as you consider un-sending it before he can read it. But you’re out of luck, the double blue tick under the message tells you there’s no going back. He types for a few seconds, the ripple of three dots flashing once, then stopping, then flashing again until he stops typing completely.

“Shit.”

You grumble to yourself before throwing your phone to the foot of the bed. You lie back, exhaling through your nose as you try to devise the best way to walk this back. Your text tone pings, and you scramble to the edge of the bed to read it.

Ashleigh: You still on for tonight babe?

You groan at the prospect of going out, but maybe it’s what you need, to get away from Dave. To clear your head. Maybe you’ll even bring someone home.

~*~

Dave doesn’t see you, nor hear from you for the rest of the day. He checks his emails, watches some more of Parks and Rec, then works out. He pushes himself to overexertion, trying to burn the feelings away through sore muscles and the inevitable endorphin rush.

He heads up the stairs, fresh out of the shower, in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a white short-sleeve Henley. Water droplets bead in his hair as he lets it air dry. He grabs a beer from the fridge and sits at the breakfast island to scroll through the news on his phone. International news was surprisingly quiet on his recent job, which both relieved him and made him a little bitter at the lack of infamous, anonymous, acclaim he so often basked in after a job.

“Hey mom, I’m heading out, Ashleigh’s here!”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice and he curses the way his body reacts to it. Dave takes a steadying breath as he hears you coming down the stairs, your steps are slower, more purposeful than your normal hurried stomping. Dave hates that he can tell something is up just from hearing your footsteps. He convinces himself it’s because of his line of work, but he knows it’s not that.

“Oh, hey Dave, found your hoodie.”

Your voice sends shivers down his spine as he looks up from his phone. His nostrils flare and his mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara. The red dress is impossibly tight, showing off every dip, curve, and swell of your body. A small silver clutch in one hand and a very familiar looking green hoodie in the other. Your heels are so tall he can barely understand how you are able walk in them, which explains the change in your gait.

“Hey, thanks.”

He nods curtly before taking a swig of his beer, his eyes flicking straight back to the news on his phone. He has to look away, he’s already at half-mast and the guilt that gnaws at his stomach is already too much to bear.

“Jesus Dave, lighten up, it’s Friday night.”

You sigh before throwing the hoodie over the stool opposite him. You both turn to look towards the front door as Ashleigh blares her horn.

“Have a good night,” Dave murmurs your name as he rakes his eyes over you once more, he sees the way you look at him, devouring his domesticity as he consumes your purposeful display of raw sexuality in turn. He doesn’t understand you and that pisses him off. It’s his job to read people, to know them, and yet here you are, making him feel more nervous than he has done in decades.

“Sure, you too, Duke.”

Dave’s blood runs cold as he chokes on his beer. You give him a confused look as Ashleigh blares her horn again.

“Duke, like Duke Silver from Parks and Rec? Fuck, I’ll remember not to crack wise at you again.”

Before Dave can answer you’re gone, slamming the front door, which in turn makes your mother yell after you. He groans as he drops his head into his hands. His dick aches as he adjusts himself in his sweats before finishing his beer. He heads to the fridge, grabs the rest of the six pack before scooping up his hoodie.

He almost comes in his pants as he pulls it over his head. All he can smell is you. That coconut body wash you get imported from the UK, your caffeine shampoo that smells like black pepper and pine, and something he’s never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Your natural scent, like nothing he has ever known. Sweet, but musky. Soft, but tinged with perspiration. It’s intoxicating and cloying, he feels like he’s being smothered to death but making no attempt to stop it.

“I’m going to hell for this.”

~*~

You don’t know where it all went wrong.

You’re sat on the wet, filthy tiles of Tristan – the guy you went home with because you thought might have been a good lay – and his housemates’ bathroom. Mascara tracks down your cheeks and you think your nose is broken, blood drips onto the floor between your legs as you sob into the palm clamped over your mouth.

“Open the fucking door.”

Tristan’s nasally voice barks as he slams his body against the flimsy barrier between you. Your dress is torn, you don’t know where one of your shoes is, and you’re fumbling with your phone to try and get hold of Ashleigh. But every time it goes to voicemail. You grind your teeth together in frustration as you swallow your pride and call Dave.

It rings twice before he declines the call. Your heart clenches tightly in your chest as more tears spring forth. You try again, and again, and on the fourth attempt he finally picks up.

“What?”

He barks down the phone, and you let out another hiccupping sob at his tone. You pull your phone away from your face ready to hang up but as your finger trembles over the red “End Call” button you hear his voice again.

“Hey? Hey, what’s going on?”

His voice immediately softening as he hears your distress.

“Dave I-,” You sob again, “I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you?”

You reel off the address, inwardly praising yourself for making sure to jot it down on your notes app when you decided to go home with this asshole. Unfortunately, it isn’t the first time you’ve had to get someone to help after a one-night stand has gone wrong. You thought you’d learned from your mistakes, but if that were the case you wouldn’t be here right now.

“Maps says it’ll take me fifteen minutes, think you can hold on for that long sweetheart?”

“I think so.”

“Want me to stay on the line?”

“I don’t have much battery left, but yes, please.”

“So, want to talk about what happened?”

“Sure,” You take a steadying breath, grateful for the distraction, “Was having a great night, Ashleigh found someone to go home with, nice looking girl too.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you?” You hear the Mustang roar to life in the background as a car door slams.

“My guy was nice looking, not so nice when it came to fully informed, enthusiastic consent.” You laugh bitterly as your toes curl in discomfort. There’s silence on the other end for a few seconds and you have to check your phone hadn’t died.

“This fucker hurt you?”

Dave’s tone is impossibly dark, menacing even as you try not to think about how much that turns you on.

“No, but I think I broke my nose when I headbutted him.”

Dave laughs at that; a soft exhale and you feel like he approves of your ill-gotten injury.

“You make the fucker squeal?”

“Something like that,” You laugh, finding Dave’s voice soothing as you hear the engine snarling in the background as Dave races through the streets of Austin, “I’m sorry Dave, sorry about being such an ass.”

“Enough of that, I’m not far now, hang on baby, I’ve got you.”

Baby.

The pet name shouldn’t get you so hot and bothered, but it does, despite sitting in some shit-head’s bathroom, his blood and your own smeared on your lips and your eyes raw from crying. Despite everything, you’d give anything to hear him call you that again.

“Dave it’s been like ten minutes at most, how?”

“Ran a few red lights, might be speeding a little, doesn’t matter.”

“Dave, don’t do anything stupid for me.”

“I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Your name spills from his lips and you finally let go. Tears stream down your cheeks as you finally admit to yourself that you like Dave way more than you should. All you want is to be wrapped up in his arms as he just holds you.

“Ok I’m out-.” The line goes dead, and you look down to see a blank screen.

~*~

Dave sprints up the stairs, pistol tucked into the back of his sweatpants as his breath comes in short, aggressive bursts. Logically he knows it’s just that your phone died, but the moment the line went dead something inside him snapped.

He composes himself as he reaches the apartment door. He can hear multiple male voices on the other side and his jaw ticks to the side as he tries to control his rage. He knocks gently and waits for the door to swing open. A broad, blonde-haired, blue-eyed asshole appears as the smell of cheap cigarettes and booze rolls over the threshold. Dave smirks at the state of the larger man’s face, his right eye is swollen, and his nose plugged with tissue.

“Hey there, which one of you fine gentlemen is Tristan?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That doesn’t matter, all that matters is you’re going to let me in, show me where your bathroom is, and I’m going to take the woman hiding in there home, understood?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, get lost.”

Tristan tries to slam the door in Dave’s face, but he anticipated this. He slams his palm against the flimsy door before shoving with all his might. Tristan is caught off guard and stumbles back into the apartment.

“I’m so glad you decided to be a prick.”

Dave’s smile doesn’t leave his face as Tristan comes at him swinging but unlike Tristan, Dave is sober. He ducks under the blow with ease, he jabs Tristan twice in the side, precise strikes to the kidney and liver. Tristan makes a sound like a wounded animal as he thrashes around.

Dave dances around the lumbering oaf – toying with his prey – loving the thrill of dominating such a bigger man with just good footwork and keen reflexes. It makes his blood sing in his veins; his smile is so wide it burns his cheeks with exertion. He could do this for hours.

He lets Tristan flail for a bit longer, but the joy quickly fades as Dave remembers why he’s here. He cracks a swift uppercut to the asshole’s jaw to finish him off. Tristan crumples like a sack of shit and Dave flexes his hand, working out the pain from the impact.

The other two spring up off the couch and before they can cross the distance Dave has his gun pointed at Tristan’s head.

“Either of you touch the girl?”

Dave barks as he cocks the hammer back in a warning. Both men shake their heads, holding their palms up in surrender as Dave nods slowly.

“Good, now I’m going to get the girl and take her home. I’m a federal agent, so if you two shit heads or this one,” Dave gestures with his gun at the unconscious lump on the floor, “Come after her, or try and report this to law enforcement, I will come back, and I won’t be as merciful.”

Dave stalks through the apartment, calling out your name and the moment he hears your voice it’s as if nothing else matters. He makes a beeline for the only closed door in the apartment and knocks gently. The door opens and his heart seems like it stops as he takes you in.

Your dress is ripped, there’s so much blood on your bare skin, your eyes are puffy, and your make-up is smeared all over your face.

“Let’s get you home.”

Dave scoops you up into his arms and he carries you out of the shitty apartment, you don’t miss the way his lips brush against the crown of your head as you bury your face into his chest.

~*~

Your mom is asleep – or more accurately, passed out – by the time you and Dave return home. Dave tries to take you upstairs, to your room, but you protest meekly.

“No,” You breathe as you fist your hands in Dave’s blood-stained hoodie, “Don’t want to be alone, can we go downstairs?”

“Whatever you need.” Dave responds, his voice barely more than a whisper as he lowers you down. You test your balance and the moment you can stand you pull away from Dave. You’re embarrassed, you’re almost thirty years old and you’ve just relived one of many horrific moments in your life that you swore you would never let happen again.

Worst of all, you got Dave mixed up in it.

“I’m just going to lock up, head on down, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

There’s a brief pause where your eyes meet, and you know he didn’t mean it that way but the look on his face tells you he realises how it sounded. He coughs awkwardly and turns towards the kitchen. Your eyes widen as you see the gun tucked into his sweatpants, the hem of his hoodie caught up around the handle, exposing the piece to you with mother of pearl grips glinting as he walks.

You stumble downstairs into the basement and make your way into Dave’s room. His PC is on, but you don’t notice the Cam Dolls website open as you stumble into the ensuite, if you were in any other state of mind, you probably would have.

You strip off, your damaged dress practically coming undone at the seams. You spend what feels like hours under the hot water, lathering Dave’s shower gel over your body. You wrap yourself in his scent and wash it off. Only to repeat the process again and again as you try and wash the touch of your assailant from your skin. Eventually you give up, the intrusive thoughts muted as much as you can hope for as you wrap yourself up in one of the fluffy grey towels on the shelf.

You step out into his bedroom to see a grey US Navy t-shirt, a pair of black sweatpants and your baby blue moccasin-style slippers in a neat pile on the end of Dave’s bed. The bedroom door is closed, and you quickly slip into the clothes left for you. The PC monitor is now off, but you’re not paying much attention to your surroundings anyway.

You head into the basement to see Dave sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together as his strong chin rests atop them. He’s lost deep in thought as you approach. You seem to startle him as you sit down next to him. He turns to look at you with a vacant stare.

You can’t help but drink him in, his plush lips part softly, his dark eyes swimming with emotion as he looks you over. You want to straddle his hips, kiss him, and lose yourself in him, just like with his body wash. You want him to make you forget, you want him to comfort you.

But most of all, you just want him.

“Hey.” You say softly as you search his dark eyes for any indication of what he’s thinking.

“Hey.”

“I think I just popped my nose, doesn’t seem broken.” You say as you scrunch up your face and wiggle your nose, only wincing slightly at the stab of pain the action brings.

“Good.” Is all Dave can muster as he feels his heart break at the sight of you. You’re forlorn, lost, vulnerable. He laments that your usual sass and barbed tongue are ostensibly muted.

He feels responsible somehow, maybe if he’d not been so wrapped up in his own internal struggle, he would have gotten you to stay in, watch tv together. Do anything else but let you go out and let someone hurt you.

“Dave?”

His head snaps up as he realises that he’s been spiralling.

“What? What can I do?”

“I don’t want to be weird,” You take a deep breath as you try and muster the courage to ask for what you need, but you fumble, “But could we put something on the TV?”

“Of course.” Dave answers almost without thinking but he can’t understand your hesitancy.

“Cool, cool,” You nod quickly before you just let go and ask for what you want, “Shit, no, that’s not what I wanted to ask. Can you- can you hold me?”

Dave’s brain almost short circuits as he replays the words over in his mind like a broken record. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times before you chicken out. You feel the sting of rejection constrict tightly in your chest and you feel the tears burning in your eyes as you realise how fucked up you must sound.

“Sorry, forget it, I’m just drunk,” You lie, “I think I should just head to bed.”

You move to get up but the press of Dave’s broad hand on your thigh stops you in your tracks. You look up to see longing in Dave’s eyes as he gives you a soft, vulnerable smile.

“Come here.”

Dave removes his hand from your leg as he leans back, spreading his arms wide, an invitation.

You take a shaky breath, and do as you’re told. You scoot closer to him, pulling your feet underneath you as you lean into his chest. You let out a soft hum as his one arm moves from around the back of the sofa to curl around you. His other hand falls to your knee, squeezing gently as you press into him. He removes his hand from your knee for a brief moment to start the next episode of Parks and Rec.

You both know it’s wrong, that this is crossing a line and coming back from this would be difficult, if not impossible. But neither of you can bring yourselves to stop, not now, and maybe not ever.

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fremioneshufflepuff · 2 months

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Paper Rings

Authors note: Not proof read, we just vibin. Reblogs are appreciated!! Asks are always welcome with the fic and in general ☺️☺️

Word Count: 1,515

Warnings: None! Unless you want to count Hermione worrying but it’s not like major

Ch 2

Fred was going about his day as usual when he got the feeling he should send an owl. To whom, well that was escaping him at the moment but he figured that once he got quill to parchment he would figure it out. “It’s only the second day of break, I shouldn’t be writing to anyone yet.” he says under his breath, as Ginny walks past him in the yard. “Were you talking to me Fred?” “No Gin. Sorry.” “Ok! I’m gonna have a fly around the yard and then probably go to Luna’s for a bit in case anyone asks.” she replies as she opens the broom shed.

Fred stops and watches as she mounts the broom, soaring up into the air. When did she get that good? He thinks to himself as she goes into a dive that would rival one of Charlie’s on a good day and pulls up right at the last minute. He whoops and whistles, giving her a thumbs up as she smiles. He heads back inside and up to his room to write a letter to the mysterious person plaguing his brain.

He found a spare piece of parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill on the floor and sat down on his bed cross legged, mindlessly chewing on the top of the quill. Sadly not of the sugar variety, but given where he found it, that was probably for the best. He sat like that for a while until it struck him. Hermione. That’s who’s been on his mind lately. Not that he would admit to anyone but he’s pretty sure he’s fancied her since he heard she punched Malfoy in the face.

“Merlin’s beard. What has gotten into me? Writing to Hermione Granger of all people?” He asks to the empty room. George was in town trying to woo over the girl at the shop, for some reason even though he knew that his twin fancied Angelina.

He stared at the parchment for what felt like forever trying to figure out what to write. He figured it best to not think but just write whatever came to mind.

Hermione,

You might be wondering why I’m writing to you of all people, and not to another friend of mine, and honestly I’m not sure why, but I thought I should because my gut is saying that you need a friend besides Harry and my git of a brother. Don’t get me wrong, Ron is usually good, but sometimes he doesn’t really understand I don’t think.

Anyways, I know its only the second day of break, but hopefully I hear from you soon and we can maybe talk some more and get to know each other better. I think it’s going to be an interesting summer holiday.

Fred

He read and re-read the letter, and decided it was good enough to send. He figured it didn’t need to be a novel, just something to give reason as to why he was writing, and he didn’t care for spelling or grammar at this point, not until they started writing more. If that even happened, maybe Hermione would just toss his letter in the bin and not give him the time of day or maybe she would read his letter and respond and a friendship could flourish and maybe just maybe it could be something more.

”Mum, can I use Errol to send a letter?” He asked, heading downstairs into the living room, where Molly was on the couch knitting. “Yes dear. Just make sure he’s awake.” she replies without looking up from her needles.

Fred makes his way to the kitchen window where the bird perch stood, Errol preening his feathers. “Hey. You up to making a trip to Hermione?” He whispers, not needing his mum hearing him. Errol blinks and clicks his beak in response, sticking out his leg, balancing on the perch as Fred tied the letter to his leg.

Errol waited patiently until he felt a finger run down a wing, Freds way of saying he was good to go and set off to his destination, as Fred watched him disappear from sight, hoping in his heart that this girl wouldn't reject him.

Hermione was curled up on her bed, reading her copy of Death on the Nile when she heard a tapping on the window. She looked up and saw the owl she had sent to McGonagall. She grabbed a spare receipt and placed it in between the pages, closing the book and going across her room to open the window. The owl perched on the sill, as she untied the letter, giving the owl a treat from the jar she kept on her desk. It hooted in response and flew off.

She carefully opened the letter and read the response that McGonagall sent. She was able to help, and Flitwick would assist, the both of them swearing not to tell anyone, and that she need not respond, as they needed time to research how to go about this. Hermione grinned knowing that her plan was able to happen even though she really didn’t want it to.

It wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that she heard another tap on her window. She went to her room, and found Errol outside her window. She quickly let him in, and he ungracefully flopped onto her desk. “Errol!” She exclaimed, carefully lifting him up, as he clicked his beak, settling on the desk. He softly hooted, as she untied the letter, taking it with her to her bed.

She flipped it over to see who it was from, and saw that there wasn’t a name on the envelope. She was curious to know who this was from, as the only person who would write to her from the Burrow was Ron and she usually had to write to him first.

She carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the parchment that was inside. Fred. Fred Weasley, the boy she had fancied just a little since her second year when he confronted Malfoy for calling her a mudblood, had written to her. She squeaked, startling Crookshanks who was curled in the middle of her bed. “Sorry Crookshanks.” She says as the cat walked out of the room with his tail in the air.

She sat down and read the letter, smiling slightly at Fred’s words. He thought she needed a friend besides Harry and Ron, which all things considered was true. He wanted to be her friend! “He wants to be my friend!” She squeaks again, covering her face with her hands. “Get it together Hermione. It’s Fred. He’s your friend's older brother. He’s just being friendly.” She says again, as her heart rate went back to a steady pulse.

She grabbed a spare piece of notebook paper and a pen and started writing.

