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teejaystumbles · 2 months

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Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend!

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it.

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again!

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

#telling myself that last bit all the time #just sit down and write and some words will come #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #1989 au #teejay writes

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sur-un-fil · 2 years

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Ink demonth 2022 - Prison

How did Joey deal with the problem of Sammy being corrupted by the ink?

Chapter 11: 1946

"Sammy?"

The iron curtain remained closed and all Joey could hear was the thick, vaguely threatening silence that reigned in the deserted recording room. He sighed.

"I know you're here. I want to help you. "

He found it a little difficult to keep a calm tone, as this sudden burst of murderous madness could have had disastrous consequences at a time when the Studio was going through a slightly complicated period. Fortunately, he'd realised this early the next day, as he often hired as early as six in the morning to work quietly, so he'd been able to deal with the problem before anyone came across the bodies. He would have to silence the few witnesses who had managed to escape, yes, but one thing at time.

"Please, Sammy. I'd like us to talk about this. Will you let me in?"

But the musician was playing dead. 'Probably he really is now,' Joey thought absently as he continued to pound on the door of his sanctuary, calling out to him in a voice that sounded worried. Contact with the ink was deadly. The musician - who would never play music again - had been the only one exposed to it without first being sacrificed and then subjected to the machine. He had probably been slowly eaten alive, limb by limb, seeing himself changed in horror without knowing how to stop the corruption. As well as losing his mind, and begun to worship Bendy to the point of sacrificing people to him as some believers sacrifice sheep.

After two minutes, he began to toy with the idea of asking Caym to force his way in, pressed for time, when the curtain finally rose with a sound of crumpling metal. Joey was safe, and he already knew what he looked like from the surveillance tapes, yet he flinched slightly as Sammy emerged from the entrance full of musical instruments. He pursed his lips in disgust at the mess. Since his disappearance, Sammy had had to continue consuming ink and he had ended up completely transformed by it. He was unrecognizable now, without his fine features, his clear eyes and his blond hair. All that remained of him was an inky black body, with stained clothes and a smooth face. Unfortunately, it was impossible to save him. Joey had done enough research to know that the ravages of the ink were permanent. So because of a silly accident, he was losing an excellent department head, as well as having another problem.

"Back off, Joey! You mustn't come near me. I... I don't know how long I'll be conscious. The Voice..."

'A flash of insight? Good.'

"It's all right, Sammy. I'm here to help you. We're going to fix it."

The ink man shook his head.

"I don't think we can fix anything. I've... God, I killed people yesterday."

"I know. But I cleaned it up myself, no one will find out."

"You clea... You took that risk?"

"It seems to surprise you, but yes, of course. How long have we known each other? Fifteen years? I know you're not a killer. I had to help you, that's what friends are for, right?"

Yes, he'd known that from the start. Sammy didn't have broad enough shoulders to accept getting his hands dirty like he did, and the fact that he was freaking out like this only reinforced his point. It was a good thing he hadn't included him in his grand plan, and he'd never told him what he was really doing with the machine and all those donors that had to be replaced all the time.

"Come on. You're probably scared, but trust me. I know how to heal you. Everything will go back to the way it was. You can forget this nightmare and go back to your music, we just have to go together to the ink machine."

'To Caym's summoning pentacle, to be precise.'

"Yes, I wish... I wish it would stop. I don't want to hear the Voice in my head anymore, Joey! And I don't ever want to have to do what it tells me to do."

"Follow me, and you'll be free of it, I promise," he replied, holding back a skeptical grimace. How easy it was to blame someone else, imaginary or not, for the horror of some of our actions. Sammy probably didn't want to face what he had done.

They almost ran to the locked shed that contained the ink machine, while Sammy cried, his hand crushed over his lipless mouth. Joey was too busy making sure they didn't meet anyone to really pay attention, and he didn't see him as a man anymore anyway. What he was dragging around by the wrist was no longer the quiet, loyal supporter who had listened to him so often, nor the talented composer he had trusted. He was just a shadow, an imprint. One more donor to the machine.

Joey unlocked the heavy wooden door, the one to which only he and Thomas had the key, and pushed Sammy inside. He stepped in behind him, and relaxed as soon as the door was closed.

Ignoring his worried questions, he walked over to the machine. Beneath it, invisible to the others, was drawn in animal blood the great summoning circle that linked Caym to this dimension. This was the easiest place to make contact with him and the place where the demon had the most power. Joey placed his hand on the cold metal of the machine, and immediately felt a small shock in his chest. He didn't need to call out to know that Caym was paying attention. He addressed him in a loud voice.

"Get rid of him. He is no use to me anymore."

The answer crept painfully into his head like the start of a migraine.

'I can lock him in the Studio, and make sure no one knows he's there. He won't be seen or heard. But on one condition.'

Joey hadn't expected the demon to do him a favor without taking advantage of it. He lifted his chin.

"What's that?"

'You'll keep hearing his screams.'

Joey shrugged without glancing at Sammy, whose black tear-filled eye sockets had widened.

"Okay."

The machine turned on of its own accord, and a thick spurt of ink shot out of the big main pipe, forming a shimmering wave as tall as a man that shot past Joey and towards Sammy. The ex-musician shrieked in terror, holding his hands out in front of him to protect himself, and begged for help. Joey stood still and watched as the wave washed over Sammy and engulfed him in an instant, cutting off his voice. The silence fell abruptly. The wave reformed and slowly returned to the machine with the caution of a sated boa. Then it crashed into the metal and disappeared as if it had never existed. Joey sighed. Problem solved.

"Now, let's see what we can do with the witnesses..."

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #the ink demonth #sammy lawrence #batim au #batim joey #joey drew #The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #ink demonth 2022 #Inflexible asshole #But he no longer wants to be attached to anyone.

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terra-kha · 1 year

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5th Day - Bonnie and Clyde (Scene 3)

Oooh! First death of the run! Surprising, I voted to jump, forwards, I thought it would be a good idea to try to force Shirou to actually commit to it and fight, and that going down the hallway would be considered running from it. Apparantly not! I'm not going to include the same choice as the last blog, next time we just get to see what the other choice gives!

―――Tohsaka's serious. There's no place to run, even if I retreat back to the hallway. I'll jump down the stairs in front of me…!

"Hah――――!" I kick the floor with full force. It's about a meter and a half down. I can easily take this kind of height…!

―――A running long jump of a meter and a half high, a meter wide. I land without hurting myself.

"Fu――――" I have an advantage of one floor between us. So now, I only have to run down to the first floor and get out of the building――――

"――――――――?" What… happened? It came from above… It feels like a giant blob of jelly fell on top of me… ―――I can't move my legs. The weight of the jelly is stopping my feet. I try to shake off the pressure on my back.

I feel like throwing up when I move. …It's cold. I have goosebumps all over me, my joints are hurting, my muscles are heavy, and my organs are half shut down.

"Crap――――t-this is…" It's not because of the jelly that I can't move. This is a bad case of the cold.

Tohsaka's magic. The Gandr Shot, a magic that'll infect the target with a cold, has hit me. As a result―――my body is so sick that it can't move on its own――――

"―――Just as I expected. I knew you'd go there if I prepared an easy escape route."

I hear Tohsaka's voice from afar, as if she's contacting me from the moon.

"―――Let me apologize first. What I'm going to do now is as bad as taking away your life."

Her cold finger digs into my neck. When I realize it's Tohsaka's finger and try to fling it away…

"―――Goodbye. I don't think you knew, but I've known you for a long time."

My consciousness shuts down as if it's shorted out.

"…Huh…? It's morning already?" I rouse my sleepy mind and pull myself up. It's past six o'clock. I should be preparing breakfast now.

"Good morning, Senpai. Breakfast is already prepared." "Oh. …I'm sorry, I made you do it by yourself again. I'll make dinner, so please forgive me."

"No, you can't do that. It's my turn to cook tonight, so please let me." "Ugh. But I'd be relying on you too much if I made you cook breakfast and dinner. Let me cook tonight. I want to make it up to you for sleeping in."

"Hmm. Then let's cook together. I'll help you, so please come home early." "All right. I'll cut work short today."

I head to the table while apologizing to Sakura. Breakfast's already on the table, and Fuji-Nee runs in at the last second like always.

"Good morning! Everyone sure is doing well this morning――――wait, huh…? What is this, Shirou!?" "Huh? What do you mean? Did you forget something at your house?"

"Huh? Huh? Huh? That's weird. I thought something's strange, but nothing's strange at all. …But it's still bothering me. Shirou, aren't you forgetting something?" "Forgetting something? Like what?"

"D-Don't ask me. I'm asking you since I can't figure it out. Sakura-chan, don't you think something's strange? It feels like we're forgetting something or missing something."

"No. I think it's just your imagination, Fujimura-Sensei. We're not forgetting anything nor are we forgetting anyone."

"Hmm. Oh well. If I can't remember it, it must mean it's not important." Fuji-Nee seems satisfied as she sits down and starts eating. This is a normal morning in this household.

Thirty minutes after Fuji-Nee and Sakura leave… I leave the house as well.

I walk up the hill. It's past seven-thirty. The road is filled with students like me. A familiar scene. I breathe in the perfect morning air.

…Then. I notice that a female student is looking at me. She must have found it awkward that our eyes met, as she starts walking on quickly.

"Oh, Emiya? Were you glaring at Tohsaka?" "Huh…? Oh, morning, Issei. I wasn't glaring at her. It's just that our eyes met."

"Really? That's fine, but make sure not to pick a fight with Tohsaka, okay? It's her principle to counter twice as hard. You'll be throwing away your last year in school if you do so."

I don't know how serious he is, as Issei murmurs Buddhist scriptures. But that's needless worry.

"Are you stupid? First of all, I don't even know her. …Well, she did look beautiful, but I didn't know such a person went to our school." "Yes, that is the correct response. That thing is too much for us humans. It is our way not to get involved with her. Huh, I was worried for a second, but everything is settled now!"

Issei goes up the hill. "……" I watch him go as I stand there.

A morning scene with nothing missing. My left hand hurts a bit.

"Everything's settled? What happened and what ended?" I hear the first bell from the top of the hill.

…It's eight o'clock already. As the school gate closes, I feel like I'm locked out from something. "――――I――――" …Nothing comes to mind. I feel uneasy for some reason, and I can't think of where to go or where to return to――――

TAIGA DOJO!

Congratulations, everyone! This is the true ending of Tohsaka-san's route! Life is back to normal for Shirou. This is indeed a grand finale! Well, everyone, let's meet next time in Fujimura-Sensei's route, "We don't need tiger"- No way, you idiot! Lies that sound like they're true are not allowed! We can't have anyone tricked into confusion in the Q&A corner! You have grown strong, buruma. Oh, Senpai! Hi, you look beautiful as always! Just go on and explain the situation, buruma. Osu! There are two ways to get to this bad end! One is a simple mistake in your choice. Getting shot at after stupidly escaping forward. And the other is a bit troubling, and that is the case where you come here from Saber's route. To put it simply, you need to restart from the morning of the 4th day if the 5th day's title was "Unlimited Blade Works" even though the title on the 4th day was "Fate". To put it more simply―――― Death to betrayers. T-That's wrong, Senpai. We came to this bad end because the alliance was not formed. It's not that Shirou betrayed you. …… Oh, she's gone… Anyway, there are two ways to avoid this bad end! Escape back when you're attacked by Rin! Or if the choice didn't even appear, you have to restart from the morning of the 4th day! And a special tip for those that came here without seeing any ending! Um, you can't clear Rin no matter what you do during your first play. It'll be smart to fight along with Saber as her Master at least once.

#votestaynight

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criscura · 3 years

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Tagged by @rayadraws! thhHANK ////<3<3 1) How many works do you have on AO3? 28 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 604,733 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? JUST OPM //// 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? "Tumbling Down," "Lemongrass and Sleep," "Love Me, Love Me Not," "Extracurricular," and "What a Deal" 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I WISH I WAS BETTER AT ANSWERING BUT I GET SO OVERWHELMED. I fucking LOVE every comment I get, i gobble it up and reread it a billion times, but...it takes me like ten, fifteen minutes to respond to just one a lot of the time and then i get anxious and distracted.... >< 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I won't publish the angstiest thing I've written on AO3 'cause it's bad end "what if Genos died before either of them ever confessed" and it is TOO sad. So the closest to sad right now is "Suck Me Off" (It would be "Risky Business," but I'm in the process of writing the next part and it will immediately rescind that title XD) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I mean Tumbling Down, but they do all end about the same--the boys together forever, and generally with at least one little girl 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I don't TooT 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? ...No? I mean I'm sure I'd remember 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? BOY HOWDY. Yes. Very much of it. It's also very, very feelsy and story-driven/dictating. I know PWP exists but I think I'm physically incapable of writing it. 11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? They're the only ones who know, if they did XD 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? I think!! Yes!! One! 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not, and I'm a little nervous to. I like complete control of what I make >/////< 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? EGG AND TOASTERRR, that's my OTP T~~~~T Akuroku behind that, then Touya and Yuki from CCS behind that. 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Technically none, I end my fics on spots where they could stand on their own on purpose so I never have the weight of a fic on my shoulders...except for "Risky Business," which was stressing me out, but I'm back to work on that. When it comes to writing it REALLY fucking pisses me off having things half-finished (moreso with drawn or constructed art, I'm not sure why), so I only take on things that I'm absolutely positive I can finish 16) What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good at speaking through a character and depicting what's going on through their POV to a really intimate level. I'm proud of the kind of really close third person voice I've built up over time. I think....I think I do pretty okay at showing and *only* telling when nothing else will hit the same way. I try really, really hard to tell a story the exact same way someone might experience it IRL, with all the interplay between external forces and internal voices. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? iiiii let the characters talk all they want. I know it's not good but BOY is it fun XD i also think i just....i really write a lot. like a LOT. it's easier for me, but I worry that i'm diluting the punch of what i'm doing because of it. 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Sure! Why not! If it fits, it fits--even if you need to do some remodeling before you get there. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Technically Kingdom Hearts, but it's been looooong gone XD 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? how dare you ask this question, i have no idea. Of course "Tumbling Down" is my giant, massive, enormous child, but like........I love "Risky Business" because of how fucking dumb Saitama is and how bitchy Genos acts, i love "Lemongrass and Sleep" because THE YEARNING (and i really like world-building that way///), i love "Dog Days, Summer Nights" because that's the closest thing to my natural writing voice, I LOOOOVE "Pinocchio" because I genuinely

do not think I will ever make a better character study of Genos than that fic, like......man, pick a limb for me to lose, I can't take just one

THIS WAS FUN RAYA THANK YOU!!! aah.... i'll tag @paperficwriter @bloodsbane @anonymousedward

#i'm sorry it took me so long.....#i kept on forgetting i was tagged >////<#i'm did this at like six in the morning because I knew I'd forget again

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helloalycia · 3 years

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my patient’s neighbour [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: your relationship with Wanda gets a little bumpy when her work life crosses over with your personal life.

warning/s: implied kidnapping, mentions of anxiety

author's note: so the ‘i love you’ confession was actually inspired by an incorrect quote on @aquamarinescarlet’s page! i thought it would be cute aha

It was two months into our relationship when I knew I'd fallen in love with Wanda. I can't remember the exact moment when it hit me – I guess it had happened gradually over time – but I remember the embarrassing moment when I told her.

