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thearvariblues · 3 years

Text

The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality

Word count: 3601

“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.

“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”

“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”

“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.

To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.

If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.

“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”

“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”

“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.

“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.

“As if,” Geralt grunts.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.

“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”

“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.

“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”

“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”

“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”

“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”

“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”

“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.

“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”

“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”

“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”

“Can you prove that I’m not?”

“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”

“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”

“What proof?”

“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”

“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”

“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”

“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”

“Try me.”

“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”

“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”

“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”

“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”

“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.

“I got myself cursed.”

Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.

“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.

“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.

“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.

“Hm,” he says instead.

“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.

“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”

“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.

“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”

“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.

“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.

“Excuse me, and how would you know?”

“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”

“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”

“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”

“Maybe I do that on purpose!”

“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”

“Mostly being the important word here.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”

“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”

“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”

“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”

“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.

Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.

“Thank fuck.”

“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.

Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.

“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”

“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”

“Forty-seven, why?”

Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.

“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”

When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.

So, a potion…

“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.

“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”

“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”

“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”

Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.

“Oh, Geralt. Really?”

“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.

“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Really what, Yen?”

“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”

“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”

“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.

“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all–”

“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”

“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”

“What was your third wish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”

“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”

“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.

“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”

“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.

“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”

“You see, there was this artifact–”

Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.

“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”

“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”

“You’re not a succubus.”

“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”

“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”

“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”

“All right… Explain, please?”

Geralt grunts.

“I’d really rather not.”

“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.

“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.

“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.

“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”

“Hm… No.”

“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”

“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”

“A hundred and four.”

“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”

“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”

“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”

He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…

“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”

“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.

“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”

“You…” Geralt mutters.

“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”

“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”

“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”

The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.

And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.

It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”

“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”

“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”

“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.

“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”

“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”

“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.

Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”

“Julian!”

A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.

“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.

The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.

“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”

“You’re…” Geralt blinks.

“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”

“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”

“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.

“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”

“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”

“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”

“But you don’t age!”

“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”

“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.

“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”

“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”

“Oh, so we have spies now?”

“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”

Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.

“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”

“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”

“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.

“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”

“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”

“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.

“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”

“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”

“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”

Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.

“Another thousand years, I’d say.”

“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…

The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.

“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”

“No shit.”

“I think I might be… Uhm…”

“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.

“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”

“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”

“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”

“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”

“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”

“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”

“Explains a lot, though.”

“Does it now?”

“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”

“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.

“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”

“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”

***

Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #my fics #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #idiots in love #immortal jaskier #non-human jaskier #they're stupid your honor #they share a single braincell #and yennefer has the custody of it #also madeleine hyland is jaskier's sister in this

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

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milkacchan · 3 years

Text

Request for anon: Hi!!!! i love our writing and i just knew you could do this! Could you do one with a father Aizawa and a gender nuetral chil reader, who is jealous of Midoriya. Because when Midoriya harnesses his quirk Aizawa be happy dadzawa but when the reader was like 6 or 7 and harnessed theirs he said like " Work harder." Or the world won't want a weak hero and stuff and thats why they hate Midoriya and stuff? IT IS SOO FINE OF YOU CANT!! THANKS <3

•Midoriya is nice.

• He's /so/ fucking nice

• He has a nice smile

• His freckles are nice

• His attitude is great

• He goes out of his way to make sure people are okay

• Which makes it worse and pisses you off more.

• You've been jealous of him for awhile- please he's the center of attention for everyone

• But that isn't your problem

• He's the center of attention for your own dad.

• At least it seemed that way.

• Shota Aizawa, your father, was a teacher at U.A.

• He was bound to get attached to students, that's what teachers are supposed to do

• But..it felt like you were on the back burner and not enough

• when you develop your quirk, you dad gives you a speech

• You're first sucess with your quirk, your father tells you to work harder

• And that's all it ever is

• "work harder"

• "you should be farther along by now,"

• "this isn't a joke, why are you treating it that way?"

• there wasn't a good job or a congrats or praise

• But there was with midoryia

• who got all of it.

• he got good jobs and impresseds

• He got way to go kid and that was smart

• At the beginning of the year you liked him

• He was friendly and funny and he seemed like a cool dude

• He was a cool dude and you hated him- yourself even more for that

• You couldn't ever hate him, not truly.

• Not even when your father praised him, took him under his wing, focused on him

• Even shinsou- you didn't hate him. You were great friends with him.

• But Midoriya irked you, even if you couldn't find it in you to talk behind his back or fuck him over

• Your jealousy for the boy only grew as your fathers praise to him grew and his words to you grew distanced.

• And yet you still thrived for the man's approval

• You wanted to be recognized

• You wanted validation

• You wanted praise and approval.

• You wanted love.

• You stopped speaking to Midoriya, completely. The poor boy didn't deserve a blow up from you, it wasn't his fault.

• Contact to him stopped. His conversation muted unless it was to the class Group Chat

• Your seat? Unfortunately still near him, was no longer an issue if you just ignored his presence

• If your group was hanging put with him that day, you'd skip with some dumb homework excuse.

• No one said anything

• Aside from shinsou that is.

• The smart-ass always had something to say

• "You can't just ignore your problems forever."

"I'm not, till talking to you."

"Funny. But seriously. He's going to question it if he hasn't already. Word gets around.."

• In all seriousness, shinsous worried. He's really worried.

• He's watching you distance yourself from people, from midoryia- hell the only reason the two of you still talk on a daily basis is because he forces it.

• You don't mind, of course, he know that. You did the same to him when his mental health had declined.

• But he sees you're doing it for validation

• Amd he knows Aizawas words aren't malicious. You're his kid, he's worried and wants you to survive over anyone else.

• Doesn't mean how he's going about it is right.

• and it isn't long before you start taking physical training to the max too.

• After class you train for hours until dinner.

• Sometines you miss it; sometimes you don't get home until much later.

• One day in particular though, you start training on a Saturday morning

• He tells you to be smart, keep hydrated and take breaks before he leaves for the day

• Only to come back at dusk to you still training

• "Quirks are currency shinsou,"

"That doesnt-"

"I have to get stronger, no one's going to want a weak hero"

"Y/N please- you've been out here all day. It's hot and muggy and you've barley eaten anything. You need breaks. You can't be a strong pro hero if you die of heat exhaustion." He takes your arm and pulled it down from the punching bag. "You're worrying me."

"I'm not strong enough," you mumble. "Dads right,"

• Eventually Midoriya starts to question why you're ignoring him

• He doesn't think he's done anything wrong

• Maybe he said the wrong thing? But what even is the wrong thing? What could he have said?

• After one particularly rough morning, you're struggling with something

• You're already pissed and ready for the day to be over.

• And it's only 10 in the fucking morning

• And Midoriya, desperate to heal what he once had with a friend (you), walks over to help

"Hey," he starts. "You look like you need some help?"

You pause, glancing in his direction for only a moment. "Go sit down," You mutter.

"I just want to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. You are the LAST thing I need," you snap. "Who the fuck would /ever/ need you?" You grab your bag and shove him back, leaving the classroom.

The class quiets.

• Midoriya didn't deserve it, no. You knew that.

• You also knew that you weren't in the place to go back to school, so you didn't.

• You took the day off, wandering the streets of your prefecture

• Shinsous blowing up your phone

• Katsuki is too.

• Katsukis upset, you would be too if someone spoke to your friend that way

• Everyone else is too on edge to text you, they're worried though.

• Of course, they go to Aizawa.

• They tell him what happened and how you've been acting

• And he nods quietly and says he'll take care of it.

• Shinsou finally finds you at the Cafe you frequent and he quietly sits across from you

• "you should be in school," you mumble

"So should you."

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again. "I think I'm going to leave U.A. Mom lives in Miyagi, they've got some nice highschools there. I talked to her over the phone last night."

"What? What no, you can't?"

"Why not, Hitoshi?"

"Because you're a hero-"

"I'm not. I'm not a fucking hero. I haven't made any successes while I've been here, I haven't developed anything, Dad was right."

"You dad was wrong. He's wrong. He's- He's worried one day you're not going to come home. Or when you do you won't be in one piece, so he's pushing you and pushing you," he took your hand gently. "You're strong. You're going to be a great hero. You've already accomplished more than you know."

"I blew up at Midoriya today," you slide him your drink and he takes a sip.

"I know." He nods. "But that's okay, we can deal with it later." He squeezed your hand.

"Yeah, later,"

• It's very much later by the time you reach your dorm.

• The day Shinsou moved to the 1A dorms was the day you'd rejoice

• Your bag is tossed to the side and you make your way to the kitchen and freeze.

• Aizawa is sitting at the table, facing you.

"Your friends are worried about you,"

Yous scoff. "Yeah I'm sure they are."

"Midoryias worried about you."

"I really don't care."

"You shouldn't have snapped at him." Aizawa sighs.

"Thats-" you take a deep breath. Of course he only cared about Midoriya. "Typical." You move to the fridge to get something to drink.

"I..apologize," he begins. "'It's come to my attention that I haven't exactly been the best father to you since your mother left,"

"You think?" You muttered.

"I'm worried. I'm scared."

You look up at him.

"The world is cruel. And I've lost so many students to hero work in the years I've taught, I wouldn't be able to handle it if I lost you to. But it seems I'm already down the path." He stood up and walked over to you. "You're my kid, I love you more than the moon and the stars, I want you to stay safe. Above everyone else, above all else, I want you to come home." He kisses your forehead.

"It'd be nice to get a good job every once in awhile. Everyone else does." You mutter, looking down.

"You are doing great, you know. I don't say it nearly enough but you impress me everyday."

• It's...a little awkward after that, neither of you know how to process emotion so after two days you just pretend like it never happened

• You quietly apologize to Midoriya and wall away before he can respond before pretending like that didn't happen either

• You're not expecting him to want to be your friend

• But he's very adamant on texting you, inviting you out, walking with you you to class

• 1A becomes whole again

• But Shota does ease up, you get the good jobs, the praise, the validation

• And you eat it up to be frank, you fucking love it.

#Aizawa Shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa x daughter reader #Midoryia x reader #Midoryia izuku #Izuku Midoryia #izuku midoryia x reader #Midoryia izuku x reader #izuku x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #Shinsou Hitoshi #Hitoshi Shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

the crimson shell (llll)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 4.6k — warnings: explicit sexual content! heavy dub-con touching/intercourse, forced breeding, oviposition, mentions of death/violence, general yandere themes — notes: ah, here we finally are, the last part/finale to the story! please keep the warnings in mind, and don’t read this chapter if you’re uncomfortable with anything stated above!

Part I / II / III / IIII

You’re not sure how long you’ve been here. After the second week of just blankly staring at the never changing cave walls surrounding you, you figured there was no point in keeping track of it. What good does it do you anyway? It’s not like counting the days will miraculously get you out of here. While you might not know the number, you do know that it’s been far too many. Your skin has grown pale and gaunt from the lack of sunshine and warmth you’re so used to, and the diet of raw fish hasn’t exactly been very kind to you. The cave is tall enough for you to stand up in comfortably, so at least your circulation isn’t completely shot, but you honestly lack the energy to stay on your feet for too long. Escaping, even just back up to the island, is your only chance at survival. You don’t think you’re going to last very long down here. It’s already gotten to the point where you’ve begun looking forward to Jungkook’s short daily visits, even just the sight of something almost human enough to keep you sane.

You let out a heavy sigh, the noise echoing around the cave as you lean back against the stone wall. Over the last couple of days, the creature has begun to bring you little treasures alongside with your food. You’re not exactly sure why, but it’s nice to have something to do – even if it’s just tracing the patterns on the lockets and pendants over and over. You run your fingers over the small pile of golden jewelry by your side, trying your best to keep your thoughts away from the people it must have belonged to. Jimin might have managed to get away, but you doubt the rest of them did. Two of the pendants in your pile belonged to the crew Jimin brought with him, and you suspect that if you give Jungkook a few more days, he’ll bring you the remaining three. As if you summoned him with your straying thoughts, a small splash in the water alerts you of the creature’s arrival. You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook hoisting himself up on the ledge, another fish and a new pendant dropped at your feet. You silently scoot closer to the edge, offering up your hand to the creature’s expectant red eyes. Jungkook nuzzles into your hand with a happy thrill, rubbing his cheek along your palm. You suppress a shudder at the sound, ignoring the soft skin underneath your fingertips as you stare at the headless fish at your feet. Sometimes you wish you could share the same fate as your food.

You let Jungkook cuddle your hand for as long as he wants, knowing that denying him will only make things worse for yourself. If you look past the sharp claws and teeth, Jungkook is hardly anything more than an oversized puppy. He seems to crave constant affection and confirmation that he’s done good when he brings you food or treasures. You think you might would have found it sweet if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s keeping you trapped here – and that he’s a monster. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about the creature in front of you. You let out a small breath of relief as Jungkook drops your hand, but he doesn’t immediately sink back down in the water as he normally does. You watch in confusion as he pushes the fish closer, the gold chain around it rattling as it drags against the stone. You hesitantly pick it up, praying that Jungkook isn’t going to stay here and watch you eat it. The raw fish already makes you nauseous, and there’s no way you’ll be able to stomach eating it with an audience. Especially one that likes to punish you when you do something he doesn’t like. Call you crazy, but you don’t think gagging at the food he brings you will make him very happy.