Fred,

Thank you for the letter! It was a nice surprise given everything that’s happened recently. I wouldn’t mind having another friend honestly. Harry and Ron are great, but sometimes I think they get tired of me. Well Ron more than Harry but I can tell when I’m rambling about muggle things too much. Harry usually gives me a look, not that he’s being rude or anything but he can read body language very well and I sometimes struggle with that.

I also wrote a letter, to McGonagall, to get some help with something I want to do. I can’t tell you what it is just yet, but you’ll know when it happens. My mum and dad are worried about me, and I didn’t tell them anything that happened this year. I can’t without being told I can’t go back, and I need to go back. I need to learn and help Harry.

I really hope that we can be friends and that we are able to write this summer. I think I might be coming to stay with you all earlier than normal if my plans fall into place. I’m trying not to think too far ahead, but sometimes my brain just can’t stop. It’s gotten to the point that I am sometimes awake for hours at night, just staring at my ceiling wondering what’s going to happen to the wizarding world now that You Know Who is back.

Oh… I’m rambling, you don’t want to hear all my worries. I’ll stop with that now. I hope you write back soon if you can and if not I’ll see you soon.

Hermione.

She scanned over the letter, and tied it to Errol’s leg with a bit of string from Fred’s letter, and watched as the slightly bedraggled owl set off into the night. She closed her window, padding across her room to her bed, throwing back the covers, and grabbing her book so she could read before she called it a night.

It wasn’t until she heard a knock on her door and her dads muffled voice on the other side telling her to turn out her light that she finally went to sleep, a smiling red-headed boy in her dreams.

#fred weasley #fremione #hermione granger #k writes #paper rings #fremione fanfic

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morganee · 1 year

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It's a world where people are only able to see in black and white until they find their soulmate. Everyone's worried about it, but Mike is completely chill.

Static Re-connection by IllogicalFallacy (@illogical-fallacy) (62k, complete)

AND - H E R E - I - T H O U G H T - U ‘ D - F O R G E T - M E N E V E R N E V E R - E V E R - ? N E V E R - E V E R He thought about the way Will had looked at him all those years ago, lying in the hospital bed, eyes not his own. Even through the fog of possession, something behind Will’s gaze had clicked and recognized Mike for who he was. Even without anything else left, Will had still remembered the connection he had to his mom - and... to Mike. His trembling fingers hesitated for an infinite moment, before typing faster than his brain could hope to process, P R M S E - ? Y E S A miles-apart, oblivious mutual pining, emotional summer vacation disaster-fest starring Mike, Will, and one incredibly unreliable radio connection.

must be a devil between us by els bloody rollerskate (@super-nova5045) (37k, ongoing)

Don’t assume that because every gate was closed by your telekinetic girlfriend before the world split in two everything will be okay. Your best friend might become a new target of this monster four months later on summer camp and be in grave danger. Or do. He’ll have to die. Ever since November 1983, when Will Byers went missing, shit has just gone downhill for Hawkins, tragedy after tragedy afflicting a once peaceful town. For the first time ever, Mike Wheeler, is at peace – he’s going to Camp Hero in the summer of ’86, where the high-schoolers of Hawkins bond for a summer of “totally rad, epic fun”. The only thing that could possibly spoil it? His best friend, Will, happens to be attending camp too, as well as his girlfriend El – the two people Mike was trying to avoid; the sheer level of awkward tension between them driving him insane. Mike’s trying his best to ignore Will and even worse, ignore the feelings for Will he tried to repress, too. However, when his assumed-dead dungeon master, Eddie Munson, steps foot on Camp Hero on one midsummer night, Mike knows he must get over his tension with Will and El and reunite his friends to destroy Vecna, once and for all.

A Hope to Cling To by midnighteverlark (18k, complete)

While talking to Will in the shed, trying to break through the Mind Flayer's control, Mike starts thinking about what he would do if Will gave up, and completely unintentionally blurts, "I love you." Mike's existential crisis follows. Meanwhile, Will uses the words as his anchor, holding onto this glimmer of hope with all his might as he struggles to hang on against the Mind Flayer. Basically, a more Mike/Will-centric version of episodes 8 and 9 and the time beyond, with a good dose of of grit and Serious Stuff but also plenty of happiness and some fluff to come. (I mean, come on - Will is a gay kid in the 80s who just craves love and acceptance, and he deserves A Break. Mike is just realizing he's bisexual and he needs some love and acceptance and A Break too.)

king of my heart by bookinit (@bookinit02) (21k, complete)

Will finds himself wondering, sometimes, if his mark matches Mike’s. He thinks it must, really—he can’t imagine wanting to spend the rest of his life with anyone else. Mike’s cool and strong and brave and funny. His hair flops down over his forehead and his eyes bore into Will’s soul, always so steadily intense. He doesn’t cry when he scrapes his knee. Instead, he just gets back up. Will thinks that if Mike isn’t his soulmate, something is seriously wrong with the world.

truth serum side effects (may include: accidental gay confessions) by sterrenhemel (1k, complete)

"You okay?" Mike asks him. "Yeah, your hands are really soft." And— Jesus Christ, what was that? Sure, it wasn't a lie, but... what?! "Uh, thank you?" Mike replies awkwardly. Will wants to hit himself. Why would he say that? "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." Or the one in which Will is hit by a truth serum.

#byler #bylerficrecweek2023 #bylerficrecweek #byler fic rec #byler fic #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things

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damnedparker · 2 years

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hi!! i think a tasm peter one shot where he teaches you how to skateboard would be the cutest thing ever. and maybe y/n isn’t very good so once they get the tiniest bit of success both of them are really excited but then y/n is ready to pack it up so they go back to peters house and cuddle or something. lots of fluff<3

this took longer than i wanted to get out, but here it is! this turned into a fic that's just no plot, only fluff (and nearly 3k words, lord) and it was really sweet to write!! i hope you like it <33

skateboards, the force, and a lack of pants

pairing: tasm (andrew garfield) peter parker x reader (gender neutral; no y/n) warnings: no plot. there is only fluff here. reader is into star wars, has hair long enough to braid, and i think that's it. one minor reference to sex. summary: peter teaches you how to skateboard and other cuteness.

New York’s weather came and went like the seasons were chasing each other, and this year it had been particularly indecisive. Before you knew it, the heat like the pits of hell that came in August had soon been ran off by the chill of October. It wasn’t freezing enough to scare you and Peter off from hanging around on campus outdoors, but it was cold enough to send a shiver through you if you sat in the wrong direction of the wind. On that note, you shifted over slightly so the tree you were leaning against would block some of it, pulling the collar of Peter’s worn, but loved, denim jacket up for good measure. You sank down in the comforting material, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne.

You had no idea how Peter wasn’t cold in just a t-shirt and jeans. He’d insisted as such as he wrapped you in his jacket before skating off on his board, but you chalked it up to skateboarding keeping his blood flowing. Maybe spidey-powers helped him keep warm or something, too. The boy was an enigma sometimes.

The clicks and scrapes of Peter’s board against the pavement of the outdoor basketball court became white noise as you attempted to focus on some homework you had told him you’d busy yourself with. It wasn’t due for a few days, but you figured trying to conquer your chronic procrastination for once might be a good idea. It was good in theory. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, the concept just didn’t seem to come to fruition. So, you resided to shoving your books back in your bag, instead watching Peter ride back and forth on his board, every so often doing a trick or two. You pulled your knees to your chest in an attempt to get more warmth.

It wasn’t long before Peter noticed you were no longer doing work. He’d felt your eyes on him for a while, but he figured you were just thinking or something until he glanced up at where you were sitting. He threw you a soft smile at the way you curled up against the tree in his jacket, clearly not enjoying the cold weather.

“You finish that English Lit assignment already?” He flipped his board up into his hand and came over to you, pressing an out of breath kiss to your forehead as he kneeled in front of you. You shook your head.

“Too cold.” Your boyfriend couldn’t hold back a smile at the pout on your face. Then, an idea popped into his head.

“I know something that’ll warm you up, c’mere,” he pulled you to your feet, and you followed without hesitation. His hands were warmer than yours, as was his whole body, and Peter didn’t miss the way you pressed close to him to steal some of it. He didn’t mind. Never would. “Have you ever ridden a skateboard?”

“No,” a smile crept up your lips as you realized what he was proposing. “You gonna teach me how?”

“Maybe,” he tilted his head, his eyebrows raised at you. “Do you want to?”

“I will do anything as long as you keep your magical, warm hands on me.”

“Jeez, I’m not sure I’m ready for the exhibitionist step in our relationship,” he snickered, not even wincing when you shoved him away playfully in retaliation. “Alright, come on, you’ll be a natural.” His hands settled on your hips as he guided you onto the board to show you how to turn and balance yourself, the warmth of his palms jumping all over your body. You barely paid attention to what he was telling you because you were enjoying the newfound warmth he gave you. You only tuned back in at the end. “…got it?”

“Suuuure,” you squinted your eyes as code for I definitely don’t. Peter shook his head and just gently pushed you forward. You weren’t going fast at all, but soon realized you were nearing the edge of the concrete that ended in grass. You failed to turn fast enough and simply jumped off, letting the skateboard stutter to a stop by itself. Peter came to stand beside you, hands on his hips as you both looked down at the board like it was a piece of roadkill.

“You could’ve at least committed to crashing.”

“I got scared.”

“Of grass?”

“What if I fall?” You scuffed your shoe against the pavement in frustration. He shook his head, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You will, everybody does. That’s just how you learn, it’s no big deal,” he shrugged. “Besides, at least I’m here to kiss it better.”

“Gross,” you scrunched your nose at him when he pressed an embarrassing, wet kiss to your cheek, followed by blowing a raspberry in retaliation to your comment. “As my skateboarding coach, I have to say this isn’t very professional behavior.”

“Sure it is, it’s incentive,” he watched as you moved his board back to the pavement, stepping one foot on and nearly falling due to an overuse of pressure moving it forward. Your boyfriend caught you with ease and steadied your feet with a quiet chuckle. You nearly screeched when he gave you a teasing tap on the ass that moved you forward. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

After a few more tries, you got a little better at steering with Peter’s direction, but not fast enough to successfully do so before hitting the edge of the godforsaken grass. You were ready to give up, not finding much pleasure in your continued failures, despite Peter’s optimism and encouragement. You voiced as such, kicking his board sadly back towards him.

“C’mon, I don’t wanna end it on a bad note,” he shook his head and met you where you were at the opposite side of the basketball court. He placed his board in front of you. “Here, let’s try together.” You got on as usual, until he scooted you forward so he balanced behind you.

“There’s no way this is going to end well, Pete,” you said nervously, far closer to the curve at the front of the board than you figured was practical. Peter set his hands on your hips and nudged your other foot onto the board, leaving just his on the ground to stop the two of you from moving forward. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he adjusted the two of you on the board, sending a shiver up your spine. He noticed and pulled you closer.

“I mean, a longboard might be more practical here, but we can fit,” you weren’t facing him, but you could hear the shrug and don’t worry about it in his voice. “I’ll push us off, and help you turn with my weight. So you can feel what it’s like.” He made sure you were ready first, before pushing the two of you off, far faster than you had been going, which made your heart rate increase. Peter could sense it, damn superpowers, and squeezed your hip in reassurance. The board approached the halfway point of the concrete slab, and Peter began leaning behind you, guiding you to do the same. Almost like magic to you, the two of you turned successfully and kept skating in a new direction. “See? You just need to lean a little more into it, babe, and you got it.” He stayed on the board with you to show you the turning a few more times, before allowing you to try by yourself again. You would never admit that Peter was right, but you felt a lot more confident as you pushed off again.

When you approached the point where you needed to start turning, you let your weight lean further than usual into the direction you were turning. Miraculously, you didn’t crash into the grass, and kept going successfully, aside from almost losing your balance as you went back into the regular position. Peter cheered from where he was standing, only ceasing when you hit a rock in your path, and you were sent stumbling off the board onto the ground. He rushed to your side, catching the board as he went and helped you up. “I told you, you’ve got promise,” pride shone in his eyes as he dusted the nonexistent dirt from falling off of you. “Avril Lavigne could be singing about you, just wait.”

“Isn’t that the dream?” You snorted, looking down at your stinging hands, which had been scraped open quite a bit from when you’d instinctively put your hands out to stop your fall. You winced as you brushed a bit of dirt away from them, catching Peter’s attention. He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing together in concern. “I’m okay, P, just stings a little.”

“I don’t have any band-aids on me,” he frowned and kissed your palm, just above the cuts. You couldn’t help but smile at the gentle gesture, before he began to gather your things so the two of you could leave. He handed your backpack to you, leading you to a hidden alcove by the nearest building. “C’mon, I’ll swing us home.” He pulled that familiar red mask out of his bag, beginning to shed his clothes. You didn’t even bat an eye, he wore his spidey suit underneath his clothes nearly every day, which in retrospect was an odd behavior to be so used to.

“But it’s so cold.”

“We need to clean your hands, they’ll get infected.” He gave you a stern look, one that was far too serious for a couple scrapes to your hands. Especially for a guy that refused to go to the hospital after getting stabbed or shot. Ridiculous even for someone with super-healing.

“I’m fine, babe, I’m not gonna die—” You were cut off by his hand securing itself at the small of your back, and your feet leaving the ground. “I really hate you!” You yelled over the wind, hugging him tightly for extra insurance on top of his strong grip around you. Peter just laughed, shooting webs and swinging between buildings with ease. You hid your face in his shoulder to avoid your stomach betraying you, which had happened once before and you did not want to re-experience it. Peter never complained about it afterwards, since he was frustratingly the most kind and understanding person on the planet, but you knew it took an entire day of running his suit through the washer to get that incident out of the fabric.

The two of you arrived outside Peter’s apartment without anyone losing their lunch, and he carefully guided you through the window, apologizing when he touched your butt on accident as if he hadn’t given you a playful smack in a public setting a mere hour or two ago. Sometimes the boy was a walking contradiction.

Peter nearly ran to his bathroom to retrieve one of his many first aid kits, while you took your regular spot on the edge of his bed. He came back just as you had yanked off your shoes, plopping down in his desk chair to roll in front of you. His hands were gentle as they flattened yours out, and he murmured a quiet apology when you winced at the rubbing alcohol he dabbed on your injury.

“I wish I could transfer my healing ability to you sometimes,” he said quietly as he worked, almost as if he was simply speaking his thoughts aloud. You watched fondly as he pushed his father’s glasses further up his nose, ones that he didn’t need, but were simply sentimental to him. You always thought it was a shame that spider bite gave him perfect vision; Peter suited those glasses so well and it always stirred up butterflies in your stomach when you saw him with them on. You’d confessed this to him once, and he’d gone as red as his spidey suit. One of your other favorite looks on him.

“Maybe you just haven’t gotten to the force-healing part of your training yet, Padawan,” you joked, feeling victorious when Peter grinned uncontrollably at your joke. He smoothed the last bandage on your hand.

“Mm, I don’t think I would ever get that far, I can’t really get behind the ‘attachment is forbidden’ rule,” he gave you a pointed look while he gathered the Band-Aid wrappers and cotton balls to take to his bathroom trashcan. “I’m not trying to become Darth Vader.”

“Peter, I’m not going to have a fight with you over the Jedi Code again,” you sighed. Last time you two had a debate about Star Wars, it had ended in a food fight that had you cleaning May’s kitchen for three hours. “Besides isn’t your spidey sense basically like being Force sensitive? Maybe you can do stuff like that, you just haven’t channeled it yet.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he returned to his bedroom, doing a little dance as he jumped around and attempted to pull off his Spider-Man suit. He paused when he was pulling on a t-shirt, halfway over his head, as if he was considering a thought. “But I guess it kind of is like the Force. Without the lifting rocks part."

“Spider-Jedi,” You whispered mysteriously, making him giggle like a little kid as he finished changing. While he was doing that, you grabbed your laptop from your backpack and began scrolling through Netflix. Peter soon joined you, flopping down next to you and resting his head against your thigh as he gave you suggestions on what to watch. Eventually, you both finally agreed on something amongst the millions of options. You were perfectly comfortable in the current position, but apparently your boyfriend had qualms before you settled down for the next few hours.

“Why are you still wearing jeans?” He mumbled, turning over to look up at you. Your expression changed to the visual representation of a lone question mark.

“I mean, unlike you, I don’t just take off my pants at will wherever I am.”

“Weren’t you the one that sent me a three-thousand-word text complaining about having to put on pants to go to class last week?”

“This is the weirdest and least romantic way you’ve tried to have sex with me, weirdo,” you placed your hand over his face to tease him. He only responded by kissing your wrist, then moving your arm to hug at his chest. “Besides, I didn’t bring any clothes to change into. And I don’t really wanna have to get re-dressed when I leave.”

“Who said you were leaving?”

“…Me? I have class tomorrow, Pete,” you laughed. He just pouted at you.

“And? Not until noon, I’ll walk you,” he could tell you were about to say no again, so he put on his best puppy eyes. “Please? You haven’t spent the night in like, forever. I misssss youuu.”

“Okay, fine, you baby,” you caved far too quickly, knowing the last time you slept over was merely a few days ago. “I still don’t have anything to change into.”

“Well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t wear any pants at all, but that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he flirted with a smile that was far too gentle for the implications. “But also, you left shorts here a while ago and I washed them for you.”

“I’m going to ignore everything else you just said because I’m genuinely impressed you did your own laundry,” you gently pushed his head away from you so you could get up to retrieve the shorts from where he informed you they were in his dresser. They were folded neatly on top of a shirt of his, one you stole often because it was one of the softest shirts he owned. You smiled at the gesture, taking the outfit and quickly changing, feeling Peter’s eyes on you as you did so. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, bug boy.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he opened his arms when you finally moved towards him. Your boyfriend pulled you down between his legs where he was leaning against the wall, curling his arms comfortably around you. He started the movie on your laptop, his hands quickly finding their place playing with your hair as the two of you watched in a comfortable silence, one that felt like no time had passed at all until you realized you were halfway through the movie. Peter’s hands had settled themselves back at your waist, holding one of your own as he played with your fingers. You were half asleep from such a comfortable position, and nearly jumped when he spoke. “Hey.”

“Hi, Petey,” you mumbled and tilted your head back on his chest to look at him.

“Cute,” he commented and kissed your forehead. “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” you smiled and squeezed his hand. “I love you, too.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #ag peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #marvel fluff #peter parker fluff #my fics #i didnt know how to end it lol

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anime-rambles · 3 years

Text

"OMEGA STOP PART 1"

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, Angst, blood, SFW

Word Count: 2900+

A/N: Seeing how everyone is loving “Welcome Home Omega” I decided to do another omegaverse fic this time with lots of angst. Thank you so much for all the kind words, reblogs, likes and follows. Was thinking of making a Part 2 for this? What do you think?