She'd brought me as her date to an Avengers party thrown by Tony Stark. I'd been to one of them before, about a month into dating her, as she'd wanted me to meet her friends from work AKA the freakin' Avengers. They were actually really great and (somewhat) humble people. I didn't expect to become 'friends' with any of them, more just be friendly whenever I saw them through Wanda. To my surprise, I became quite good friends with Natasha Romanoff.

We had the same dark sense of humour, both had an unexplainable obsession with horror films and she was genuinely just really easy to talk to. I wasn't expecting it, but it was nice to gain a new friend in addition to a new girlfriend.

So, I was at my second Avengers party with Wanda by my side, but the party had ended about half an hour ago and I may or may not have been drunk.

We were sat on the couch, conversing with the other Avengers, and I was sat between Wanda and Natasha. The others were involved in their own conversations and I was too dazed to realise what I was doing until it happened.

"Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her," I said (not-so) quietly, leaning over to my left, into Wanda's ear unknowingly.

Wanda, who was playing with my fingers in her hand, paused and glanced to me with bright eyes, a surprised expression on her face.

"You're in love with me?" she asked, lips twitching into a smile.

I blinked, her words settling in, before I licked my lips. "Oh, sorry." Turning to my right, I moved to Natasha's ear, whispering loudly, "Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her."

Natasha glanced to me with a quirked brow, amused smile on her lips. "She doesn't? You sure about that?"

"You're in love with me?" Wanda repeated, sitting forward and earning my attention.

I gasped, wondering how she knew, before slapping Natasha's arm and looking to her with a frown. "You told her?! I trusted you!"

Natasha ignored me, instead looking to Wanda with an encouraging look. "I'll leave this one to you. Good luck."

She stood up, heading over to Thor and Bruce Banner on the other couch, and I booed her as she left.

"Yeah, run away, you secret-give-away'er!" I called after her with a pout, before crossing my arms.

"I think it's time I take you home," Wanda said decidedly, trying not to laugh as she pulled me up off the couch.

"I don't like Natasha anymore," I mumbled, allowing Wanda to take me away.

She bid her goodbyes to her teammates before leading me to the lift. I don't really remember what else happened until we were suddenly at my house – well, my parents house, but they had given it to me as they travelled the world with their retirement money. She was leading me inside and to my bedroom, getting me dressed like the sweet girlfriend she was, before tucking me into bed.

Of course, being the clingy drunk I was, I pulled her on top of me and didn't let go as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Stay," I mumbled into her shoulder, closing my eyes.

She chuckled, trying to pull away. "Y/N, you need to sleep, c'mon."

"I will," I whined, not letting her leave. "If you stay with me."

She paused, before giving in with a sigh. "Fine."

Tiredly, I smiled. "Yesssss." I patted the spot next to me. "Right here, please."

In the light of my bedside lamp, I saw her roll her eyes playfully, before turning off the lamp and jumping under the covers with me. I sighed with relief, cuddling into her side without hesitating.

"I love you," I mumbled, barely thinking about it.

She tightened her embrace and I felt her kiss the top of my head. "You're probably gonna forget you said that in the morning. But I'll remind you. And if you still think it, then I'll reply."

Her words went into one ear and out the other. I hummed in response, not knowing what I was answering to, and let myself get lost in her scent as I drifted into a peaceful slumber.

When I woke up the next morning, I quite liked the idea of sharing bed with Wanda and waking up to her dishevelled hair and our intertwined legs, even though I didn't remember inviting her to stay. Of course, I also had a banging headache and felt like someone had hit me with a train, so I didn't get chance to appreciate it much.

"Fuck," I mumbled, pulling the duvet over my head to block out the sun streaming through the slit in my curtain.

Wanda, who was shuffling beside me, yawned and stretched her arms. Suddenly, I heard quiet laughter, before she spooned me, wrapping her arms around my stomach and pulling me closer. Her leg raised and clung to my waist, and as much as I appreciated the way she fit perfectly against me, I was still in pain.

"Why did you let me drink that much?" I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I believe that was your own conscience decision, dorogoy (darling)," she said in that know-it-all voice of hers, and it was hard for me to be annoyed at her because she had a raspy, morning voice and her accent was especially thick with fatigue and damn, Wanda Maximoff was pretty sexy in the morning.

"Whatever," was all I said, but I placed my hand on hers and joint our fingers together.

"You know," she started, tucking her head comfortably into my neck, "I quite like waking up to you like this. You're very cute, even if you're cranky."

Despite aforementioned crankiness, I cracked a smile. "I like this, too."

It was very domestic, something I didn't get the privilege of experiencing with Wanda because she worked a lot, and it felt good.

After hanging around in bed for a little while longer, I got up and showered whilst Wanda offered to make me some breakfast – "Pancakes are a hangover's cure! Or at least according to Tony". After getting ready, I came downstairs to find a stack of pancakes and maple syrup waiting for me.

"You are a Godsend," I told her, pressing a haste kiss to her lips before sitting at the table with the pancakes. "Thank you."

She chuckled, grabbing her own pancakes and sitting opposite me. "Anything for you."

After I dug in, complimenting her on how delicious they tasted, a comfortable silence fell between us. Well, until Wanda spoke up cautiously.

"So, does anything from last night ring a bell?" she asked, making me look up to see her staring eagerly.

My content expression fell. "Shoot, did I do something embarrassing?" I facepalmed. "God, what was it? Did I fall asleep on somebody?"

She smiled with adoration, eyes twinkling in the morning sun. "No, nothing like that."

I could tell there was something though, judging from her hesitant expression. I scrunched my face with regret.

"What did I do?" I asked, unprepared to hear it. "Did I say something to you?"

She played with her fork, twisting it around in her plate nervously, which was very unlike her. "Yeah, actually, you did."

I waited, feeling like the silence was deafening the longer she stayed quiet.

"You said you were in love with me," she said, voice so soft and quiet that I barely heard it.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. "I what?"

"I mean, technically you said I had no idea you were in love with me, but I think you were supposed to tell Nat that," she continued, eyes avoiding mine. "Then you told Nat and you got mad at her because you thought she told me."

I facepalmed for the second time that morning. "Oh, God..."

"Then you invited me to stay the night and told me you loved me before you fell asleep," she finished rambling. "I just, er, wanted to check if you meant that..."

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. "Are you kidding?" I reached over the table to grab her hand. "Wanda, of course I meant that! But I hoped to tell you at a better time than by accident whilst I was drunk."

Blue eyes flickered to mine, excitement creeping onto her face. "You meant it."

I breathed out, realising what exactly I'd just said. "I– yeah. I meant it. I'm in love with you, Wanda."

Her smile widened. "I'm in love with you, too."

My heart fluttered in my chest as I relaxed my shoulders. "You love me."

She giggled, squeezing my hand. "We just did this."

"Right! We did," I said, shaking my head, grin forming on my lips. "Sorry. I'm just so happy right now."

"Me, too," she said in agreement, thumb stroking the top of my hand.

I didn't think things could go wrong from here. I was on top of the world! But of course, the world had a funny way of ruining things.

—

Dating a superhero had its pros and cons, I suppose, but neither really showed themselves to me often as it was as if Wanda's superhero life was separate to the one we shared. When she and I were together, it was just us. And she would leave for work and I wouldn't think about it. Then she would return and it would be us again.

If I took a moment out of my day to stop and really think about where she was, what she could be doing, the danger she could be in... I just couldn't do it. Even when she would show up to our next date with a fresh bruise from training, or a broken bone from a mission gone too far, I'd worry about it for the time being then try to let it go. Those weren't superhero perks, those were reasons to be concerned. And I couldn't handle imagining the time when she'd come back to me in a worse state, or to not even come back at all.

So, her superhero life rarely overlapped with our shared one. And I was happier that way. Until it did.

I was running errands one day, little things that required me to run around the city – dry cleaning, grocery shopping, picking up some DIY stuff for my house. It was a pretty relaxing, fun day. I'd treated myself to lunch, was soaking in the sunshine and planning to unwind with some Netflix on the couch.

"Hold on, I need to unlock the front door," I mumbled into the phone. I was talking to Wanda, catching her up with my day as I returned home.

"Try not to drop your phone this time," she teased from the other end, and I could just imagine the smirk on her face.

"So funny," I said with an eye roll. "Real comedian."

She laughed as I placed my phone in my pocket, not quite hanging up. Pulling my keys from my shopping bag, I fiddled with them, attempting to find the key for my front door.

Suddenly, something metal and cold pressed to my back and I jumped, dropping my keys with surprise.

"Don't draw attention," the person said, and I went rigid, looking up to see a reflection of someone unrecognisable in the glass of my front door. "You're going to leave your things here and come with me."

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to turn around, but the object pressed harder into my back, making me wince.

"Leave your fucking things here and give me your hand," the man ordered, ignoring my question. "Phone included. And don't even think about making a call."

I swallowed hard, panic settling in as I listened to the threatening stranger. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I realised that the stranger had no idea I was already on a call. With an Avenger nonetheless.

"I'll put it down," I narrated my actions, soon coming to realise that the object behind my back was in fact the barrel of a gun.

Hoping Wanda was still listening in and could hear the exchange, I put my phone on the ground and placed my shaking hand in the man's outstretched one. He tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans before tugging me down the steps and to a black van parked opposite my house.

Too paralysed with fear at the sight of two more strange men getting out the van, I felt my throat go dry and words get stuck at the bottom. Looking around, I hoped to find a neighbour's eyes or dog-walker's lost gaze, but nobody was here. Whoever these men were had timed their entrance perfectly.

When we reached the van, the back doors were opened and the man spun me around roughly before placing a bag on my head and shoving me inside. Hot tears ran down my face as I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what the hell was happening and who these people were. But mostly, I hoped Wanda was already on her way.

—

The whole incident was over soon. That's what we were calling it now. The 'incident'. Of course, it could have been called other things... the kidnapping, the abduction, the capture. But we settled with the 'incident'. It was less explicit, as if minimising how utterly terrifying the whole experience was.

I never did find out who those men were. Wanda offered to tell me, feeling a need to explain herself and blame herself and drag herself down in the dirt to make me feel better, to bring me out of my silence and give me something to feel good about. I recalled her mentioning they were after her, getting to her through me – her girlfriend.

She rescued me quite quickly. Being tied up and locked away and left to cry like a child, wondering if I was going to die any minute at the hands of captors whom I had never met nor done anything to in my life, wasn't fun. People always wonder what they would do in those situations; maybe they would square up and put up a fight; maybe they would scream and shout and get everyone's attention; maybe they'd even retort with sarky remarks and go out with a blaze of glory.

I never imagined what that would be like, but I discovered I could do neither of those things. I just let them take me, let them threaten me and point their guns at me and tie me up and lock me away and–

I let myself cry and feel terrified and shake and lose my words and imagine the worst. Some would call that giving in, but this wasn't something you could prepare for. Surely my response was justified? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when Wanda burst onto the scene, taking out the men with ease and taking me out of there, taking me home, I was momentarily safe.

But then as she began to ramble off her explanations and apologies and regrets, I found myself turning in on myself, unable to hear her out. I didn't blame her one bit, but I also couldn't listen to one more second. So, I tuned her out.

I sat on the couch, staring at the way the thread was coming loose on one of my cushions. I thought about how quickly the whole 'incident' had happened. How one minute I was sat in a cell and now I was sat on my couch. How I was then shaking with fear and now I felt nothing.

"...you listening? Hey, are you okay?"

I only tuned back in when she sat on the cushion I was looking at. Her fingers rested on my cheek, guiding my head upwards so I was looking her in the eyes, glassy and red and swollen from crying. I probably looked the same, though I was all out of tears.

"I promise you nobody will be back here," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek. "There's S.H.I.E.L.D. agents posted all along the street. And I'm happy to stay here if you need me to. You're safe now."

I knew I was. And despite my calm exterior, my heart was still racing in my chest, adrenaline still pumping through my body as if expecting to make a sudden break for it.

"What are you thinking?" she muttered, eyes flicking between mine curiously. "Talk to me. Please."

I shook my head, looking away. "I'm okay."

"It's okay not to be," she said quietly, squeezing my hand.

"I know."

So, we kept that bit up for a few more days, maybe a week. Me pretending I was okay, though still distant from Wanda as if she'd caught the plague, and her pretending she knew I was telling the truth.

But I knew she sensed the nightmares I had, waking me up in cold sweats. I knew she saw the way I tensed when a shadow cast along the wall from a moving object. Or the way I never faced the front door when unlocking it to get inside.

I guess she couldn't take it anymore at some point, possibly a week or two later, as when I was mixing my soup in a bowl after heating it up in the microwave, she sighed loudly.

"You okay?" I asked, glancing up at her. She was stood by the counter, seeming tired.

She'd been staying with me since the incident happened, obviously, and it was nice having her around so much, despite the circumstances. But I knew she was worried and had been keeping it in. I just didn't have the energy to acknowledge it.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her fingers still drummed on the countertop.