You slowly unwrap the chain, putting the fish back down to turn over the locket in your hands. You suck in a harsh breath at the familiar design at the front, the intricate carved flowers making bile rise in your throat. You had this made for Jimin years ago, back when you were still best friends. You two stayed friendly even after you started drifting apart, but you figured he would’ve gotten rid of the locket by now. You can’t believe he kept it all this time. That he still wore it. Your hands shake as you gently pull on the clasp on the side, a strained sound leaving your lips as you flip it open. A picture of you and Jimin smiles back at you, your faces bright and carefree. Jimin has an arm slung around your shoulders, his eyes closed into little crescent moons from how hard he’s grinning at the camera. The pure happiness in the photo makes your heart clench. Despite knowing Jimin was the one who lead you here, you find yourself desperately missing him for a split second before you can catch yourself. God, maybe if you accepted that marriage proposal from the baker’s sleazy son last year you would’ve at least been safe. Home.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts as Jungkook tugs you closer to the ledge, a clawed hand quickly snatching the locket out of your grasp. He lets out a series of chirping noises as his red eyes drag from the locket to you, and Jungkook taps your smiling face in the photo before he does the same to your leg. You stare in bewilderment as the creature drops the locket back in your hands, his lips stretched into a nightmarish version of a smile before he lowers himself down in the water. You swear your heart stops the moment you see the rows of teeth lining his mouth, and it refuses to work again until Jungkook is fully submerged and swimming away. You hastily scoot back from the edge, the locket clutched tightly in your hand. A bitter smile graces your lips as it dawns on you that you’ve figured out how Jimin traded your life for his. The picture. While you can’t be sure of exactly how he managed to communicate with Jungkook, you’re sure that being stranded here for six months must’ve been more than enough time to figure out a way to converse without using actual words. With Jimin as living proof in front of him, the creature must’ve understood that it meant that you were real too. And that if he had managed to get Jimin, then there would be a way to get to you. It was probably easier for Jimin to trade your life for his when he had something tangible to show Jungkook, when he had proof in his hands that you were out there too. A part of you hopes that maybe Jimin tried to convince Jungkook to change his mind, to take someone else instead, but you have a feeling that even if he did, the creature wouldn’t have budged. From the time you’ve spent on the island it has become very clear that Jungkook is stubborn and used to getting what he wants – but you suppose that’s only natural for a creature like him. How can something tell you no when it has already been eaten?

Of course, Jimin had no way to be sure that you would set sail for Jungkook’s island. But, while there was no guarantee you would risk travelling that far, your old friend knew how desperate you were for money, and the lengths you were willing to go to keep your family afloat. You suppose he knew how easy it would be to trick you as long as there was a bit of gold involved, and Jimin was dripping in it when he came back. You just hope he at least had the decency to spare your family a gold ring or two after you left, considering he sacrificed you to go free. You toss the locket aside, not really caring where it ends up as long as it’s far away from you. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying your best to quell the anger burning through your veins. Being mad at Jimin won’t do you any good while you’re stuck down here, so you allow yourself to whisper out a string of curses at the man before you lock away the heavy feeling of betrayal deep into your chest. Seeing Jimin’s smiling face has reignited your dwindling spirit, and you decide that you will get out of here, even if it is just to hunt Jimin down.

The next time Jungkook comes back to visit you, there are no more treasures. Instead, your eyes widen in surprise as the creature gently places a familiar shell and pearl down by your feet, next to your twitching meal. You’re certain you left them near your bonfire higher up on the beach, but judging by the scratches and roughed up skin on Jungkook’s arms, it seems like the creature probably dragged himself all the way up there to get them. You feel your throat run dry at the thought, at the fact that you weren’t even as safe on land as you had first believed. If Jungkook was willing to bring himself up on land to get them, then you’re sure they must mean something important. It can’t be a coincidence that both the shell and the pearl have the same deep red colour as Jungkook’s tail and eyes, and come to think of it, didn’t your luck begin to turn after you picked up it that evening before you left?

Jungkook lets out a chirp as you pick up the shell, the creature leaning forward to rub his head against the back of your occupied hand. You eye him warily as your mind races through what has happened ever since you left home. You really, truly, hope that you’re wrong, but based on how everything started after you picked up the shell and how the creature acts – how he provides for you, how offended he acts when you push him away and how affectionate he is, you fear you might have accidentally accepted a courting offer. You’ve seen similar patterns in animals before, and while you’re not entirely sure what Jungkook really is, you think it’s safe to assume that the same thing might apply for him too. What you can’t really wrap your mind around is why he waited so long. It took weeks before you left after Jimin returned, and you were down by the beach every night. The unexplainable fear you felt was probably something deep inside of you that recognized that you were being watched by a predator – by him – but you didn’t know enough to connect the dots. Jungkook had many chances to grab you, but he didn’t. Not until you accepted his shell. Convenience maybe? That this whole trade was easier if he made you come to him? Or maybe some weird kind of custom his kind has? He is half human, after all. But you can’t be sure. If anything, Jimin could’ve at least had the decency to teach you how to converse with him if he was going to throw you to the sharks, or rather, Jungkook. Either way, you’re sure Jungkook would’ve eventually found a way to get to you even if you didn’t leave on that boat.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the feeling of soft skin leaves the back of your hand. The clicks falling from Jungkook’s lips are uncharacteristically soft as he pulls himself up on the ledge, those deep red eyes trained on yours as he tugs you closer. It only takes one hard yank before you find yourself caged in underneath Jungkook’s arms again, legs on either side of his waist. Your pulse quickens as you’re reminded of what happened the last time – you’re not exactly eager to pass out again from being smothered by his weight.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised that Jungkook manages to carry his entire weight on one arm, while the other begins to roam across your body. After all, he did drag himself up on land and back, and the part you had on top of you last time was hardly anything. The weight of his entire tail must be extremely heavy out of water. You know the creature doesn’t like it when you don’t pay him attention, so you let your eyes rest on his collarbones, watching as a few drops of water run down his skin. Keeping eye contact is too intimidating, those deep red irises makes it feel like you’re staring right into the depths of hell.

You dig your fingers into your thighs as Jungkook’s hand dips under the torn fabric of your shirt, the unusual texture of the web between his fingers making you squirm uncomfortably as it drags over your skin. You’re very aware of the sharp claws hovering above your delicate stomach as he explores, but at least the creature knows to not let them touch. Jungkook’s hand trails over your sides, your stomach, all the way up to the underside of your breasts. You swallow thickly as a knuckle brushes against the soft flesh, Jungkook’s motion suddenly stilling at the contact. You’ve always managed to push him off before he’s gone any further, but you can feel the shift in the creature’s mood today. You know he’s not going to take no for an answer. But, that still didn’t prepare you for the sudden gush of wind brushing across your exposed chest, your shirt split clean in two with the help of Jungkook’s claws. Before you can scramble to cover up, Jungkook lets out an excited chirp, his hand quickly moving back to your chest. Your mind goes blank as he places his palm over one of your breasts, experimentally squeezing and massaging it as he watches you curiously. You grit your teeth as Jungkook plays with it, ignoring the little tingle of heat in your stomach whenever he does something your traitorous body likes.

You try to convince yourself that Jungkook is probably just excited to see parts of a human body he hasn’t seen before, that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Your breath hitches as the webbed texture between Jungkook’s fingers glide over your nipples, a soft moan falling from your lips before you can stop yourself. The noise only seems to spur him on more, Jungkook repeating the motion to hear the sound again. A harsh squeeze on your breast forces out another moan, your hands flying to Jungkook’s chest. Your fingers twitch against his skin, your head telling you to push him away, while the building heat in your stomach and the growing wetness between your legs wants him close to finish what he’s started. You settle for digging your hands into his skin, grounding yourself in his body, knowing that pushing him away won’t do you any good. Jungkook lets out a happy thrill at your touch, lowering himself closer to your body as his hand moves from one breast to the other. You can feel his eyes burning into your skin, your body growing warmer and warmer under his intense gaze. There’s too many sensations at once – cold water dripping against your overheating skin, Jungkook’s long hair tickling your face, the soft and rough skin of his hand squeezing and moving across your flesh. Your eyes glide shut before you can stop yourself, forgetting your own rule of never letting Jungkook out of your sight. It’s just .. too much. Your body doesn’t know whether to hate the attention or love it, your chest tight with disgust while your stomach swirls with pleasure. At least with your eyes shut, and as long as your hands stay on his chest, he feels human. Human enough to make this whole thing a little less horrible.

Your legs tense as you feel more of Jungkook’s weight against your body, his hips pressing down more firmly against yours. You don’t pay it too much attention at first, too occupied by the hand on your chest. At least, that’s until you feel his hips begin to slowly move back and fourth, grinding against your clothed core. Your eyes fly open at the sudden friction, head spinning as your walls clench with need. You’re sure the flimsy material of your trousers must be soaked by now, and the realization that this creature is the reason behind it makes your cheeks flush red with mortification. You stifle a gasp as Jungkook pinches your sensitive nipple between two fingers, another happy thrill filling the cave as he rolls his hips harder against your mound. You can feel the heat in your lower stomach building rapidly, the coil almost ready to snap when Jungkook suddenly stills. You push down the needy whine in your throat as Jungkook removes his hand from your body, the creature pulling himself up further on the ledge.

Your confusion dies as your eyes travel down a little further past his hips, the arousal you felt quickly washed away by terror as you notice a slit in his tail, and something extending out of it. You nearly choke on your own spit as it finally clicks, trying your best to scramble out from beneath Jungkook’s hold as his cock becomes fully unsheathed. Jungkook lets out a series of low, warning clicks at your struggle, his clawed fingers digging into your shoulders as his arms keeps you caged you in. You look down in horror as you feel him resume his grinding against your clothed sex. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before. His cock is slightly tapered at the tip, growing thicker down against the base. What you thought was just some misplaced curiosity is obviously more than that, because now, there’s no doubt in your mind that Jungkook’s plan is to fuck you. You ignore the pain as sharp claws dig into your skin, trying your best to twist out of his hold. Logically you know there’s no place for you to run to down here, and that was probably what he wanted all along. Still, your heart hammers painfully against your chest, urging you to at least try.

You don’t succeed in doing much more than twisting yourself over on your stomach, fingers clawing at the stone in an attempt to pull yourself away. You barely have time to process the hiss leaving Jungkook’s throat before the remaining fabric of your trousers are sliced clean in two, leaving you completely bare. The next roll of his hips sends his cock rubbing over your ass, your body trembling at the wetness that seems to be coating it. The scales on his hips are rough and sharp as they drag over your soft skin, and you don’t doubt they'll feel like tiny little razors if you move against them wrong. You’re still trying to drag yourself away when Jungkook’s arms comes under your body, one wrapping underneath your arm to hold the opposite shoulder, and the other curling around your stomach. The creature lets out another hiss at your squirming, pulling your flush against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, the steady rhythm such a contrast to the wild beat of your own as he once again moves against your body. The new position sends his cock gliding between your legs, the shaft rubbing along your folds and coating it with the same slick fluid you felt on your skin. You dig your fingers into the stone floor, but your body is locked up tight against Jungkook. There’s nowhere for you to go.

Jungkook lets out another warning noise before he rolls his hips forward again, the tapered tip of his cock catching on your entrance. You let out a strangled moan as Jungkook’s cock sinks into your heat, your walls stretching around him as he pushes in deeper. Your arousal from earlier combined with the wetness around the creature’s cock makes the slide painless aside from the uncomfortable burn of being filled too much, too fast. Jungkook’s excited thrill at finally being buried inside your heat rings in your ear from the close proximity, his tongue dipping out to flick across the sheen of sweat at your nape. The creature begins pulling his hips back, not giving you any time to adjust before he snaps them forward. You let out a choked moan as he fills you up again, vision growing hazy as he sets a brutal pace from the get go. You can feel the harsh slap of his hips against your ass with every thrust, Jungkook letting out a pleased hiss as he continues to slam into you. You can feel the tapered length twitching and pulsing inside of you as he moves, more wetness seeping out of his cock to mix with your own. Every thrust leaves you gasping for breath, and the hold Jungkook has around your body feels like you’re wrapped up in steel. You have no choice but to lay there and take it, but as the creature’s cock nudges over your sweet spot repeatedly, you realize to your own horror that you like it.

Lost in a daze of arousal and fear, you don’t even realize the creature has been moving the both of you backwards until you’re suddenly plunged into the cold water. You let out a startled gasp as Jungkook’s length disappears from your heat, and you thread the water forcefully to keep your head above the ripples as you try to figure out where the creature went. You feel his hands before you see him, claws wrapping around your waist as Jungkook pushes you against the ledge. You let out a pained groan as your back collides with the stone, your hands scrambling up to grip the edge of it. You freeze as Jungkook’s head slowly emerges from the water, those deep red eyes looking hungrier and wilder than you’ve ever seen before. It only takes a moment before you feel the creature’s chest pressed against yours, his cock slipping in even easier with the new position. It doesn’t take many thrusts before you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself afloat, your arms shaking with the effort of keeping your head over water. Your fingers slip a little against the wet stone, your eyes widening as you seem to sink even further down on Jungkook’s cock. You’ve never been so full before, almost delirious as he picks up his pace. Jungkook’s hands are relentless as they glide over your skin, pinching and rubbing every part of your body.