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.

Link to Part 2 = https://anime-rambles.tumblr.com/post/657712192264814592/omega-stop-part-2

************************************************************************

I collect my suitcase from baggage claim and make my way towards the arrivals gate. It has been an incredibly long 8 years since I’ve been back home in Japan. After graduating UA with all my friends, I decided I needed a new path, something exciting that didn’t include my alphas. Being away from my family and friends has been one of the most difficult things to go through and more importantly being away from my alphas. It was nice to be needed and not just because of my second gender.

After graduating UA, I joined Fatgum’s agency and from there I met Jackie one of fat’s previous partners on the drug squad. She needed a bright new hero that wanted to work outside of Japan and head off a special unit in charge of investigating quirk enhancing drugs. At first everyone was onboard and excited fir me but as time went on, it was becoming increasing hard to keep in contact with my busy alphas. So, one Christmas, two years into the job we all agreed to stop dating and put our relationship on hold, until I was finished with the special unit or until one of the alphas said enough, come home. I agreed happily, never thinking I would get the come home call, but here I am. I left Europe and returned home.

The doors of arrivals opened in front of me, I look around the barrier hoping to see either of my boys, Bakugou or Kirishima, but neither blonde nor red head could be seen. I walk the corner a small bit, thinking they might be hiding but nothing. I spot movement in the distant, a blur of pink rushing to my arms, knocking me off balance.

“YYYY/NNNN, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR HOME” Mina sobs into my ear. “Mina” I say back hugging her tightly. Out of everyone in UA Mina stayed in constant contact with my updating me on the group’s latest gossip and everyone hero’s ranking. “Come on, lets get you home” She speaks again, taking one of my bags and my hand in hers. I smile to her and gladly accept her hand. Mina is an omega like me, after UA her and Sero got together and currently have a beautiful house and a serval fluffy cats. Once we reach the car and start our journey. Mina tells me of everyone, what they are doing and what is planned for my coming home party tonight.

“Wait, slow down, where are you taking me first” I say, laughing at her excitement. With her hands on the car wheel. She says “Bakugou and Kirishima’s” I pause for a second. They must just be living together and not actually still together without, right? They wouldn’t betray me, would they? These thoughts are fully my head, maybe coming home wasn’t a good idea. I should have ignored the “come home” agreement. What if they just want to use me to have their kid and toss me aside.

“Y/N, please say something, you made me promise not to talk about the boys when were away and right now you’re kinda scaring me.” She presses.

“I’m… just thinking. So out with it tell me what has been going on, why are they living together.” I asked shifting in my seat to look at her and she drives down the straight road.

“Okay, so it started whe….”

Mina basically said what I thought she might after I left fully and didn’t come back like we agreed. Kirishima and Bakugou stopped for a while, they didn’t live together, socialise or anything but after Kirhisma was badly injured in a battle, they moved back in with each other and kept their relationship quiet, it’s been 6 years, that they been together while I have been alone.

“So that’s basically all of it y/n, I’m sorr…”

I cut her off, “Mina this is not for you to apologise for, you kept your promise to me and now I must face the music as they say in Europe.” We had arrived outside their house ages ago, but we ended up talking. I step out of the car and move to grab my bags. I look up to the house, it’s huge and white. Very modern and what’s looks to be very expensive. But what can you expect from the Number 1 and Number 5 heroes in Japan. Mina steps out and comes to my side of the car to hug me goodbye and to tell me the information for tonight. Just then the front door opens, Kirishima steps out with a huge grin on his face. He has changed a lot since I left. He is like a wall, thick with muscle and sporting a high red ponytail.

“There she is,” Kirishima says, holding out his arms as he makes his way down the path towards me. I drop my bags and run to him. I can be anger later, but right now I need this hug. “Here I am,” I say back to him, I took my face into his neck to breathe him in, he tries to do the same but it is unable as I have my marks and scent glands covered as Europe has different rules than us. I can sense the confusion and say I will explain later. Kirishima greats Mina and they discuss briefly about this evening's plans and Mina is off on her way, waving goodbye. With his arm around me, he guides me inside towards the kitchen. We each stand on opposite sides of the Island, not knowing what to say first.

“So, where’s Bakugou? I thought you would both be at the airport” I say frankly to him, showing my frustrations. “He had to work, but he should be back home soon,” Kirishima replies shuffling his feet. I stare at him, I want to voice my anger, I want him to know how much I hurt, I need to do this with Bakugou. “Okay” I reply looking at my bags, why did I come here, why did I think we could go back to normal. “He’ll probably be late like always though, why don’t show you to your room and you can get ready for this evening” He smiled at me, like he trying to form an olive branch between us. I nod and follow him out of the room and up the stairs. All around me are reminders, parties I could not attend, award shows I missed but right now I can’t dwell on that. My time in Europe was the best experience of my life and right now I want to go back. Kirishima leads me to a guest room and leaves me to get ready. I sigh, this is going to be difficult.

************************************************************************

Doing the finishing touches to my hair, I smooth my dress down as I look in the mirror. I’m wearing a tight-fitting black dress, that is off the shoulders. I rub my hands down my neck, wishing I could have had the surgery to remove my mark guards yesterday before I came home. Just to show them, that I kept my promise to them. I hear noises downstairs, Bakugou had arrived home ages ago but did not even come to say hello, just went straight to the shower. Although I know what Mina told me was true, I needed proof if I was to enter an argument with Bakugou. I walk a small bit from my room trying to stay quiet, I turn a corner and see a wall of photo frames, most are from UA and some are from Dates we three had together. The difference, I was no longer in the photos, I was cut out. You could see my arm or a sliver of my hair and maybe an eye. I felt rejection, my inner omega whined. Why would they do this to me? I ripped the frame from the walls and marched downstairs. My heels clicked on the floor beneath me. I rounded the corner and enter the kitchen not bothering to wait for their conversation to finished. I throw the frames onto the countertop and look up at both of them making eye contact. If I wasn’t so mad and hurt, I would be shocked at how mature and sexy they both are right now. Kirishima's hair is half up, half down being supported with braids and he is in a maroon shirt opened slightly. Whereas Bakugou wears a white shirt and supports an undercut. My alphas have matured, I suppose I have as well.

Kirishima looks at the frames and stays quiet. Bakugou does not dare to break eye contact with me.

“So, let me get this straight. I leave home, to become great in something that is bigger than me. I leave my alphas with an agreement, that we all would hit pause, and eventually I would come back or get a called from either of you to come home. I follow the rules, and it seems to me what I got in thanks was to be cut from your lives.” I raise my voice, guesting to the pile in front of me.

“tck…” Bakugou replies and looks at Kirishima.

“Don’t tck me Bakugou, it seems to me that I’m not even wanted here anymore, so why was I called home, let me guess you need an omega to have your child and then I’m to disappear,” I respond. “No that’s not why we called you back” Kirishima speaks up, slightly walking towards to appear less hostile.

“Funny how you call us your alphas but yet, our marks, our bond is no longer on your neck,” Bakugou responds, pointing towards me. “They are not gone, they are covered by a skin slip, in Europe is safer to have them covered in case you are kidnapped and forced to bond with someone,” I say back to him. “Omega, please let us explain, I understand your hurt, but we want you still, your part of our family,” Kirishima replies placing a hand on my elbow. I jerk away from him.

“So, all this time, when I was away, suffering through my heats alone. Omega depression after omega depression. You two, were what? Together happily rutting away.”

“Yes, how do we know you never had it off with anyone else,” Bakugou said leaning on the Island in front of me. “Bakugou, don’t say that -” Kirishima scolded him. “- we don’t think that y/n”. I stand there shocked; I can sense he is hurt but right now I will not be his vent.

“ah, I see, I was away fucking my way through Europe apparently and my alphas decided that instead of coming to see me and to tell me. They went behind my back” I stare at Bakugou not daring to back down. “How do we know you weren’t, how do we know you didn’t get our marks removed?” Bakugou asked.

I scuffed and turned out of the kitchen, towards my bags that were left at the bottom of the stairs. Both Alphas stayed in the kitchen and spoke to each other. I opened my bags and reached into it to find a wrapped plastic bag. I walked back into the kitchen, hearing Bakugou raising his voice at Kirishima, “I can’t Kiri, you almost died.” Kirishima hushed Bakugou as I re-entered the kitchen. I threw the bag at Bakugou.

“Go on, open it -” I say with my hands on my hips. “- There’s your proof” I stand and watch it. Bakugou opens the bag and pulls out two jumpers, one of his and one of Kirishima’s. Their scent has well worn out but mine could be smelled. Years of being alone, years of depression, laid in their hands. Kirishima’s eye watered. “This proves nothing, maybe if you weren’t lying about our mark being gone, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Bakugou said, dropping the jumpers on the countertop. “What do you want me to do, perform surgery right now, you know once you never doubted me” I laugh under my breath.

“Yeah well once, you weren’t such a slut, betraying your alp-“Bakugou responded but Kirishima stepped in creating a barrier between us. Tears started to form in my eyes, my vision blurred. Fine, if Bakugou wants proof right now that I was loyal then fine, I’ll give it to him.

I look at my nails and smile to myself, I thank whatever god is listening that I have long pointed nails today. Kirishima is currently speaking to Bakugou, standing in front of me. I can no longer hear him. All I know is, those skin slips have to go now. I take a deep breath in and dig my nails into my neck around where the stitched used to be. I whimper, both can smell blood and turn to look at me. I rip the slip from my skin, blood starts to pour from my neck but nothing that would majorly hurt me. I reach for the other and dig my nails in. “Y/n stop, what are you doing” Kirishima reaches to stop me, but he’s too late I pulled the other off and make eye contact with Bakugou. “You wanted your proof, here you are Bakugou, take a whiff I have NEVER BETRAYED EITHER OF YOU” I scream, throwing the slips onto the counter and storm off.

“Omega come back now” Bakugou shouts after me, I can hear him chase me and reach for my arm. I pull it forward and turn to face him. Tear are leaving my eyes, ruining my makeup, my dress ruined from the blood. “What Katsuki, you believe me now? What do you want from me, why are you mad?” Bakugou stands in shock, unable to talk. “ANSWER ME NOW,” I scream again. Bakugou reaches forward grabbing my arms, tears forming in his. Kirishima was leaning on the door behind him.

“HE ALMOST DIED, AND YOU WEREN’T THERE, I WAS ALONE, WATCHING HIM DIE AND YOU WERENT THERE, YOU PROMISED ME I’D NEVER BEEN ALONE, AND YOU LEFT ME ALONE WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK” he roared at me. I shoved Bakugou off me.

“I CAME HOME WHEN EIJIROU WAS IN HOSPITAL” I shouted back, both alphas heads shot straight up and looked at me. “I was there, I broke me promise to stay away until I was asked by either of you to come home. But I saw the fight, I saw Eijirou get knockdown and didn’t get back up. I hopped on the nearest flight and came home. You need proof, ask Fatgum, Denki, Tamaki, Deku.. anyone who sat in that waiting room.” I said looking into Bakugou's eyes. Kirishima walked forward to join us. Bakugou went to speak. “No you let me speak, I was there. Kirishima opened his eyes and called me an angel and then you shot into the room in a panic and threw yourself on him. Bakugou you looked in my eyes and didn’t say a word, so I stepped back, you saw me there, you. Don’t blame this on me. Knowing how angry you would be, Deku came and got me, promising to watch over both of you.” I stopped to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“How dare you hold that over me Katsuki Bakugou,” I say to him, Kirishima reaches for my hand as if to pull us all back together. I step back, I need to breathe to get out. I walk about the front door, grabbing my handbag. “I’ll see you at the party, some welcome home this was,” I say not looking back and slam the front door.

I walk down the path and reach for my phone, dialing Mina’s number. “Hey girly, I’m just about to leave for the pub,” Mina says down the phone. I start to cry and sit down on the curb. “Sero, wait a second” Mina whispers away from the phone. “Y/n, what’s happened, what’s going on,” She says again her voice has lowered. “Mina I need some help; I can’t see everyone looking like this,” I say back to her. I cry again, I can hear the door behind me open and I stand. I turn and see Kirishima, “Y/n wait please, come back in, we can sort this out,” he says, and I look over his shoulder. Bakugou is frozen in the same spot, staring at the floor. “I’m almost there, start walking to me,” Mina says and hangs up. I bend down and undo the straps of my heels, steeping out of them leaving them on the step. I start to run down the street, I need some quiet, I need to think.

“OMEGA STOP” Bakugou shouts behind me, but I can’t. I see Mina’s car and run towards it.

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

#long post #anonymous #ask

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

More than just a game

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, oral, fingering, doxxing, stalking, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Jake Jensen and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that.

Note: So this is my first Jake Jensen fic and it was lots of fun so let me know what you think and hope you enjoy. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Special shout-out to @navybrat817 for helping me with this idea

After too many nights scrolling through subreddits and searching for something to keep you distracted, you decided to bite the hook. Several other redditors agreed to hop on Minecraft and it had been a while since you logged in. You missed the almost relaxing ritual of mining and building.

You joined the chat, quick to hit the little microphone emblem as you listened to the voices in your headset. You learned long ago to keep your mic muted on the servers, especially with strangers. The last time you dared to speak up as a woman in a game chat, your DMs had become so overwhelmed you deleted and started a new account on Discord and changed your ID on Steam.

You were all given your tasks as players called out coordinates and you kept to chopping up the side of a mountain. You mostly worked alone, chatting through text instead of voice chat. As you placed a crafting table in your little mine, another player, JJ-Smooth, popped up and dropped some iron for you.

He stayed close but you didn’t mind. A lot of players tried to work together the deeper they got and you were used to it. As you uncovered some lava, he dumped water before you could get burned and helped you hack up the obsidian.

He thanked you on the voice chat but you knew any courtesy in return would earn you the attention of the entire server. So you dropped some gold for him and went on your way.

“I hear a zombie,” he warned.

You turned to hack up the undead before it could get you, only to be shot by a skeleton hidden on the next level. Another appeared and you died before you could hide, the bony villain killed by your ally as you watched your possession scatter over the death screen.

“Hey, I got your stuff,” he said as you loaded back up, “I’ll find you.”

You typed quickly in the chat, ‘sorry, mic busted, give me your coordinates and I’ll come to you.’

You waited as ‘JJ-Smooth is typing…’ appeared at the bottom and finally he sent the numbers. You hopped over the blocky hills and through the forests until you found the mine again. He was just outside and handed over all your tools and ration. He headed back into the mine and you followed him. This time, you began your own path in the opposite direction.

Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time. You sat back as you realised it was only you and JJ on the server. The silence should have tipped you off earlier. He was the host and you felt super awkward for staying so long. You typed that you were logging off for the night and thanked him.

You hit the keyboard with your knuckle and yawned as you opened the screen,

“God, it’s late,” you muttered.

“Hello?” he said.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at the mic symbol and the lack of red line made you cringe. You’d hit an extra button without noticing.

“Um, hi, sorry, I just--”

“Mic busted, huh?” he asked.

“No, I--” you didn’t know what to say, “anyways, I should--”

“So, you’re a chick? Is that why you mute?”

“Uh, well, it’s just… easier, sorry, I--” even if you weren’t trying to hide from gamer dudes, you weren’t the best at conversation.

“A gamer girl, nice,” he said and you sighed, “sorry, that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“Mhmm,” you touched your bottom lip as you cupped your chin, “it’s late, I have to work tomorrow.”

“You comin’ back?” he asked, almost hopeful.

“I don’t know--”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, “promise, lips sealed.”

“I really don’t know if I can do this too much, I usually work early mornings so… yeah,” you said.

“I get it but you know you’re always welcome, hope you don’t mind if I send you an invite now and then. No pressure,” he offered.

“Uh, sure,” you shrugged, “okay, yeah, good night.”

You left the chat quickly and pulled off your headset. Shit.

‘I’m Jake by the way,’ a pm popped up, ‘gg.’

You typed back, ‘gg, it was fun’ and quickly logged out. You sat back and rubbed your eyes. Well, he didn’t seem like a total creep, maybe just a bit awkward but so were you. You shut down for the night and stretched out as you switched off the lamp. You were going to pay for your session in the morning.

🎮

A few nights later you got an invite to the server. You debated it but as it was Friday, you decided to make good use of the PC you’d saved up forever to build. You spawned in the middle of nowhere and built a bed before you found the half-finished settlement. You joined the chat but you must have been early as you were the only one there.

You headed back to the same mine, some work done since the first night, and laid your torches as you ventured into the depths. You jumped in your seat as a voice broke your peace.

“I don’t think anyone else is gonna join,” JJ-Smooth, or Jensen said, “you think maybe you’ll unmute?”

You stopped your mining and stared at the screen. You hovered over the mic button and re-read his name, he was the only other one there. You clicked and gave a strained smile to the screen.

“So, um, what’s the goal tonight?” you asked.

“Get some materials and go back to the settlement, keep building, oh, maybe we could try a portal, you ever gone to the nether?” he said but before you could reply he kept on, “shit, I shouldn’t assume, you seem like an experienced player.”

“Yeah, a few times, but I’m more a casual miner,” you went back to harvesting stone and ore.

“Ah,” he said, and it was silent for a moment, “so, you work again in the morning?”

“Not tomorrow,” you said as you focused on the game, “daycare isn’t open on the weekends.”

“A daycare, huh? That sounds fun, I love kids… not in a weird way but you know, I… urgh, I have a niece,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “nah, that’s cool though, sounds more fun than my gig.”

“Oh?” you turned and kept your axe moving.

“IT. You know, some people would be like ‘hey Jensen, why do you spend all your free time staring at a screen when that’s what you do at work?’” he scoffed, “well, who says I’m not mining there too.”

You wrinkled your forehead and gave a small laugh. He was rambling and it was kinda odd. You were happy for once not to be the strange one.

“But anyway,” he said, “I found lots of diamond over here. If we get some lapis lazuli we can build an enchanting table and get some sick armour.”

“Awesome,” you pressed your fingertips to your lip as you leaned on your elbow, “should try to head back before dark…”

“Hard to tell down here. How about you mine and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters?” he offered.

“Sure,” you agreed as he came onto your screen, “that works.”

🎮

Another week went by and you ventured back into the server a few times but not for very long as late nights did not mix with young children. The next weekend, you joined again on Saturday night and like the last few times it was just you and Jensen. You wondered why no one else was joining when the subreddit was so popular but you didn’t worry about it for long.

You mostly played in silence, Jensen did most of the talking and it was never about anything more than the game or his niece’s last soccer game. That night when you left the game, he kept typing on Discord.

‘I like playing with you,’ his message blipped up.

‘Same, thx.’

‘Really, you’re awesome.’

‘Thx :) Tired, gotta sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams.’

‘Night.’