I let it go, shrugging, before paying attention to my soup. Her impatience was obnoxiously loud, filling the house with a discomfort she was dying to express. Eventually, she did.

"I'm not fine," she decided, and I stopped stirring my soup as I looked to her tugging on her sleeves distractedly. "I'm not fine because you're not fine."

"I've told you I am," I said monotonously, eyes boring into hers.

"I know you're not," she said, crossing her arms and hugging herself. "I've noticed you and..."

I quirked a brow. "And?"

She frowned, eyes softening with empathy. "Don't make me say it, Y/N."

I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth as I looked down to my steaming soup.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, rounding the counter and leaning beside me, searching for my eyes. "I just want to help."

I swallowed hard. "I have nothing to say, Wanda."

"A really scary thing happened," she began hesitantly. "The fact that you don't have anything to say– that you've not said anything, isn't right."

"Well, I guess there's something wrong with me," I said dismissively, before grabbing the pepper grinder before me and using it.

"No, there's not," she reassured, not giving up. "You just need to talk.”

I set the grinder down, turning to face her abruptly. She straightened up with surprise, taking a small step back.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, voice calm but full of unintentional malice. "Huh? What do you want me to tell you? That I'm terrified somebody is watching my house, waiting for a quiet moment to break in? That I have to follow you into every room you go in because I don't want to be left alone? That I can't fucking sleep because I'm scared that when I close my eyes, I'll be locked in a nightmare I can't escape? Is that what you want me to tell you? Does that make you feel better, Wanda? Because it doesn't make me feel any better. It just reminds me how fucking terrified I am."

I pocketed my shaking hands, blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, swallowed down the lump rising in my throat. She watched me, unsure what to say at first and I didn't blame her. It was an outburst waiting to happen.

"I'm–"

"Don't say you're sorry," I snapped, before flinching at my tone. "I know you're sorry. And I don't blame you for what happened. I just– I don't know what to do anymore."

Her eyes were studying me like green lasers burning holes into my skin and I hated that I couldn't meet them. I hated even more that I couldn't leave the kitchen out of anger or frustration because I was too scared to be left alone without her by my side.

So, I leaned against the counter, turning away from her, and let out a shaky breath, eyes burning and heart thumping in my ears. Her arms suddenly wrapped around me without question, and I let her take me into her chest, squeezing me so tight so I knew she was there.

Closing my eyes, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, but no sound came out. I struggled to breathe, unable to take in air through my nose as I stuffed my head so hard into her shirt that I couldn't see a thing except darkness. I knew I'd eventually be okay, that I'd eventually get back to some sense of normalcy. But for now, having her here with me was okay. And I found it much better to just be with her then have to go over and talk it out.

She was warm and strong and smelt like home and God, I loved her. I was lucky to have her.

—

It took about a month and a half to get over the incident. And after that, we never brought it up again. It was just easier that way. We continued on like usual, falling back into our old routine of having a separate us and her separate superhero life.

At some point, I thought it would be nice for her to meet my parents. They were back in town for the week, wanting to check in and see how I was. It was nice having them around and I was excited for them to meet Wanda, who I'd mentioned in some of our Skype calls.

"We don't have to make it a thing," I said as I proposed the idea. We were cleaning around Anna's apartment as she napped in her bedroom. "It's not like an 'oh, meet the parents' thing. They just happen to be in town and we're having a dinner, so I thought you might want to come. If you don't, it's not a big deal. I haven't told them to expect you. Not unless you say yes. Which you don't have to."

She chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Dorogoy (darling), calm down. Breathe."

I neatened the cushions on the couch with a bit too much force. "Am I not breathing? I'm pretty sure I'm breathing."

Her hands slipped into mine as she spun me around to face her. An amused smile on her lips, she said, "You need to relax. If you're like this now, then who knows what you'll be like on the night of the dinner?"

It took me a second to realise what she'd said and when I did, my eyes widened. "Wait, the night of the– does that mean you're going?"

She laughed, tugging me closer to her. "Yes, I'm going. I'd love to meet your parents!"

My shoulders relaxed as her fingers played with mine mindlessly. A smile appeared on my lips as I said, "Thank you. I– it'll be fun. No pressure. Just a dinner."

"Just a dinner," she confirmed, before kissing my forehead gently. "Can't wait."

And so on the day before my parents left for Scotland, yet another trip on their never ending retirement travels, I waited for Wanda to pick me up so we could go to a restaurant to meet my parents, who were already there after spending the day shopping in town.

She arrived at the door with a beautiful smile and bright eyes, looking me up and down.

"Just on time," I teased, tilting my head to the side, before being serious. "You look amazing tonight, Wanda."

"As do you, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, before stepping inside. "Also, these are for you."

She removed her hand from behind her back as I closed the door, revealing a gorgeous, colourful bouquet of flowers.

"I saw them and thought of you," she began to explain without even realising how cute she was; a smile crept on my lips as she continued, "but then I realised I've never gotten you flowers before which is very dumb of me because a pretty girl deserves pretty flowers, right?"

There was no doubt that my face was heating up from the attention, flustered yet honoured at her words.

"Wanda, I love them," I said, accepting the flowers and meeting her gaze. "And to be fair, nobody has ever gotten me flowers before."

"You're kidding," she said with disbelief, stepping forward and wrapping her arms loosely around my waist. Reading my serious expression, she added, "Not even for your birthday? Or a celebration?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

She gave me a knowing look. "Well, that's very unfortunate. But I'm glad I could be the first."

I held her gaze, amusement dancing in her smile. Mirroring her expression, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up delightfully.

"Me, too," I said, and I meant it.

"Come on, we should get going," she said, squeezing my waist before letting go. "Don't want to be late, do we?"

"We do not," I agreed, before putting the flowers in a vase of water and leaving them by the door.

"You ready?" she asked, holding open the front door.

I intertwined our hands and met her smile with my own. "I'm ready."

Taking the girlfriend to meet the parents. What could go wrong?

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

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ladydaemon · 3 years

Text

LETTERS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Is this really short? Yes. Is it really cringey? Yes. Did I cry when writing it anyway? Absolutely.

Summary: Kaz rereads an old letter from an old friend

Warnings: mentions of former childhood abuse (and a butt-ton of ✨ sadness ✨) ? wow I don't think I swore in this.

Kaz,

This is my last letter to you.

I do not know if you and Jordie are even alive anymore. Maybe you are alive, but no one can find you, and the postman has simply been dumping my letters in the harbor. It's plausible, I suppose. Somehow I doubt it, which means I am writing to a memory. I find I don't care all that much, because writing to someone that will never read what you are writing seems infinitely easier than writing to someone who can. Because ghosts can't really judge you, can they? Otherwise they wouldn't be ghosts.

I'm getting off topic. Forgive me.

This is my last letter to you, because I'm tired of trying. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

Oh, this sounded much better in my head - I hadn't meant it to sound so accusing. Perhaps there's good reason for your… absence.

Back to my point (my, I love rambling, don't I? I remember you and Jordie teasing me about it).

This is my last letter to you, so I suppose it should be filled with heartfelt farewell.

Though I really don't know what I'm supposed to say. You're probably much different than how I remember you - why, tomorrow is your birthday, isn't it? You'll be turning fifteen (and to think I'd almost forgotten!). Six years since I've last seen you.

You know I've always been sentimental, so I'm going to list all things I remember of nine-year-old Kaz. I wonder how much you've changed.

I remember hair that never stayed in place. Eyes that twinkled mischievously whenever you plotted some elaborate prank. I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie. I definitely remember you standing up to my father defiantly when he had hit me. After that, your family had taken me in. I remember being scared, and confused when no one yelled at me or hit me when I did something wrong - I was so used to my father's cruelty, that I hadn't realized it wasn't normal.

He's dead now, though, so it doesn't do me any good to think about him anymore, does it?

I remember trying to learn Zemeni, giggling when we misgendered the nouns, taking sips of hot cocoa to reward ourselves when we got a sentence right (why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot, and for some reason, the realization saddens me). I remember eating cherries while we climbed on the roof of the barn and watched the sunset in the summer. When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

I remember quite a bit, and yet so little, and I'm beginning to realize that I miss you dearly, and by saying goodbye to you in a letter I'll never get a response for seems like giving up on you and Jordie.

I've been writing these letters for so long now, yet I never tire of it, and I think I know why (though maybe not - my emotions are everywhere). At first, I think they were a coping mechanism, trying to deal with everyone around me dying, but I think now that they were a subconscious plea.

To come home.

I know that you've probably forgotten about me, and if you haven't, you're probably trying to, but there's no harm in asking, right? Kaz (Jordie, if you're reading this), I want you to come home - I don't care if you don't talk to me, or you hate me, or you destroy everything I own. I don't care if you come and then leave the next morning, because it's been so long that I've begun to think you were just a figment of my imagination. I don't care if you come back and you don't recognize me, or I don't recognize you.

I just want you to come home.

Oh, who am I kidding. You won't, if you haven't already. I suppose it's one last plea, a desperate last attempt.

Goodbye, Kaz Rietveld (and Jordie, if you're reading this!).

This is my last letter to you.

Oh, how dearly I miss you.

Your former friend,

Y/N L/N

Kaz ran his fingers over the worn edges of the letter, dated two years ago. It was beginning to fade, the cheap ink smudging where Y/N had crossed out lines that were barely legible. Coffee stains and frayed, torn edges showed how many times that letter was read, from the first time it had arrived to now.

He had that letter memorized - he could recite it forwards and backwards and in his sleep.

If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

He had every letter she had written him, ever since he had heard the postman complaining about delivering letters from a poor girl to a nonexistent boy. Such things weren't entirely uncommon, but Kaz had been bored and he had inquired as to the name of the nonexistent boy. Afterwards, he had received all her letters, read them, but never replied to Y/N, could never bring himself to.

You're probably much different than how I remember you.

Maybe that was part of the reason he never wrote a letter of his own - because he wanted her to remember him as human, as something with a soul and a heart and a family. Not a monster, with a body count and a limp and a façade of stone and steel.

I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie.

He had loved pumpkin pie, once. His mother had made it for them. But that was when he still had a mother.

He's dead now, though.

Kaz couldn't say he was sorry to hear it - even now, he hated the man with a fierce passion, rivaling that of his hate for Pekka Rollins. He remembered finding out what he had been doing to Y/N, and his tiny chest had filled with white-hot, pulsing rage.

Why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot.

Kaz's father had been trying to haggle with a Zemeni trader one night, but couldn't speak the language. He and Y/N had vowed to learn the language, a promise that had lasted exactly three days before they had realized just how hard it was to learn a new language.

When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

It was strange indeed, how similar yet different that same memory was for him - he remembered that night because of how happy she had looked. It had been her first Ghezen's Day without her father, and she had later described the day as magical.

I just want you to come home.

She didn't really, Kaz knew with certainty. She wanted Kaz Rietveld, not Kaz Brekker, and Kaz Rietveld was dead. Y/N wanted the boy who drowned in the harbor with his brother.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker x you #kaz x y/n #kaz x you #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse

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gildedmuse · 3 years

Text

Hey, everyone.

So recently I've (predictably) very not well. Actually, whenever I don't post for long periods, just assume my body is trying to kill me. But I've gotten messages from three people asking if I. Okay, which is super sweet. I am actually trying to work on the next All Hearts, a really long ZoLaw post and two request fics, but mixing chronic kidney pain and capitalist society's mandate to work 40+ hours is not recommended.

But to prove I'm okay and still me, here is some Shanks antics with him being a total slut while Mihawk and Beckman just roll their eyes and go along with it. [Shout out to @jhaernyl who not only listens to me ramble about this stuff, but actively encourages it]. I also have many thoughts on the latest episodes and so many screenshots it's embarrassing. Hopefully, when I'm in less pain, I'll get around to actually posting those. Otherwise I just look like an insane person who literally takes by the second frame shots every time Zoro is on screen.

.... What is that? I look like that anyway? Fair.

Shanks Is A Bad Influence

It feels like Buggy and Shanks split up after Roger's death (the crew was told to, and they are the only ones who went to his execution) and I find it impossible to think Shanks didn't immediately set out and find a crew; like, pirating is the only thing this kid knows in life. This means two things:

He set out from East Blue. Also, he seemed at ease and familiar with the East so it's possible he spent like a year there getting everything together. Maybe he even played around in the other blues for a while before heading back to the Grand Line. I say this because his crew is from all over so either he found and recruited them in the Grand Line or visited various blues. Either way, I'm gonna say it took him about two years before getting a 'proper' start. In that case, he would have started out properly at the age of 17 and we know One Piece likes it's parallels.

That still puts Shanks at 17 to Benn Beckmen's 28. How the fuck did Shanks manage that? I'd call it grave robbing, but let's face it, the little tyke probably got up to some actual robbing of graves as well.

My point being everytime Shanks teases Mihawk about keeping this 19 year old kid on his personal island, mostly shirtless, Benn Beckmen just lifts an eyebrow.

Excuse me, captain, who had prefected the 'opps still don't have my sea legs' trip-and-fall into their first mates lap by the age of 17?

Shanks: Beckmen, you caught me! *Shamelessly nuzzles up* Thank goodness! I could be a devil's fruit user after all and - Ahh!

Benn: *Drops Shanks straight over the side of the ship into the water*

Shanks: *Sputtering* What what that!?

Benn: Checking to see if you had eaten a devil's fruit on us, Capatin.

Benn: You didn't.

Smart ass. But he can't resist Shanks forever. Shanks will wear him down eventually.

Next time Mihawk tracks him down for another match - because you know he gets bored way quicker than he'll ever admit and Shanks is at least amusing a challenge - Shanks makes a big deal out of how Mihawk follows him around, "accidentally" revealing they slept together, sighing about how it's so hard to resist him.

Benn Beckmen is just leaning against the side of the ship, sipping his booze.

Shanks: -and I can't stay for hours like last time!!

Mihawk: Are you quite done?

Shanks: *whispering* Does Benn look jealous?

Mihawk: He looks bored. Much like I am. Is this some strange attempt to get out of my challenge, Akagami?