“F-fuck,” You moan as your clit rubs against his tail, the roughness of the scales making a bolt of arousal shoot through your body. You don’t even realize your hips are moving against his as the tightness in your gut grows, the pressure building more and more until it suddenly unravels, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you see stars as you come on Jungkook’s cock. The creature lets out something close to a growl as your walls clamp down around him, and he fucks you straight through your orgasm and into oversensitivity with an animalistic pace. You whine as Jungkook’s cock begin to swell, grow, his hands stilling on your hips to pull you flush against him as he comes. He lets out a pleased chirp as the burning hot come floods your insides, a broken moan escaping your lips as Jungkook slows down the harsh pace. It’s done, you think, relieved. He’ll probably leave you alone now. So it confuses you when Jungkook’s eyes slide shut, soft clicks leaving his lips as he pushes you even harder against the stone behind you. He’s still working his hips in and out of your heat, and you realize that even though he just came, his cock is still hard and growing, still stretching your walls.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel something moving up Jungkook’s cock, a firm but soft sphere spurting from the tip and into you. It takes a second for your hazy mind to connect the dots, and you realize a little too late that the creature is laying eggs. Inside of you. Jungkook is breeding you. You desperately try to push against his chest as you feel the second egg travel up his cock, but Jungkook only tugs you closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as his chest rumbles. You stifle back a moan as the second egg joins the first, the foreign texture brushing along your sensitive walls. The creature purrs as he released another spurt of eggs, slowly grinding his cock back and fourth as he breeds you. You cling on to the ledge behind you, disgust and pleasure wracking through your body as another egg joins the rest. A deeper click, something almost close to a groan, falls from Jungkook’s lips as he forces the last egg into your tight heat. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his cock nudge against your cervix; Jungkook’s slow pace fucking the eggs around inside of you. If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to being stuffed to the brim with Jungkook’s thick cock, eggs and come.

You can feel Jungkook’s breath ghost across your exposed wet skin, the harsh puffs of air sending chills down your back. Your hands finally slip from the ledge, too exhausted to keep you up anymore. Before you can wrap your shaking arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, the creature suddenly detangles you from his body, quickly hoisting you back up on the ledge. You let out shaky moan Jungkook’s cock once again slips from your heat, your body feeling surprisingly empty despite the eggs still resting inside of you.

“Shit,” You hiss as you strain to push yourself up on your elbows, gliding a hand down to your stomach. You can feel them inside of you when you press down, little bumps gliding around under your fingertips. Panic builds under your skin – you have to get them out. There has to be a reason you’ve never heard of creatures like Jungkook before. You doubt you're compatible to carry his eggs, and you don’t even know what will happen once they begin to grow. And even if you were, it’s not like you want them. Just as your hand is about to slip down to your slick folds, Jungkook hoists himself up from the water, once again covering your body. He snatches your hand away with a series of threatening clicks, barring his sharp teeth as he lies down on top of you. You twist your head with a fearful whimper as Jungkook pushes your hand into his hair instead, the weight of his body not totally crushing, but still enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You squeeze down around the eggs without meaning do, bile rising in your throat as they catch on your entrance, too big to push out without any help. Your eyes land on the crimson shell and pearl pushed over to the side of the cave. Your chest feels tight as it dawns on you that while the shell were likely a courting offer; the pearl must’ve been a mating offer. And you had accepted both. Your eyes begin to sting as you feel Jungkook’s chest rumble against yours, the pleased purrs making you feel sick. You hesitantly shift your gaze back to him, curling your fingers painfully tight into the wet locks underneath your palm as you find those deep red eyes already staring back at you. A twisted rendition of a smile blooms on his face, the rows of sharp teeth glistening as he looks down at you. The message in his gaze is clear – you’re keeping the eggs.

And there’s no way he’s letting you go.

a/n: oh boy. hopefully only those of you that were okay with the warnings made it this far. because i know i’ll get questions: jk fertilized his own eggs when he bred y/n, and y/n will basically serve as an incubator (poor girl lmao) for a while. she’ll push the eggs out eventually and then the eggs will hatch on their own. and no – i have no plans of doing jk’s pov any time soon, and it’s up to you to imagine y/n’s fate. anyway!! i hope you uhh, enjoyed this! and thank you for all the love and support for this mini series, it means a lot to me! as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #mermaid jungkook #bts smut #jungkook x reader #yandere au #bts x reader #yandere mermaid #yandere x reader #bts au #bts fanfic

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suchagallabitch · 2 years

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burrowed under my skin in heart-stopping waves of hurt

Mickey is getting under Ian’s skin, he needs it to stop. Prison era angst, that’s basically it.

based on the word prompt stop by @thisdivorce

Stop

/stäp/ verb

prevent (someone or something) from performing a specified action or undergoing a specified experience

For the record, prison wasn’t half as bad as Ian was expecting it to be. Maybe that was because the impending thought of a prison sentence loomed over his mind while he was still recovering from mania, which made everything seem worse than it was. Maybe it was the worried murmurs of the Gay Jesus groupies who thought a prison sentence was essentially death row paired with the even more worried murmurs of Fiona lamenting about her own time in the slammer at night to Debbie when they thought he couldn’t hear them. Maybe it was Lip and Carl’s constant joking about dropping the soap or finding a prison bitch wife. Or the constant statistics Liam would drop nested deep in his psyche. Whatever the case, Ian figured that prison was going to be an everyday hellhole of impending always looming doom.

Then Mickey showed up. And all that fear and uncertainty towards the whole being in prison for the next few years of his life didn’t seem like the worst thing to ever happen to him. They had survived much worse together, what was a year or two behind bars? Mickey by his side made prison not as terrible.

Granted his initial worry wasn’t entirely unwarranted. There was a supposed gang war between his block and the next one over. Some men in there were straight-up nightmare fuel. Ian learned one of the men working in laundry with Mickey had killed and eaten his wife. Mickey didn’t seem to mind that.

“Oh yeah well that's just Henry, nice guy” he would laugh. Ian still always looked at the man warily but he guessed it didn’t really bother him either.

As an infirmary worker, people didn’t really fuck with him. He was labelled as ‘useful’ sometimes other inmates would come up and ask him for his medical advice. Ian had no clue how many cases of STDs and bloody injuries he had mended in his time but at least his skills kept him out of harm's way.

He wasn’t dumb or naive though, he knew the reason no one dared to law a hand on him was because of Mickey. Word of mouth spread faster than herpes in the joint. Everyone knew who Mickey was. Knew what family he came from. Practically every Milkovich had landed themselves in that same jail one way or another. They were a well-known bloodline. Liked for a small part. Feared for the most part.

Read the rest on ao3!

#⬆️💔#idk how you didnt have a tag already leigh tbh #prison era boyfs #anyway i tried #i just want them to be happy man angst aint my neck of the woods #i enjoyed making this #nonetheless #gallavich #gallavich fanfic #ian and mickey #shameless us #gallavich oneshot #gallavichedit #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #elle writes

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baobaojng · 4 years

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push and pull (jung jaehyun)

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) (idol jaehyun) x (fem! foreigner) reader - idol!au

themes: angst, fluff, smut

summary: you never expected to meet Jaehyun when you study in Korea, let alone fall in love with him. so when you’re faced with the dilemma of the reality of your life - and even more so his, the battle seems difficult to overcome.

notes: kind of established relationship (the timeline’s fucked but haha joke’s on me), reader and jaehyun are honestly super angsty, unprotected sex (wrap it up in real life to stay safe)

a/n: i wrote this on a whim for the past two days and aaaaaaa enjoy

wordcount: 10,152

There are two things Jaehyun always clarifies whenever all the guys were huddled around in the practice room.

“Yes, I’m sure nobody saw me sneak out of the dorms last night. I checked.” Jaehyun usually puts a hand up as if he’s exorcising Taeyong, who usually was very concerned about these kinds of things. This was the first thing that he always pointed out, the other guys knowing that Jaehyun probably went out (in the wee hours of the night) the most. Paps could snap photos at any given time in any given situation, and if anyone caught them sneaking out at night - new outlets and gossip sites would probably kill them in the morning with rumors and scandals.

Which brought Jaehyun to the second point, when Mark and Johnny would expectantly cross their arms together in a teasing manner. “And no, Y/N and I aren’t dating.” No matter how many times he said it, they always hoped that he’d finally say you were dating.

After all, majority of the time he snuck out to see you.

This time nobody pressed him for any more questions, especially since he volunteered to order and pay for the Chinese food they were going to eat. An attempt to avert the guys’ attention elsewhere.

Exhausted after dancing the same part of their choreography for the umpteenth time, Jaehyun checks his phone for any notifications. Hoping that somehow you’d have texted him, but texting him first was something you rarely ever did anyway. He didn’t even know why.

Sometimes you wonder if you’ve been imagining things. Being in Korea for the past couple of years to study (which was a real ridiculous decision knowing you were in for learning how to speak Korean and understand foreign culture while in university), having a pretty good paying part time job, and being friends with kpop idols.

It was a pretty fair thing to think at first - out of the millions of possibilities of how, when, and why you were going to somehow meet celebrities you’ve been following and supporting for years.

You met Mark and Johnny first, the two deciding on a break that day and go out to try a quiet café one of their seniors suggested. Just because it was a little bit more hidden, kind of preferential for idols who just wanted to relax in a space that wasn’t the SM building or their dorm.

Becoming a barista was something you always wanted to try out as a side job anyway, having learned some bar tricks from your cousins growing up. It wasn’t so far off from it. The job paid pretty well too, considering the fact that you were a foreigner and that it was really just a side thing for you to earn money so you could live more comfortably. To your luck, the place your former college dorm mate recommended for you to work with was a low-profile café that targeted audiences like Johnny Suh and Mark Lee. You’ve seen some celebrities come in before, but mostly the actor types.

It was a really quick acquaintance established when the two of them got to the café. You looked a little shellshocked to take their orders because you knew exactly who they were, and they found it a little interesting to find someone like you working behind the counter. Mark ordered twice and Johnny went back and forth with the Korean and the English jokes because it was fun to meet someone new in a place that was as pleasant as the café.

They came in almost every three days from then on, making the same order (after Mark tried almost everything off the menu to make sure he had a favorite), sitting on the same place, and leaving on the same time.

Of course your mind drifted off to many places, thinking about how it seemed so normal and casual for them to treat you like an old friend. For the most part you thought of them in the same way, but a little part of you remembered that they were customers (well, celebrities) and you were the lucky part-timer that took took the afternoon shifts after your classes.

Your existence probably didn’t bother them as much as they did you.

Just when you got used to the normal digital noise of people entering: Mark’s obnoxiously loud hollering to greet you and Johnny’s really lame attempt at trying to ‘step up his intercultural humor,’ they came in with somebody new one time around.

“I’m just getting the usual today, Y/N.” Johnny patted at his stomach, as if you understood the odd relationship he had with his stomach - he fondled it very carefully. A tale of self love that disturbed you just a little bit, but now you were expectantly looking at Mark.

“Sheesh, I don’t know man, I’m probably gonna upgrade sizes on my order today. I haven’t eaten since this morning.” Mark complains to Johnny as you take note of that in the touch screen computer.

Jaehyun awkwardly stood there not really knowing what to say, and you couldn’t bring it to yourself to look at him directly either. But you knew who he was anyway, you’ve probably seen so many pictures of him on the internet to know how he looked like and where his mole was on his cheek. Your peripheral vision wasn’t failing you, and it definitely never has in your lifetime.

While the other two were bickering about food portions, Jaehyun cleared his throat out noticing that you’ve been hovering over the computer screen because you were waiting for them to complete their order. Mark and Johnny were comfortable with you, and Jaehyun felt out of place.

“Just a large iced Americano.” Jaehyun asked in Korean, a little slower and a little bit weirder. He noticed how chopped up his syllables were, but only because you were a little too pretty to be taking his order and because he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. His members outright spoke to you in English.

“Have you eaten?” You boldly asked him referring to Johnny and Mark’s debacle on food, assuming he probably wanted something to eat with his drink because that’s how his members ordered.

He became a little flustered, picking up on the impressive Korean accent you had when you responded to him in Korean, the honorifics perfectly done too. In the same instant his stomach grumbled, and he realized that the answer to your question was no - he hadn’t eaten anything all day actually. Even forgot to eat the apple he brought into his and Jungwoo’s room.

“I— uh,” he continuously stammers, his right hand gripping his left shoulder as a mannerism. Obviously he’s a little overwhelmed by the food choices on the menu. You just flash a little smile to him as encouragement, not even directly looking his way. “What’s your favorite?” He asks and it throws you off a little, you wouldn’t have expected him to ask for a recommendation.

You have to look at him now to be a little more respectful, and when you do— god. Jesus, god, Christ. What was it you said about seeing many photos of him online anyway? Nope, wrong. The millions of photos online didn’t do him any justice whatsoever. He was just unreal in the flesh.

“It’s a little embarrassing.” You’re the one flustered, feeling your cheeks heat up because he’s looking right at your eyes. Meeting your bias in your work uniform wasn’t the ideal situation, it made you feel like putty.

“I’ll take that though, whatever it is.” He hands you his black card (which you find out he does because he offered to pay for everyone’s food, and because he wanted to show off to you), and your fingers brush for a split second. A breathy giggle leaves your lips and you ask him to do the necessary things to have the food credited to his card.

“Thank you.” You mumble under your breath before giving his card back, the three deciding to sit where the two would usually sit. You got to making the drinks while your co-worker served their food to them, a little hyped up that the ‘Cherry Bomb’ dudes brought another member this time around. At this you laugh a little, trying to make a clearer working environment for yourself because your first encounter with Jaehyun had you a little bothered.

It was one thing to say that nobody should have fazed you by now, but you felt like a high schooler - weak at the knees and slowly losing confidence. Stealing the shortest of glances over at Jaehyun, catching him look back at you. Although maybe it was just a trick of your imagination.

But you weren’t imagining things, Jaehyun found himself in a brief state of confusion ever since he saw you when he entered not more than fifteen minutes ago. Having crushes was definitely normal, but you had this very inviting feeling about you.