You changed your status to offline and dragged yourself to bed. You opened your phone as you laid in the dark and went to the subreddit, you scrolled through the builds and screenshots of other people’s catastrophes.

You came to Jensen’s last invite post from that night but all the comments complained that the world code was incorrect. Hmm, you should tell him next time.

You blackened your cell and plopped it on your night table. You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow, the light still etched into your vision. You fell asleep quickly and woke the next day to another invite from Jensen.

‘How about some Fortnite? If you’re into it?’

‘Srry, can’t, my mom’s expecting me for lunch.’

‘2 bad, maybe later.’

‘Maybe’.

You got ready to go see your mother for your usual Sunday afternoon visit and it went by like any other. When she asked you what you’d been up to, you didn’t mention the gaming, she was never a fan of it. When you got back home, Jensen was messaging you again. You didn’t open the notification and settled in to catch up on some streaming before another week of work.

Monday hit you like a train and you were glad you hadn’t spent the night mining again. If you had, you doubted you’d even be able to open your eyes. You got to the daycare centre and welcomed in the kids. You got them set up for the morning snack then cleaned up as Sandy took them over to the reading circle.

You wiped the tables and then did some painting before you went out for some play time in the yard. As you watched several of the children on the swings, you glanced around. There was a man across the street. You squinted through the chain link as he seemed to be watching but assured yourself it was nothing as he quickly headed for the corner and disappeared.

Inside, the kids were due for quiet time, some napped and those who didn’t, stared at the ceiling and yawned. You could have joined them but knew that wouldn’t be acceptable. The end of the day came and you helped the kids pack up their paintings and their sweaters. You waited in the yard with them as the parents showed up and handed them off one by one.

You waved to Danika as she clung to her mother and your eye was once more drawn beyond the chain link. The same faded grey jacket, the same glasses, and the hat with the frayed brim. It was a better look at the man. Was he looking at you? Why on earth was he hanging around outside a daycare?

“Sandy,” you turned and lowered your voice as she neared, “see that man?”

She peeked over and shrugged, “which one? The guy crossing the street?”

You looked up again and like before, he was walking away casually as if he hadn’t just been staring through the fence. You shook your head and huffed. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” she waved her fingers, “come on, let’s clean up.”

With the kids all sorted out, you went back in and tidied up the last of their mess. You and Sandy were friendly but like with any, you weren’t very talkative. You never really knew what to say but you were never unkind.

You pulled on your jacket and checked your purse for your phone and wallet. You checked the time and turned off the lights. You bid Sandy goodbye as she headed for her SUV and you took your usual route down the sidewalk towards your bus stop.

You stopped short as the man was there. You were paranoid, he must just be waiting for the same route. You approached and he turned to watch you as you sat on the bench. He smiled and the dread sank deep in your chest.

His rectangular glasses gave light to his blue eyes and a goatee trimmed his jaw. He was tall and well-built, you could tell even under his comic book tee. He was going to talk to you, another weirdo in the city.

“Hey,” his voice was chillingly familiar, “how was your day?”

You stared at him and blinked cluelessly. You looked around, it was only the two of you. You opened your mouth but you had to be wrong. He said your name and you winced.

“Jensen?” you breathed as you stood and squeezed the strap of your bag, “why? How--?”

“You weren’t answering me, I was worried,” he said, “just making sure you’re okay.”

“What the-- I don’t understand how--” He stepped closer and you backed up against the bench. “Don’t, I’ll scream.”

“Scream? Why? I’m just-- You know me, it’s me, Jensen.”

“You doxxed me?” you snapped, “what the hell?”

“No, I didn’t-- I’m just checking on you--”

“I don’t know you,” you said as your heart began to race, “so please, leave me alone,” you edged away from him, “and don’t message me again.”

You sprinted across the street and as you came up on the curb, you looked back at him. He watched you but didn’t follow. You could tell from there he wasn’t happy but the brim of his cap shadowed most of his face so you couldn’t guess if it was hurt or anger. You quickly spun away and continued down the next street to the nearest stop.

You couldn’t believe he’d just shown up like that. You couldn’t believe he would think that was okay. You couldn’t believe he’d think that much about you.

🎮

You blocked Jensen on Discord and left his world on Minecraft. That night you were shaky and nervous, afraid that he would show up at your apartment. Did he know where you lived? He must if he could figure out where you worked.

You didn’t open Steam that night. You paced your small apartment, jumping at every noise. Sleep didn’t come easily but in shallow spurts that left you even more tired. You watched over your shoulder as you walked to your stop and boarded with one eye on the door.

Work was little better as you found yourself distracted in the room full of toddlers. Sandy asked if you were okay as you kneaded play-do violently. You shook yourself out of your paranoia and assured her you were only short on sleep, not a complete lie.

You took out your phone when you stepped out for a small break. Your mom had called but you would have to get back to her when you had two hours to waste. There was another notification, that one from Discord, a friend request from JJ-NoRematch. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was and you declined it right away.

There were several others from Jensen, too. He followed your Insta, blocked; he followed your mostly empty twitter, blocked; and he even commented on your LinkedIn like a weird. You closed your phone and took a breath before you headed back into the kids, their voices rising in their excitement to go outside.

In the yard, you had another look around, expecting to see him there on the other side of the fence. You were slightly relieved when he wasn’t but still on edge. You joined a game of tag then watched several of the kids line up for the slide. You lost yourself in your job as you told yourself he must have gotten the hint, at least not to bother you irl.

Just like the day before, and every day, you left work and headed for your stop. He wasn’t there either and you sat down and phoned your mom, hanging up as the bus pulled up with a promise to call her again when you were home. At home, you felt almost normal again and checked your notifications; no more follows, no more requests, nothing.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday passed in a similar fashion. Each saw your anxieties less than the day before. You even resolved to open Steam and start a new world for yourself. You spent hours mining and almost fell asleep in your chair. When you nearly tipped over, you decided it was time for bed.

You slept better than you had all week and woke up before noon. You wanted to log right back on but you had life to deal with; groceries, cleaning, and of course, making that call to your mother you’d delayed the night before. After all that, you felt accomplished and you decided to treat yourself to take out, a rare divulgence.

You called the local Chinese eatery and waited eagerly for your feast as you turned on a new episode of your current binge. You played on your phone until the battery was low and had enough juice to buzz up the delivery man. You dug for your wallet as you went to the door and unlocked it without looking up.

“How much--” you asked as you opened the door.

Your eyes met a familiar pair, two blue gems behind a pair of narrow glasses. Jensen wore the same cap and held the paper bag of take-out with a smile. You grabbed the door and tried to swing it shut but he was too quick as he slapped a large hand against the peeling paint.

“It’s on me,” he said, “I love spare ribs.”

“What the--” you gasped as you pushed on the door helplessly, “please go away.”

“You’re not answering me,” he said as he stepped closer and forced you back as his body brushed against yours, “you blocked me and I can’t even get a hey, Jensen, how are you?”

“I don’t want you here,” you tried to shove him and he shouldered you away easily, “get out!”

He slammed the door and you flinched. He put the bag down on the corner table and reached back to twist the lock without a look. His eyes roved around your entryway and further into your apartment. He smiled as they stilled and focused on you.

“This place is cute… like you,” he said and you heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

You swallowed and backed away from him. You spun on your heel and ran for your couch. You reached over the back to your phone and unlocked it as the battery icon flashed. You had just enough juice to make the call. You dialed as you turned back to him.

“I’m calling the police so you b-better l-leave,” you warned as your voice and hands shook, “I me--”

He was quick and before you could pull away, he swiped your cell out of your hand. He scoffed and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and landed screen down on the hardwood. You bit down and pressed yourself to the couch. You stared at him and kicked yourself forward as you tried to slip past him. He caught you and wrestled you back into the front room.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked calmly as you struggled in his grasp, “I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”

“N-no, you’re-- you-- let me go,” you stammered as he angled you around the couch. He pushed you down so you bounced on the cushion. You tried to push yourself up and he pointed his finger in your face and wagged it.

“No, you stay,” he growled and wiped his other hand on his jeans. He was nervous, even if he was angry.

“Please, why-- what do you want?” you grasped the cushion and hovered at the edge of the couch.

He sighed and sat in the chair. He took his hat off and set it on the table as he ran his fingers through his short hair.

“Good question,” he said as his jaw squared and his eyes turned to pinpoints, “better one, why did you block me?”

“Are you serious? You-- you--” you struggled to get your words out, your voice even more splintered by your fear, “you doxxed me, you came to-- to my work-- and…”

“I thought we were getting along. I thought you liked me,” he said with a frown, “I really did, you sure acted like it and-- I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“But why wouldn’t I be? I--” you shivered and crossed your arms as you withered beneath his gaze, “Jensen, this was only supposed to be online.”

He scoffed and stomped his boot on the floor. He shook his head as he looked to the ceiling and his anger bulged along his temple. He tilted his head and looked at you again.

“You know, for years, I have been a nice guy, I am a nice guy,” he pushed his shoulders to his ears as he threw his hand out, “I’m so patient and caring and you girls, you don’t even give me a second look.”

“Jensen--”

“No, really, I mean look at you, you’re no supermodel and yet it’s the same thing, ‘let’s just be friends’,” he spat, “but I watch guys all the time treat women like shit and they don’t have any trouble at all, they got them hanging off of them and I’m a creep for giving them a compliment or opening the door--”

“I don’t… know you,” you eked out, “you have to understand--”

“I don’t understand,” he stood abruptly, “I’m done trying to understand.”

He pulled his jacket open and slid it down his arms. You watched him sling it over the chair and as he turned back to you, you stood. He caught your shoulders and held you in place. His strength was plain in his grip as he squeezed then slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.

“I just wanna be nice,” he said as he leaned in. You tried to pull away but he moved a hand around the back of your head and forced your lips against his. He poked his tongue inside your mouth roughly as you tried to shove him away. Finally, he parted, his hands still firmly around your head, “wasn’t that nice?”

“Please,” you begged as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

His eyes searched your face as you stared back at him in terror. He sighed and dropped his hands back to your shoulders. He pushed you down to the sofa harshly and backed away.

“Fine, I won’t be nice,” he snarled as he took his glasses off and folded them carefully. He put them on the table beside his cap and twined his fingers together, loudly cracking his knuckles.

You blinked at him as your eyes grew glossy. You brought your legs up under you and pressed yourself to the back of the couch. You grasped the upholstery and turned as you launched yourself over to the other side. You stumbled as you landed on your feet and ran for the door.

You were yanked back as he snaked his arms around you and took you off your feet. You kicked out and screamed but it was cut off by his palm as he kept one arm around your middle. You scratched at his hand as he dragged you back to the couch. He pushed you face down onto the cushions and planted his knee in the middle of your back, slipping his hand away as he put enough weight on you to keep your voice suffocated.

“Listen, I know I look like some IT nerd but I’m a lot more than that, now don’t make me hurt you,” he played with your hair as he smiled down at you, “you try that again and I will shut you up and if someone hears you, I can take care of them too.”

You sniffed as tears pricked in your eyes and nodded frantically as it felt as if he would snap your spine. He pushed off of you and you stayed as you were, paralysed with fear. He sat and unlaced his boots one at a time. He looked up as he set them neatly beside the foot of the chair and he bent to catch your eye.

“Well?” he pointed at you and traced the line of your body in the air, “let’s go.”

You stared at him dumbly and he stood to pull his tee over his head. His torso was sculpted perfectly and his chest trimmed with hair that trailed all the way down to his pants. He stepped forward and tugged at the back of your shirt.

“You want me to do it for you, baby?” he purred, “I can help you.”

You swatted him away and sat up. You bent your legs to your chest and hugged them. “Please, I’m scared, just leave me alone--”

His hand rested on his belt and exhaled again. His fingers moved swiftly to unloop the striped belt and unbutton his jeans. He pushed them down, nearly tripping as he stepped out of them. He stood in his boxers, tented with his impatient excitement, and gripped his hips.

“It’s okay, baby, I know you’re shy, I am too,” he neared and you winced as he grabbed your wrist. He tugged on your arm and you resisted until he bent your hand back painfully and you cried out. He tickled your jaw as he looked you in the eye and tutted, “it doesn’t have to be like this, alright?”

You went limp and let him pull your arms apart. Your legs slipped down and your feet dangled above the floor. He got to his knees and pushed between yours. He slowly rolled up the hem of your shirt and bent to kiss your stomach as he bared the flesh. You trembled as he forced your arms up and swooped the fabric over your head. It fluttered through the air and to the floor as he cupped your tits through your bright pink bra.

“Is this so bad?” he asked as he nuzzled your chest and pushed your tits up.

He glided the straps down your arm and slid your bra lower so that you popped out. He nibbled at your flesh and traced your nipples with his tongue. You sat rigid and let him explore your body, too terrified to move a muscle. He reached around you and struggled with the hooks, frustrated he snapped the clasps and the band came free.

He continued to play with your chest, his fingers crawling up and down your stomach and sides. There was a genuine curiosity to his touch and it sent a chill through you. His fingertips pressed to the top of your pants and he pulled at them as his lips travelled down to your hip.

He tugged on your pants and jerked your entire body. He tore them lower as he pushed you up and you lifted yourself to let him peel away the layer. He added them to the floor and toyed with the elastic of your panties. The little bow in the front drew his attention as he pushed your legs wider and ran his nose along the cotton.

He hummed and rubbed his fingers down your crotch, pushing the fabric to your folds as he teased you through them. You inhaled sharply at the tingle it inspired and he pressed firmer against you, flicking his fingers along your bud as he noticed how it made you squirm.

He gently pulled aside the cotton and you felt his hot breath against you. You pushed on his head before he could delve into you. “Please, don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he threw your hand away from his head and bent over you, “just relax.”

He dragged his tongue along your cunt and lingered around your clit. You clenched as it sent a thrill through you and he moved his lips against you, suckling at you bud as your breaths grew raspy. You pushed yourself against the back of the couch and dug your nails into the cushion.

He slid a finger along your cunt and circled your entrance. He rubbed up and down as he kept his tongue swirling over your clit and you swallowed back as gasp as he poked inside. He felt around and added another finger, stretching you as he carefully pushed them in and out of you in time with his mouth.

He lapped you up and you closed your eyes, desperate to resist the coil winding within you. Your legs tensed against the couch and you tilted your pelvis without thinking. He sped up, the noise of his mouth and your slickness filled the silence. You let out a puff and moaned as you slapped the couch. The waves rolled over your flesh and you came into his mouth with a pathetic mewl.

He stilled his fingers as he lazily teased you with his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sat back, the heat between your legs cooling in his absence as he licked up your juices. He watched you as he sucked his fingers and stood. Your head lolled and you edged forward on the couch. You tried to stand but he caught you and flung you back.

“We’re not done, baby,” he winked at you as he grasped the top of his boxers, “go on, lay down.”

You murmured your refusal and once more tried to get up. You slipped onto the floor and shakily crawled away as he dropped his boxers to his ankle. He grabbed you before you could get around the side and lifted you easily. He turned you and shoved you down onto your back as he lifted a leg over you.

He straddled you and again his hands roved over your body. You smacked at his fingers weakly but he easily ignored you. He kept one hand moving along your curves as he stroked himself with the other. He groaned and shook as he stroked his dick. Your eyes followed his hand and you gulped, he was thick.

He moved his knees back and pushed them up beneath your thighs as he kept a hand planted on your chest. He ripped your panties down your legs and untangled them from your feet.

He held you down as he ran his tip along your cunt, wetting himself with your coerced arousal. You groaned and grabbed the arm of the couch above you. You tried to pull away from him.

He pushed against your entrance and you looked at him in shock. You couldn’t stop him. His eyes were set between your legs as he inhaled and slowly eased into you. He gasped as he got his tip inside you and his muscles tensed. He bit his lip as he dove further in and you gasped as he filled you inch by inch.

“Shitttt,” he moaned as he reached his limit and you whined at how full you were, “oh, baby.”

His hand slid from your chest and he gripped your hips as he pulled back and thrust. You exclaimed and he did it again, slowly as he watched himself impale you over and over. You curled your fingers against the couch arm and your feet arch as you pressed your thighs around him. He lifted your pelvis high as he angled his dick even deeper.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, “oh, baby, you’re so good. Ahh-hh-hh,” his voice fizzled as your walls clenched him and you closed your eyes as you felt the heat building.

He moved his hand along your thigh and stretched it over your pelvis, pushing his thumb to your clit as he kept his pace. He purred as you writhed helplessly against him and you panted through the rising ecstasy.

“Please, please, please…” you chanted, unsure if you were begging him to stop or for more.

He moaned as he sped up and you sucked your lip under your teeth as you neared your peak. You quivered as your orgasm crashed into you and you let out a strangled cry. He snarled and planted his hands beside your head as he leaned over you, his hot breath tickled your face as he pounded into you.

Your legs bent around him as his pelvis rubbed against you and the friction drove you to another climax. You held onto the arm of the couch as he fucked your harder and harder. He kissed you and nibbled at your lip as he groaned and hooked an arm under to hold you close.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” he said against your cheek and you turned your head away from, “ah, here I--”

He spasmed and slammed into you. He took several long thrusts and stilled. He grunted and drew heavy breaths as he rested his weight over you. He grabbed your head and turned your head up as he pressed his forehead to yours. You kept your eyes closed as the flames slowly dwindled.

“Was that so bad?” he stroked your cheek and trailed his finger down to poke between your lips, “No, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” he wiggled his hips and you hissed, “yeah, you want me.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #the losers #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot

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nyctophilin · 4 years

Text

Fake affection | I

sweet anon: Can I request a dom! Han Jisung smut? Where he and the reader are fake dating because Jisung want's to make someone jealous but ends up fucking the reader instead? I love your writings so much!!

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Epilogue

Description: Han Jisung has been rejected by the girl he likes one to many times. He decides that he has had enough and is set on making her want him back. What could possibly make her want him more than seeing him with her rival after she boldly assumed he can’t find anyone better. That way Jisung and Y/N are stuck in a fake relationship until Jisung’s crush falls for him. Or he falls for someone else.

Pairing: Han x fem!Reader, Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: College!AU, Fake dating!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mention of masturbation

A/N: Wow, so it looks like I am unable of making short fics, haha. I planed for this to be a one-shot but it’s already this long and I don’t want to bore you guys with long fics so I will make a second part and a third if needed but I doubt. I really hope you guys like this one. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Y/N was tapping her finger on the desk, her head resting in her palm. She was watching the professor walk around in front of the class explaining something but she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was filled with thoughts about whether or not she was going to get the role.

Some people from her university that were majoring in Film Production had to write a script for a short movie and the best five got chosen to be produced. Initially, she believed that only Theater and Film Majors could participate at the auditions but the administration of the school made an announcement one morning informing them that everyone could take part in the audition process. That meant she had to deal with more competitors for the role she wanted.