Shanks: What? No, come on I told you I was game. But, hey, could you do me a favor? Maybe like try and kiss me or something? Like take a swing like your going to hit me but then stop shot and grab me by the waist instead.

Mihawk: .... Trickery is beneath you. Besides, you're absolute rubbish at it.

Shanks: Oh, come on, I would totally help you get laid if you asked!

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* I want a proper match afterwards.

Mihawk: *In a forced, monotone voice* After this I will take you to my lair and have my way with you, Akagami.

Mihawk: ... My lair? Really?

Shanks: *Holding up cue card with quickly scribbled line* What? That is how you talk.

Mihawk: I can't believe I wasted precious hours of light tracking you to this atrociously rural port.

Shanks: See? Now, read the next one.

Benn: Captain? If this is going to take all night, I am going to go join the rest of the men in the tavern.

Shanks: Huh? Wait! Benn! What if Miha really stabs me this time!?

Benn: *Salutes Shanks with his bottle* Sounds like that is his plan captain. Have a good 'challenge'.

Shanks: What? No... *Reaching out hand, like he might die if Benn leaves, looking completely devastated* Not even a little jealous...

Mihawk: You couldn't have thought that pantomime would actually work.

Shanks: Benny, don't leave me.... *Turns to Mihawk, immediately brightening* Oh, well, there's always tomorrow. Hey, Miha, guess whose free all night and horny as a pirate in the calm belt?

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* Very well.

Mihawk might as well get something for the trip he made. Although, he's reconsidering if the sex was actually worth the trouble after he ends up listening to Shanks worry half the night that Benn is shacking up with someone else (after a couple hours of rough and raw fucking, admittedly).

Is it the hat? He likes his captain's hat. Miha, you think his captain's hat is sexy, don't you?

Mihawk: It's utterly ridiculous.

Shanks: ....

Shanks: *Smile* Ahh, Miha, I knew you liked the hat!

Shanks: What do you old Northerns find sexy?

Mihawk: I am only four years older than you.

Mihawk: And silence.

Trying to convince Mihawk to go spy on Beckman for him. Shanks doesn't actually care if he does sleep with someone else, it's more that Beckman didn't immediately turn angry and jealous like Buggy would have that has him paranoid.

Mihawk is going to fuck this annoying red head again just to shut him up.

Mihawk: Maybe he doesn't like red haired boys who don't know when to be quiet?

The next morning Shanks is pacing among his poor crew that's gotten stuck listening to Shanks obsess about Beckman again. IS IT REALLY THE HAIR!?

It's not even a matter of Shanks's age (or obvious immaturity). I mean, Beckman got on board and stayed, didn't he? Beckman just enjoys watching Shanks try so hard to get his attention. Like Benn's attention isn't constantly on Shanks. He had to when his captain is always one step away from disaster.

He only left him with Mihawk because it was clear Dracule is not a real danger to Beckman's captain.

Except maybe insulting him to death. But Beckman is pretty sure Shanks can handle it. He's met Buggy. He's suspects Shanks LIKES it if anything.

It gets to the point where when they dock somewhere and see Mihawk waiting, or come back to the ship and spot his familiar silhouette, most of the crew goes off somewhere for another drink (sometimes the newer kids will stay to watch such an awesome fight, everyone else is like... Look, you'll have plenty of opportunities later. This is not a one off.)

Benn just takes a look around, nods to Mihawk (a silent signal for, "he's all yours, do with him as you please, if anything happens to him I will track you down and make sure your last few hours on this blue world are as painful as humanly possible") and heads off.

Oh, it's just the Hawk boy.

That's fine then.

Benn use to be a sailor on a trade ship between the North, East, West and Grand Line. He's seen it all.

They called him The Gun Slinger BEFORE he joined Shanks's crew and became a pirate.

So this young, broke ass kid from the streets of some near artic northern island trying to pass himself off as a Lower North rich type has a thing for his captain? Not really enough to keep Beckman up at night, no matter how good at swords he's supposed to be

Besides, he's pretty sure for the kid to keep tracking down Shanks, he must be bored out of his skull. He's not going to do anything to endanger their captain.

Not if Shanks is the only thing he can find to keep him entertained.

One day, Mihawk is going to be waiting on the dock when a bunch of Red Haired pirates are stumbling home, laughing and chattering amongst themselves (Shanks's crew always seems to be in a good mood). One of them will catch sight if Mihawk and walk by with a smile, patting him on the shoulder.

The captain's occupied. Seems likely he'll be 'occupied' for a good while, too.

Mihawk won't smile, but he will think "So you finally warmed him up to you, Akagami?" and snort lightly.

Poor Benn, though. Mihawk could never imagine being with someone so much younger than him. Shanks is only four years his junior and already it strains Mihawk to put up with his occasional moments of "youthful whimsy" (aka being an annoying, immature child)

"A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair"

Mihawk just putting that on his Not To Do List.

That lasted until Roronoa.

(Mihawk just looking at Zoro knowing this is bad news.)

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

*Cross out, scribbles*

*Hands back to Benn*

Do Not Do:

- A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair a silly hat, who is overly dramatic and in any way, shape or form related to Gol D Rogers.

Ace: Hey what's up?

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

Go ahead, Benn, laugh it up. Mihawk is aware he has a type. Young, pretty, and utterly insane.

After that night where Shanks was otherwise 'occupied', it's over six months before Mihawk sees his friend his rival again. He is, as expected, far too smug and proud looking.

Shanks: Oh, Miha, so sorry you came all this way, I'm-

Benn: Well, I'm off, captain.

Shanks: What!? But we, you, I... Benn, hessoeexyarentyouworriedforyourcaptain?

Benn: *patting Mihawk on the shoulder* Have fun with him. Don't forget to return him by noon tomorrow, we have a schedule. Oh, but if you can babysit him for at least four hours? That would be great.

Shanks: BABYSIT!?

Mihawk: I suppose I can be troubled to do so.

Shanks: TROUBLED!?

Benn: Thanks, Hawkeyes. I owe you.

Shanks: *Fake tears clinging to his lashes* You two are so mean!

No, don't feel bad for him. Shanks is just trying to guilt the two of them into bed at the same time, and they both know it.

Thanks no thanks, they're not into that. But Shanks can be pretty cute when he's trying so hard (Benn) and at least he's not as boring as everything else in this world (Mihawk) so they allow him to keep up the act

Shanks: *looking at Zoro's wanted poster over Mihawk's shoulder* But I feel like you'd gladly go to bed with him and his captain if he asked. That doesn't seem fair to me. You'd never go that far with me and Benn.

Mihawk: *Eyes Benn*

Mihawk: *DEAD. ONLY.*

Mihawk: I have my reasons.

They can and do agree on plenty of things, including reciprocally not being that attracted to each other.

Shanks: Sounds fake to me

Shanks: But guys!

Shanks: This isn't about you

He's gonna need you guys to drop the egos and focus on what HE wants. I.E., being in the middle of two sexy Northern men.

Honestly, so mean to poor Shanks!

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whereallthepoetswenttodiee · 2 years

Text

André Aciman

Call Me By Your Name

Call Me By Your Name really moved me. Reading it was an indescribable experience that I hope I will never forget. The way love is described touched my soul. I have never read anything so raw and yet so beautiful. I think it goes beyong love, they are meant for each other, soul mates. Here are my favourite quotes (couldn't keep it shorter):

“I shut my eyes, say the word, and I’m back in Italy, so many years ago, walking down the tree-lined driveway, watching him step out of the cab, billowy blue shirt, wide-open collar, sunglasses, straw hat, skin everywhere.”

“Private, chaste, unfledged, like a blush on an athlete's face or an instance of dawn on a stormy night. It told me things about him I never knew to ask.”

“I liked how our minds seemed to travel in parallel, how we instantly inferred what words the other was toying with but at the last moment held back.”

“You could never stare long enough but needed to keep staring to find out why you couldn't.”

“Later that evening in my diary, I wrote: I was exaggerating when I said I thought you hated the piece. What I meant to say was: I thought you hated me. I was hoping you'd persuade me of the opposite—and you did, for a while. Why won't I believe it tomorrow morning?

So this is who he also is, I said to myself after seeing how he’d flipped from ice to sunshine.

I might as well have asked: Do I flip back and forth in just the same way?

P.S. We are not written for one instrument alone; I am not, neither are you.”

“This, the afternoon he did finally walk into my room without knocking as if summoned by my prayers and asked how come I wasn't with the others at the beach, and all I could think of saying, though I couldn't bring myself to say it, was, To be with you. To be with you, Oliver.”

“All this I could have denied. And believed my denials.”

“He saw through everybody, but he saw through them precisely because the first thing he looked for in people was the very thing he had seen in himself and may not have wished others to see.”

“What struck me was not just his amazing gift for reading people, for rummaging inside them and digging out the precise configuration of their personality, but his ability to intuit things in exactly the way I myself might have intuited them. This, in the end, was what drew me to him with a compulsion that overrode desire or friendship or the allurements of a common religion.”

“That someone else in my immediate world might like what I liked, want what I wanted, be who I was.”

“Let summer never end, let him never go away, let the music on perpetual replay play forever, I'm asking for very little, and I swear I'll ask for nothing more.”

“I had never heard someone his age say, I know myself. It intimidated me.”

“But seeing everyone take such a liking to him, I found a strange, small oasis of peace. What could possibly be wrong with liking someone everyone else liked?”

“Then it hit me that I could have killed myself instead, or hurt myself badly enough and let him know why I'd done it. If I hurt my face, I'd want him to look at me and wonder why, why might anyone do this to himself, until, years and years later-yes, Later!-he’d finally piece the puzzle together and beat his head against the wall.”

“One day, when there was one too many of them to go biking, Oliver turned to me and asked if I minded letting Mario borrow my bike since I wasn't using it.

It threw me back to age six.

I shrugged my shoulders, meaning, Go ahead, I couldn't care less. But no sooner had they left then I scrambled upstairs and began sobbing into my pillow.”

“Was he my home, then, my homecoming? When I'm with you and we’re well together, there is nothing more I want. You make me like who I am, who I become when you're with me, Oliver.”

“ “Try again later,” said Oliver. This was what people who were okay with themselves did. (...) But try again later what's the veil he’d drawn over If not later, when? … Try again later were the last words I’d spoken to myself every night when I’d sworn to do something to bring Oliver closer to me. Try again later meant, I haven't the courage now. Things weren’t ready just yet. (...) Try again later worked for people like Oliver. If not later, when? was my shibboleth. If not later, when? What if he had found me out and uncovered each and every one of my secrets with those four cutting words? “

“Sometimes the only way to understand an artist is to wear his shoes, to get inside him. Then everything else flows naturally.”

“They had always said I got too easily attached to people. This summer, though, I finally realized what they meant by being too easily attached. Obviously, it had happened before, and they must have already picked up on it when I was probably too young to notice anything myself. It had sent alarming ripples through their lives. They worried for me. I knew they were right to worry. I just hoped they’d never know how far things stood beyond their ordinary worries now.”

“Is it better to speak or die?”

“Muvi star.”

“I know nothing, Oliver. Nothing, just nothing.”

“The light of my eyes, I said, light of my eyes, light of the world, that’s what you are, light of my life.“

“Traitor. I thought as I waited to hear his bedroom door squeak open and squeak shut. Traitor. how easily we forget. I'll stick around. Sure. Liar.

It never crossed my mind that I too was a traitor, that's somewhere on a beach near her home a girl had waited for me tonight, as she waited every night now, and that I, like Oliver, hadn't given her a second thought.”

“That’s because you see me as a figure, not a human being. Worse yet: as an old figure. But there were. Mistaken turns, that is. Everyone goes through a period of traviamento - when we take, say, a different turn in life, the other.”

“ “I don't think we'll ever do anything like that again.” I was trying to sound noble end grave in my defeat. “But, yes, like that.” I could be vague too.”

“I began to feel we were not even two men, just two beings. I loved the egalitarianism of the moment. I loved feeling younger and older, human to human, man to man, Jew to Jew. (…) I even liked the fact that there were things on the bed that hadn’t been removed and which I kept kneeing into and didn’t mind encountering when I slipped a foot under them, because they were part of his bed, his life, his world.”

“I had, as I’d never before in my life, the distinct feeling of arriving somewhere, very dear, of wanting this forever, of being, me, me, me, me, and no one else, just me, of finding in each shiver that ran down my arms something totally alien and yet by no means unfamiliar, as if all this had been part of me all of my life and I’d misplaced it and he had helped me find it. The dream had been right—this was like coming come, like asking, Where have I been all my life? Which was another way of asking, Where were you in my childhood, Oliver?”

“No one had ever worn my clothes. Perhaps the physical and the metaphorical meanings are clumsy ways of understanding what happens when two beings need, not just to be close together, but to become so totally ductile that each becomes the other. To be who I am because of you. To be who he was because of me.”

“This was the best person I'd ever known in my life.”

“I had made a point never to count the days. At first because I didn't want to think how long he'd stay with us; later because I didn't want to face how few were his remaining days.”

“Why did I feel older than he was at that moment? I wanted to protect him from everything this morning.”

“Perhaps we were friends first and lovers second.

But then perhaps this is what lovers are.”

“We were, it finally dawned on me, the two shyest persons in the world.”

“Oliver liked to keep the windows and shutters wide open in the afternoon, with just the swelling sheer curtains between us and life beyond, because it was a “crime” to block away so much sunlight and keep such a landscape from view, especially when you didn’t have it all life long, he said.”

“I wanted no secrets, no screens, nothing between us. Little did I know that if I relished the gust of candor that bound us tighter each time we swore my body is your body, it was also because I enjoyed rekindling the tiny Lantern of unsuspected shame. It cast a spare glow precisely we are part of me would have preferred the dark. Shame trailed instant intimacy. Could intimacy endure once indecency was spent and our bodies had run out of tricks?

I don't know that I asked the question, just as I am not sure I am able to answer it today. Was our intimacy paid for in the wrong currency?

Or is intimacy the desired product no matter where you find it, How you acquire it, what you pay for it—black market, grey market, taxed, untaxed, under the table, over the counter?