Mark seemed to notice that Jaehyun was completely out of the loop with the dumb topic Johnny offered onto the table, following where his hyung’s eyes flickered to every few seconds.

“Y/N’s cute, huh?” Mark says, but it sounds less like a question than it’s supposed to be. He knows that Jaehyun never really seems interested in meeting other people, it was probably half the fact that Jaehyun maintained an unamused face in whatever circumstance, and this was a rare instance.

Jaehyun knows he’s caught, but he pulls off the realest fake cough he can. “Yeah, she seems cool.” He plays off like it’s nothing and the other two understand what the answer means even beyond what Jaehyun meant. He was interested.

This time when you try to steal a glance, all three of them are looking at you. But you decide to shoot daggers when you make eye contact with Johnny and Mark, knowing like hell they were intimidated by you at this point. You’ve threatened them jokingly countless of times before for making fun of you or making too much noise, but they always were so genuinely scared. You see the way Jaehyun’s dimples appear when he laughs as he sees his members flinch at you squinting your eyes at them.

“Hoobin,” you call over to your co-worker who was just about to serve the food to the three guys you were having an eye battle with, “I’ll take over, I think you should take an early time out today.” It was a bold decision, and thankfully Hoobin didn’t think twice after being bribed with having to work less. There was no room for you to hesitate, and for some reason you felt a little more confident.

After that you take their food over to their table, Johnny inviting you to pull up an extra chair from the unoccupied table behind. Mark tells you to stay more than five minutes because they “miss you” (as if they don’t see you at least twice a week,) which causes Jaehyun to kick him discretely under the table. That afternoon, Jaehyun sits silently as he eats what he presumed to be your favorite thing off of the menu (which he decided has become his new favorite food order as well) - listening to you talk about your life. Details about how you’re doing well in class these days and this part time job not being much of a hassle.

It was a little unnerving, having him be quiet there. You weren’t so sure if he was uninterested or maybe he didn’t care who you were. All that wasn’t supposed to matter, but something in the back of your head told you that your first impressions should matter. Especially when it came to him.

When you leave to greet the guy taking over the night shift, Jaehyun briefly compliments your food choice because he was looking for some sort of way to say good bye and thank you.

“It’s really no problem,” you chime in, “I’m pretty surprised you liked it.”

Well, Jaehyun was too. He wasn’t the kind to really indulge into something, and he had a feeling that he probably liked it because he was more interested in trying to relate to you.

Johnny and Mark end up not shutting up about how he was so lovestruck by you, even when they got home to the dorms.

Since then Jaehyun came by more often, and to his relief he went there alone. At first always just getting a coffee and quietly sitting down where you could see him, and where he could perfectly see you. Sometimes coming in with Mark and Johnny, and the rare occurrence that they dragged along Yuta and Jungwoo (who quickly became your friends, to Jaehyun’s own disappointment - at not being able to articulate any sense of bravery when he saw you.)

But then he got more attentive and took note to arrive five minutes before your shift ended. The first time he did that, he asked you to stay behind to just have a drink with him because you technically weren’t working anyway.

You couldn’t say no, even though you didn’t know what he was asking you to stay for. Only two minutes of awkward silence passed until he took a crack at a lame joke to fill the air, the two of you ending up bursting with laughter just because it was that bad. Somehow, spending the rest of the afternoon up till the evening just discussing all kinds of things with each other. Leaving the details of your personal lives away, but Jaehyun had no intention of not knowing; he took his chance at asking for your number because he liked talking to you. Even if it meant talking about the milk froth the steaming machine created, and how the smell of coffee when he entered the room always soothed him.

You were a bunch of nerves waiting to be spilt out. The idea of hanging out with Jaehyun was fun, but mostly scary.

Being friends with Jaehyun felt a little too much like hiding a secret. Like that time when you got that tattoo and tried to hide it from your mother, scared she’d see when you were too comfortable lazying around the house.

Every time you fell into comfort hanging out with Jaehyun, a voice at the back of your head always reminded you that your relationship wasn’t normal. You had to lay low, be more careful, never a moment where you weren’t vigilant about your surroundings.

Of course it wasn’t normal, definitely not normal for you. There were things you could only plan through words because it meant a lot of risk actually going out to try them in public.

The reality didn’t really bug you that much before; you could say you were content with his company, having so much as prolonged hours with coffee or him going to the cute little studio type apartment you rented near your school’s campus. Now, it was a little bit more bothersome.

Mostly because you swear that it’s the easiest thing in the world— to fall in love with Jaehyun. It was great talking to him, behind what you were used to seeing on camera he’d say things you wouldn’t have thought he’d ever say. Jaehyun had knowledge woven into him in everything he ever mentioned, he tried even in times when he was unsure. There were conquests in his eyes, the way his face would light up in that stupidly handsome dimpled smile. You wanted to try them all, you were sure as hell you wouldn’t hold back if you were given the chance.

But the hard parts of reality always kept you from gambling, from telling him how you felt even though you were sure that he had a good idea of your feelings anyway.

The two of you were having red wine on your living room floor despite the cold of the apartment. He came over about an hour and a half ago, drenched by the rain on his way.

Jaehyun rested his head on the couch, and you notice that his hair is still damp. He’s staring at your ceiling while a sigh leaves his lips.

“You alright?” You ask him, straightening the way you were sitting on the floor.

“Yeah.” He answers anyway, although you know what the fake tone implies. He isn’t.

“Really? You won’t tell me that you aren’t fine?”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, in fact he’s sure that he always tells you when he feels a little off the rails. Honestly it’s a little hard to trace back the time when he got so comfortable with you, it feels like the two of you just melted into each other’s worlds without ever noticing that you have. Every dumb text and every sneaky hang out.

“I guess I just don’t want to have a heavy conversation with you for once is all.”

You laugh a little, “I don’t care if we both end up screaming and crying, Jae. If you don’t feel good I definitely want to know. How many times will I tell you that it’s much better if you started talking about how you feel?”

Getting rid of that habit was a little hard for him; getting used to always presenting himself on camera as somebody who barely flinched. Somehow it seeped through to who he really was, and it was something that frustrated you when he first talked about this. Bottling up the way he felt just because he thought he needed to be perfect just angered you. You found yourself deeply concerned about him detaching himself with the reality that nobody could ever be perfect, but nobody had to be either.

“I swear this time it’s okay.” His dimples appear in a passive smile, but you playfully shove his arm in response. Careful not to spill any of the wine from his glass to your fluffy grey carpet.

“Liar.” You accuse as you roll your eyes.

To him you look all cute when you’re annoyed. He was going to prolong this for as long as he could; it made a squeezing sensation just between his heart and his lungs. He’d be dumb to say that he didn’t feel anything for you, because he did.

Jaehyun felt a plethora of things.

He felt happy every time he saw you, no matter how rough you claimed to look - even when you admitted you were far too insecure to present yourself to him. Once you called him when you were far out drunk, telling him you believed him to be directly made by God (if there ever was one.) He felt sad when he had to go. When time would have him leave you, because he had this incessant need to be around you for as long as it could. He felt angry too, knowing he wanted to give you so much more. He knew he didn’t just want to be your friend, but what he did for a living prevented him from giving you these things. Possibility of rejection aside, he knew he couldn’t just be around you whenever he wanted and whenever you needed.

“I’ll tell you when I feel like I’ve understood myself.” He promises, admitting you’re right.

That was good enough for you to brush it off; if he didn’t want to talk about it then you wouldn’t press him any further. You weren’t in the mood to put up a fight either, and maybe it was something you wouldn’t understand.

Finishing the wine that filled up half of your glass in one go, you turn to look at him. Not catching how he watched you down the whole thing like a mad man, he tenses because he knows something’s up. You hardly ever shoot down alcohol like that unless you were calming your nerves.

You had something to say, it was the reason why you called him over to hang out in the first place.

“I’m leaving soon.” It’s quick and simple, maybe the one line you chose that delivered the most impact when you were going over how to tell him. You found out you passed the semester a few days ago, and this meant that you had to leave Korea now. A job was already waiting for you in New York - somewhere you always planned on going after you finished up Fashion Design in Seoul. Truth be told, you never expected to pick up friendships— never expected to meet and be as close to Jaehyun when you decided to work in a café. But it became your reality, and the truth of your temporary time in Korea was catching up to you.

“Huh?” He only makes a sound, a little confused when you see his canines just through where his mouth parts. Eyebrows brought together by the lack of context.

“I mean I’m graduating in three weeks, just after other students fix their reconsiderations.” You explain holding in a breath for what you were about to say, even though you’ve practiced it about a hundred times in the mirror, “but after graduation I’m leaving Korea.”

And there it is, the bomb was dropped.

Jaehyun’s mind would like to pretend like he didn’t understand what you just said. In fact he even wanted to play dumb just so you could tell him this was a terrible joke, but you were looking at him the way you always looked at him when you were vulnerable - when you were being completely humanly honest with him.

He doesn’t say anything, not sure how he’ll react. Instead you begin rambling to fill in for the silence, a bad habit you always had. “It’s fine if you don’t want to hang out anymore, I’m not sure how good bye’s are supposed to work,” he doesn’t gloss over what you say, “the possibility of us maintaining this friendship thing is very low anyway.”

“Is that what you think of me? I’d just let go quickly, is that it?” He’s a little hurt; it’s the first time you’ve ever assumed anything of him that actually hurt.

“No,” you shake your head, “but you aren’t the type to forget what life is really like, and who you really are.”

He’s a little burnt, maybe because he knows exactly what you mean. The whole idol thing he got into was consuming. People he used to know were distant, it was even harder to keep up friendships and contact family, they’d meet people all the the time and have them come and go. If anything there was a lot of insecurity and pressure about the way he acted, the way he looked.

He brings his fingertips to scratch over the nape of his head as if he’d be able to claw out answers, or maybe a good response. “Doesn’t mean that I should lose you.” The coarseness of his voice seeps through.

You shrug, sliding your empty wine glass somewhere you wouldn’t knock it over. “People lose other people all the time.”

“You’re really trying to make yourself seem that disposable, aren’t you?” He eyes his glass, the red liquid swirling along with his subtle movements. He can’t find it in himself to look at you, but you’re lucky enough to feel small - not wanting to deal with the scrutiny you were expecting to feel if he did look at you. If he looked at you now and if he tried to memorize every pore, it would make it feel final.

“Jaehyun,” you use his name, swearing to yourself before that you’d rarely call him this so it would set the tone if you were trying to be serious about something, “I got you into trouble the other day because you snuck out again. No, actually I got you into more trouble than what’s good for you.”

“But I don’t mind that; I’m willing to get in trouble for you even if I get scolded for it.” He admits. For you. Words that probably don’t mean what you think they should, but they do.

“See you’re not so good at thinking about how you also get hurt, Jaehyun. Don’t you think about how hard it’ll be for you if you keep doing that for other people?”

He hisses. “I just told you that I don’t care about that.”

Your legs awkwardly shift around, “but I care about that.”

“If you cared about me enough then you wouldn’t mind it, because you know that spending time with you like this makes me happy.” Jaehyun bites down on his lower lip, suppressing a confession from making it any further off his mouth. “I don’t want to be afraid of losing someone, that isn’t the way to live.”

Compared to how he’s holding back, you can’t just help but take advantage of the wine buzzing through from the back of your eyes to the bridge of your nose. Closing your eyes hoping like the dark will swallow you alive after you say it, you shut them tight.

“I think I love you too much to resist saying no.”

It’s not an instance. It feels like years.

It feels like you’re on a rollercoaster with no safety belt on while you brace yourself for the worst. The plunging silence of all the different memories you’ve associated with Jaehyun. The different scents of expensive perfume he bought, the kind that wouldn’t go away even after he showed up after a work out session. How his ears and his knuckles turned a deep shade of red when it was cold outside, winter season passing you by through worn out coats and you’re lame attempts at teaching him how to wear scarves. His tragic attempts at small talk, never knowing exactly what to say - but always saved by your inability to shut up when faced with anything awkward. The deep honey amber of his voice, each uncomfortable slip of the tongue when he mispronounced things and got embarrassed. Those stupid songs you heard in the background that always somehow reminded him of you from those moments on.

It takes these long seconds for you to prepare to lose him. And maybe it’s what you want; if he decides to reject you know and turn you over like a criminal taken down, maybe it would mean that it would be easier for you to leave him.

The rejection doesn’t come, only the pensive silence of his shock.

He’s still trying to process things. Because you could have said ‘I love you too much as a friend,’ but he also knows you don’t use the word love lightly. In fact you’ve argued about the word multiple times. Accusing him of being too loose with the term. Back then he could easily say that he loved his grey bedsheets, that he loved gardens and clay potted plants. But now, after knowing your perspective on the word, he could only really say he really liked them.

He loves his family, his band members, his cat. He loves his piano, loved his hands. He loves the fans. And he loves you.

It’s his turn to down the rest of his drink, and somehow the last drops taste bitter at the end. Maybe because the wine had become warm, and his throat’s burning with the words he wants to say.

“Do you love me the way I love you?” Is not exactly how he planned to confess, but you look at him with teary eyes because you don’t need for him to say it twice to know what he means either.

Yes, you think. You loved him to the stars, to where your heart used to cry at sweet nothings of Instagram fan videos of Jaehyun even before you met him. You loved him as a stranger, a fan, an avid fan. You loved him even more now, as a man who breathes air as any other would (which surprised you at first, you thought gods never needed oxygen - but this one did.) You loved him as a real living fixture of bone, skin - imperfections you looked past.