Initially, Y/N was the only one who wanted to audition for the main role of one of the movies since people didn’t really catch its concept that well. When the audition day finally came, one Modern Dance major showed up out of nowhere and auditioned as well. The apparition of that particular character made her blood boil with anger.

Her competitor for the role was none other than Mina, her so-called enemy. They weren’t enemies in the real sense of the word. They just simply didn’t click with one another and silently agreed a long time ago to ignore each other. They weren’t pulling childish stunts on each other, they didn’t speak each other's names unless necessary, they didn’t try to win each other in grades or parties or body counts. They were just mutually ignoring one another. And everything was fine until she showed up there.

Y/N wasn’t going to lie and say that Mina wasn’t good. Her performance wasn’t exceptional but for someone that has never done that before, she was fairly good. That had her worried about her chances of getting chosen.

When the bell finally rang ending her suffering she got up in the split of a second and left the room. She could not bear to hear any more of the professor’s babbling. Her boots let out quiet thuds every time they touched the concrete floors. She found herself in front of the announcement board but the paper that was supposed to tell her if she got chosen or not, was missing. Thinking to herself that they probably will put it up later she turned on her heels and made her way towards the cafeteria.

She met her friend Hayoon there and they sat down at a table situated in the centre of the cafeteria. They talked about how they had been up until then and Hayoon complained about one of her classes and how she’s going to fail it.

The chatter in the cafeteria died down when the door was slammed open and Mina stomped in, a bitter expression on her face. “I can not believe that they made me a stunt double! What does that even mean?” Her voice was louder than it should have been as she addressed her friends. Her intention was most probably to attract attention.

A smirk crept on Y/N’s face as she realised that she did, in fact, get the main role. She gave her friend a suggestive eyebrow raise as she slowly took the chopstick to her mouth. Her face dropped when she heard the stomping approaching her. “Hey, loser, what’s a stunt double?” Mina’s voice was scratching her ears. How she managed to sound like one of those toys for dogs sometimes, she’ll never understand.

“I can’t believe you’ve auditioned for a role without knowing what a stunt double is.” Y/N rolled her eyes at the other girl and a few people from around them chuckled. Mina’s face caught a crimson colour as the embarrassment settled in.

“Haha, you are so funny!” It was clear by now that the girl was trying to mask her flustered form by trying to embarrass Y/N back.

The truth was that she didn’t mean to make fun of her. She just let her first thoughts leave her mouth. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” A sigh left her lips. “A stunt double is a person that executes all the dangerous or action scenes for the main actor so they don’t get injured. Stunt doubles are usually gymnasts, people that know martial arts and all that jazz. They probably chose you because of your dance background.”

“I can’t believe it. Not only they didn’t give me the role, but they are also going to use me to protect you?” Mina had an annoyed expression.

“Oh please! Did you really think they were going to choose you? You entered that room without even knowing the concept and somehow managed to get the feel right a couple of times. Meanwhile, some of us actually prepared for that audition.” Y/N was fed up with Mina’s princess behaviour. Always thinking that everything is rightfully hers and expecting everyone to kiss her ass. All that just because her father was donating a big sum of money to the university every term. They are donations at the end of the day and she should not be expecting special treatment just for that.

Mina’s face became a crimson red for the second time in ten minutes and she stomped away from Y/N’s table. The few people that were watching them averted their eyes when Y/N took a look around.

From the corner of the cafeteria, someone was watching them with a smirk on their face. Oh, how he got just the perfect idea.

Y/N sat in the second closest row to the professor. She was in “Canto class” as she liked to call it. It was one of the optional classes she chose to take that year. It wasn’t a compulsory class for Theater and Film majors since you don’t necessarily have to know how to sing to be an actress but she took it anyway because she thought it would be fun. And so far it was.

A loud bang invaded her left ear and she turned to find Han Jisung having his back to her and chatting with his friends that were seated a few rows behind them. She raised her eyebrow but didn’t question it. It wasn’t like the seat was occupied and she definitely had nothing against him sitting next to her. He probably just wanted to pay more attention since he and his friends are always distracted during class.

Y/N turned back to her stuff and opened her notebook to take another look at the notes from last class. Soon after the professor entered the classroom and the chatter died down.

She was vigorously writing in her notebook everything the professor was explaining to them. Suddenly she felt a touch on her left elbow and stopped for a second. She immediately resumed her writing, convinced that he probably did that by mistake. Not even a minute later she felt another touch on her elbow this time more evident. She ignored it again not paying much mind to it. Jisung’s elbow collided with hers causing her to push her notebook and scribble on it.

She snapped her head towards him and felt anger overcome her when she noticed the smirk on his face. “What?” She whispers yelled in his direction.

“Hi!” He did a short wave of his hand in her direction and she clenched her jaw. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before going back to her note-taking. She had only five minutes of peace before he poked her side again. She smacked his hand away from her and continued to mind her own business.

Throughout the class, Jisung kept bothering her and trying to talk to her despite her obvious wish to let her take notes. When the bell rang she got up quickly, her blood boiling and left the room in a hurry hoping she could lose Jisung on the busy halls. As she was hurriedly making her way between the sea of people she felt an arm going over her shoulders and she crashed with the owner of the arm.

“Why are you in such a hurry babe?” Jisung’s voice rang in her ear as they were practically glued to each other. She grabbed his hand and swung his arm away from her shoulders.

“For the love of God, what do you want from me Han Jisung?” Exasperation was present in her voice as she threw him an ugly look.

She couldn’t guess what he needed from her to annoy her to that extent. They were acquaintances and nothing more. They knew each other from that one class they shared and the longest interaction they had was when the professor prepared an interactive class once and they had to work in groups of five.

He was the university’s “heartthrob” as people liked to call him. Y/N personally thought that that title should be given to Hwang Hyunjin who was majoring in Modern Dance. He was more mature than the rest of his friends, he was friendly with everyone and wasn’t pulling pranks on innocent people to entertain some brainless creatures. But who was she to oppose the masses?

On top of doing all those things, Jisung was also in a relationship with Mina. Every time they are together they will target someone and will start making fun of them. More Mina than Jisung but he was still entertaining her actions and that made him as guilty as she was.

“I need to ask you something. Or better, make you a proposal.” He winked at her and she felt an uncomfortable shiver run through her. How disgusting.

“Ok, and what is it?” She threw him an expectant look and he started looking around.

“Let’s talk outside where there are fewer people. You got a free period, right?” Confusion made its way on her face.

“How do you know that? Are you weirdo following me?” She has never talked with him as friends and they share only one class. How on earth would he know her schedule?

“What? No! I see you hanging out around the university all the time after our class.” She rolled her eyes at his answer and gestured her hand towards the closest exit out of the building signalling him to lead the way.

Very soon they were seated on a bench under a tree somewhere behind the university. It was her first time coming there. Y/N usually liked to remain at the front of the building since couples usually liked to come there and make out sometimes even fuck.

“I think we should start dating.” He blurted out and she froze for a second before jumping to her feet startling the man.

“I knew you were fucking weird. I’m leaving!” What in the actual fuck did she think when she came here. For a second she expected a real conversation but Jisung’s main skills were flirting and making bad jokes. She set her expectations way too high for that conversation.

She picked her bag from the bench and started leaving only to have Jisung grab her wrist and stop her. “Wait, let me explain. I swear you’ll understand better after.” Y/n wanted to turn and leave but the puppy dog eyes he gave her made her stay and listen to him. Now, don’t get her wrong, his expression didn’t soften her but if he was desperate enough to try the puppy eyes on her then it must be important to him.

She plopped down on the bench and waited for him to start talking. “Look, I’m pretty sure you know Mina. And I know you two aren’t on great terms. I say we date so you can get back at her for all the things she has done to you.” He raised his eyebrows at her and pursed his lips.

Y/N was the one that raised her eyebrow next as she leaned her head to the side. “Aren’t you and Mina dating?”

“Obviously not.” Jisung used a tone that pissed Y/N off. A tone that said ‘It was so obvious, how can you not know?’ and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I must have read the signs the wrong way. I mean, it's not like you are always together and you carry her backpack around and you hang out outside of school six days out of seven and kiss before classes and make out behind the university probably right on this bench.”

A smirk appeared on Jisung’s face. “Who’s following who now?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Mina’s voice is so annoying I could hear her every time she talked. When I would turn to see what was up now you two were most times engaged in some sort of PDA.” She spoke fast trying to prove that she wasn’t following him. She didn’t know why she felt the need to do that but the thought of Jisung thinking that she has some sort of interest in him was terrifying. He completely humiliated the last “unpopular” girl that confessed her feelings to him and at that moment the last thing she needed was for him to go around saying she is a stalker.

“Well, we are getting there. I asked her out and she said that she’ll love to but it’s too fun to tease me. When I asked her ‘What if I get a girlfriend?’ she told me I can not find anyone better for me than her. When I saw you fighting in the cafeteria earlier I knew I found my perfect girl. Not only are you hot, but she also hates you.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at his words.

“Hot?” Her tone was untrusting as this was the first time someone from uni had said that to her.

“Yeah. You didn’t think that guys came to last year’s theatre spectacles because they were actually interested in theatre, right?” A laugh left his mouth at her dumbfounded face as she registered his words. A blank expression adorned her face immediately after trying not to seem so surprised.

“Well, not anymore.” She let her tongue trace her bottom lip before biting the flesh. “Ok, so tell me what you actually want us to do.” Uneasiness settled inside Jisung as he watched her bored face.

“Well, I mean what I said. We should date. Or fake dating if you will. That way I can make Mina jealous and push her to run into my arms. I bet she can’t stand seeing me with you for too long.” He looked into her eyes hopefully thinking that maybe he convinced her but his hope was quickly shattered when she opened her mouth.

“What are you? Five? I don’t want to get back at her and I have absolutely no reason to help you in your sick plan. I’m out of here!” Once again she picked up her bag to leave only for Jisung to grab her wrist and stop her, again.

“Please Y/N! I’m desperate. I’ve been trying to date her for a year and a half already.” That was pathetic. She had absolutely no reason to help him. None at all. But something pushed her to stay and accept his offer. Maybe she could take advantage of the situation.

Turning her head towards her she tried to keep a straight face as best as she could. “What do I get out of it?”

Jisung’s face brightened instantly at her question and he held her hand with both of his. “Anything you want. If it’s possible I’ll do it.” His eyes were pouring into hers and a stupid sparkle was present in them.

“I guess you were going to do that anyway but I want you to present me to your friends.” The same bored expression that she had on for almost the entirety of their conversation was adorning her face. Jisung was amazed at the lack of emotions she managed to show but she was an actress. Maybe she’s just good at her job.

“Why? Do you have a crush on any of them?” A smirk was enveloping his facial features and he had a teasing tone. Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment.

“No. Some of them seem like really interesting people but their only defect was hanging out with you. Now that I have to hang out with you too I might as well start talking to them.” She shook his hands off hers before putting it in her front pocket. “Now I have to go to class cause my free period is almost over. See you later, babe!” She winked at him before turning around and making her way to her next class.

The next day she met with Jisung in front of the cafeteria so they could walk in together and “announce” their relationship. Somehow he got hold of her number and they texted the night prior about the terms of their little deal. She felt like laughing when she saw how serious he was about it. If he really did end up dating Mina she’ll be convinced that both of them are idiots.

His arm was over her shoulders as they walked through the tables. Multiple people were staring at them but she decided to ignore them. Upon reaching the table she placed her tray down and took a seat. The people at the table were looking confused at one another and some were throwing Jisung questioning looks.

“Everyone, meet my girlfriend.” He spoke gesturing with a hand towards her. She smiled at them and waved her hand, muttering a soft ‘Hi!’.

One of them, who she recognised to be Lee Minho, a Modern Dance major cleared his throat. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you.” He had an awkward smile on. “What are you majoring in?”

“Yeah, I don’t recall seeing you around campus.” Seo Changbin, a Music Production major added.

“Oh, I…” She started talking but a puff coming from her left stopped her.

“Seriously dude? You share a class. She’s L/N Y/N from your Theory and Improvisation class.” The voice belonged to Hwang Hyunjin and she felt a funny feeling in her stomach at the realisation that he knows her. Everyone around the table was throwing him weird looks.

“You are right but how do you know that? I’m pretty sure you don’t take that class.” There was a trace of embarrassment in her voice.

“I don’t but sometimes when I wait for those guys outside of the classroom I see you walking out.” He said that with nonchalance taking a bite from his food.

“And how do you know her? She’s not a Music Production major otherwise we would have known. And she’s not a Dance major either otherwise Minho and Felix would have known about her as well.”Changbin’s tone was almost provoking as if Hyunjin had done something bad and he was about to reveal it.

“She’s a Theatre and Film major. Last year when we went to all those theatre spectacles to support Jeongin I was actually paying attention to the plays. She had either the main role or the lead. I remember her being really good.” She felt her cheeks heat at his comment.

“Thank you!” She threw him a smile. However, she got ignored as Lee Felix started talking.

“Do you know her Jeongin?” She somehow felt offended by his question. Maybe that wasn’t his intention but he should have used a different tone.

“Of course I do. We share almost all of our classes and last year we worked on multiple plays together.” Annoyance was present in his voice caused by his friends' ignorance.

She knew Jeongin from the first day. He was the first to speak to her although they didn’t exactly become friends. They kept on working on plays together throughout the entirety of the first year of college but they kept everything mostly professional since they both had their own group of friends and she kind of disliked most of his friends.

“Then how come you never talk about her?” Now, wasn’t Changbin an annoying one? She rolled her eyes discreetly at his question.

“Because we are not the best of friends. Why don’t you talk about Kim Gina from your degree?” The youngest question was a good one. They were acquaintances and barely knew something about each other. What was he supposed to talk about?

“Gina is not hot. What am I supposed to talk about?” The older male said calmly with a shrug of his shoulders.

The water she was just drinking got stuck in her throat and she started coughing violently. Jisung started hitting her back repeatedly trying to help her swallow. When she finally calmed down she looked at him annoyed.

“Who she is, is not important. What’s important is that she is my girlfriend” he gave Changbin a side look ”and you have to accept that. Stop talking about her like she is not sitting right in front of you.” A few of them raised their hands in defeat while some of them averted their eyes. Minho and Changbin rolled their eyes.

She felt her blood pressure spike up at their action. She remembered why she never wanted to talk to any of them. Arrogant pricks.

“Ok, Mister protective boyfriend. Just tell us when you break up.” Minho took a bite of his food done with the younger man’s antics. Everyone knew that he was in love with Mina. The moment she shows some interest in him he would probably leave this one in a heartbeat.

Y/N sucked in a breath discreetly. He really got her worked up and she hated it. She put an arm around Jisungs shoulders and yanked him towards her, his face close to her chest. With her other hand, she grabbed the sides of his face making him look up at her and forcefully pursing his lips.

“Break up? Do you wanna break up with me, babe?” Y/N’s voice was mocking as if she was talking with a child. Jisung swallowed hard before shaking his head. She smiled at his response and used the hand from around his shoulders to ruffle his hair. “That’s what I thought.” She placed a short kiss on his lips before releasing him and turning back to her food.

Everyone at the table was looking at both of them shocked, especially Minho and Changbin. She wanted to let a proud smile escape her but she controlled herself.

For the rest of the lunch, she decided not to engage in any more discussions with Jisung’s friends. She continued eating her food and listened to them talking about things that didn’t involve her, occasionally responding to Hayoon’s texts.

She was the first one to get up, impatient to go to her next class and not have to see them. “Bye guys. It was lovely meeting you!” She smiled at them, a smile half true because she did like some of them. “Bye babe. See you later!” She grabbed the sides of his face again placing another kiss on his lips before taking her empty tray and leaving them alone.

The men all watched her as she made her way out of the cafeteria. When she closed the door behind her they all burst into laughter. Jisung was biting the inside of his cheek irked by their action. When the laughter stopped, Seungmin that was sitting next to him put his hand on his shoulder.

“I absolutely adore your girlfriend. She knows how to keep her ‘babe’ in check I see.” Seungmin tried cupping his face as Y/N did but Jisung slapped his hand away.

“Are you her good boy, Jisungie? Does she give you rewards if you listen to her?” Minho cooed at him and Jisung held back an insult.

“Shut the fuck up. It’s not like that. She surprised me as well. Who the fuck knew she was going to do that?” When he proposed the whole fake dating thing to her he thought it would be easier. Looking at it now he can’t understand why he thought that. He saw the way her fights with Mina unfold and he knew she was an actress which meant that she was probably either crazy confident or really good at faking it. For some reason, he thought she would be easier to tease and control but it would be a lie if he said it didn’t intrigue him. He liked a challenge and if the prize was Mina he would try his best.

“And you man” Chan spoke for the first time “what the fuck was that? Do you know her entire biography?” He was looking at Hyunjin who rolled his eyes.

“I told you I paid attention to last year’s plays. On top of that, she’s hot. I remember that after one spectacle I and the guys from my dance group at the time talked about her for like a month. She was so..” The man let out a groan and threw his head back trying to explain what he meant.

“Sure, tell me more. Did you masturbate to the thought of my girlfriend? Perhaps got any wet dreams about her?” Jisung commented, raising an eyebrow.

Hyunjin winked at him as a smirk made its way on his face. Some of the guys simultaneously let out disgusted sounds at his gesture.

“But how did this whole thing happen? I can’t remember a moment when you talked about her or when you were together.” Felix’s deep voice rang making everyone pay attention to him.

Changbin suddenly let a gasp out and dramatically covered his mouth. “Yesterday our little Jisungie sat next to her in Theory and Improvisation and when the class ended he ran after her. I think he might have had a secret crush!” The older man teased.

“Yeah, but she looked really annoyed with him. Hence why she sprinted out of the class. Why would she accept to date him if she looked like she’d rather listen to Mr Jung talk about the first piano ever invented.” Chan intervened making Jisung shrug his shoulders.

“She was annoyed with me but what can I say? I’m so charming she couldn’t refuse me.” He leaned back in his chair putting his arms over the back of the chair.

“I think she did it out of pity. When she realized you’ve been trying to get Mina for a year and a half now she probably felt so bad for you she decided to sacrifice herself so you look less like a loser.” Hyunjin said his tone way to serious to be a joke.

Jisung threw the man a deadly stare. “At least I didn’t masturbate to the thought of her like a fucking virgin.” He spat in the other man’s face.

“Touche.”

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jilytoberfest · 3 years

Text

Author- @maraudersftw

Thank you so much for taking the time to do this, Claudia! And a huge thank you to all those who sent in the questions! You can find her on ao3 and ffnet !

1. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

Don’t know about interesting, but I can’t write with zero distractions. I constantly need to be shifting tabs, listening to music, checking Tumblr, talking to friends, or reading bits of someone else’s fic if I want to get a good amount of writing done in one day. If you switch off my WiFi and give me a blank document, it’s unlikely that I’ll get a lot written in one go, simply because my brain tires of being forced into one world, one scene, one situation for too long.