All I knew was that I had nothing left to hide from him. I had never felt freer or safer in my life.

We were alone together for three days we knew no one in the city, I could be anyone, say anything, do anything.”

“Perhaps what I liked far more was the evening. Everything about it thrilled me. Every glance that crossed my own came like a compliment, or like an asking and a promise that simply lingered in midair between me and the world around me.”

“What's missing in my life?” I was going to say Everything, but corrected myself. “Friends—the way everyone seems to be fast friends in this place—I wish I had friends like yours, like you.”

“We had come to Rome in the same spirit of avoidance: Rome was a final bash before school and travel took us away, just a way of putting things off and extending the party long past closing time. Perhaps, without thinking, we had taken more than a brief vacation; we were eloping together with return-trip tickets two separate destinations.

Perhaps it was his gift to me.

Perhaps it was my father's gift to the two of us.”

“Who I am when I wake up on freezing nights and want nothing more than to throw on a sweater, rush to my desk, and right about the person I know no one knows I am; who I am when I crave to be naked with another naked body, or when I crave to be alone in the world; who I am when every part of me seems miles and centuries apart and each swears it bears my name. I called it the San Clemente Syndrome.”

“He came. He left. Nothing else had changed. I had not changed. The world hadn't changed. Yet nothing would be the same. All that remains is dreammaking and strange remembrance.”

“He pressed me against the wall and started to kiss me, his hips pushing into mine, his arms about to lift me off the ground. My eyes were shut, but I knew he had stopped kissing me to look around him; people could be walking by. I didn't want to look. Let him be the one to worry. Then we kissed again. And, with my eyes still shut, I think I did hear two voices, old men’s voices, grumbling something about taking a good look at these two, wondering if in the old days you'd ever see such a sight. But I didn't want to think about them. I didn't worry. If he wasn't worried, I wasn't worried. I could spend the rest of my life like this: with him, at night, in Rome, my eyes totally shut, one leg coiled around his. I thought of coming back here in the weeks or months to come—for this was our spot.”

“ “I can, from the distance of years now, still think I'm hearing the voices of two young men singing these words in Neapolitan toward daybreak, neither realizing, as they held each other and kissed again and again on the dark lanes of old Rome, that this was the last night they would ever make love again.

"Tomorrow let's go to San Clemente," I said.

"Tomorrow is today," he replied. ”

“And hoping not to think of it, like praying not to dream of it, hurts just the same.”

“I'll never forget Rome so long as I live.”

“I don't want to lose you.”

“ “Oliver was Oliver,” I said, as if that summed things up.

“Parce que c’était lui, parce que c’était moi,” my father added, quoting Montaigne’s all-encompassing explanation for his friendship with Etienne de la Boétie.

I was thinking, instead, of Emily Bronte’s words: because “he's more myself than I am.” ”

“I think he was better than me, Papa.”

“Speaking abstractly was the only way to speak this truth to him.”

“Fear not. It will come. At least I hope it does. And when you least expect it. Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot. Just remember: I am here. Right now you may not want to feel anything. Perhaps you never wished to feel anything. And perhaps it's not with me that you’ll want to speak about these things. But feel something you did.”

“In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don't snuff it out, don't be brutal with it. Withdrawal can we a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten Is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster.”

“But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once.”

“I wanted to ask him how he knew. But then how could he not have known? How could anyone not have known?”

“Wouldn't have changed, would never be who I am today, would have become someone else.

I wonder now who that someone else is today. Is he happier? (…) Would I like him, would he like me, would either of us understand why the other became who he is, would either be surprised to learn that each of us had in fact run into an Oliver of one sort or another, man or woman, and that we were very possibly, regardless of who came to stay with us that summer, one and the same person still?”

“No one could say my name that way. “Elio,” I repeated, to say it was I speaking but also to spark our old game and show I’d forgotten nothing. “It's Oliver,” he said. He had forgotten.”

“Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer.”

“I had come to see if I felt something, if something was still alive.”

“ “Perhaps it never went away.” (…) “I don't think it went away,” I repeated. ”

“We belong to each other, but had lived so far apart that we belonged to others now.”

“In fact, he's closer to the person you were when we were together and you are to the Elio I knew then.”

“But this thing that almost never was still beckons, I wanted to tell him. They can never undo it, never unwrite it, never unlive it, or relive it—it's just stuck there like a vision of fireflies on a somber field toward evening that keeps saying, You could have had this instead. But going back is false. Moving ahead is false. Looking the other way is false. Trying to redress all that is false turns out to be just as false.“

“ “And on that evening when we grow older still we'll speak about these two young men as though they were two strangers we met on the train and whom we admire and want to help along. And we want to call it envy, because it to call it regret would break our hearts.”

Silence again.

“Perhaps I am not yet ready to speak of them as strangers,” I said.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don't think either of us ever will be.”

“That kiss still imprinted there, thank goodness. it's all I have from you.” ”

“We missed out on so much.”

“Do these things die out on their own or do some things need generations and lifetimes to sort themselves out?”

“Cor cordium, heart of hearts, I've never said anything truer in my life to anyone.”

“It would finally dawn on us both that he was more me than I had ever been myself, because when he became me and I became him in bed so many years ago, he was and would forever remain, long after every forked road in life had done its work, my brother, my friend, my father, my son, my husband, my lover, myself. In the weeks we'd been thrown together that summer, our lives had scarcely touched, but we had crossed to the other bank, where time stops and heaven reaches down to earth and gives us that ration of what is from birth divinely ours. We looked the other way. We spoke about everything but. But we've always known, and not saying anything now confirmed it all the more. We had found the stars, you and l. And this is given once only.”

“I'm like you,” he said. “I remember everything.”

#call me by your name #elio #oliver #elio and oliver #oliver and elio #elioandoliver #oliverandelio #andre aciman #summer #italy #somewhere in northern italy #1980s #love story #love #love novel #elio perlman

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miss-smutty · 3 years

Text

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt.

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America."

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though."

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?"

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me."

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?"

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine."

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates?

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris Hemsworth series #chris Hemsworth X oc #mcu rpf

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squiggledrop · 4 years

Text

Reforget - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Both Reader and Spencer have feelings for each other. Reader kisses Spencer, but he runs away and ignores her. - Song fic to Reforget by Lauv

Word Count: 3k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual implications, Crying, Angst, Fluff,

Didn't wanna be a ghost

But you pushed me over and over

Never thought I'd have a vice

Other than you, over and over

It had been three weeks since you and Spencer first kissed, and two weeks and six days since you both decided you were better as friends. Well, since Spencer had decided for the both of you. When it happened, the two of you were walking out of the BAU together, ready to head home. You had had a crush on Spencer since your first day a couple of months ago, and the two of you quickly became good friends. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer also had a crush on you, but was much too insecure to ever act on it. As you made your way to your car, you grabbed Spencer’s arm as he was about to turn and say goodnight. You didn’t know where this spur of confidence came from, but you were running with it. You gave him a peck on the lips, which caused his face to turn into a tomato.

“I’m so sorry”, you blurted out in shock, “I don’t know what I was-”. You were cut off by Spencer cupping your cheeks and placing his mouth back on yours. For the first time in Spencer’s life, his brain couldn’t keep up, and he was on you before he could even process what was happening. The kiss was fueled by passion and the hidden feelings between you both were almost palpable. When you pulled apart you stared into each other’s eyes, full of lust and desire, however, as Spencer finally realized what had just happened, his eyes grew wider and a film of terror masked his face.

“Uh, night”, he stated blankly before darting off. You tried to call out to him, but it was no use as you couldn’t seem to form any words. You stood there in shock. Every emotion coursed through your body. You were terrified because you just kissed Spencer Reid. You were elated because Spencer Reid kissed you back! But, you were crushed because Spencer Reid just kissed you and ran off like it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Left you in the sky with the fire below

Thought I had it right, but I'm still

Lost in the light

As you drove home you replayed the events of the night over, and over again in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. He kissed you back. That had to mean something.

Spencer rode the subway in silence, just staring out the window, reminiscing how your lips felt on his. He was beating himself up for running away like that, but he couldn’t handle the thought of you rejecting him. When you kissed him his mind went blank and when you pulled away he put his lips right back where they belong. The only problem was, as he was kissing you, your words finally registered in his head: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. He knew kissing you back was a mistake and he couldn’t bear look you in the eye after you had apologized for kissing him.

When you got home, you looked at the screen of your phone through tear-filled eyes. You made out Spencer’s blurry contact in your texts.

To Spencer: Hey, can we talk about earlier?

Spencer heard his phone buzz and blinked back the tears welling in his eyes. It was a text from you asking to talk. Great, he thought to himself, you probably wanted to apologize again because kissing him was just that horrible. Spencer opted to save himself anymore hurt and ignored your text. He threw his phone on the couch and went to bed.

To Spencer: Can you at least let me know you got home okay?

To Spencer: Spence, please?

The tears streaming down your face became too much, so you decided to just leave him be. Fine, if he wants to be a jerk who just kisses you and runs away then so be it. You left the ball in his court, so it was his move. You had no energy to do anything else.

The only problem was, Spencer was never good at sports, or confrontation for that matter. This led to the two of you not speaking the following morning, or the following two weeks and six days. The team knew something had happened because normally you two were inseparable, but now they were lucky if you could even stay in the same room for more than 30 seconds. You avoided each other, not wanting to be faced with the devastating truth. You came to the conclusion that Spencer’s lack of response was his response. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Spencer on the other hand felt so guilty about ignoring you, but he knew he would break down if you told him kissing him was a mistake, and for a man who relied on facts and statistics, he wasn’t willing to face the truth.

And I don't know what night it is

You're somewhere else, I'm drinking not to guess

It had been three weeks of avoiding each other and the team knew that they had to do something.

“Hey! Why don’t we all go and get drinks!”, Penelope suggested after a taxing case. It had been a long time since the whole team did something fun together, and they thought this way they could get you two drunk enough to finally tell them what was going on.

“I-I don’t really feel like it…”, Spencer said softly as he grabbed his coat and bag.

“Oh come on pretty boy! It’ll be fun!”, Derek said as he patted Spencer on the back.

“I could definitely afford to get wasted”, you huffed, sneaking a glare at Spencer. He avoided your glance and reluctantly agreed to go for a little while.

When you all got to the bar, you and Spencer sat as far away from each other as possible. He slowly sipped on a beer as you, JJ, Emily, and Penelope went to the bar to order. He watched as you downed a line of shots, and he sunk further into his seat.

You did four shots, gaining amazed, and slightly concerned looks from the girls. They knew whatever happened must have been really bad because you clearly wanted to forget everything.

“Whoo! Come on! Let’s dance!”, they couldn’t say no to that, so the four of you made your way to the dance floor. Penelope traded a knowing look at Derek who joined her. Spencer sat and watched as you all danced and jumped around, a light sheen of sweat forming on your forehead. You looked so beautiful and free, he thought to himself, but he quickly pushed the thought away and took a swig of beer.

You wanted so desperately to forget about Spencer, who discarded your entire friendship over one stupid night, but you couldn’t. The way the dim lights outlined his face made your heart race. All you wanted was to kiss him again. You had to do something to get your mind off of him. You thought the alcohol would help, but your intoxicated state was only making your feelings stronger.

Blurry bodies, but you're on my mind

We let it go now I'm full of rum and regret

I go out just so I can reforget

You jumped as you felt a hand on your waist. You turned to see a tall, handsome man with smirking eyes. Normally when in this situation you would tell the guy to fuck off because honestly you were repulsed by any guy who felt the need to grab a random woman’s waist at a bar. However, tonight, you found the unwarranted touch empowering. This is what you needed, you told yourself, some guy to help you forget about Spencer.

Spencer’s eyes grew with anger as he saw the guy, who wasn’t him, dance up against you. He ran his hands all over your body, causing Spencer’s blood to boil. The worst part was that you seemed to be enjoying it. Normally when a guy approaches you at the bar, you find Spencer so he’ll give up and move onto some other girl. You always made Spencer feel special because he knew you trusted him to keep you safe. But now, seeing you grind against that arrogant man, in a way he has never seen you move before, was more than he could handle.

You hated yourself for what you were doing, knowing you would regret it in the morning, but it felt nice to be desired after three weeks of Spencer ignoring you. That’s why, when the guy pressed his lips against yours, you reciprocated will full force.

“Do you want to get out of here?”, he whispered in your ear. You nodded, using all your willpower to not turn around and look at Spencer. He didn’t want you. He made that very clear. Why shouldn’t you go home with this guy? He was hot, a good kisser...not as good as Spencer...No! Stop! This is good. This is what you need.

Spencer felt a single tear roll down his cheek as that man kissed you. The salty taste consumed his mouth as he watched you leave the bar, your hands interlocked. He watched your blurred silhouettes leave as he broke down in tears.

Two more footsteps on the wood floor, but it ain't you

I'm faded so I bring someone home

You opened the door to your apartment and he pushed you up against the wall, tracing your body with kisses. You moaned at the sensation, but when you closed your eyes, all you could see what Spencer.

The guy, whose name you still hadn’t even bothered to find out, began to lift your top, running his fingers on your bare waist. At this, all you could think about was how much you wished that this guy was Spencer. Fuck, you thought, as tears brimmed your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just really tired…”, you said as you pushed the guy off of you.

“Oh, okay”, he forced a smile to hide his disappointment.

You walked to your bedroom, tears running down your cheeks, hoping he would just take the hint and leave. As you closed your bedroom door, you heard your front door close. You laid down on your bed and let yourself do the one thing you wouldn’t let yourself do all night: think about Spencer.

Already paying for tonight

Head spins like a carousel, over and over

Spencer had left not long after you. He made his way back to his apartment, where the only images protruding his brain were of you under that guy and him making you feel the way Spencer wanted to make you feel. He couldn’t get the thought of you moaning some other guy’s name out of his head.

He tried to sleep but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was you. That’s it, he thought. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go see you. He looked over at his alarm clock: 3:28 am. Well, at least at this point he wouldn’t interrupt whatever activities the two of you had gotten up to. God, he hoped he wouldn’t walk in on that.