His lips don’t taste like much aside from the wine, the rare instance that he gets you to drink the red kind and you’re doing this. Kissing him past your faintly stained teeth.

But you can feel his warmth, especially now that his hands have lead you to sit on his thighs - calloused fingers tracing back and forth through your jaw like the first time they’ve ever grazed on skin. Your fingers tread along his damp hair, bunching them up similar to how it looks when stylists slick his hair back for him.

Yes. He knows your answer is yes, because he’s never been kissed like this. So much unspoken gentleness, quiet excuses and hushed moans through and through sending goosebumps along his arm. He’s never been kissed in a way that held words. Nobody had ever kissed a confession into his tongue, never with the swirling and nibbling across the lower lip.

He doesn’t think he’s had time to kiss like this either. Jaehyun knows a lot, he’s touched a lot. But always in the quiet of secret, always rushed plans - thinking about how to not get his members into trouble, how not to make a stir in the public eye.

Jaehyun wants to forget the world in your kiss as he finds himself drowning into yours in a matter of a kiss. No— he knew he dipped a toe into the water when you asked him if he ate that day he first met you. And he dove right under all at once when he realized he couldn’t get enough.

Hands are traveling over your waist, your arms wrapping around his neck so delicately. He thinks you are what beauty demands when you two catch your breaths to look at each other, a smile cracking onto your features when you realize how sappy this all is.

“We need to learn how to stop holding back.” You suggest, and his eyes beam at you.

“Honestly we tell ourselves that all the time, we tell other people that way too much too. It’s just that we’re to scared to let go and just do it.” He says in a deep whisper. “So you love me, huh?”

You want to flick the sly look he has on his face, “don’t push it.”

“But you just said we should stop holding back.” He traces the bone of your jaw, just near where it tingles by your ear.

“We might end up saying I love you too much that we might get tired of saying it.” Lame excuses spill from your mouth, things you don’t mean just pop up into your mind because you’re nervous as hell.

By the first week, Jaehyun proves you wrong. Neither of you grow tired of saying I love you, it seems like you can’t go on not saying it at least once every hour. You can’t get enough of skin on skin in every second you’re together.

And it’s sinful as much as it is innocent, rough as it is loving. The first time he goes too far, tugging at the waistband of your cotton shorts - the too big neckline of your sweater exposing collarbones.

His hands recoil, not wanting to rush you into anything. But you find that you don’t mind, if it’s him then there’s no reason to hesitate.

“Take me,” you whisper, his eyes sincerely looking into your own in case he can find any trace of doubt, “take all of me.” His stupidly manly chin clenches along with his jaw.

Love is a whirlwind and you’re leading him to sweet chaos. Lips on lips like every kiss is the first. He hovers above you so gently, only enough weight to press your heart enough. You feel like you’re going to explode.

Clothes are let go like shedding second skin - but with no pain, no pauses.

You are the first to be completely naked, lying beneath him in the warm dim lighting of your lamp. Only his torso is exposed, and you can’t say you haven’t seen the expanse of skin in posts on the internet - but seeing it only inches away from your own heaving chest makes it look so unreal.

On instinct you try to cover your chest with your arms, but Jaehyun gently pulls them apart.

His thumbs slide from your shoulders, reaching the hardened peaks of your nipples. Jaehyun’s touch lingering a little longer at the swell of your breasts, mesmerized by something he’s seen a lot - but only because it’s you.

“You’re making this impossible for me.” The voice he speaks in is ragged, enamored by how your chest also irregularly rises and falls.

“What do you mean?” You pause, but get caught in surprise when his wet tongue licks at your nipple. A gasp leaves your lips and he responds with an innocent smirk.

“It’s enough that you love me,” he plants a kiss at your shoulder blades, “enough that you let me love you,” another one on your right breast, “but you want to give yourself to me like this too?” he nuzzles into your chest. “Y/N, are you even real?”

He asks you like you haven’t already been asking that question for millions and millions of times, but he doesn’t know that.

When you respond with only an ‘I love you,’ he still doesn’t believe you’re real. Even until he inserts a finger into your core, curling them as he watched your tensed muscles relax under his touch. Adding in another finger, his thumb massaging your clit - only your moans and your sighs fill his ears.

You’re every sensation, every taste he wants on his tongue.

“Jaehyun.” You gasp over and over as he pumps in and out, fascinated with what only his hands can do. Although you’re on a cloud in paradise, feeling your nerves tense up with every centimeter of movement.

“Yes baby?” He coos as he feels you twitch, trying to resist the overwhelming sensations he’s providing. Not stopping until he feels your walls tighten and tighten around his fingers, your hips moving uncontrollably. With the pace he’s going, you find yourself cumming already.

“Jaehyun!” Your back arches, and he rubs at your overstimulated mound just to ogle at you. You feel whole when he slips inside of you after your almost limbless feeling attempt at taking off his sweatpants, feeling up every expanse he was setting in. He’s big, bigger than what you would have thought. “Fu– Fuck!” You curse under your breath, hissing at his girth.

“You’re so,” he grunts as he starts to move, but your pussy has a vice like grip and it won’t seem to adjust to his size, “so so good.”

There’s an impossible adjustment in your core, but he hits your sensitive spots just right. He seems to pull out more and plunge in deeper - becoming bolder with movement. You try your best not to close your eyes and look at his pair of diluted brown ones. Jaehyun’s got his mouth in a tight line, a dimple popping out as he tries to contain his grunts. The pace your heart beats is impossibly fast, and you wonder why even now that you’ve given all of yourself he makes you feel this way.

Even through the way he cups his hand over your hair, stealing kisses every chance he can get, quickening his pace until you’re moving the bed - somehow he causes this unbearable fluttering in your chest.

“I love you.” You whisper and he halts, catching you off guard. But he thrusts again, kissing any spot of skin his lips could find at the same time.

“I love you.” He repeats even as he runs out of breath. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The vowels and consonants blend together until in your state of pleasure, the phrase starts to deconstruct - to make less sense. But your hips are arching into his and your fingers are crumpling at the fine linen sheets.

It would be the second time you were cumming, grabbing onto the taut muscles of his forearms clenching around his cock in your convulsions.

This made him go even faster, filling you up with his cum and softly laying against you. Grunting at the sensations.

That night he cleans the two of you up, wanting to snuggle up next to you for the rest of the night.

It’s in love, being in awe about loving someone you still thought was universes and galaxies away. It’s in love of him, the gentle caresses of lamp light upon his face - shadows of his lashes casting on his cheeks. It’s in love of you, the most unexpected kind of person he found completion in.

Somehow the two of you forget that you’re running out time.

Guilt is still a foreign concept to you.

It’s something you think about when you sneak out of Jaehyun’s dorm room after a night of making love (after kicking Jungwoo out to sleep in Taeyong’s room, of course.)

You stare at his peacefully sleeping figure, his arms lazily fishing out for your body and you silently thank heavens that he reaches out for a pillow and thinks that it’s you. Because you look at him like this, you look at the mess the two of you have made, and you remember the ‘I love you’ he told you tonight and what it truly implied.

For the past few days of this second week, he’s been telling you he’d do anything for you. Before the prospects of time were realized the two of you were blinded: him by his own selfish denial of wanting to try, and your generous want to wait.

Until you reminded yourself of who you both were. He would never give this life up, you thought thinking about how much he loved what he did. Singing, dancing, performing - being somebody he constantly tried to rebuild and rebuild and rebuild through all the criticism he received. He still loved it; you’d see that shine in his eyes whenever he talked about his job. How he wouldn’t trade it for anything. And you out of all people would know the feeling of loving something you did. And though you’ve thought of the possibility that he would give it all up for you, you didn’t want to make that choice for him.

Imagining him in the future regretting choosing you instead of chasing his dreams.

You think, sure, maybe if you loved someone enough you would consider giving up all your dreams - everything you worked hard for. Being with the person you loved seemed important enough, although you probably wouldn’t say that you were happy to give up the thing you wanted to pursue.

And of course it was different for Jaehyun, it was different by magnitudes.

“I love you, you know that - right?” He asks you by the end of the second week, although he hasn’t been keeping track. His hands are tracing random patterns on your arms as you lay on the couch with you head on his lap.

All the two of you seem to do is talk about love, and deep down he has to admit that it’s his sneaky way of trying to convince himself that you’re always going to be together. Because when you say those three words back to him, the ribbons of skin that creases with your smile tantalize him.

You just nod, too afraid of making him misunderstand you. For all you know he’s ready to jump ship, but you don’t want him to because he has more oceans to explore.

This is your newfound best friend, formerly only really acquainted with: insecurity.

You wonder if you’re the first he’s ever looked this way to. After all, he’s trained to be charming - trained to always look the part of the ‘first love’ persona he has to carry around. You wonder how easy it would be for him if things didn’t work out between the two of you; thousands of girls came pouring onto him anyway.

The feeling made you small, your mind treading through all kinds of green monsters that didn’t actually exist.

It was a little ridiculous, comparing yourself to every other possibility available to him. He could have anyone he wanted. Someone who was prettier, someone who was Korean - maybe they’d understand him better, or an idol - maybe they’d be the perfect combination.

“Fuck.” He whispers into your ear, as he ruts his cock into you. His right hand is tugging at your hair and you’re carelessly panting in pleasure.

You were barely undressed, only covered in one of his very old sweaters. And he wasn’t much naked either, still wearing the hoodie he wore to the studio.

Apparently practice was tiring today, and they got an ear load from the managers about not meeting some kind of quota. You were feeling a little bit annoyed by graduation preparations for the day, so the two of you found yourselves exhausting frustrations onto each other.

Pressed up against his warm white skin like this, you wonder how long you can make this last in your memory.

Convulsing in overstimulation, you choke out some sobs as your hands messily search for something to grab. His thighs, his arms, any inch of him. Like you were grabbing out for something to take with you when you inevitably have to go.

You want to memorize all of him that you can. When he whispers praises into your ear, when he grunts and uses a little bit more force when he cums inside of you. But also when he kisses at the base of your neck when he’s done. When he only wants to cuddle for the rest of the night and talk about all that’s weighing on his chest.

“Baby?” Jaehyun whispers when you stir in his grasp as the two of you cuddle up in bed.

Being honest is not in your cards, but you remember what you told him fifteen days ago about not holding back. And you think that you were an absolutely overly positive liar.

“Yuno.” His name is course when it leaves your lips, and it doesn’t go ignored by him. “How are we going to make this work out?”

Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, he doesn’t let his confusion go unnoticed. “What?”

You offer him some pathetic semblance of a smile as you slide your fingertips slowly on his arm. “I’m still leaving for New York, you know?” You want him to react differently. In fact you want him to get angry or disappointed, you want him to let go of you so that you won’t have to deal with him letting go of himself just to manage a relationship.

But he doesn’t.

“I know.” He kisses at your temple, “actually I’ve been thinking about it.”

“What’s there to think about?”

Jaehyun hums, “just say the word and I’ll drop everything for you.”

You manage to free yourself off of his grasp within seconds, turning to face him in disbelief. “Jaehyun, no,” you plead with him through the look in your eyes, “don’t.”

“Why?” He looks even frustrated, because just like you - this isn’t the reaction he expected.

“I don’t want you to leave this all behind just because of me,” you feel the tears in your eyes form already, “you love this job, even if it’s too much at times. Jae— you were made to be up there with the stars.”

“Babe,” he takes you by surprise by wrapping his arms around you again, thinking it will

stop the tears from falling from your eyes but it only makes it worse because now you’re crying into his chest, “I just love you, okay? It feels like it’s all I’ve known, and I don’t want to see you this way.”

You’re sure his shirt is left damp by your tears, and you cry even harder because of how stupidly in love he is. Maybe he’s as stupidly in love as you are.

You’re probably the most insensitive, most selfish bitch to ever walk the planet.

That’s what you think the day after when you’re at the airport - bawling your eyes out like a child who’s lost their favorite toy. You have so many bags packed up and you leave in an hour.

You texted Jaehyun earlier today and told him you’d be busy until late because of graduation preparations, but that was a huge lie. Actually you decided not to attend the graduation ceremony and just get your diploma sent out. When he told you he loved you last night you knew it was dangerous for the two of you now, so you thought to clear out your apartment with the help of your co-worker Hoobin and and a few other friends - then book the earliest flight to New York that you could. The place hiring you was eager to have you in anyway.

The goal was to make sure you wiped out any trace of yourself, just so Jaehyun wouldn’t be tempted to find you.

Months pass by and you haven’t heard a single from Jaehyun, and truth be told you’ve been trying to avoid everything related to Korean Pop music altogether.

You think that you don’t deserve to hurt, or even miss him. You don’t deserve to yearn for a stupid text or a stupid letter. This is what you wanted. Blocking any form of contact you had with him and the guys and made sure nobody from university gave away your information no matter how much they’d bribe. You checked in once in a while with Hoobin if any of the boys still went to the café, and apparently it was only Johnny and Mark who came around.

No one spoke a word about you, no one ever asked.

Disappearing from the face of the earth like you were some ghost. You were able to do it.

New York was different, a little louder. The structures of buildings were definitely different, but you got used to getting around after a month.

Once in a while you’d go on your usual social media run through and see a video of Mark or Taeyong, and you’d skip as fast as you could in case Jaehyun’s face would appear. They would look different in photos - hair colors changing.

On accident you saw a photo or two of their recent comeback because one of your co-workers was into k-pop and you just couldn’t avoid it.

A picture never hurt anyone, but you learned that it could. You saw Jaehyun again in the photos, this time with hints of green in his locks. The world itself seemed to be turning against you when you’d see him in fashion magazines, as if he was shoving it in your face.