2. What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your stories?

Oh man, too many. I think the most gradual learning over the years has been that I can actually write, and be good at it, despite English not being my first language. Even more than that, I’ve learned that I can always improve. Right now, I’ve come to a point where I can say that writing is easily a skill I’m confident about.

In terms of particularly learning something from my stories, the most recent and surprising discovery has been that my penchant for describing details and movements and expressing emotions allows me to write pain and angst well. Before I realized this, I’d always considered myself to be better at writing fluff, which is why you’ll find most (if not all) of my initial fics to be more on the fluffier side.

3. Do you have any suggestions to help others become a better writer? If so, what are they?

This is not really a suggestion, but more of a truth: no one becomes amazing or perfect overnight. You have to keep writing over weeks and months and years to get where you want to. And even then, the growth never stops. The more you write, the better you’ll get. It’s really as simple as that. I’d suggest experimenting with different tropes, POVs, tenses and situations to really discover what works best for you. And the most important thing: don’t forget to have fun!

4. What do you think makes a good story?

Logic, consistency, and characterization. If any fic has all these three things, you know I’m sold on it. There’s nothing more satisfying to me than seeing pieces of a plot click into place, to see characters undergo development, but in a way that makes sense, that shows logical progression, that doesn’t make me go “what the hell?” when they do something. Good quality writing and fun dialogues are always a bonus, but if a story just mashes together a bunch of scenes without any of it leading anywhere, I’m likely to lose interest very quickly.

5. What is the first book that made you cry?

Not to be a total cliché, but The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

6. Does writing energize or exhaust you?

It energizes me until it exhausts me, which is when I know I need to take a step back and breathe, do something else, and return to it once it no longer makes me want to pull my hair out. I try to keep reminding myself that this is supposed to be fun for me, too, and generally that helps.

7. Have you ever gotten reader’s block? If so, what are your tips to overcome it?

Oh, loads of times. Best way to overcome reader’s block is to re-read a comfort book/fic. It allows you to return to a world you already know, a story you already love, and there’s no extra energy required to fall in love with the characters or the plot. At the same time, it allows you to reuse your reading muscles, so that by the time you’re done, you’re craving for more of that feeling!

8. Do you think someone could be a writer if they don’t feel emotions strongly?

This is an extremely subjective question. What might be “strong emotions” for one, may not necessarily be so for another. That being said, I think it is still possible to write things without empathizing with the character in your story. I’ve seen some really good authors write antagonist/villain POVs brilliantly, but I know for a fact that they don’t condone or feel those things themselves. It’s not always about experiencing those emotions yourself when you’re writing, but more about presenting a flow of thoughts and feelings that the character is likely to go through in their journey. Beyond that, I believe anyone who loves writing can become a writer. There are no rules!

9. If you could tell your younger writer self anything, what would it be?

“Keep doing what you’re doing, lovely. You’ll learn and grow so much!” and “maybe chill out on the cliffhangers a bit.”

10. What was your hardest scene to write?

I’m taking ‘hardest’ here to mean the one that made me the most nervous, and not the one that took me the longest to write because I was undergoing a writer’s block.

The answer would be Chapter 7 of Retribution, basically everything from the moment the action scenes begin. There was so much pressure (that I put on myself) to get that whole sequence of events right. I didn’t want it to feel messy even though things were happening too fast. And of course, there was also that massive reveal which had to be the right amount of dramatic to be satisfactory. So yeah, lots of nerves with that one.

11. What is your favorite childhood book?

Alice in Wonderland. I read that picture book like a million times.

12. How long on average does it take you to write a one shot or a chapter of a fic?

This really depends on the length/genre of what I’m writing. Like, a chapter of Retribution takes me ages to finish because it tends to be relatively lengthy and dark. But a chapter of, say, Disgraceful can be done much quicker because the words range around ~4K-5K in length, and the tone is much lighter there. But, I think once I get in the flow of writing something, it takes me five days or so to finish a chapter. Getting into that flow initially is the issue XD

13. A fic that inspires you?

How does one answer this question with just one fic? Asking for a friend. I think Boyfriend by Molly Raesly and Commentarius by bcdaily have been fics that have impacted me the most in that they pushed me to start writing myself.

But then there are fics like The Last Enemy by CH_Darling, Earthquake Drills by efk_girldetective, and Football, Calculus, and Cappuccinos by xMagicalMystery that I know I’ll remember forever for their brilliance.

14. How do you edit your work?

Mostly I edit as I write. I’m not a very fast writer; I take a lot of pauses, I let my mind wander a lot, I dive deeply into the emotions and images in my mind, and so I also form my sentences carefully. Of course, when I’m done with the chapter, I go back and read through it once more before posting (and still somehow miss out on fixing some typos), but most of the editing happens during the actual writing.

15. Where does inspiration come from?

God, literally anywhere? Movies and TV shows are fairly common, as are other books and fics. But most of them are pulled from my mind, sometimes with the help of prompts or ideas I see floating around in different platforms. And when I’m stuck while writing, I shift to other fics to refresh my mind, and then let inspiration guide me where it will.

16. Who has been helpful for you as you write for the fandom?

Very few people IRL know that I write, so I’ll talk about people in the fandom.

Obviously, my loveliest readers are the biggest motivators, without whom I wouldn’t want to keep writing as much as I do. But sometimes, you also need people to just rant to/bounce ideas off of/fangirl with. For me, I thankfully have a few of those: Nina (all-things-jily), Dylan (the-dream-team), and Lexi (shehatedhimnahshedidn’t) amongst others! I also bug Cer (cesays) a lot when I need to British-ify my fics.

17. What is your fav POV to write from?

Lily Lily Lily! I put a lot of my own thoughts, actions (and aspirations) into her when I write, so her voice comes the easiest to me. Also helps that I love thirsting after James through her.

18. What is a fic you would love to write but are worried you won’t be able to accomplish it/nervous it wouldn’t work out?

A canon-compliant multi-chapter. Apart from just the extremely unacceptable ending (which I’d definitely change if I ever got to writing this), I find the idea of writing an EpicTM very intimidating. I’ve seen and read so many versions of canon Jily that I’m afraid mine won’t be unique/new, or I’ll accidentally steal ideas from fics I’ve read before. I know there’s a LOT of planning I’ll have to do before I attempt to pull this off.

Another one is a Jily wedding fic, which just feels insanely difficult to do justice to.

19. Do you ever self insert in fics?

Not… a lot? I only self-insert in the sense that I often make Lily behave and think things in a way that quite resembles my own. So, there is a good amount of me in her, but I won’t say we’re exactly alike.

20. What is the story you are proudest of?

Retribution

21. Do you prefer writing canon jily or muggle au?

Muggle AUs for multichapters, Canon for one-shots. At least that’s been the preference so far. I don’t know if this needs an explanation, but it’s mostly because I have very strong feelings about canon (as discussed in q18). But since it’s a world that’s already established and needs very little background, it works perfectly for shorter stories.

22. What's your favourite line or paragraph from a story you've written and why?

I feel like I’ve quoted this over a hundred times already, but:

My hands shake as I lean forward to rest my palms on his knees. I don’t understand why I’ve done it until I feel the solid sturdiness push comfortingly against my skin. Even in my subconscious, I’m aware of this unsettling assessment: he is stability, I am disorder.

- Retribution, Chapter 3, Do You Know Me?

Beyond just the neat use of metaphors here, there is a lot that this comparison tells you about Lily’s relationship with James at this point (and for several more chapters) in the story. When she’s in such a vulnerable state, with barely any sense of who/what/why she is, her head literally scrambled into “disorder”, she leans on James more than just physically. She sees him as the stability that grounds her, keeps her from going insane. And I love that all of this comes across from this one panic attack scene.

Thank you for doing this!

#jilyinterview #jilytober 2021 #jilytober fest #jilytober #jily #maraudersftw

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lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store.

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her.

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him. A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again.

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again.

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream.

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave.

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you.

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny.

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight.

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone.

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day.

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold.

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you.

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you.

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry.

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to.

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail.

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it.

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years

Text

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

#john wick fic #santino d'antonio/original female character #santino d'antonio #c: euphemia volpe #f: where there is no temptation there is no glory #spilled ink #john wick oc #i'm fine we're fine this is all fine nobody panic #gonna #q #this so that i can pretend i don't see it djhfbjdf #x: senza tentazioni senza onore

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likesrandomstuff · 3 years

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Avalance Fic Recommendations Part 4

The final part of this series. Thanks to everyone who reblogged and liked, and a huge shout-out to @heywhereisperry who encouraged and motivated me into doing this.

As I said in Part 1, feel free to add any more stories you think should be recognised to any of these posts, and my ask box is open if you would like more detail on anything.

Part 1: Bite Sized

Part 2: Snacks

Part 3: Meals

Banquets (Over 75,000 words)

When you do not have anything you need to do in the next couple of days

You're My Miracle by bihexualmess

My tags: Ava is FBI, Sara is a Private Investigator, Rip brings Sara on for a case

This just got updated the other week and ruined multiple nights of sleep for me. At almost 350k words, still going, I don’t know how to explain without spoiling stuff that happens a long way in. There are so many layers to both Ava and Sara here, and the trauma, and the issues, and the fact they will not talk to each other about anything. I jumped on this a bit late, as the title and description didn’t grab me, but oh boy, I was missing out. I did get to read a heap of it in one go, but that doesn’t help the slow burn. I would start this even though it’s still a WIP, just because it will take you a while, to read, and also the storylines need time to settle in, because they are heavy, but just amazing. It is now the longest Avalance fic with the latest update.

this is the way that we love (like it's forever) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: College Avalance dated and broke up, five years later they meet again, Ava’s dating someone else

This fic had me crying in the lunchroom during my second week of work because I couldn’t not read during my lunch break, and it was hitting me so hard. That was after starting it at 10pm, reading to 2am, sleeping until 6am, reading until 11am a couple of days before. Warning for major character deaths; the funeral for one is alluded to in the description. If anyone says something bad about Jordan, I will not be happy; one of the best original characters I have ever read in a fic. Sara’s not in a great place initially, but she gets there. And there’s some cute flashbacks to college Legends too.

you make me smile (please stay for a while now) by CoffeeAndArrows, moonlitprincess

My tags: High School Rivals AU, Ava’s class president, Sara is the superstar soccer captain, they have more in common than they thought

I just looked at the word count for this, and it must be the first time I have, because wow! It is a journey! There’s a couple of prequel, sequel and interjection stories in this universe too. Ava has to deal with her family not being super supportive when she comes out. Sara has to deal with Laurel struggling and their mum having a clear favourite (Laurel). Most of the Legends have really great arcs in here as well. Ava’s family is great. I wanna hang out with her little sister. Don’t be like 2018 me who gives up after the first chapter because they are mad about what Laurel is going through. She’s fine, and there’s a heap of great Sara and Laurel moments. I recently re-read the last 10 chapters, and I still couldn’t stop myself from reading like it was the first time.

i am who you used to love (and you are just a memory) by justpalsbeingals

My tags: The Vow AU, but Ava makes some better choices early on, they’re married, Ava gets into an accident and loses all memory of Sara

I hate the movie this fic is based on. The movie’s fine, and it was a delight seeing Tatiana Maslany in it while I was watching Orphan Black, but basically it is my worst-case scenario, losing my memory. The fact that this fic kept me hooked despite that, is a testament to the quality. The fic itself says “light angst”, I say it’s much, much heavier than that, but that’s just me. Warning, there are some intense twists in here, and everyone is a bit OOC to me, memory loss being considered, which might not be your thing.

and i will stumble and fall (i'm still learning to love) by lucylikestowrite

My tags: SwanQueen kid fic AU, yes, I know go with me on this, Ava adopted Sara’s unexpected baby, said kid finds Sara years later

In general, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t like kid fics. Fics with future children coming back to meet their parents, or the couple going into the future? Some of my favourites ever. This has no time travel, but I trust Lucy. This story is under 75k, but the sequel is almost as long, so combined they’re over. The sequel is a WIP. I didn’t watch Once Upon a Time, but it’s the plot of the start of that, except the gay actually happens. There are a lot of issues our girls have to work through here, but the kid is so cute.

and we could try by plinys

My tags: it’s a story mostly told on twitter through fake screen shots of social media, Sara drunk messages Ava, Ava doesn’t block her

I’m sure this format of storytelling is not for everyone, and that’s okay! I was so confused by it at first. I would recommend starting with the shorter one, I can be your hero (in Part 2), just to see if you like it, before jumping into this. I read this when the epilogue, the fic, was released, and I was up until 5am because I couldn’t stop. It became part of my personality. Story wise, Sara and Ava are on different coasts, but both know Nate, Ray and Nora. Ray and Nora get engaged, and Avalance have to deal with planning that wedding, and whatever is going on with them.

take my hands now by plinys

My tags: Another Social Media twitter AU, Sara is The Canary, Ava is trying to arrest vigilantes, Nate accidently gives Ava Sara’s number

Another brilliant twitter story. Some of our gang is trying to arrest the other half. Sara knows who Ava is, Ava doesn’t know that Sara is the person she’s chasing. Everyone has public twitter accounts. Sara actually gets [spoiler villain] to stop an attack by sending them money for a drink.

your eyes, they shine so bright by plinys

My tags: Social Media AU, everyone works for not Buzzfeed, a colab series is pitched, Sara and Ava’s teams have to work together

Ava makes factual videos, Sara does not, they are forced to work together. Nate is everyone’s boss technically, but they do what they want. Nate and Ava are non-biological siblings, and Satan Camp is a running gag. Oh, fake dating is in there too!

right to the top, don't hold back by SJAandDWfan

My tags: American Ninja Warrior AU, Sara’s a veteran and the Legends train together, Ava’s a rookie, rivals to training partners to friends to …

I re-read this every year when the new Australian season comes out. It’s so burned into my brain that when I was watching the speed climbing at the Olympics I genuinely thought “I wonder how Amaya would go in this?”. Amaya’s pre-Ninja experience is rock climbing in this fic. I learnt so much about Ninja Warrior and how the show (at least in this universe) works, and it’s fascinating. Would recommend watching some clips if you’re unfamiliar with the concept. The story goes pretty in detail about the courses. For recommendations, either Jessie Gaff, who was a S1 Supergirl stuntwoman, or Australia’s own Olivia Vivian, who is just stages better than our next female.

biding our time (until tomorrow) by TheTruthAboutLove

My tags: Period setting AU, Ava’s too noble for her own good, Oliver’s dad is the villain

This was a really cool experiment. Basically, told in lots of mini chapters like a soap opera. I do not know much about this period of American history, but it did not matter. A lot of different Arrow-verse peeps show up along the way. I’m sure I complained out loud “you’re allowed to want things Ava!” at some point. There’s an attempt for fake dating, and it’s not the homophobia but the second daughter problem that gets them.

Click here to see all the parts

#Avalance fic rec #Avalance #Sara Lance #Ava Sharpe #fanfiction

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broadstflyers · 3 years

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A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #mat barzal x reader

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Aren't you Resourceful? [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Rating: 18+ only.

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, dom/sub dynamic, oral (both m receiving and f receiving), choking, praising, name calling, fingering, it's soft at the end i promise… because no matter what, i’m a sucker for soft! Maxwell.

Author's note: If you see me shamelessly use his quotes from trailers and promos and put them in a sexual context… no you do not. ❤️ (because, spoiler alert, I did that more than once in this fic.)

Word count: 3k

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Masterlist

"Well, aren't you resourceful?" he mocked bitterly, his tone dripping with annoyance and sarcasm. You shuddered at the sudden roughness in his voice, the edge of it making you fearful and timid.

"Mr Lord, I- I'm sorry. I guess I just got confused." you found yourself babbling, nervously crossing your arms over your chest as he glared into your eyes. They were normally a shade of honeyed brown but now, they were much, much darker. Everything about him in the moment seemed darker. His eyelids were heavy, a scowl painted across his face and his fists clenched so tight his knuckles had turned white.

"Confused? How could you get confused?" he gritted out, causing a small yelp to escape your lips.

"I- I guess I must've sent out the wrong reports." You bit your lip, looking at your boss apologetically.

"What other fucking reports could you have sent out?" He spat. "What the hell did you send them?"

He was mad. He was very, very angry. You were new, but you had certainly heard horror stories about your boss. You weren't even his assistant, just his receptionist, stationed at a desk outside of his office. You dealt with his visitors and passed along any phone calls for him… but he was the one who had tasked you with a job suited for an assistant. You weren't used to it, it was probable you'd make a mistake. Technically, it wasn't your fault.

And Maxwell knew this. In fact, he half expected you to fuck it up— and now that you had, his plan was in order. Everything was working out. The mild inconvenience over the wrong reports being sent out really wasn't that big of a deal, but he loved seeing how small your frame got when he shouted at you. He admired your comically wide eyes and hunched up shoulders as he talked down to you, and he wasn't going to stop there.

The truth is, Maxwell had his eye on you since you got the job. You were young, fresh faced and bright eyed— unqualified with no experience. It turned a few heads in the office as Maxwell always made sure his employees were the best of the best. You, however, didn't have a superiority complex unlike your peers. You were devastatingly different and Maxwell craved you, perhaps just as much as you craved him.

You thought about him every second of your working day. There was just a wall between you both, and you constantly daydreamed about what it would be like just walk in and sit on his lap. You imagined grinding on him, moaning his name and letting him massage your breasts as you gave him the best ride of his life. Your fantasies were sick, but they didn't stop there.

You'd go home every night to your small, shanky apartment downtown and tune into one of his longer infomercials. He had one broadcast at six o’ clock every evening. You'd discard your panties and sit on the sofa with your legs open, watching him with intent as you touched yourself and imagined your own fingers were his.

"Mr Lord- uhm, sir, please," you fumbled, dragging your feet towards the double doors that led out of his office. "Let me check my desk." his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving his office. Your heart began to race as his fingers curled around you and moved you away from the door.

"Stand over there," he ordered, gesturing aimlessly towards the large bay windows that overlooked the city. He turned back around and locked the door, the clicking noise sending a shiver down your spine. "You… you keep making these mistakes." he began to approach you, stalking towards you with a primal glint in his eye.

"I-, I'm sorry?" you swallowed as he neared you. Maxwell placed two firm hands on your shoulders and pushed you backwards into the window, the coolness of the glass stinging your exposed skin.

"Why?" he beckoned, his fingers curling and pushing your chin up so you were looking at him. You were speechless, your lips parted slightly as you looked up into his eyes. His own gaze travelled across your face and then down your neck, admiring how long and pretty it was… especially as he pointed your chin upwards. He tutted in disapproval when you didn't give him a response. "You're expensive, you know," he muttered. "But there's a reason I keep you around."