The short drive to your apartment felt like a lifetime. He thought about what he would say, how he would explain himself. He wanted you to know how much you mean to him, even if you didn’t feel the same.

I never thought a sunrise

Could burn more than a midnight without you

You had been trying to sleep for hours, but it was no use. Images of Spencer filled your head. You were still pissed at him for ignoring you for the past few weeks, but to be honest, what hurt more was how empty you felt without him next to you. You missed how he would lay his head on your shoulder when he would fall asleep on the jet after long cases, you missed hearing his laugh every time you made a stupid joke at your desks, but mostly, you just missed talking to your best friend.

Spencer finally made it to your apartment and was relieved to not be greeted with any muffled moans. He stood at your door for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He scrounged up an ounce of courage and put his knuckles to your door.

You jolted up as you heard a knock at your door. Confused, and exhausted from crying, you quickly wiped away your tears and headed for the door. Shock set in as you saw who it was.

When you opened the door, Spencer was met with your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His hair was more disheveled than normal, like he had been running his hands through it, which he always did when he was overwhelmed on a case.

“What are you doing here?”, you croaked out, annoyance lacing your voice, after a few moments of silence. Spencer looked you up and down and his eyes softened at your current state. His heart twinged at the sight of you so upset. He secretly hoped you were only upset because of him and not because that idiot guy did something to hurt you when he wasn’t there for you.

“I just, I needed to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that, and I’m sorry”, he paused, waiting for your reaction. When you just stood there, unsure of what to say, he continued, “Are you okay? You-”

“Okay?!”, you cut him off, “Am I okay?! I don’t know Spence! Would you be okay if your best friend ignored you for three weeks just because of one stupid mistake?!” The pain in your voice broke through the anger as you choked back tears. It hurt him to see you in this much pain, especially because of something he did, but, what sent a sharp twinge through his heart, was hearing you admit that it was a mistake. He knew you would regret it. He should never have come. He turned to leave before you could see his own tears forming.

“Oh that’s it! Just leave me again!”, you sobbed. He snapped his head back around.

“Well, I’m sorry! But don’t you get it! I didn’t ignore you just to be a jerk! I can’t stand to look at you without breaking down. I’m- I’m sorry that I love you so much that it physically pains me to know you don’t feel the same.” You just stare at him, your eyes growing wider. “God, (y/n), I’m sorry but you can’t blame me for not wanting to talk to you after you realized kissing me was such a horrible thing. I’m sorry I’m not as hot or good of a dancer as that guy at the bar. And I’m sorry that seeing you leave with him and do who knows what literally kills me inside”, by now Spencer was sobbing. You still couldn’t bring yourself to react, still shocked by what he had said: he loves you.

Spencer let out a sigh and turned to leave again, only this time you grabbed his arm, just like that night three weeks ago, and placed a kiss to his lips. He quickly pulled away, not knowing whether you did it out of pity or to make fun of him.

“Spence…”, you looked into his eyes, “I never said kissing you was a mistake. C’mon, you’re the one who has an eidetic memory”. You expected him to at least let out a chuckle, but he replied sternly.

“You just said that night was a ‘stupid mistake’”, he huffed. Your face softened and you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t mean kissing you was a mistake”, you whispered, “I just-when you left after kissing me, I just-I thought”, you sighed, “I was so confused Spencer, cause that was the best kiss of my entire life, and then when you left and wouldn’t respond to my texts, I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me.” When he still didn’t say anything, you asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”, he sheepishly asked.

“That you love me”, you said with a small smile. He finally looked you in the eye and mirrored your grin.

“Of course I love you, (y/n)”, he admitted matter of factually. You were about to kiss him again when he backed away and asked, “Wait, what exactly happened between you and that guy from the bar…”

“Oh”, you let out a coy laugh, “Sorry you had to see that… We came back here, but nothing happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I wished it was you instead of him-”

“Really?”

“Of course… Spence...I love you too. That’s why I kissed you. When I pulled away at first it wasn’t because I was sorry I did it, I just was sorry in case I made you uncomfortable because I- I didn’t want to lose you…”

Spencer stared at you before enveloping you in a hug and wrapping one hand around your waist and the other in your hair. You placed your arms around his shoulders and rubbed your thumb on the back of his neck.

“I promise, you’re never going to lose me again”, he said as he kissed your head. You looked up at him and brought him in for a kiss. This one was just as passionate as the one you shared all those weeks ago, only it was gentler and more sensual. You grasped each other as if your lives depended on it. You continued your kiss as your salty tears mixed with the taste of alcohol in your mouths, but neither of you cared. When you finally broke apart for air, you embraced each other in another hug.

“Let’s go to bed”, you whispered in his ear. Spencer hummed in response and picked you up, earning a loud giggle from you. He put you down on the bed and crawled in with you. He pulled you close to his chest as you placed your face in the crook of his neck. The two of you closed your eyes and were finally able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks, comforted by the presence of one another.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #penelopy garcia #emily prentiss #jj #derek morgan

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mascwhump · 2 years

Text

Cataclysm II

CW: Some NSFW stuff (not too explicit), implied past noncon, self-blame

After the lecture that morning, I left as quickly as I could. I didn't see him for the rest of the day, and fortunately, he didn't come around that night, either. He did, however, call me so many times that I had lost count. I ended up shutting off my phone and throwing it into a drawer. I studied until dawn. Sleep wasn't coming, anyway. Might as well have made good use of my time. My schedule was clear Saturday. It would have been nice to get out, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I stayed in my flat instead.

Around noon, as I was cleaning, I suddenly became extremely dizzy. I got myself to the pull-out before I managed to injure myself. It was then I realized I hadn't eaten since Thursday afternoon. Shit. Back then, Kendall was the only one keeping me from wasting away. Without his reminders, I'd simply forget to eat. Once I felt confident that my legs wouldn't fail me, I forced myself to rummage through the pantry. I had no appetite, but knew I had to eat something. I settled for an overly-sweet protein bar.

Great, now that I had something in my system, I could manage to finish up my chores. Afterwards, I went through the Netflix DVDs I'd hoarded. Choosing one at random, I popped it in for some background noise, and decided to study some more. It was six o'clock when I checked the time again and decided to call it a night. I had a bath with some dodgy homemade bath bombs I'd attempted to make, then curled up under a blanket with my laptop. I made the mistake checking Facebook. Kendall had commented one every single one of my posts, begging me to answer his calls. Irritated, I shut the laptop and attempted to get to sleep, despite it still being early.

There was a knock at my door not long after. The feeling of dread overwhelmed me as I crept toward the door.

"Mal, open up."

I froze. Fuck.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry. Let me make it up to you, please. I brought gifts."

I don't know why I did it, but I opened the door. Kendall stood there holding a bouquet of roses. He studied me briefly before handing me the flowers.

"Can I come in?"

"Alright."

I let him pass me and shut the door. I placed the roses gently on the table as he took a seat on the bed. He motioned for me to join him. Reluctantly, I did so, but on the opposite end of the bed.

"I'm really sorry for what I did. I never meant to hurt you, baby," He spoke softly.

I'd like to say I kicked him out, right then and there, but I didn't. We talked awhile, and I ended up forgiving him. It's quite possibly one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life.

The week following that night was fine. I wouldn't say things went back to normal, because they never would. I was a bit weary, but I let my guard down more and more as the week progressed. He convinced me that it was just a fluke, that he truly didn't realize I was in distress. And, for some reason, I believed every bit of it. It was my first serious relationship, after all- I didn't know any better.

Saturday of the following week, Kendall was taking a short holiday with his parents. I, of course, used my time alone to study. All was normal. He had texted me a few times throughout the day and we spoke on the phone that evening. I ended up falling asleep sometime around ten o'clock. It was the first time I fell asleep peacefully in a week. I felt safe again. I truly thought it was a one-time thing. Yet, later that night, he snuck in while I slept. He did it again.

It continued for months, and I didn't say a word to anyone. I let it happen. I didn’t feel like I had another choice.

Until Christmas, that is. I was home for the holidays and I was having a drunken conversation with my cousin. It slipped out. When I returned to school, Kendall wasn't there. I don't know if it was my cousin's doing, but he was gone- and that was all that mattered. The rest of my years at university were uneventful, though, I struggled with depression and body image issues. Weeks before I graduated, I was hit in the face with the need to do something about my life.

So, I forced myself to eat. I started lifting weights. I gained fifteen kilos of muscle by the end of that year. Then, I started my company. Things were finally beginning to go my way.

When I was 26 or 27, I downloaded Grindr for the first time. Now, with my new found confidence, I decided to get back out there. I had one or two casual hookups, but one day, I met someone unexpected. His profile labeled him as a submissive. I hadn't looked into BDSM much at the time, but I knew enough to know what that was. I was curious as to why he had messaged me. I wasn't what he was looking for, right? My profile clearly stated that I was a bottom, too. I messaged him for a bit. He said that the moment he saw my pictures, he knew he wanted me to fuck him.

I was a bit intrigued. Me, really? It was a Friday night, and I wasn't doing anything. I thought, eh, why not. I'll try it. So, I went to his flat and shagged him. In the midst of it, he asked me to choke him. I was hesitant at first, but I did it.

I honestly, really, truly did not expect to enjoy it so much. He then asked me to slap him a bit. Begged me to do it harder. In the back of my mind I was thinking what the hell am I doing? I was almost scared about how much I enjoyed it. I ended up leaving bruises on his neck and face. He thanked me.

So, I went on with my newfound pleasures. I was breaking through boundaries I didn't even know I had set for myself. It got to a point where I hardly cared about the sex, I just wanted to hurt them. I wanted control, whether it was given to me willingly or not.

#oc #whump oc #whump #drabble #noncon tw #idk if I got everything in the cw so lmk

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

Text

CRASH

Pairing: FFXV! NYX ULRIC x GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

Words: 2.050

Warnings: none;

Summary: One morning on your way to work, you crash into a cute guy not expecting seeing him again in the evening.

You were running late. Again. There was no way your boss would buy another lame excuse if you wouldn't hurry. Maybe, if one of the six would be with you, you still could make it on time. If you were fast. Well, faster than fast. Maybe fast like a chocobo…

You were so deep in your thoughts with your eyes glued at your phone that you barely noticed anything around you. You knew the way. Blindly. Flying down the different streets in the heart of the city for two years. You knew every single light signal, every street sign and every building by heart.

What you didn't know was that big rocks could suddenly emerge from the ground because as you ran into something it felt as if you were slamming straight into a massive wall made of stone. You bumped into it, bouncing back from the rock before you fell.

But there was no impact on the ground…

"Hey, it's okay. I got you. You can open your eyes.", a soft male voice spoke close to your ear.

Only then, you felt two strong arms embracing your waist. As you raised your gaze, you got greeted by ocean blue eyes filled with concern, "The… the rock can speak.", you breathed startled, '...And is handsome as hell.', you thought further.

"Excuse me, what did you say?", the man asked confusedly and checked on you. He had noticed that the impact had been hard, you were straight crashing into him with some kind of speed, but it shouldn't cause any real trouble for your health.

You shook your head quickly to get your mind under control again, "I- I'm sorry.", you breathed, showing the man, who steadied your stand, a huge smile, "Thanks for catching me so quickly."

"It was my pleasure- hey, where are you going?", the man asked surprised.

You were already back on your way, "I'm sorry. I have to go. But it was nice crashing into you.", you called out before you hurried down the street.

Nyx stepped forward, following you but stopped again as his feet kicked at something. A small smartphone slid over the stones of the pavement. Nyx caught it before it could fall on the street and would get hit by a car.

Without a second thought, Nyx ran after you, trying to catch up but as he turned the corner of a coffee shop, you were already out of sight.

***

"Hey, what is that? Fancy new phone?", Libertus asked as he sat next to his friend.

Once again, Nyx nudged the display to turn it on. A picture of you with a cat showed up. Your eyes were sparkling and your smile breathtakingly beautiful. Only the little box with the PIN request threw a shadow of the image, "Actually, I… I found it this morning. It's theirs.", he said and pointed at the picture that glowed up again.

Libertus turned the phone over, "Looks cute. Seems to have money if they can afford such an expensive thing."

"Yeah…", Nyx breathed and frowned. It was indeed the newest model and didn't even have one scratch. And even if he had been distracted by your eyes and smile, he had noticed your expensive looking clothes, your styled hair and even the fancy shoes.

"But… Why do you have their phone?", Libertus asked.

Nyx got brought back from the daydreaming about you, "They crashed into me this morning. I guess they were on their way to work because they left pretty fast. I found the phone on the ground and ran after them but they were already out of sight.", he explained.

"Have you tried to find a number?", Libertus asked.

Nyx chuckled dryly, turning on the display once again, pointing at it, "What do you think this is, huh?"

"A cat.", Libertus answered, not getting the reason behind the question.

Nyx leant back in his chair while running a hand over his face, "I meant the PIN. I need a PIN to unlock the phone or otherwise, I don't have access."

"Oh... Well, but maybe Pelna can help-"

"Glaives! Into the briefing room!", Captain Drautos called out and within seconds your phone disappeared back into the pocket of Nyx' uniform jacket.

Unfortunately, it stayed there for the rest of the day…

***

Nyx was bushed. Because everything was pretty calm at the moment with no new attacks on Insomnia by Niflheim, Nyx and the other Glaives should train to stay focused. At the end of the day, Nyx scuffed into the locker room completely exhausted. He sat down on a bench and raked his fingers through his hair to relax a little bit.

"Hey, Nyx! Libertus! Wanna stop at Yamachang's?", Luche asked.

Nyx nodded without looking up. To get something to eat and to drink would be nice after a full day of training.

"Haven't you forgotten something?", Libertus asked and nudged Nyx' shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"The fancy phone you found? Or do you wanna keep it after all?", Libertus asked with a grin, knowingly exactly that Nyx wouldn't do something like this.

Nyx' head shot up as he remembered, "Fuck… I totally forgot the phone!", he whispered and jumped up.

"Where are you going?", Luche called out, looking confused after his friend.

"I have to find Pelna!"

***

Thirty minutes later, Nyx had the address of your place. Once again, Pelna had worked his magic when it came to technology and information. Very quickly, Pelna found out your name and that you lived in the heart of the city not far away from the point where you had crashed into Nyx.