Guilt is no longer a foreign concept to you, and each time you’re reminded of him it hurts you so much.

He looks better lately, you think. Although the bags under his eyes say he hasn’t been well rested, but you aren’t around to tell him to get some sleep anymore. He seems to be working out more, the muscles really making themselves prominent under his favorite black shirts. He’s gotten way more popular individually too, and it’s something you think he’s always deserved anyway.

In your head you try so hard to reduce Jaehyun back into a handsome face popular online in a completely foreign country, maybe if you disassociated your relationship with him it would be easier to cope with having to see his face once in a while when you didn’t mean to.

You hope he’s forgotten about you, you hope he’s not as messed up as you are. In fact, you hope he’s decided to hate you with every fibre of his being. You hope he’s found somebody else who’s a much better fit, someone who can be his best friend and his lover.

Work has been good, great even. You’ve already been offered a few shoots to be in charge of in the Spring editorial of the magazine.

“Hey Y/N, a client specifically called for you last night but you already left so I just gave them your cell. They might be calling soon, is that alright?” The girl at the front desk tells you when you get to work that morning, you just nod quickly because the coffee you picked up on the way to work might spill.

True enough the phone at your desk rings about thirty minutes later.

“This is Y/N Y/L/N, how may I entertain you?” You greet casually, getting rid of the pumps you were wearing on your feet as you relaxed in your office chair.

“Hey, my favorite barista.” The very voice you know as Mark Lee’s is very recognizable, and you’re tempted to hang up but you don’t.

“Hey Mark!” You say, a little too enthusiastically, but he sounds like he doesn’t hate you so maybe this was the right mood to set.

“Don’t ask how I got your office number,” he chuckles, “it was so easy to google search your name because it’s on the homepage of the website for the place you work.” He already reasons out but you laugh it off.

“Yeah it’s fine, it’s comforting to hear an old friend’s voice.” You assure him. “So, you want some clothes done or what?”

He laughs and you try to listen in if there’s background noise, you wonder if he’s in his dorm room alone or if he’s with the other members. “Actually no, not really, but if you still have one of those jackets from your catalog two months ago then can I order one? It was lit.” The word choice is casual, so Mark.

“Oh yeah, just send me over your measurements and I’ll get one custom made.” You take note with one of your post its, “but why else would you call me?”

“You know, Jaehyun hyung.” He clears his throat because you know Mark Lee can’t handle more than three seconds of anything awkward.

You dread this conversation already, “what about him?” You bite your lip like you’re ready to get scolded, but thankfully Mark isn’t like that.

“Look, I know you haven’t heard from us and we haven’t heard from you. None of us know if you’ve moved on with your life, but I’m like sure Jaehyun hyung’s still a walking train wreck about it. We all know that he has no plans to move on.” He admits.

“I’m not doing any better here either.” It’s pretty self-explanatory, and Mark knows it means you still love Jaehyun.

“Yeah, I get that. The two of you are just really dumb you know?” It’s like he finds this a little entertaining.

“Why’s that?” You want to ask him, because you doubt he’s going to give any useful advice.

“Your idea of the best possible scenario is making him leave you behind to pursue his own path, and his idea of the best possible scenario is dropping everything for you and to follow you wherever you are. But hasn’t it occurred to the two of you dumbasses that it will work out if you leave each other be? It only matters if you two love each other even if you’re miles away.” He blurts out in one go and you’re pleasantly surprised, “just call him or call me first when you’re ready. You can trace my number back so just do that if you want to.” He hangs up before you can say anything.

You almost choke on your bagel when you see NCT 127 on morning television the day after Mark called you. Yep, you knew you should have put the cream cheese; this bite was hard to swallow now that you were watching them.

So you rush into work again, same hot coffee in your hands as you make your way up to your office floor. Thank god you could hide in the privacy of the office space you had, working in the company meant that they gave you free space to be able to make clothes and relax.

Except when you get there you find out that your concept of having a safe space was completely destroyed. Safe spaces didn’t exist when the things you were running away from

were chasing you from inside your mind. In this case it was made even worse; the thing (person, to be technically correct about it) you were running away from came in the form of Jeong Jaehyun.

He’s just staring there at you, green highlighted hair and all. Same suede shoes, same black shirt, and same olive green jacket.

“What are you doing here?” You’re choking on words but he still stares at you like how Patrick Verona looked at Kat Stratford in that poem reading scene in 10 Things I Hate About You. A look you’ve never thought a guy would ever give to you - but hey, Jaehyun was. In a bittersweet way, he could play that tole.

“Have you eaten?” He pushes your queries aside but he still looks at you like that.

“I almost asphyxiated on a bagel a while ago, actually.” Because of him, you just add in your mind.

“And now you’re drinking coffee?” He chuckles to himself as his eyes shamelessly scan to more than just your coffee cup, “aren’t you tired of that stuff?” You know he remembers that one time you said you were never going near a coffee bean ever again that one time you were tired from your part time job.

That organ in your chest aches, and when you answer with silence it hurts even more.

Why wasn’t he screaming at you?

Why didn’t he look like he was angry?

Why wasn’t he telling you that you were a heartless bitch?

Why was he just standing there looking at you like the first time?

Coffee cup forgotten as you set it down on your desk, Jaehyun standing there looking frozen. He can feel the shift in your posture too, like the two of you have perfected the art of reading each other’s body language.

“This is the part when you tell me you hate my guts, you know?” Your words are teetering uncomfortably, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of all the goosebumps that line your skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he sighs and you notice that he isn’t even running low on patience, nothing angry nor negative replaces his demeanor. Jaehyun remains to be warm, even as you stand far apart. “Why would I ever hate you?” He asks.

When you find it a little bit hard to breathe Jaehyun continues to speak. “I haven’t seen you in so long and you look a bit different in appearance, but I could never be mad at you. I haven’t heard your voice in months aside from the videos I kept in my phone, but I could never resent you. Y/N, I’m standing right in front of you in New York fucking City and I know I don’t have it in me to think a single negative thing about you. I love you even if you’re difficult like that.” He takes five steps forward, but he’s still about ten steps too far away.

Everything rational about you, everything that tells you that this is a mistake shuts down. You want to dissect every single thing about Jaehyun and make all kinds of most probable assumptions about him, but now you know you’re awfully wrong. Every fear you’ve fabricated in your head is the exact opposite thing Jaehyun would have ever done.

“When you disappeared, I knew where you were. I cried like a loser all the time, but I thought that if this was what you wanted then I’d try my best to give you that. Maybe we jumped on way too quickly when we realized we were in love and we stopped thinking logically, but I had so much time and space to think. This time I’m sure about what I want, and it’s still you.” He finishes, taking ten slow steps toward you.

Now you’re a mess of tear works. What kind of man would hang onto love for so long without being sure if your love had also stayed?

“You’re not supposed to want me anymore.” It sounds like you’re sobbing on your words.

He scoffs, but only because it’s ridiculous how much you want him not to love you. “You’re all I want, you’re all I ever want.” His fingertips find their way to tuck your stray strands of hair behind your ear, and your head tilts to face him - his figure towering against yours. While you’re aware you probably look like a whole mess, he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing his eyes have ever lain on. “You can tell me you don’t love me anymore and I’ll try to move on, but I know I can’t. Or you can tell me you love me and we can make this work without putting our own lives on hold.” He proposes, and you sniffle.

“Of course I still love you,” you punch softly at his chest, frustrated that he could love you like this, “I could have ended up in the North Pole and I know I’d still love you.” You cry even harder, but he wraps you up tightly in his arms - your head buried in his chest.

You relish in this comfort, the familiar beat of his heart and the warmth he exudes. You feel at home again.

“Don’t leave me again.” He asks of you and you nod quickly.

“God, we’re so stupid.” You mutter, tears are still falling from your eyes but at a slower rate.

“I can’t say it’s stupid if we took the time to learn.” He looks so proud of himself at his attempt to sound wise, but you take your small hands and smooth it over his jaw. Thumb on the dimple that peeks when he smiles down at you.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, but he nods ever so slightly.

“I understand.” He shushes you by closing the distance between your lips, and your heart feels stuffed.

Flying from New York to Seoul and back again is tiring, but you weren’t complaining.

The stylists that worked with Mark really liked the jacket you made for him (yes, he really did actually order one) and asked where he got it. A few arrangements later and you’ve graduated from a part time working barista, to foreign exchange student in fashion school, to a trusted collaborative designer for the boys’ clothing.

Maybe the greatest acting gig you were ever going to pull off— pretending not to be dating Jaehyun whenever the other staff members were around.

This time the boys were in the office you had in Seoul, getting measurements taken for their comeback outfits. But everyone else was lounging around in the big couches because they were done, so you were left with your boyfriend in the section where you kept your fabrics.

“Stop making my job harder.” You complain as you wrap your measuring tape around Jaehyun’s thighs.

But he smugly lets out a whistle, “you weren’t on your knees when you were measuring the other members’ pant sizes.” He teases, but he’s right - you were on your knees only for him.

To spite him you place your cheek on his thigh to pretend like you were going to do a better job if you switched up your position. “Babe, I know more about your inches than anyone here.”

“Yeah?” He’s excited.

“I even use my mouth so you can slide it in—“

“Woah, guys, language.” Johnny barges in and you immediately pull away and stand up, and Jaehyun’s just as disturbed.

“Yeah we can hear you, you know.” Mark remarks behind Johnny.

“Well then can you please warn us that we’re audible before I make innuendos about sucking off my boyfriend?” You cross your arms at the two boys who just came in, chuckling to themselves.

Jaehyun rests his chin on your shoulders from behind you, wrapping his arms upon your own.

“We made this union happen.” Mark argues, and you continue to send daggers through your eyes.

Jaehyun kisses at your cheek and Johnny and Mark make sounds of disgust, enough to make them scramble away when you kiss Jaehyun’s cheeks back.

The two of you laugh, catching each other’s eyes when you get lost at your close proximity.

“I love you.” You both accidentally say at the same time.

And like always, you pull each other in.

Fin.

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct smut #nct 127 imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun

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softie-rain · 2 years

Text

Meet me at the Hanging Tree

Hunger Games au

previous chapter: Chapter 1

next chapter: Chapter 3

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Series Summary: Panem, governed by President Magnus, is getting ready for the 75th Hunger Games. It's in this Memory Edition that the reader will learn how far one can go for the loved one, even if that could bring her to certain death.

Series Warnings: Murdering, described death and violence, suicide, death for natural causes such as starving, hypotermia, dehydratation and wounding infection.

Disclaimer: The story is wrote in third person as I'll add other point of views outside the arena. Also, romance will began later in the book, as the characters won't immediately interact!

summary: y/n get to know Darwin, his companion in this "adventure", and she already gets advices by her mentor summary: i feel so bad for the people who are reading this again tbh so for the record if you don't wanna reblog it again it's fine :,)

Chapter two: staying alive

warnings: mention of paralysis

She had never been on a train before. How could she, they can't leave the District. But she is not surprised by how fast it goes, or by how all the people outside disappeared, as they were quickly eaten by the forest that would have led to Capitol City. What surprised her was the giant amount of food that was on the small tables in every wagon. "At 12 we starve." Darwin had said once Effie left them. "And here, only one if this wagon could be enough to satisfy all of us." He was right. Y/n knew it, and she would have agreed with him. But instead, she just stayed quiet. They were sitting one in front of another, no words spoken. "Look, we don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you can't just ignore me all the time right?" She looked at him.

She didn't know if he had a talent in particular that helped him survive all this time. Maybe he didn't even need one, she had no idea the condition of his family. And her no-speaking treatment was nothing personal. She was just shy. And scared to death. "I know. Sorry." He chuckled. "You don't have to say sorry." He was smiling. Why was he smiling? She didn't hate him, she barely ever spoke to him before that day. But she couldn't stand how he was taking the whole story so easily. "I met our mentor once. He bought some herbs at the market." He said, maybe more to himself than to her. The girl looked him in the eyes. "I never did."

He nodded but, once again, she thought it was more to himself than to her. Suddenly, the door behind them opened and an avox entered the room and they both turned to look at her. She was a young girl, maybe two or three years older than y/n. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, a long white dress that covered her whole body, except for the completely uncovered arms, which were signed by many scars. She held her hand out towards y/n, motioning for her to follow her. The girl hesitantly got up, almost scared of leaving her chair. "She doesn't bite, you know." Darwin jokes. Here he went with his humor again. He really had a weird way of facing death. "I know. I just thought we weren't gonna see one until we arrived at the Capitol." The girl explained, small hints of annoyance in her voice.

"Maybe it's for the Quarter Quell." He said, and that actually made sense. None of them had been alive for the previous Quarter Quells, but maybe that was having. Every tribute had their special avox. But honestly it could have been a normal thing every year that just wasn't shown on tv.

The avox seemed pretty nervous and she clearly wasn't helping her by standing there, so she moved and followed her. The avox took her to what the girl supposed was her room. The blonde girl made a short bow to say "I've done my job, now I'm leaving you" and left her alone in the small bedroom. Small. It was as big as Jean's one, but it was mainly occupied by the bed. Oh my god, a bed. She has a bed back in the district. But it's more of an old mattress layed on the floor. But that one… No, that was a real bed.

She sat on it, not wanting to take it in all at once. Then, she just let herself fall on it, completely abandoning herself to the softness of the many pillows. She inhaled deeply, it smelled so good around her. If she had to die, at least she could have enjoyed this for a few days. I'm gonna die. No. She promised. She wasn't gonna die. She was going to be the 75th victor, whatever it took.