You gulped as his hands travelled down to your chest, his fingers beginning to tug at your collar and undo the buttons of your blouse. "Why?" you asked, your gaze not diverting from his once and a sudden rush of confidence jolting through your system.

"Why?" Maxwell repeated, his voice low and sinister. "High heels.. tight pencil skirt… Your blouse makes your tits look fantastic. I know you dress like this to get my attention. I know that's why you visit my office every single day, and you tend to linger in my doorway so I can get a nice look at your ass."

You let out an embarrassing squeak at his words. He really had caught you out. You had done all these things for him, desperate to try and win his attention.

"Let me lift up your skirt. I know how hard you try to tease me, how you wear your skirts shorter and shorter everyday," Maxwell continued, peeling up your pencil skirt so it was rolled up around your tummy. "Wow, such naughty panties for such a shy girl." Maxwell chuckled in surprise, his fingers gracing the lace of your blood red panties. You hummed as they rolled over your lips. "You're already soaking wet." he gasped. "Why don't you take your clothes off and lay down on my desk like a good girl?" Maxwell asked.

You obeyed without hesitation, stripping down until you were completely naked. Maxwell gawked at you, feeling his cock harden in his constricted pants as you padded over to his desk. You made yourself as comfortable as you could, despite the coolness of the expensive oak sending a shiver down your spine. "Now, open your legs and let me see your pussy." You exhaled, nervously spreading your legs open for your boss to examine. "Oh," he mumbled, leaning over to gain a closer inspection. "So pretty."

You felt his breath fan over your cunt, the arousal heading straight to your core. You fluttered your eyes closed as he continued to whisper jumbled up dirty talk about how ravishing you looked. Then, to your surprise, you felt the curve of his nose nudge against your clit as he licked a stripe between your folds. You gasped at the sensation, your toes curling and your fingers clenching into a fist due to the suddenity of it. "You like that don't you?" Maxwell chuckled, continuing to give you little cat licks. "Mm, sweet girl." he praised, latching his lips on your sensitive bud and beginning to suck. His groans of pleasure vibrated through your body and it wasn't long before your orgasm washed over you. He pulled away, his lips puckered and dark pink, as well as his eyes practically black from arousal. "Can I touch you?" he asked softly, and you nodded your head desperately.

Max began to circle your clit, humming in contentment as you squirmed underneath him. "Shh, sit still darling," he muttered lowly, pressing his body on top of yours and grazing his teeth over your jaw. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

"You." you breathed out, shuddering as his movements on your clit began to get faster. Fuck, he was good. "I want you." you re-affirmed, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific," he chuckled darkly. "I know you're shy, princess, but this is just between me and you. Tell me what you fucking want." He growled, the change between his gentle sweet voice and the angry snarl taking you by surprise.

"I-," you moaned as he worked your cunt. You knew if he kept rubbing he'd have you orgasm any second. "I need you inside of me." you gasped, proud you had finally gotten the words out.

"Oh," Maxwell laughed a villainous laugh. "Why didn't you just say so?" Taking his finger from your clit, he inserted it into your dripping hole. It sunk straight in with ease, an obscene wet noise echoing throughout his expansive office. "Like this?"

You couldn't even respond, instead just rolling your hips further down and taking the full length of his finger until you felt his knuckles against your cunt. He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "So needy. So tight too…." he groaned, thrusting his finger in and out of you. He curled it so perfectly that with every movement, his digit hit that sweet spot inside of you. "You want more?" he teased and you nodded, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure washed over you. "Hey, look at me slut. You want more?" he asked again. Your eyes snapped open and you nodded your head impatiently. He pushed a second finger inside of you and you screamed as your hips bucked up. His actions were ruthless and primal as he fingered you hard and fast. Tears pricked your eyes as he kept up his perfect rhythm.

"More." you begged.

"But you're just so tight," he sighed. "You'll never be able to take my cock." he laughed, bringing his own hand down to palm his already throbbing length through his tailored pants. "Please." you muttered as his thrusts became sloppy.

"Ah ah ah, only good girls deserve my cock," Maxwell tsked, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Girls who don't send off the wrong reports, you understand?"

You whined and felt your walls contract against his hand. Evidently, he felt it too. He brought his free hand back to your clit and began to circle it erratically. "Oh, so you're close? Look at you getting off from my hands alone. You want to cum?" you nodded quickly, pieces of your hair falling into your face. "You'll have to earn it." he growled. "Tell me, how often have you thought about this, huh? How often have you imagined I fuck you like this?"

"Ah- all the time." you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up at the revelation, although you had no shame. How could you possibly have shame when you were spread out, completely naked, on your boss’ desk? "T-this morning." you continued, gaining comical wide eyes from Maxwell. He wasn't expecting that.

"Tell me more," he urged, sliding a third finger into your weeping cunt. You groaned and felt your legs begin to shake. "Listen to me sweetheart, if you want to cum I need you to tell me what you were thinking about this morning."

You whimpered. "Max, please."

"What did you call me?" he growled, taking his hand from your clit and wrapping it around your neck. You felt your wetness slick against the skin of your neck as he applied just enough pressure around your throat to make your vision haze.

"Sorr-sorry sir," you gasped and his grip on you loosened. The movements of his fingers were still manic and he hadn't let up once. You were desperate to cum. "This morning when- when I delivered your coffee. You had that meeting and you were standing at the front writing something on the bo-board," you groaned as Maxwell reattached his free hand back to your clit. "And I stood by the- the doorframe for a few seconds and just watched you. Wa-watched the way the muscles in your back flexed as you reached up and the way your bicep stretched around your shirt as you- wrote- wrote-" You couldn't finish. You couldn't. Your orgasm spread like wildfire and Maxwell could sense it too.

"Cum for me baby." Max granted. And with those four words, you became a heaving mess, coming completely undone beneath your boss and soaking his fingers. He doubled out of you without warning and you whined at the loss of his fullness. "Your pussy was even better than I imagined." he revealed, unclipping his suspenders and unzipping his pants, letting them fall down to his ankles. He pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his hard cock to spring out freely. You licked your lips with desire as you examined him— long and thick, his tip beading with precum and it had slowly begun to drip down his length.

"Now I take what I want in return," Maxwell said. "On your knees."

You followed his instruction with a wobble as you clambered off the table and knelt down. You were the perfect height, your face sitting directly in front of his cock. You were still coming down from your high, your eyes feeling heavy. You hummed as he pushed his cock in between your lips, eventually parting them and sliding himself down your throat. Your post coital fog immediately cleared as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag and choke around his length. You steadied yourself, breathing through your nose and clamping your mouth around his cock as you began to slide your head forwards and backwards, taking him the best you can.

The taste of his precum sat well on your tongue, you savoured him completely, knowing that his salty taste would resonate deep in your mind long after this was over. "Fuck," he cursed, his head tipping back and his dark blonde locks of hair falling out of place. He was coming undone, and it was all because of you. His chest began to rise and fall as you took him as deep as you could.

Your hands lifted to cup his balls and you began to massage them playfully. He made the mistake of looking down at you. He was completely enthralled by the way your pretty lips looked wrapped around his cock and your glazed doe eyes framed by your perfect eyelashes. You hollowed your cheeks and smiled around him, wetness dripping from the corners of your mouth. He reached down and gently wiped it away with his thumb, cupping your face and admiring your beauty.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, closing his eyes. He began to subconsciously fuck your mouth, his thrusts slow but passionate. He was deliberately being careful, not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you when you had already been so good for him.

You sat and took it like a good girl, your posture straight and your hands still playing with his balls. It wasn't long before you began to feel his cock twitch in your mouth and he pulled out of you.

"Want you to swallow my load." Maxwell said, but for the first time, his voice sounded weak. He hunched over his still clothed shoulders and began to jerk himself off. You nodded your head eagerly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, sticking out your tongue to show him that you're ready. Within seconds, he was cumming down your throat, his seed roping against your lips and gracing your tongue and even hitting your cheeks and dripping down your chin. When he finished, he shuffled back, admiring your face like it was artwork. You closed your mouths, humming in delight as you swallowed his cum. When you were done you opened your mouth again to prove that it was all gone; that you had done as he wished for.

Maxwell sighed, pulling his pants back up and walking over to his desk drawer. Fumbling with the handle, he eventually got it open and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He walked back over to you and took your hand, pulling you up and sitting you on the edge of his desk. Taking the handkerchief, he carefully cleaned up his remaining mess that was on your skin.

The next few moments were spent in comfortable silence. Your boss tended to you first, before he even bothered cleaning himself up, which certainly took you by surprise. He smoothed out your hair and helped you back into your clothes, taking his sweet time to button up your blouse again and straighten your collar. He even kneeled down and slid your heels onto your feet, fastening the straps and making sure they were comfortable.

"Sir?" you asked nervously, biting your lip. Maxwell looked at you in silence but his gaze urged you to go on. "Uhm, thank you."

He nodded dismissively and you hopped for the desk, limping to the door. As your hand pushed on the handle, he called your name. You took a deep breath, turning around.

"Would you like to go on a date with me, sometime, maybe?" Maxwell asked with a small but nervous smile.

You couldn't believe it, this was the last thing you expected. You shot him a smile back and nodded your head. "Yeah, okay." you agreed before spinning back around and leaving his office.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal smut

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chatxkilluaxnoir · 2 years

Text

𝕰𝖚𝖕𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖆: A (Mostly) Canon Compliment then Canon Divergence HxH Killugon Long One-Shot

This is my Hunter x Hunter Killugon gift/gift fic for my Valentine for the @killugonvalentines event! I know it is just barely 14th (at least for some people), but I am posting it now; just in case I don’t have time later. My Valentine was @ash1875! (I seem to be having a bit of trouble tagging my Valentine, so I am not sure if my tag of them will work). I hope they and anyone else who may read my fic enjoys it! There is 6k+ words, so a fair amount to read.

Will probably be posting a AO3 version soon too, if you prefer to read there. And when I say soon, I mean way sooner than the other fics I have said that for (which I haven’t posted, for the most part, on AO3 yet), because the format of this fic makes it easier to more quickly post on AO3. Alright, I am done rambling, let’s get to the fic. There will be a preview of it, then I will put the rest under a “read more” cut.

(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)

Killua had just departed with Gon at the World Tree, Alluka in-hand, when he finally let his feelings overflow. Not on purpose, mind you, and if you were to ask Killua if he was upset about something, he would say he is fine, and that nothing was wrong. But Killua, despite his tough show and teasing in front of Gon, felt like his soul was torn in two at separating with Gon. So tears did flow and flow for a good awhile after Gon had left; it was quiet, and Killua kept his face away from Alluka to not show her how actually upset he was that Gon wasn’t there with him anymore (Alluka was perceptive though, and knew something was up.).

After crying for awhile, standing still in place at the bottom of the world tree, every so often looking up, as if Killua could somehow see Gon all the way at the top of the tree, he finally wiped them away, closed his eyes for awhile, and the re-opened them, his eyes looking like he had never cried at all, and started to turn to walk away. Sadness, but determination in his eyes.

“Come on, Alluka, it is time to go.” Killua said to Alluka.

Alluka looked up at Killua, words on her tongue to say about Killua’s unvoiced feelings and the unspoken words she could feel were there besides the words Killua just said. Alluka felt the words being said applied to more than just what was being said literally. Alluka truly wanted to say something to Killua, but decided (for now) to keep her mouth shut about it. Thinking maybe it wasn’t the best time. She was also patient after all, and she had all the time in the world to ask her Nii-chan about it. Because Alluka for sure, wouldn’t let all this pass. She was for sure going to ask about all this. …To ask about Gon. She just–wouldn’t right now.

“Ok Nii-chan! Coming!” Replied cheerily.

Alluka then started walking properly with Killua and stopped dragging her feet.

They then walked in silence for awhile until they reached their airship they would travel the world together in.

Once they seated themselves and before they took off, he got a message on his phone from Palm, saying to check out a link in their email which linked to a live feed of something they might be interested in seeing.

So Killua got out his tablet after reading the message, and looked for this email. He found it, opened it, and clicked on the link. And to his surprise, he saw Gon…who appeared to be talking to his father. Killua wondered for a second how this feed was being shown, but then shook his head at that thought. After that dragonfly Chimera Ant’s powers, and so many things he has seen and experienced; even before he took his first Hunter Exam, someone– or something getting this feed isn’t really a surprise. He still thought to ask Palm where she got the link though; just for curiosity’s sake.

…To be honest though, the main reason why he didn’t care that much how he was able to see this feed of Gon, was, well, because he was able to see Gon again, so full of life, and so happy talking to his father (though, seeing Gon so happy, without him there, talking to Ging also stung some) in probably the clearest definition he was going to see Gon in awhile. Be that in-person (of course)..or not. So to Killua, beggars couldn’t really be choosers; he was happy with what he was able to get.

Killua lost in thought, got shook out of it by Alluka who had come over from somewhere else in the airship with some snacks and drinks for their flight–wherever they were going (not even they knew where. They were currently traveling over some beautiful crystal-like formations growing on the surface. But that’s the thing, they were just traveling, with no real destinations in mind, neither of the siblings really knew where they wanted to go, at least not truly. They both hoped someday they would).

“AH! Nii-chan, is that Gon there? Those tablet things are so cool. I saw you constantly on one in the car leaving–that place. What is Gon doing anyway? ...Oh. He looks to be on top of the world tree. Hmmmm..???”, questioned Alluka.

“Yes, that is Gon. And yes he is still on top of the world tree. This video feed appears live somehow. Do you want to watch it with me?”, answered Killua.

“Of course I do!” Alluka gleefully shouted; clapping her hands.

She scooted over super close to Killua and leaned over to peer at the tabet in Killua’s hands.

Killua leaned in too, getting closer to his sister, and making it easier for both of them to view the screen on the tablet. (They were lucky Killua could multitask while flying, and that there were some things that can make the flight basically auto).

And for awhile, they just sat there, happily watching tablet, happily watching Gon (and Ging, but who cares about him, when Gon was right there), who was happy too.

At that moment, they felt like they were the only people in the world.

And they were happy.

But if they were happy, if Killua was happy, why did Killua’s heart hurt so much?

(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)

Gon had just finished his talk with Ging and was climbing down the giant tree. It was now dark, and so the climb down was more dangerous than his climb up, but he had been through worse, nen or no nen. He could have slept up there until the morning, but—he had his talk Ging, and now he wanted to move on, move forward as quickly as possible. So even just waiting until morning was too much. Gon wanted to move forward from Ging (from Killua too?); he just felt like he had to.

Gon had made it down from the tree, and was walking on the streets trying to find a hotel or something to stay the night in (if he had to, he could just sleep somewhere outside though), when he ran into Palm.

“Ommpphhh! Nenene, oh, is that you Palm, what you doing out here so late?”

“Hm, well, I was just out for a walk, it is a beautiful night out and all.”

Gon didn’t really believe Palm’s reasons, but decided not to press it. She probably had her reasons for lying, if she was. And she had no reason to lie maliciously to him too.

…

“So, what are you doing out here yourself Gon? You must be done with your talk with Ging if you are down here? Did you want to go somewhere to talk for a bit? Me and Knov and some other other people have a house we are staying in right now, and you can stay the night if you want.” Palm suddenly said.

Gon was silent for a moment, and then said,

“Ok. Sure, that sounds great. Let-,” Gon pulled an upset face at saying that, “I mean, take me to this house.”

Palm was taken aback, like she didn’t expect Gon to answer so quickly or maybe she wasn’t expecting Gon to accept her offer at all. Either way she was surprised.

“Great. Follow me, I will take you to our place.”

“Thank you, Palm!”

Gon walked up to be next to Palm while walking to her house.

Gon, the whole walk home just had his hands behind his back, and just kept peeking at Palm, and looking away when Palm caught him looking. Opening and closing his mouth a lot of the time, like he wanted to say something to Palm, but just never doing so. In the end he just resorted to chewing his lip, like he had to physically restrain himself from not asking about what was on his mind.

After awhile of doing this, Palm had finally had enough. Eyebrows twitching, Palm questioned,

“What is it Gon?! Quit with your constant staring and anxiousness and lip biting and just get out with it! …I am not going to bite Gon.”

“Ah, um, well”, Gon stammered shortly, but shortly collected himself, “I was trying to not ask about it, because I thought you must have had your reasons, but, what is your REAL reason for being here. When you gave me your reason earlier, I didn’t really think it was the truth. And thinking back on it, when you saw me out, you didn’t even seem surprised to see me. I mean, sure, maybe me being there wasn’t a huge surprise, since some people did know I went up the world tree, but no one really knew I would go back down the same day I went up, esp. at night, and even if you could guess that I might have been there, I think some kind of shock, even slight, should have shown up on your face, but it didn’t. The most flustered you got was when I asked you why you were out so late.”

…

“So Palm, why were you really out tonight?”, Gon finished.

Palm’s pale skin seemed to grow even paler with this question, and her blue eyes looked back and forth like she wanted to be anywhere but there—or she was trying to come up with a good lie excuse.

Gon still had his hands behind his back, bending down slightly, and tilting his head to look up at Palm just stared and stared saying nothing after asking his question, until Palm finally cracked.

*Sigh*, “FINE, fine, I will tell you! God!”, Palm kept on muttering for awhile before answering though, and Gon could swear he could hear some less-than-nice words being said as well, “So ok, I kind of knew you would be coming down, and I wanted to come get you to make my offer and than when we got back to our house, I talked to go somewhere private, that wasn’t literally outside for ANYONE to hear, and, talk, about some things. Some very important things–that I think should be discussed, and honestly should have been discussed before your talk with Ging and most importantly BEFORE Killua left. But, better late than never I guess.” Palm finished in a huff, and almost out of breath.

Gon blinked, “Um. Okayyy then.”

“Just follow me then.”

Gon didn’t say anything and just started following Palm when she started walking forward.

They walked for awhile until they reached a medium-big-sized painted red and white trimmed, 3-story house with a decent amount of different sized windows. A few of the windows even had flower pots with beautiful flowers growing from them (there weren't that many plants besides those things though. Some grass and a couple of trees and bushes). Gon pictured it would look even nicer during the day from the outside and that on the inside, that there would be a lot of natural sunlight from the windows.

Palm stopped at the front door, hand reaching for her purse to look for something, then stopped suddenly to turn around to look at Gon. Once she was able to see that Gon was still there (was she worried that he was going to wander off?), she continued on digging through her purse, until she pulled out something shiny and metal. They were keys.

*Huff*, “Finally found those goddamn keys.” Palm muttered under her breath.

With keys in hand, she got the food door opened, and quickly turned the lights on. Oh, Gon just noticed that the home appeared unoccupied, since there didn’t appear to be any lights on when looking from the outside, and Palm had to turn the lights on when she entered.