So, Nyx was on his way to get to your place. He was sure you would be grateful to get your phone back. He cursed himself that he had forgotten about it the whole day and hoped you wouldn't be too mad.

Accompanied by many pedestrians which were going home or into bars, Nyx made his way through the streets and was taken aback as he found himself in front of one of these high, luxurious looking apartment buildings.

Maybe Libertus was right and you had indeed a lot of money. Nyx swallowed nervously as he stepped through the entrance. The lobby was decorated with a bunch of plants and framed paintings. Even a leather couch stood at one wall. His boots made soft noises on the marble floor.

A couple was staring at him suspiciously. People like Nyx weren't liked to be seen in such places. For everyone, it was okay that he and the others risked their lives to fight for safety but at the end of the day, the refugees should stay where they belonged: in the underground.

Nyx hurried over to a board with names and searched for yours. He found it quickly. You lived on the eight floor and moments later, Nyx stood in one of the elevators with mirrored walls and a golden handrail.

Nerve-wracking slowly, the elevator brought Nyx to the floor he wanted. There was something strange when he walked through buildings and streets like these. It wasn't just that he was an outsider for all of them. It was rather just not his world. Even back in Galahd, such luxury wasn't common and so, he felt misplaced.

Nyx walked down the hallway while taking out your phone. He looked at the shining material. This was your world. You lived like this and maybe you didn't even know something other than having money.

As he reached your door with the golden apartment number, Nyx just needed to knock. He could knock and you would open the door. Maybe accusing him of stealing your phone. Maybe yelling at him that he needed the whole day to bring you the phone back. Or, you would call him stalker because he had tracked you down.

One last time, Nyx turned on the display and looked at the cute picture of you with the cat in your arms. Both of you looked so happy. You looked so nice and sweet. And even this morning, you had been nice to Nyx. At least, you hadn't been unfriendly.

As the display went off again, Nyx saw his mirrored expression on the surface. He saw his tattoos and braids and knew that this was not his world. So, he did the only thing that came to his mind: placing the phone in front of your door and to leave.

"Minka, what is- you!", you said surprised as you opened the door, seeing the cute guy from the morning in front of you. The whole day, he had occupied your thoughts and now, he was there.

Nyx looked up and greeted you with a shy smile. You stood in your doorframe, holding the door in your hand before you opened it even a bit more, "Hey, uhm… I- I found your phone this morning. You know...after our crash.", he stammered and presented the smartphone in his hands to you.

You stared at him and then at his hand for several moments before you jumped against the unknown man, snaking your arms around his neck to squeeze him tightly, "Oh, god bless! I had no idea where I'd lost it! You're heaven-sent!", you said over excitedly. Suddenly, you remembered what you were doing and so, slightly sheepishly, you stepped back again, "I- I'm sorry. I know, boundaries. It was just... I'm so lost without my phone. The day was a living hell.", you said softly.

"I'm sorry that it took me so long to bring it back. The day was a bit … busy.", Nyx said, scratching the back of his neck. He still felt bad for forgetting the phone at all.

You waved his apology aside. You knew what it meant to have a rough day. Only then, you noticed what the man in front of you was wearing, "You… you're a Kingsglaive.", you whispered in awe.

Nyx saw your astonished and excited expression and took the opportunity, "Yes, I am. Nyx Ulric at your service.", he said with a smile as you were still gaping at him.

As you noticed that you were still staring, you swallowed, "I’m sorry… It’s just that.. I'm such a big fan of you all. I mean, what you do for this city … we all owe you so much.", you said honestly.

Nyx was taken aback, "A fan? Never met one before to be honest."

"I know. You guys don't get appreciated enough. At least, not as much as you all deserve it. But- wait! I have an idea. Come in. Have dinner with me. Please.", you asked as you saw Nyx' refusing expression.

"Thank you. But it's not necessary.", he said politely even if he wanted to say something else. He would love to spend more time with you and your light attitude that made his heart jump a little.

"Please. You rescued me and my phone. You even brought it back. Plus the things you do as a Glaive. Inviting you in is the least I can do to thank you.", you tried to convince Nyx with your winning smile.

"I… I don't know. It wouldn’t be right…", Nyx said and just meant it half-heartedly.

"Please.", you begged, "If you leave, I just have Minka for company."

Nyx chuckled and even if he already sensed the answer, he asked anyway, "Who's Minka?"

"My cat.", you answered, looking down at the stripy, little troublemaker sitting next to your feet.

Nyx followed your glance and chuckled, "But she looks sweet.", he said amused as the cat tilted its head.

"Oh, she's sweet. Most the time. As long as you have food. No food, no sweetness. Trust me, she will turn into a vicious monster if she wants to.", you whispered conspiratorially.

Nyx was hooked. He liked your eyes, your smile and you were funny. The whole package was simply perfect. In fact, he didn't want to leave so quickly, "Did you say vicious monster? If that's so, I guess, I should accept your invitation. I mean, someone has to protect you."

"And who would be better for this job as an honorable Glaive.", you said with a huge grin, stepping aside to let Nyx into your apartment, into your life and into your world.

#nyx ulric x female reader #nyx #nyx ulric x gender neutral reader #nyx ulric x male reader #final fantasy nyx ulric #kingsglaive nyx #ff15 nyx ulric #nyx ulric x reader #nyx ulric #final fantasy xv #final fantasy kingsglaive #male reader #female reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader

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glassamphibians · 3 years

Text

random songs that remind me of demigods & co

this turned out way too long bc i added lyrics but thats okay

bianca: the moon will sing by the crane wives

Tell me once again I could have been anyone, anyone else Before you made the choice for me My feet knew the path We walked in the dark, in the dark I never gave a single thought To where it might lead

piper: honeydew by small talks

Blonde hair and blue eyes I love the way that you try You're an endless summer and I'm the winter you don't like You see my early sunsets and I see your shine But every time we get too close, Honeydew Don't take it personal cause I love you too But not the way you want me

leo: i don’t wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus

I don't wanna be funny anymore Lately, I've been feeling like the odd man out I hurt my friends saying things I don't mean out loud

percy: idle worship by paramore

If I was you I'd run from me or rip me open You'll see you're not the only one who's hopeless Be sure to put your faith in something more

apollo: i can change by ezra furman

But dashing the hopes, dashing the hopes And smashing the pride The morning's got you on the ropes And love is a murderer, love is a murderer But if she calls you tonight Everything is all right

reyna: garden song by phoebe bridgers

I don't know how, but I'm taller It must be something in the water Everything's growing in our garden You don't have to know that it's haunted

annabeth: miss missing you by fall out boy

The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger

will: youth by glass animals

Boy, When I left you you were young I was gone but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

hazel: two slow dancers by mitski

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again But as it is, and it is To think that we could stay the same

frank: when i was done dying by dan deacon

So I feel asleep softly at the edge of a cave But I should've gone deeper, but I'm not so brave And like that I was torn out and thrown in the sky And I said all my prayers because surely I'd die

jason: how i get myself killed by indigo de souza

Did you say anything on the night of my first hit On the night of my first kiss On the night of my first runaway Something must be up, I have never felt so dumb I have never gone so numb I have never been so late before

nico: kiss off by violent femmes

I take one cause you left me, And two for my family, And three for my heartache, And four, for my headaches, And five, for my lonely, And six, for my sorrow, And seven, for no tomorrow, And eight, I forget was eight was for, But nine, for the lost gods, Ten for everything, everything, everything...

grover: in our talons by bowerbirds

You're in our talons now and we're never letting go You're in our headlights frozen and, no, we're not stopping You may not believe, but even we were scared at first It takes a lot of nerve to destroy this wondrous earth We're only human This at least we've learned

thalia: wasted nun by cherry glazerr

Make myself tough, making my commotion Going through these motions Let me in Through the door I can't find it if you hide it

rachel: earth in revolt by päter

You're gonna see the earth in revolt Cause you can't own it all You can't own it all You're gonna see the fire and the flood You're gonna see it tower above Cause you can't have it all You can't keep it all

meg: what kind of man by florence + the machine

To let me dangle at a cruel angle Oh, my feet don't touch the floor Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out But you never close the door

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jsilverhvnd · 2 years

Note

△ So did your mom name you Valentine because you were born in February? lkjdfglkjs JK JK! 😂

Actual question is: What is the biggest secret you've kept from your mom and/or friends and loved ones?

ma'am that's a solid 10 on the don't wanna answer scale PLEASE I'M CACKLING. Valentine's never living that down is he? 🤣

Under the cut 'cause it got looooong! Thank you for giving me an excuse to expand on this, I hadn't actually fleshed out the details yet

VALENTINE: Uh, jeez, that's an eight. Maybe an eight-point-eighty-five.

These scars, I never told Mom how I got them. I mean, she knew, obviously, but she didn't know. I didn't want her to think I blamed her—she insisted I go on the gear run that morning. Clan needed new parts for the radios, and I knew 'em best. I didn't wanna go 'cause I was tired. Stayed up too late poking around the code on some old daemon shards or somethin' equally stupid. Usually she'd let me off the hook, but this time she put her foot down and made me go. Clan couldn't afford to get the wrong parts.

And then we got grabbed. Guy we'd been buying from set us up for scav fodder, even though we'd dealt with him fairly before. Prob'ly stood to make a decent stack of eddies on the organs alone, but all of us had some kind of augmentation too. We got knocked out and woke up in the kind of place I'd only seen in shitty slasher films: ice, hooks, cleavers and all.

I wasn't the first; fuckers hadn't bothered hosing down the table before they dragged me up there. They don't worry about sterility if you won't be alive long enough to go septic. Normally scavs'll disable or kill you before they start butchering so they ain't gotta worry about a struggle, but these ones wanted to have fun first. Guess I oughta be thankful for that 'else I wouldn't be here to gripe about it, yeah?

This big guy, must've been over six feet tall, built like a goddamn tank, he slams me down on the table, presses my face into the pool of blood left over from his last "donor". And I'm—I was only fourteen, hadn't gotten a growth spurt, skinny as a beanpole. Didn't even have my first cyberdeck implant yet. I couldn't breathe 'cause of the tears choking me up, couldn't think over the sound of my heart hammerin' in my chest. Fear shut everything else down.

Then he started carving. Sliced my face up and laughed about it. He was going to pop out my optics while I could still scream, I think, but never got that far. Clan came for us—well, they came for Sawyer, 'cause he was our leader's brother. I was just lucky to still be breathing.

My mom, she—fuck, I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw me. She told me later that she'd spent the whole time I was missing petrified, thinkin' our last conversation was gonna be arguing about going on a goddamn gear run. So of course I told her I got cut up in the scuffle like it was no big. Told her I'd been out cold for most of the ordeal, then swallowed my screamin' when I woke up in a panic every night after that.

Couldn't just... burden her with it, you know? Not when she'd already put so much of what she had into raising me on her own. Sure, we had the clan, but she was the one who handled all the meltdowns I had as a kid, who helped me cope with being a mess of sensory problems I didn't understand. Not the clan. I knew she'd'a dropped everything to take care of me and I couldn't stomach the guilt. So I lied to her, and made sure we never ended a conversation on a bad note again. Just in case.

Never told Jackie none of this, either. He touched my face jokingly once, but I reeled back like I'd been hit just outta reflex. I... I guess I could've told him, but I lied 'cause it was easier. Made up some shit about a knife fight in a corn field, laughed it off. He always telegraphed his movements after that, made sure I knew when he was gonna touch me. I... never got the chance to tell him I appreciated it. Always thought it'd be weird to bring it up. I wish I had.

#this is probably WAY more detail than you wanted but the train jumped the tracks #valentine's constant struggle of touch starved vs. don't touch me.....oof #he DOES welcome physical contact he's just uncomfortable with his scars being touched bc it makes him anxious even 14 years later #...............and 'allowing someone else to gently trace your scars' is a top tier intimacy moment and i love that shit #bonus lore: this is why valentine hates scavs more than anything and shows them exactly zero mercy #and why he starts smoking after the quest to save evelyn - the entire ordeal cut way too close to home #and he needed to get out of his head before he started spiralling #so johnny whines for a smoke and he gives in hoping it'll take the edge off #then he just never quits. keeps ev's smoke case too #as a reminder and as a homage to someone he never got a chance to know #valentine voronin #ask #tw violence #tw blood #tw gore #just in case!#lore: valentine

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monokyokyo · 3 years

Text

Flower Boy

An old one but I'm working on a part 2 so I figured I'd share it anyway!

Jongsang (although it's not really focused on), pretty fluffy, Jongho is a florist

Flowers had a range of emotions. From the fiery passion of roses to the sombre colour of forget me nots'. Jongho found comfort in the likes of these pristine plants. After all, he had an entire shop dedicated to nearly every flower the region had to offer. It was such a simple job yet there was nothing he would rather do.

Every day, someone new entered his shop in search of a flower to suit their tastes or situation, and it was Jongho's job to assist them.

The day started out normal. Jongho was rearranging the objects on the front counter when a familiar face strutted in. "Hello Mr Park," He greeted the tall man cheerfully.

"How many times must I tell you? Just Seonghwa is fine." Chuckled the customer as he removed his sparkling sunglasses.

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you today, Mr Park?" Seonghwa shook his head, deciding to just leave it be. His eyes travelled around the small shop, a light hum coming from his lips.

"I'm looking for something that really pops! You know? This couple is really into gemstones, so they're having a crystal wedding." Seonghwa was a wedding planner. Every now and again, usually once or twice a week, he would come to Jongho's store in search of the perfect flowers to impress his clients. He was a rather picky individual and Jongho learned during their very first encounter that he wasn't someone whose time should be wasted.

As such, Jongho got right to looking for the perfect bunch of flowers for the occasion. He glanced around before finally landing on what he hoped was the right bouquet. "Why not freesia?" He suggested. "The red ones represent passion, something these two must have a lot of if they're theming their wedding around their love of crystals. Wouldn't you say?"