"Oh my god y/n, please no." Jean ran in her sister's arms, holding her so close and tight that if the Games wouldn't have killed her her sister probably would. "Couldn't it have been some sort of mistake?" Y/n shook her head. "Even if it was, it's too late now. The train will leave in a few minutes." Jean let go of her to look her in the eyes, sniffing but trying to smile. "You already said goodbye to mom?" She nodded, caressing her sister's arm. Jean was always like that, showing her weak side for a few moments just to let you know it was there, and then she immediately switched to the motherly version. She was going to miss her like crazy in the Arena. And if she wasn't careful, maybe in the afterlife too. "I know it's hard but, win for me, would you?" She didn't have to repeat it twice. "Of course I will, I promise. I will even kill the President’s son, if I have to."

~~~

Peter wasn't actually scared. His father had trained him once or twice before, and even if he had no clue on how to survive in any critical condition, he was decent with the sword.

Who he wanted to fool, he was most certainly going to die. He knew that, his father did too, and his sister did. Saying that Wanda was devastated would have been an understatement. She hadn't been able to sleep the night after the Reaping without her brother by her side, and even with that she kept waking up with nightmares. She tried to distract herself by going out, but all she was met with were the pity look of the people that felt bad for her and her family.

More than once, even in the same hour, Peter had to hug her to remind her that he wasn't in the Arena yet. That he was there, with her. "But you are going to leave me. You are, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." She would say. And as much as he wanted to, he had no idea how to answer to comfort her. As for his father, he acted like he was just another normal tribute. Like he didn't care his son was going to die in five or six days. And that was because he truly didn't. Peter knew that too, the yelling of the fight they had two nights before the Reaping Day still in his ears. "Mark my words, son. You are going to regret this." And oh, he did.

But as he looked down at his sister, surprisingly finally sleeping peacefully, he wondered if the real punishment wasn't death, but seeing Wanda so destroyed and heart-broken. Peter's life as a tribute wasn't very much different from his previous one. He still had the great food, showers, and literally anything else he had in the residence. Sure, his new room at the tributes building was smaller than his other one at the manor, and he now had a stylist and even a mentor, if you could call the gym school teacher a mentor.

He had tried to teach Peter the basics of the fight once, a while ago but it just wasn't Peter's thing. And that seemed to exasperate the mentor more than Peter himself. "Peter." Wanda mumbled, waking up. "Hm?" "You're going to try to at least survive the first days… Right?" She asked. How do you tell your sister that you're a lost cause and there's the 100% possibility that you're going to die? Easy. You lie. "Of course. I'm not leaving you sis, ever." He affirmed, hugging her closer. He caressed her cheeks, and he could feel a few tears starting to wet his hands.

He hated lying to his sister, but he didn’t know how to tell her the truth. So he just preferred hiding it. “Have you seen the other tributes?” She later asked. He nodded. “Yeah. The most worrying ones are district 1 and 2 as usual.” She moved, now fully facing him. “Do not underestimate others. Remember those two from District 12 a few years ago? Especially the girl?” Peter nodded again. “Yeah, I do. Are you saying I should be careful of female District 12 y/n something?” He asked. “I’m saying you should be careful whatever you do.” She stated, leaving no room for an answer by him.

~~~

She may have hated the way he was facing his fate, but y/n considered Darwin a pretty nice guy. After the first night on the train, Effie had come to their doors telling them both that the train would have arrived in the city in a few hours. She made her way to the vagon that was settled with every kind of breakfast she wished for, and sat. At the same table with her rested a man in a wheelchair, who she supposed was your mentor. “Charles Xavier.” He introduced himself. She looked at him, sipping his beverage slowly. “Y/n Grey. But you already know that I suppose.” He chuckled. Why is everyone so happy to be here? “Didn’t mean to irritate you, sorry. I’m happy to be here just as much as you are, but you should really not depress yourself like this. Or else, you’re lost in the beginning. I know it’s hard, but keeping it sane can help.”

She looked down, observing the cookies on her small plate, and then around the room. She never saw this type of meal back at her home, not even at the bakery. “Never had coffee?” Charles asked. The girl shook her head in a no. “Here. It has a particular taste, but maybe you’ll like it. Oh, I'll add a bit of sugar with that.” He said, pouring a dark liquid in a cup. She looked at him as he did so. He was weird. Not because he survived the Hunger Games and seemed pretty calm about it. More because if it wasn’t for the old ruined clothes, one would have said he was a Capitol citizen, from the way he spoke and acted. She never saw his Games, she only knew he won twenty years ago and that he was the last victor from 12th. Did he hurted himself during the Games? Hard to believe he won with the wheelchair, unless he threw it at someone.

“Rule number two: don’t judge people from their appearance or from their first impression. Or perhaps you’ll end up trusting the wrong people there. And as for the wheelchair, I killed the last tribute from a very tall tree and once they announced my win, I very ungracefully fell from it.” She allowed herself to let a small chuckle out. “Didn’t mean to stare.” She apologized. Thinking about it, she wasn’t making it so oblivious. “It’s fine. Besides, I'm pretty good at reading people.” She shortly smiled, just as Darwin entered the room. "Sorry, I lost time in the shower. Have you tried it y/n?" He said euphoric, sitting next to her. She shakes her head, making a mental note to try it once they'd arrive.

He prepared himself a slice of bread with jam. "Given any good advice already?" He asked. Charles shortly repeated what he had told y/n, but she wasn't paying a lot of attention anymore. "Oh my god…" She mumbled, looking outside the window. Darwin followed her look confused, but soon imitated her once he realized what she had seen. Their mentor didn't need to, he knew what they were looking at.

"There it is." She said under breath. "Capitol City."

tags: @raincoffeeandfandoms @septicrebel @bibiibeep @sweeter-innocence-fics

#hunger games au #peter maximoff #evan peters #peter maximoff x reader #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #evan peters x y/n #peter maximoff x you #evan peters x you #peter maximoff imagine #evan peters imagine

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lokislittlesigyn · 3 years

Text

Wake Me - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

[My masterlist, where this and my other fics can be found]

Pairing: Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: Angst. But fear not, for fluff awaits!

Author’s Note: I have legitimately no idea if I’ll write more Loki x Reader; I never intended to write any because I don’t know the reader so I can’t characterize the reader but then I had a headcanon.. And then I had an idea...

And then I wrote this and I thought “hmm, I should challenge myself to do a New Thing?” and then this happened. Blame Loki, maybe? He seems to be behind a lot of this.

Is there any demand for a taglist of.. Possible future Loki x Readers? I dunno? Let me know.

This fic is loosely based off a song by the same name, which is also one of my favorite songs! Enjoy. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t notice it at first.

Not for the first few days… Weeks? You weren’t sure how long it had been happening. How long Loki had been leaving your bed in the middle of the night.

Your apartment was a decent size - more than decent, considering the average size of a New York City apartment. Being a close friend and employee of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts (was it Stark now?) had its perks. The apartment had a bedroom, a bathroom across the short hall, a living room which doubled as your workspace, and a good-sized kitchen. Even had a washer and dryer at the end of the hall, tucked neatly into a little closet that also held a few of your coats. As an added luxury, there was a small - very small - balcony off the living room. Hardly big enough to stand on, it was nevertheless a wonderful spot to sit and watch the sun set over the city. You loved living there, in that cozy space you’d made your own, and eventually welcomed Loki into.

Loki. Not exactly someone you’d intended to end up with. Then again, who intends to fall in love with a god?

Who intends to fall in love at all?

You’d met through friends of friends, and that was about the only mundane thing about your relationship. Said friends of friends were the Avengers for crying out loud, and the moment you saw Thor in person you nearly froze from shock. The moment you saw his brother, however, your heart practically leapt out of your chest and into the hand Loki reluctantly extended, per his brother’s direction.

You took his hand in your own, trying not to tremble as you shook it. You gave your name. He gave his. You parted ways. A mundane interaction, right?

But again, few things about your relationship were mundane.

You would’ve written it off as a simple, regular greeting if Loki hadn’t found you later as you skulked along the edges of Tony’s huge party. You knew the hosts, of course, and some of the other guests - but everything was so big and frightening and new you hardly knew what to do with yourself.

How were you, a regular human, supposed to deal with all… That? Heroic wasn’t a word you’d really use to describe yourself. Let alone super-heroic - that title was reserved for the incredible individuals around you, whose personalities and achievements eclipsed your own. You mulled over the thought, drink still clutched firmly in hand, but untouched.

And that was when Loki commented on the fact you looked “nearly as miserable as he felt.” You couldn’t help but blush a little and laugh at the comment. You quipped something back - something about misery loving company, and Loki’s eyebrows raised. His expression gave little else away, though. It hardly ever did.

It wasn’t until many months after the party, after you and Loki had gotten to know each other better and started dating, that he whispered the truth to you: the idea that anyone would be gladder with him around than with him gone, was astonishing to him. He could hardly believe it.

But when it came to you? He believed you.

You had no reason to lie to him. No need to impress him, or earn his favor, or act cordially for fear of an Asgardian royal. You were safe at that party, and you were safe when you visited him at the Avengers compound - you had no reasonable ulterior motives. Nothing to hide.

And, likewise, he had no reason to actively hide things from you, now that you lived together and you knew about his past, about his parentage.

Or, you thought he had no reason to hide things from you…

So why was he leaving you at night?

The first night you truly noticed it was on a dark, cool night of spring.

You’d left the bedroom window open while you fell asleep, and upon waking up thought to yourself, still under a veil of sleepiness, that you should probably get up and close it. But as your eyes opened and adjusted to the dark, you noticed two things.

First, the window was closed, the curtains completely drawn.

Second, the place next to you, where Loki usually lie, was empty. Completely empty, the bed covers pushed toward you to help keep you warm. Still half-asleep, your hand smoothed over the sheets to his spot - cold. He’d been gone a while.

You squinted to see through the crack in your bedroom door, but couldn’t make out if the bathroom light was on. Maybe he’s in there.. You shrugged to yourself, flipping back over and nuzzling into your pillow. You’d meant to stay awake until he returned, just to be sure he was okay, but sleep quickly washed over you again.

When you woke up the next morning, you realized you definitely should’ve been able to see if the bathroom light was on, had it been on, so Loki couldn’t have been in there. He was never one for midnight snacking, as far as you could tell, so he probably wasn’t in the kitchen.

The more you thought about it, the more it bothered you. You tried to brush it aside - after all, Loki was a very private person, slow to trust or to show much emotion. He was vulnerable with few people... Maybe only one person - you. The trust between you had been hard-won, and you loved every new piece of himself he showed you.

He also enjoyed quiet time, often spent with books. Reading, writing notes, sometimes even napping in the safety of your apartment, his forgotten book on his chest as he lie draped across the couch, his lanky limbs hanging off the edges. You really needed a bigger couch.

Yes, you assured yourself. Loki just needed time alone every now and then. Everyone did, right?

You tried to ignore it, you truly did.

But later, it happened again.

You woke up to an empty bed, a dark room, and the door pulled to. This time you could swear you saw a light coming from the other room, so this time you figured he was in the bathroom and once again you succumbed to sleep.

~~~~

The morning after, you woke up to your regular routine: Get up, get dressed, make coffee for two, eat some sort of breakfast, and get to work. Work didn’t exactly have a set location - that close friendship with the Starks stemmed from having worked with Pepper for years, and now since you worked for Stark Industries, you enjoyed several perks.

Sometimes Pepper brought you in on-site, other times (more often than not, considering the fact you had an ex-villain alien god to worry about… and not everyone was convinced about the ex part) you simply received work on your secure Stark-tech computer and worked remotely. From home, from a cafe, even from the Avengers compound when you visited. (You had a room there, too - as did Loki. Courtesy of Tony.)

So as you sat with your laptop in front of you on your desk, the window cracked to let some air in, you started the day. Coffee in hand, a half-eaten croissant next to you.

Loki stood next to you, sipping his own coffee.

He liked to watch you work. Liked to distract you from work too - he wasn’t the god of mischief for nothing.

“Sleep well?” He broke the silence first.

You took another bite of breakfast. “Yeah. You sleep okay?”

He shifted his weight. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

His hand touched your shoulder, as if to reassure you. “Just fine. How long are you working today?” His fingers smoothed their way from your shoulder to your clavicle and back - slowly, rhythmically.

“I literally just got started,” you muttered a soft laugh, and he chuckled in turn.

“But I like spending time with you.”

“Well I like spending time with you, too. But work is important.”

“Would it be less important if I gave Stark something better to worry about than..” Loki leaned over, scrutinizing the screen, “Interview paperwork?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Loki, do not attack my boss, please.”

“I said nothing about attacking him.”

“Loki.”

“Yes, love?” He smiled down at you. You huffed - he had no right to be this charming, nor this cute - but that worry was still gnawing at you. Why had he left last night?

“Are you sure you slept okay?”

He paused a moment, then smiled - but it seemed forced. “Yes. I slept just fine - do you need to talk about something..?”

“You left.. In the middle of the night, I woke up and you were gone.”

He swallowed. “I hadn’t realized you were awake - forgive me.” His hand slid down your shoulder, to your arm - and then away. “It was just a bit of restlessness, darling, you mustn’t worry.” He kissed the top of your head, then straightening up, raised his coffee mug to his lips again. “I’ll leave you to that.. Riveting work of yours… Let me know if you ever need a welcome distraction.”

“You’re always welcome,” you smirked slightly. You weren’t convinced he was only restless but.. Maybe he was. Who knew? Loki was a mystery to many. You’d try to believe him, at least.

“Am I?” He grinned. “Then I’ll be sure to distract you often.” With a small wink, he turned and left.