Palm looked back and noticed Gon’s confused expression.

“What is on your mind?”

“Well, I noticed you had to turn on the lights, and that looking at the windows, there didn’t seem to be any lights on. Is there no one else home tonight, or…????” Gon shot back.

Palm didn’t say anything for a bit (like they were at a loss for words), and just started blinking rapidly, until Palm appeared to make up their mind at what to say, “Yes, it is just the two of us tonight, the rest are…out at a gettogether, and will be staying the night, at, hm, a hotel over there until at least tomorrow, so it will just be the two of here tonight. I hope you are ok with that?” Palm finished off with a question.

Gon quickly answered, “Of course I am okay with that! I just didn’t expect for there to be no one else here tonight since you said you live here with others, and you didn’t mention they would be gone at all until now. But it is really no big deal that it is just us for the night.”

“Good then. How about we go to the kitchen and heat up some very late dinner. There is some leftover pizza left. You can take your pick from Cheese, pepperoni, and sausage.” Palm suggested, and right afterwards she said so quietly to be honest inaudible, “and maybe while we are eating..we can talk–about some things.”

While confused why Palm was so hesitant to voice the last parts of what she said, Gon still replied back happily, with a louder-than-normal voice, “Sure! That sounds nice.”

They walked over to the kitchen, Palm turning on some more lights as they went, including the kitchen once they got to it. They found the pizza in the fridge, as well as a fair amount of sodas (judging from the state of the fridge, there really did look that there were a lot of people living there, so Palm was probably telling the truth when she said others lived here with her. To be fair though, how big the house was, might have been a tell too) and other drinks to choose from.

Gon ended up picking 1 sausage slice and 2 cheese slices and an Orange soda, while Palm picked 1 pepperoni slice and 1 cheese slice and a Coke. They heated up their pizza slices in the oven, and then went to the dining room to eat there. This time, Gon turned on the lights when they entered the dining room. They then sat down and proceeded to eat their pizza and drink their soda for awhile in silence, until Palm interrupted that silence, and asked with an ice breaker, “So how did your talk with Ging go?” She said somewhat hastily.

Ging stopped stuffing his face of cheese pizza for a sec to stop and think about her question.

“It was…nice, we talked about so many things and our experiences and the people we have met and come to know, and just so much stuff. It was great to be able to talk to him, on top of the world like that…, but now I don’t really know how to feel.” After a short pause, Gon started back up in a more hushed tone,

“After talking to him, I realized more and more that while I was excited to meet and talk to him, that he wasn’t and had never really been a father to me. Talking to him was more like talking to an old friend I had never met face to face until that meeting. And now I just feel kinda empty and hollow on the inside, like I am missing a piece of myself that I may never get back. Meeting Ging truly was great..but he even said “something more important than the thing you’re hunting would be right there by the side of the road”, and him saying that causes the emptiness in my heart to grow and fester even more. …I feel like I have made a huge mistake.” With that last word Gon was getting louder again, and was speaking more hurriedly, and like he was very upset. And he just kept getting louder and working himself up more and more.

“That in a way, meeting Ging has caused me to lose the very thing Ging was alluding to. The thing that actually was most important to me. And I feel like I know what that important thing is, but I don’t want it out loud or even think about it, because that would mean that I have actually well and truly lost it! And thinking about that just eats me up inside!!!” Gon finished up his rant exhausted and out of breath.

*Huff**Huff**Pant* “...I just don’t want to feel like this anymore, so empty, so hollow. Palm–just how should I get rid of this hole in my heart?”, Gon whispered.

Palm didn’t say anything for a good long time; taken aback by such an outburst by Gon; a kind of outburst she wasn’t used to from Gon at all. It reminded her of Killua’s own heartbroken outburst plea to her in the palace. And she also wasn’t to Killua breaking down like that. Gods, how can two kids be so different from each other, yet so similar. How can two kids love each other so much, but yet, be so dumb with their feelings for the other. How can they be so dense?

“As painful as it may be, you need to admit to yourself what you're missing in the first place to cause you so much pain and distress. You need to understand and voice it, and then, try to remedy it. So tell me, what is it that you are missing? Or maybe it is not a what, but a who. Tell me Gon, because I think we both know exactly what who is it that you are missing.” Palm spoke up and asked; her blue, deep eyes staring at Gon intensely, but kindly.

…

“Killua. It is Killua that has caused me to feel this way.” Gon said quietly; voice trembling.

“No, it is you that has caused you to feel this way, not Killua. Ok, it is Killua too, it is both your guys fault for being so hopeless and obviously in love with each other, but somehow both thinking that you are undeserving of the other’s love. You two are usually pretty smart, but in regards to emotions, feelings, love; you guys are truly idiots. But you get my point. It is just as much, if not more you, doing this to yourself as it is the other person. And I think deep down both you AND Killua know this.” Palm rebuked Gon.

After this, Gon and Palm just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to say something. Though from the look in Palm’s eyes, she wanted Gon to say something and that she wasn’t going to say something until he did.

“Alright, so now that I know that Killua is the missing piece of my whole–of me, what do I do know? What exactly am I supposed to do?” Gon mumbled, though his voice wasn’t as shaky as before.

“That is not my decision to make, Gon, it is yours. But I would also say that like how deep down you already know it was Killua that was causing your heart anguish, that I also think you know what you should now.” Palm said with tough love; wanting Gon to come to make his own decisions now that he has finally started to admit his feelings to himself…for Killua.

…

“I am going to go find him, I don’t want to leave him after all. I don’t want to join Ging or even Kite again. No. I just want to be with him, and only him.” Gon said in a louder, but still quiet voice. His tone however was now clear and resolute. All that shakiness and uncertainty from before, now gone.

This caused Palm to have her mouth agape, in small shock from this confession. That didn’t last long though, and it quickly turned into a smile. Her smile looked truly catlike.

“Good”, she proudly said, “Now go get him. His airship shouldn’t have taken off yet, especially if you hurry. I asked the boys to spy on Killua and Alluka–that is why they aren’t here, well, at least most of them; in hopes I can get you to change your mind about separating with him before he leaves.”

Now it was Gon’s turn to be surprised. He had known Palm wasn’t being entirely truthful about stuff, but if he were to be honest, he didn’t really expect that.

“How do you know that?” Gon asked.

Palm looking shifty, eyes darting back and forth, tried to dodge the question, “Oh that doesn’t matter, silly, what matters is you getting to Killua before he leaves for good. He was up in the air, just to see some sights, but he touched down again in preparation for a longer time, so this is your chance to get to him. Do you actually want to miss him or something, huh?”

Gon placing his hands on his hips, “It will be fine, I am fast, and I am too curious now to just leave without you telling me how you know that. And while I am at it, I also want to know the REAL reason why you were out night today too.” Gon said with determination.

….

…

“Fine. Fine. I will tell you. Sheesh!” Palm huffed.

So I will be honest, I kind had been waiting for you come down from the tree to talk to you. In order to be sure I wouldn’t miss you, I got Knov and Knuckle to help me find out a way to get a live feed of you to watch you. The live feed wasn’t to just be sure I wouldn’t miss you though, but also to let your friends and the people that care about you, be able to watch your talk with Ging. Though, voices couldn’t be heard from the live feed, I thought people would be happy to just see a visual image of how you were doing.”, mumbling Palm added, “though, some people might have been able to tell what you guys were saying if they are good at reading lips.”

Palm, wanting to quickly move on from what they just said, so it wouldn’t linger in the air, continued, “I especially wanted to send it to Killua; I even personally emailed him the link. Most of the other links sent to people were just the same email forwarded a bunch of times. Killua’s, I wrote to him personally. …I wanted—”

Gon interrupted, “Wait, you have Killua’s email?”

“Don’t interrupt me! I wasn’t done!”

Gon looking mildly ashamed, “Sorry, Palm!”

Grumbling, “Whatever, it is fine. And to answer your question, yes, me and Killua exchanged emails, phone numbers, and contact info in general a bit ago; in order to keep in touch. Since we are,” Palm blushed, “friends now”. Palm finished with a gentle tone.

“OH! That is great, Palm, I knew you two would close, it was just a matter of time!”, Gon yelled excitedly.

Palm blushed further, “Now I know why Killua thinks you are so embarrassing, because you well and truly are, exactly that. I have no idea how Killua can handle this all the time. Well, to be fair, he isn’t really handling it very well in the first place. But still.”

Coughing, “Anyways, I am going to finish what I was saying, before I was EVER so rudely interrupted.”

Gon now looked more than mildly ashamed.

Palm winking, gave a teasing smirk seeing that.

“So anywaysssss, I wanted to make sure he was able to see you, I thought it might make him reconsider separating from you, because I know that absolute IDIOT loves your thick-headed ass with all of his heart, and that leaving you must be breaking his heart, even if he would never usually admit that. I only know, because he let out some of his feelings to me, which only happened due to the vulnerable state he was in. Killua usually has a harder time expressing feelings than that. That case was a more rare occurrence, Palm stopped for a second. Then continued, “But it looks like that didn’t work, that Killua was stubborn and block-headed himself about his feelings, and decided he HAD to separate from you and leave after all.”

…

“So I had to use my backup plan. …And that was getting you to realize your own feelings and go after him instead. And my plan appears to have worked.” Pam said with a confident smile. Though, she was looking somewhat ashamed like Gon was before admitting to just how far she took things.

“So that is why I was out tonight. I knew you were going to be down soon from the tree, so I waited there, and then I happened to run into you coincidentally, and then I also happened to invite you to the house I was staying at, so we could have a talk.” Palm was flustered saying this, but her voice was steady.

“You said other people were living here with you, and you mentioned others helping you in this plan, so other people knew besides you?” Gon questioned with a confused face.

“Ah, yes, others knew about it, helped me with it if they were more ok with taking part in my plan, or just made sure they weren’t here if they weren’t, because I thought a one-on-one talk with you would work better. Though, even the people who didn't want to take part in the plan more actively, them being willing to be out of the house makes me think they support you guys finally getting together too! Just in a more passive wayyy… So I take that as an extra win.” Palm while her face was still flushing blue some by the end of her explanation sounded a lot more confident than before; she even sounded a bit proud.

Which caused Gon to be both amazed in a happy way that she would do all this for him and Killua, but also at the same time, he was also amazed in a mortified way. Gon felt torn between these two different, but similar feelings for awhile, before settling on the more happy feeling.

“I-I don’t know– what to say really, Palm, but–thank you, I guess”, Gon stuttered, “No. Not I guess, but just thank you. Really, really thank you. You helped stop a terrible mistake from happening–separating from Killua, and helped me more come to terms with my own feelings for him too. So really, thank you so much Palm, thank you.” Gon said the rest with resolution; burning fire in his eyes.

Palm’s mouth made an “O” shape, and then said, “Good. Now go get to Killua. Time is ticking, Gon.”

“K! Will do, Palm! See ya for now! Thanks for everything!” Gon shouted, while turning around to run out of the house, getting progressively louder each sentence.

Palm plugged her ears with how Gon was getting, though, she still heard him anyways.

“Yeah Gon, I will see you later. Now hurry up quicker, stop talking to me, and just run, RUN, RUN!”, Palm shouted back.

“Ok, bye Palm!” Gon yelled back one last time.

“What did I just say?!” Palm snapped back.

Gon didn’t answer back this time.

A pause, before Palm whispered, “Good, that’s my boy.”

(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)(---)

Killua and Alluka after eating a more proper dinner after just eating some snacks while watching Gon and Ging’s live feed for awhile, they set down their airship, took a nap and made a proper dinner in preparation for a long time of just Killua flying; flying to destinations unknown.

They checked their fuel, and made sure they had some spare fuel in the airship. As well as good working appliances, snacks, drinks, food, water, entertainment, etc.. They were preparing for a good, long trip. Where sure, they will stop to take in the sights and restock, but it never hurts to be prepared.

And with that done, they finally took off in their airship, to travel the world, both known and unknown; together.

They flew for awhile, when they suddenly heard a loud noise.

*BANG!*

Killua and Alluka startled. Wondering what on earth could have made that sound.

Killua put the airship on auto-pilot, and then went to see what it was; telling Alluka to stay where they were, and lock the door behind him, telling her to not answer the door until he knocked, identified himself, and they both said and did the code they made up earlier for just such occasions (after all, voices can be imitated, so they had to have other ways of making sure the other was actually the real person). Alluka pouted, thinking he was being paranoid, but didn’t argue, and agreed to do what he said.

Killua then left and waited until he heard Alluka lock the door, before he left.

He started combing the area, going through each room and location on the airship looking for the source of the noise when he finally found a closet with a ton of stuff fallen over and something?; someone??? on the floor. Killua was having trouble telling since it was dark, and due to the figure being covered in a blanket.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on my ship?” Killua demanded coldly.

The form didn’t respond.

“I am going to give you to the count of three to answer, until I come over there and make you. 1, 2–”, before Killua could finish, he was suddenly tackled to the floor, with someone screeching, (Gon?!!???), “KILLLLUUUUAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Uggghhhh, what on earth, Gon, is that you!? What on bloody Earth are you doing here?!?” Killua yelped with surprise and bafflement.

Gon didn’t answer right away, and just kept on hugging Killua and sniffling. The hugging and extreme show of emotion from Gon, caused Killua no end of embarrassment. He was blushing majorly. Way more than Palm had ever blushed.

Gon kept doing that for awhile, and Killua, not knowing what to do, just let him, and laid on the floor awkwardly. Completely and utterly confused and embarrassed.

Until Gon finally spoke.

*Sniffle.’ “I just–didn’t want to separate from you after all. I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want you to leave. I want to be together with you—forever.”

Killua was flabbergasted. To hear Gon say such a thing to him out of nowhere, that he wanted to stay with him; to stay together with him forever, even (something that Killua himself has thought for so long, but has never really been able to voice. And yet, here is Gon, saying the very thing he couldn’t ever say). Killua didn’t he had never been so happy, embarrassed, and confused in his life.

However.

“Do you–really mean that, Gon?” Killua asked softly. While Killua was happy, he couldn’t help but not believe the words he was saying. After all, how could anyone ever think that of someone like him. Especially someone like Gon (have you forgotten already that he isn’t perfect either, Kil?).

With this question, Gon just stared at Killua, furrowing his brow unhappily.

“Of course I do, Killua. Why wouldn’t you think that is true?”

“Because, you are you, and I am me, and—”

“What does that even mean?” Gon cut Killua off.

…

“I mean how could you, someone who is so good and beautiful (you keep forgetting he isn’t actually perfect, just like you. Do you really hate yourself that much? How pitiful.), care so much for someone like me?” Killua’s voice broke.

At that moment, Gon fully understood what Palm meant about both him and Killua sucking at feelings. They both truly hated themselves so much, they thought the other person didn’t deserve them. Heh. Palm was right. They really were two, big idiots.

Gon bit his lip, thinking about what he should say, and then decided the blunt and bit harsh Palm of way doing things was the best way, “Killua, don’t be an idiot”,

“Hey!” Killua got angry at the insult.

Gon ignored the outburst and kept going, “of course I care about you. You are my best friend in the world. …No, you are more than that, you are someone I love with every fiber of my being, someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. ….Killua, I love you. I well and truly love you more than anything in this world. You are my light, you are my angel. If anyone doesn’t deserve the other, it is me, who doesn’t deserve you. Killua. Will you be my boyfriend, and allow me to travel this world with you and Alluka?”, Gon asked Killua tenderly, eyes staring intently at Killua’s, his hands holding Killua’s. Them both still on the floor, with Gon on top of Killua.

Killua blushed furiously at the confession, stammering incoherently (and happily, even if Killua’s feelings were a jumbled mess right now, and he couldn’t tell his emotions from each other), “Wha-... You lo– …Me?? Boyfriend??? Travel the world–together with me (and Alluka)???? And me your light and angel?!?? I-ahhh-WhAttttt?!?!?!??????”

And Killua just kept stuttering like a complete, blushing mess for awhile. And Gon remained in his same position, face expression unchanging as he waited for you to calm down, and to hear you answer.

*Huff**Huff**Huff*, “I, Gon…, yes. Yes, Gon, I accept everything you asked me. Including your love. I–love you too, and I think I have loved you for a very, very long time. So yes, Gon, I want to be your boyfriend and to travel, or just be with you in general. Forever. And Alluka would love that too (Alluka probably would be so happy for him, and also try to tease and embarrass him, and probably Gon too, about this endlessly though). I love you so much, Gon. I love you. And…you are my light and my sun, Gon.” Killua calmed down and answered Gon’s confession with utter joy on his face and in his voice.

Gon started smiling hugely. And started sniffling (in more certain joy this time), and then full blown crying tears at Killua’s answer. He then started to lean even closer like he was about to hug him even more. Or even kiss him, when Killua placed a finger on Gon’s lips,

“Also Gon, never say you don’t deserve me, alright, I don’t like that.”

“But–”

“Yes, I will try to do the same as well. We both deserve love; including each other. No matter how much we think otherwise, that is a true statement. And we are both to start thinking and acting like it is true. Got it, Freecss?” Killua cooed.

Gon, shaking his head up and down ferociously, replied, “Yes, Killua! Yes, yes, yes!!!”

“Good. Now get over here Freecss, and kiss me, I know you wanted to, and I can’t let you make all the advances tonight. So get over here and kiss me. Now.” Killua demanded in a haughty and proud voice; that might have upset some people, but not Gon, he loved it. He loved this kind of play; especially (and only) with Killua.

“Certainly.” Was all Gon said, with a playful smirk on his face.

He then leaned into Killua, lips touching, eyes closed, their hands caressing the other, and they kept kissing like that, for a good long time. Until Killua finally said,

“Ok, ok, I think we need to stop now. Alluka is probably worried about me, and she is most likely going to be very mad at me.” Killua started to push Gon off of him.

“Oh, but come on Killua, I wanted to kiss a bit longer. Come onnnn, just a bitttt. Pleaseee…”, Gon started to beg and give Killua the puppy-dog eyes.

And God, did Killua try to resist, tried to look everywhere but Gon’s eyes, but in the end, he gave in.

“Fine. But only just a bit more. Got it? I mean it.” Killua said with no room for argument in his tone.

“Of course, my prince”, Gon said while sitting up and licking his lips.

Killua rolled his eyes, “Just get over here”, he said, while pulling Gon close and pressing his lips against his once again.

And they just continued to kiss once again. For a lot longer than just “a bit”, because Killua and Gon just couldn’t help themselves. God, Alluka was going to be so mad and worried (though, like Palm she is matchmaker herself, and would also LOVE in so many ways, this new turn of events), Killua thought for a second, before succumbing to whatever thoughts and state of mind he usually was in while kissing Gon. Which, was, basically nothing at all.

If Killua had to describe what had taken over his mind and body at that moment; it would be pure….

….Euphoria.

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