Seonghwa nodded at him, a slight grin forming on his face at the bright smile on the younger man's face. "I would say indeed. Alright, I'll need two dozen bouquets. I'll send you the details on the wrapping later." He put his sunglasses on and turned to the door. "Give me a call when you're ready to plan your wedding, hey Jongho? I promise I'll give you the best of the best."

"I'm only twenty," He giggled. "I've still got some time, Mr Park."

Seonghwa chuckled. "Indeed you do." He left, leaving Jongho with a smile on his face.

About an hour or so later, the bell above the store entrance dinged. Jongho looked up from his order and saw a man scanning, somewhat frantically, through several displays of flowers. "How many I help you today?" Jongho asked the customer cheerfully.

The man sighed and sluggishly walked over to the counter. "I need the perfect flower for my boyfriend. He's been going through a lot recently and I need something to show him that I'm here for him..." Jongho tilted his head at this and hummed. He told the man to wait a moment then hopped over to one of the shelves.

"Here," He said. The man looked down curiously at the pink hydrangea in Jongho's hand. "Pink hydrangea for a passionate and emotional romance. You clearly care about him a lot. I'm sure these flowers will show him that." Jongho tilted his head at the light hum of consideration he received, hoping he would take up his suggestion. "I could label the bouquet if you'd like? What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Wooyoung," Jongho didn't fail to notice the way the man smiled at the mere mention of his boyfriend's name. He found it sweet how love two people could share with one another. Words are hard to express, but one could show them through something as simple as a flower. So Jongho made sure to put on the nicest tag he had, and encased the hydrangea a shiny, clear plastic to keep them safe.

"I hope things go well for you two," Said Jongho just as they finished their transaction. He handed the man the bouquet, sending him a grin with it. "Have a good day Mr..."

"San. Choi San," Then they parted ways. It made Jongho feel a certain pride inside, knowing he had the potential to help someone with his flowers. Regardless of if he knew the turnout, at least he was able to provide some assistance to those who would appreciate it. Well, it wasn't always appreciated.

About thirty or so minutes later, another familiar face stormed into the flower shop. The front door slammed open, disturbing the usual calm atmosphere of the store when he stomped in. An empty vase on the counter, nearly cracking it and causing Jongho to flinch from his seat. He let out a yelp in surprise, a small squeak that only made the man in front of him scoff.

"M-Mr Jeong? I'm sorry I-"

"You should be," Growled the older man. He pushed back his blonde hair with an aggressive sigh while Jongho slowly pulled back the clay pot. His brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what could've gone so wrong that he would come back so vexed, especially after their calm encounter last week. Mr Jeong or, Yunho, had ordered a pot of roses for his girlfriend. Could she have hated them that much?

"I-If you don't mind me asking...What happened last week?"

The blonde huffed, though it sounded more like a growl to Jongho's sensitive ears. "She's allergic," The younger male squinted, carefully asking him to repeat himself. "Are you deaf? I said she's fucking allergic!" Jongho flinched back at his harsh and loud tone yet Yunho hardly made the effort to reel himself back in.

"You sold me these damn flowers, giving me this grand speech about how special they'll make her feel and how she'll love them and you know what happens? She ends sneezing through our entire date! Why the hell would you give those to me?!"

"W-Well how was I s-supposed to know? Y-You came in asking for flowers!" The look Yunho gave him had to be the scariest thing Jongho had ever seen...in his shop. He was tall, about six foot, and easily towered over the cowering boy.

"Are you saying this is my fault?" He seethed through his gritted teeth. Jongho gulped, unsure of what to do in this sort of situation. He had never had anyone this angry over roses of all things.

"W-Well, no...I'm not blaming you but...shouldn't you have known?" He flinched yet again when Yunho leered closer, his hands thrown up in what would likely be, useless defence.

"Those roses had to be bugged, sprayed with something, I don't know! You had to have done something to them! We have roses at home for crying out loud!"

"And do you water them?" When Jongho's only response was silence, he lowered his arms, creasing his brow.

"Well...I've never seen anyone water them...but..."

"So...You ordered real roses thinking that your girlfriend wouldn't be allergic...because she doesn't react to the fake roses in your home?" Yunho could only sputter out a string of incoherent words that basically proved Jongho's suspicions to be correct. In response, he sighed then wordlessly pulled out his logbook.

Yunho watched curiously as he flipped through before he landed on last week. Jongho then grabbed a piece of paper and asked for the man's card, which he reluctantly agreed to. When it was handed back to him, Jongho hit him with a frow. "Here is your receipt sir. I've refunded your flowers..." The face alone was enough to make anyone feel lousy but the way his words trailed off just added extra salt to the wound.

So just before he took his receipt and left, Yunho mumbled something under his breath to the boy. "Thank you...for what it's worth...she loved the flowers before she started sneezing..." A tiny grin formed on Jongho's face and it made Yunho sigh, successfully feeling like less of an ass.

Jongho never had aggressive customers. Irritated, sure, but no one had ever gotten that upset with him. It was a flower shop after all. All of that before twelve as well...

The brunette let out a sigh of relief when his phone went off at twelve-thirty, signalling that it was finally his lunch break. Though the day was mostly quiet, he hadn't eaten since that morning and was eager to fill his stomach with some sort of nutrients. However, just before you could put up his 'Back in 20 minutes sign', the sound of the doorbell caught his attention. In shuffled a man with jet black hair, featuring various strands of gold.

His eyes were light red and his face was a little puffy as well. Jongho didn't give himself a moment to mourn his lost lunch break and hastily rushed over to greet the once crying figure. "I'm sorry...Am I bothering you?" He sniffled, wiping whatever remaining tears he had.

"No, not at all! What can I help you with?"

The man fidgeted slightly, eyes wandering around the shop and towards the floor. Clearly, he was trying to look anywhere but at Jongho, something the younger wasn't at all bothered by. "I'm looking for a flower..." He shook his head, muttering how that was obvious. "A gift I mean. I-It's for..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to..." Shaking his head once, the customer told him that it was alright, followed by mumbling a few things that Jongho didn't quite get. "Pardon?"

"S-Sorry I um...I just got back from the hospital..." Judging by his mannerisms, Jongho couldn't quite tell if he was a patient or if he was merely visiting someone. "My father he um...isn't doing too well," Well now he felt awful for assuming his condition. "I just wanted to get him some flowers and my boyfriend recommended this place..."

The snap from Jongho's fingers made the older male flinch, put off by the rather bright grin on his face. "You must be Wooyoung! San's boyfriend, right?"

"Y-Yes...That's me..." Jongho had realised his awfully chipper tone wasn't very appropriate and did Wooyoung a favour by calming himself down.

"Sorry...Why don't you browse around and tell me what catches your eye." A slight nod was all Jongho got before Wooyoung began to walk around the store. He tried his best not to follow the young man whilst he strolled about but it was difficult not to be curious. The way he moved was so tired, sluggish even and Jongho knew he wouldn't find anything he would like in a reasonable amount of time.

So, with that, Jongho stood to his feet and made his way over to the mixed-haired male, following his gaze across the shelves. "Anything that's caught your interest?" His sudden question made Wooyoung jump. Jongho apologised as soon as he startled him yet the older only turned away.

"I'm sorry...I don't really know what I'm doing here," Jongho heard his airy chuckle but it definitely wasn't humorous. "I don't know the first thing about flowers or what he would like...I think I'll just go."

Jongho grabbed his arm before he could turn away, earning him a questionable look from Wooyoung. His arm was yanked back and Jongho replied with a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Um, stay right here?" With the soft tone of his voice, Wooyoung couldn't possibly leave yet. So he sighed to himself while watching the young florist run off to the corner of the room, where an array of purple flowers caught his eye.

He came back not too long later with a bouquet in his hands. "Iris'," Said Jongho just as he handed them off. "They represent hope. I hope you and your family have enough, but a little more won't hurt. Stay strong." Wooyoung looked down at the flowers in his hand. Incoming tears were the only thing he saw as they began to fill his vision, eventually clouding it entirely until he felt the water roll down his pale cheeks.

Whatever words he mumbled to Jongho were interrupted by his unstable breaths and cries but it hadn't deterred him in the slightest. Instead of charging him the moment Wooyoung was handed the flowers, Jongho asked him if he would like a cup of hot chocolate. The older male wiped his tears, offering him a slight grin and saying: "T-That would be wonderful..."

Jongho even gave him extra marshmallows to make him feel better.

It was rather late when Wooyoung left. Well, if you count quarter past three to be late - which Jongho did. Although, he didn't mind much. Wooyoung left his store with a smile, flowers and a cheeky bit of foam around his lips. It was good enough for him.

Thankfully, Jongho had gotten to eat a cookie or two while speaking with the mixed-haired male. It was just enough to distract his growling stomach while he helped his few customers. One of which was certainly one of the most intimidating Jongho had seen yet.

A tall stature, black leather jacket, red hair and a dark stare - Jongho had no clue what he was doing in a flower shop of all places. However, he had learned to never judge a book by its cover and greeted the man with a bright beam, just as he did with all his other customers. "Hello..." His voice certainly fit his appearance. It was deep, like it could reach the depths of the ocean if he wanted it to.

"How can I help you today?" Said Jongho, as he waved to the old lady who had just bought a pot of daisies right before the redhead entered.

"I'm looking for some flowers..." As obvious as that may have sounded, Jongho didn't hold it against him though. It was clear that he had never been in a store like this. The poor man looked too scared to touch anything as if he were afraid it was going to burst into flames if he so much as lifted a finger. Honestly, Jongho found it rather cute.

"Of course! What kind?" That didn't seem to be the right question to ask. As all the man did was rock back and forth on his heels, the gears turning in his head as attempted to come up with a suitable answer.

"Um...Pretty ones?" Jongho nearly giggled at how adorable his answer was. He was clueless about flowers and the young florist was ready to help him find the perfect one for his occasion. Walking from behind the counter, Jongho made his way to his titan of a customer and looked up at him. He was quite small in comparison but he didn't mind.

"I'll help you find the prettiest ones around! Who are they for?" Big men like him didn't usually visit Jongho's shop, so it was no surprise when a light blush crept across the customer's cheek and he began to avert eye contact in embarrassment.

"They're um...f-for my mother..." This time, Jongho didn't hesitate to giggle, eliciting a deeper blush from the taller male. "D-Don't laugh! What? Got a problem with me getting a gift from my mother?" The man's tone dropped to a frightfully low level, ending Jongho's laughter within seconds.

"I didn't mean it like that...It's just, I'm surprised. That's all. Not many tough looking guys like you come in here." This time, it was the other male's turn to laugh. A 180 that was nothing but appreciated by Jongho.

"Never judge a book by its cover, I suppose," He sent Jongho a grin and the younger smiled right back. "My mother's been telling me all about this shop, she comes here every Tuesday to look at the flowers and pick up supplies for her garden. She was busy today, so she asked me to pick a few things for her house."

"Oh! You must be Mrs Song's son? Mingi, was it?" The redhead nodded at him, continuing to grin even as he chuckled somewhat awkwardly. "She talks about you quite a bit. The one that sleeps with plushies, right?"

"Yep, that's me. I'll be honest, I'm not much of a flower guy but my mother adores them. Mind helping me pick out something she would like?" Jongho nodded at him, eagerly bouncing up and down in a way that made Mingi giggle.

Despite his rough exterior, Mingi was a rather sweet person. Listening attentively and nodding along as Jongho told him about his various selection of flowers and even giving his own input, saying what and what not his mother would like. Eventually, the two settled on yellow daffodils, quite a few dahlias and a tiny pot of lavender. Once Mingi was completely sure this was perfect, he bid Jongho farewell, promising to come visit again with his mother at some point. The prospect of seeing him again made Jongho grin. Another satisfied customer.

The day was officially coming to a close. Jongho sighed the moment the final customer went on their way. It was a rather old lady and he had just spent the last fifteen minutes explaining that the stamen and anther of her plants weren't insects. A rather draining conversation, as you can imagine. After that, the young man was just about ready to close his shop and head home.

He glanced at the clock, smiling at it finally struck six. Closing time. He trotted over to the front door and got ready to flip to the open sign to close. Yet just before he could do so, the door suddenly swung open and Jongho flinched back in surprise. A hand grabbed his waist just before he could fall backwards, lifting his body to meet another.

Light, sparkling brown eyes met with Jongho's dark ones. His hazel hair managed to look unkempt yet too perfect to fix and his expression was soft but his features were sharp, almost prince-like. He was the epitome of beauty. "Are you still open?" Were the first words to leave his soft lips.

Jongho couldn't find the words or the will to say no or so much as shake his head. All he did was slowly escape his grip, carefully gesturing him into the store. The stranger smiled at him then made his way in. Jongho gulped, watching his every movement. He had seen him before. A delivery boy from the restaurant down the road. The two had never spoken but Jongho knew he existed. Yet he yearned for more.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" He inquired in a voice more akin to a whisper rather than his usual upbeat speaking voice. The older brunette turned back to him. Jongho thought he had done something wrong judging by his stare yet the smile returned to his face.

Slowly, he made his way towards the florist, prompting Jongho to step back until he was pressed against one of the displays. "You," He stated simply.

Blush erupted onto Jongho's cheeks, sending him into an internal frenzy of panic. "M-Me? What do you..." He trailed off when the other male picked a lone rose from the table. Oh...he meant the rose. He told Jongho that he would take it and go, filling him with a heavy heart.

With that, Jongho filled out their transaction, trying his best not to let his gaze travel to the lean figure in front of him. How could he be so intimidating while doing practically nothing?

The man had sweater paws for crying out loud.

Jongho then handed him the rose and a receipt. "Have a good evening, sir..." Yet he hadn't left yet. He glanced up to see the man wrapping a tag around the flower, before he placed it back on the counter. Just before Jongho could question what he was doing, he was hit with another smile.

"Good night, flower boy." Was all he said before he leaned in and placed a kiss on the younger's forehead. Just like, he disappeared into the night. Like a strange yet delightful dream Jongho had experienced in the wake of dawn.

Cautiously, he glanced at the rose that was left on the counter.

Call me XXX-XXX-XXXXX Kang Yeosang I would love to get to know you, Flower Boy

#Jongho #choi jongho #ateez #ateez fluff #jongsang #ateez fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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