~~~~

The next time you noticed it, it seemed later in the night. And this time, you heard something too. Crying. Talking - like a whisper, barely audible past the soft sobs.

The door was cracked again, but had swung a bit more open than the times before. That must be the source of the sound...

Resolved to figure out what was going on, you slid out of bed. Tried to stay quiet as you walked to the door and peered out.

There was faint light coming from the living room. A silhouette on the wall showed Loki’s position - in front of the balcony, the street lights casting his shadow. You inched down the hallway, stopping just before you reached the living room.

“...Mother, you would. I just know it. (Y/N) is endlessly beautiful, and intelligent, and… and kind…” Loki was sitting in the floor, his back to you. Dressed in the same clothes he usually wore to bed - loose pants and a comfortable green shirt. His long black hair was messy, and his body shook with sobs.

The door to the balcony was open, allowing a cool night breeze to drift in. An occasional car drove by, or plane flew overhead, but Loki was focused on the stars.

“Just like you. But I, I don’t.. I don’t deserve it. Any of it-” his voice cracked, “And I miss you.”

Your heart broke. You made your way across the living room, quietly, carefully.

“I miss you every day,” Loki continued, shaky hands brushing hair back from his face, then gripping it in agony. “I-I wish we could speak, we could.. See each other.. That you could see me - see us, but... You’re not here.”

“Loki?” you muttered, and he inhaled sharply, turning around.

Now you could clearly see the tears streaming down his face. His mouth was slightly open, but he closed it, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I- ... Darling, you shouldn’t be up at this hour,” He stood, blinking away his tears. “Go back to bed.”

You stood your ground, but tried to pick your words carefully. He looked so vulnerable, standing there in the dark, still trying to steady himself.

“No, something’s clearly wrong. Loki... How long has this been going on?”

“It doesn’t matter..”

“Yes it does.” You moved closer. He twitched - but let you approach, let you reach up to brush a tear off his cheek. More fell as he pressed his face against your palm, relishing the touch. His brows pressed together, he looked as though he could break at any time.

“Weeks,” he whispered.

“Oh, Loki..” You embraced him. He welcomed it, his arms wrapping around you, clutching you close to his shaking chest. He moved to lower himself and you followed, the both of you slowly sitting on the ground, you tucked against him, his body trembling with sobs.

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes. What had this long life done to him?

How many nights had he cried alone?

It was several minutes before either of you spoke again. Loki calmed, his nose finding a comfortable place nestled against your hair, and his breath eventually steadied. His grip loosened. The crying slowed.

“I-I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I left you,” He gulped. “This is the only way I can talk to her anymore.”

You pulled away to see his face. Tilted your head. “Her..?”

Loki’s eyes met yours. “Frigga. My mother. She..” He couldn’t bring himself to say the next word.

“I remember.” You nodded slowly.

He’d told you a while ago that his mother had died, after Thor had brought up their parents. But he never said how.

Loki clenched his jaw. “It… It was my fault, it was all my fault-” He settled into another bout of crying.

“Loki, love - that can’t be true. I-I don’t know everything about your life,” You cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. He sniffed, swallowing again. “I don’t. I wasn’t there for all of it. But I know you. And I know you would never, ever harm your mother.”

“But I did, I did- that monster, I told it how to escape - I told it how to reach her. And it did, and she-” He stopped himself, biting the inside of his cheek. His breath grew shaky again as he forced himself to speak. “There was a funeral. I wasn’t allowed to attend - Odin would never allow that. He barely wanted me alive in the first place,” he hissed, his face contorted with rage for a moment, before relaxing again. “I found out after. By then her body had returned to the stars..” Loki turned to the outside again.

Moonlight graced his skin, highlighting the tears still glistening on his cheeks. His eyes searched the heavens, as though begging for a sign - something real, something palpable, something to tell him she was out there.

“Loki, I’m.. I’m so sorry. But it’s not your fault. It’s not.” You spoke as gently yet firmly as you could. Giving a monster - whatever it was - directions (you figured it was to spite the Asgardians who imprisoned him) didn’t equate to murder. He hadn’t intended it to play out that way, after all. But you could understand the guilt behind it.. And you hated the fact he’d carried that burden alone.

He stayed quiet. Pulled you closer, his chin on your shoulder, his eyes still trained on the sky.

“I wish she could meet you.” he confessed, his head leaning against your own. His arms still firm around you, his hands finding yours - your fingers intertwined. “She’d love you.”

“I’d like to meet her, too. But maybe she can see us now.” You moved closer to him, your thumb stroking his hand. You felt Loki smile next to you - it was small, and fragile, but it was there.

“Perhaps she can,” he murmured.

“Maybe she can see how happy you are - you’re happy, aren’t you?” You glanced at him. He kissed your temple, staying cuddled up against you.

“Happier than ever. I.. Thank you, love. Thank you for finding me. I hadn’t the heart to, to ask you to join me… I’d hate to wake you.”

“Loki, you’re important to me. I love you, remember?” You turned, facing him fully, your back to the open door. “Can you promise me something?”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he seemed willing to listen, watching you intently.

“Promise me, if you’re lonely, wake me.”

Tears glistened in his eyes again. He nodded, slowly, and managed a soft smile.

“Yes, my love,” he murmured. “I promise.”

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #[screams into the void]#loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Photo

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here!

A/N: I apologize for all the profanity in this part ahead of time. I think I’m going to do M/W/Sat updates, as long as my writing permits, and then maybe Wed/Sat updates. I got the day off because it snowed so I thought I would post this since it’s ready haha

* Well you’re royally f*cked

* There’s a big stupid smile curled on your face, and every time you try to hide it, it just comes back wider

* You really shouldn’t be happy right now

* “What has you in such a good mood?” Edward’s got a matching smile of his own.

* Oh shit. It’s fine, you’ll just play dumb.

* “How do you know I’m happy?” How about the dumb grin you’ve got on your face you stupid b*tch.

* You would have smacked your own forehead if you weren’t aware Edward was watching your every move

* You’re lucky Edward’s nice and he doesn’t call you out on it

* “Whenever you’re happy it kind of radiates off of you,” his voice lowers “you know because of your powers”

* Ah, you didn’t know you did that

* “So what do you think about the new girl?” You blurt it out like it’s an intrusive thought

* F*ck. Just-okay just play it cool. Play it cool.

* F********ckkkkk what’s wrong with you.

* Is being happy making you act like a moron?

* He shrugs

* “Just another human, I kind of wish everyone would shut up about it though. Having to hear people talk about her and think about her is getting annoying. It’s like being in a tunnel with one too many echoes.”

* Ah, so he hasn’t noticed yet.

* “I wonder what she’s thinking about.”

* Edward just shrugs again.

* What the f*ck Edward take a hint!

* “Edward?”

* “Yes dear?” He has the nerve to grin after using that pet name. The criminal is teasing you. Some best friend.

* And still it makes you outrageously happy

* You have to force your smile into a straight line

* “What’s the new girl thinking?”

* He looks over to her, Tyler and Mike are fighting for her attention, both of them a moment away from tugging on each arm and shouting “mine!”

* You see him search, you’ve heard enough about his powers to know right now it’s like mall food court level of chatter for him, but in a few seconds he’ll focus on her and realize he can’t hear her thoughts.

* Knowing how prideful he is though, he’ll probably deny it.

* “I don’t know I can’t read her mind” he says bluntly. “Do you think the school music teacher would teach me how to play violin if I asked?”

* “What?!?”

* “I know it’s kind of inconsiderate to ask but-“ you click your tongue

* “No not that!” You gesture towards Bella “you can’t read her mind?!? Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”

* His eyebrows thread together

* “I can’t read your mind either”

* Yes but you’re from a completely different world, in a body that radiates despair (and apparently joy now). You’re basically like some type of eldritch being from another dimension.

* Edward doesn’t see it that though

* “Honestly it’s a relief, one less mind I have to tune out.” He walks ahead of you as you stay motionless in the middle of the hallway

* What the f*ck is happening?

* “Are you coming? We’re going to be late for Biology if you keep lagging behind like that.”

* How could you forget? The whole story starts because Edward is super into Bella’s blood! He fantasizes killing her for like- the entire class period.

* You were worried for nothing, just because they didn’t have the cafeteria moment isn’t that big of a deal

* The thought makes you both relieved and a little sad

* Still it’s for the best, this is the way things are supposed to be

* And who knows, if you have to leave maybe you can poach Rosalie and Emmett to leave with you

* And maybe Jasper, he won’t like having a human around the house all the time

* “Mr. Cullen, Ms. Eleazar” Mr. Banner hands you each a worksheet.

* Oh right the onion cell worksheet. Ah right the mitosis crap. Well hopefully Mike remembers enough that you both can hobble through

* “New year means new seating arrangement!” He tells you both excitedly. The seating arrangements on the projector.

* “Why am I next to Edward isn’t the seating arrangement supposed to be alphabetical?”

* “I decided to go by grade this time, you should be happy! Aren’t you two...friends?” You can tell your teacher is confused by the nature of your relationship, almost as much as you are.

* “Super happy Teach.” You mumble taking your seat next to Edward who’s grinning like an idiot

* “You can’t say he’s picking favorites when it’s merit based.” He grins and you roll your eyes

* Angela’s sitting next to Ben Cheney, they seem to be discussing the trigonometry homework, and how it’s basically impossible

* Oh right, he’s supposed to be her boyfriend this year.

* Personally you think Angela could do way better. But love is blind, you’ll ship it if you have to.

* And right on cue Mike walks in, Bella following close behind. He takes his seat on the table behind you while Bella talks to Mr. Barnes

* “Why didn’t you guys sit with us at lunch today?” Mike is practically leaned over the entire width of the table.

* Before you can say anything Edward snorts

* “Because (Y/N) was getting lectured for staying out all night again”

* Mike looks like his eyes might pop out of his head

* “W-what? Out all night?! Without inviting me!” You roll your eyes.

* “He’s making it more dramatic, I went out for a run early in the morning because I couldn’t sleep and everyone was freaking out because they thought I got kidnapped.”

* Like any vampire or human stood a chance against you and your violent mood swings

* Mike’s so caught up in lecturing you about how you need to be more careful

* “There’s a lot of weirdos out there!” Yeah you live with them

* That he doesn’t even notice Bella’s taken a seat next to him

* Now that you get a better look at her, she is kinda pretty. She’s the kind of person who probably always looks good in photographs, no matter what the angle. Nice cheekbones and big brown eyes. Modest on boobs and butt, but she’s skinny so it works for her.

* “Hey, you’re Bella right?” You give her your friendliest smile, and you don’t miss the light blush that blooms on her face.

* You’re not sure whether it’s from your beauty or because she’s just not used to so much attention. She just nods.

* “Have you already seen the three whole things there are to do in Town on a Friday night?”

* Bella actually laughs at that. She’s got dimples, and little wrinkles that show up at the corner of her eyes. It’s cute.

* “One of those things is going to the library, so really it’s only two things.”

* She giggles again.

* “Is the other one going over to your house to play monopoly?” Mike asks, a grin arching onto his face

* “No my house is out of town, the other thing is to go to the school football game”

* “I’m not really a big fan of football” Bella hesitantly says, and Mike and Edward laugh

* “Yeah no one here does, everyone goes for the half time show, or just to hang out.”

* You’re pretty sure your entire friend group only goes to the games to see your cheer routine, especially this year since you’re captain now. The first junior captain in a long time apparently. The news actually made the local newspaper.

* Everything is going good, and you’re starting to think maybe you and Bella might be friends.

* “Why don’t we have a board game night at our house again? Last time was-“

* You stop sentence, you were having so much fun you almost forgot why Edward was so obsessed with Bella.

* The slight breeze from the air conditioning brings her scent to you.

* You cover your mouth and nose with your hand

* Her scent is REVOLTING

* “(Y/N), are you okay?” Mike asks

* You vaguely feel Edward’s hand on your shoulder, has he not caught her scent yet?

* It’s pretty hard to miss

* Like gym socks, with a overly sweet base, it’s like-

* Your head snaps up, and your hand clamps over your mouth and nose even harder, but not because the scent is revolting

* She smells like cheese, perfectly aged Gorgonzola cheese, or maybe Brie?

* You smell the sweeter undercurrent stronger now, it’s like warm juicy peaches

* Roasted peach salad tossed with Gorgonzola and olive oil

* How many times have you dreamed about eating that while basking in the warm sunlight

* “I knew you shouldn’t have eaten those leftovers at lunch,” Edward says, but you know it’s performative, thank god he’s still got some sense after smelling her.

* “Mr.Banner, I think (Y/N) ate something bad, is it alright if I help them to the nurses office?”

* “Yes and hurry!” He’s practically shooing you out as Edward pulls you by the arm

* Nooooo, you wanna smell her moreeee

* You have the sense to not wine and keep your mouth covered.

* Edward doesn’t take you to the nurse, you both don’t stop walking until you’re at the parking lot

* “What the hell was that?” He asks, it’s the first time he’s seemed even remotely angry with you

* He seems more confused then angry though, you’re so shocked you actually sit down on the curb.

* And after a moment of hesitance Edward sits beside you, placing his hand over your own

* “She smells good Edward, like really good.”

* Edward laughs

* “Yeah I gathered that” he shakes his head. “I thought you were supposed to be a picky eater”

* “I aaaaamm” you moan, your head is cradled in your left hand. “She’s like one in a million”

* “You’re one in a million” you lift your head to see Edward looking at you with that stupid sh*t eating grin.

* “Really Edward my life is falling apart because I want to eat someone, and you think the appropriate response is to flirt?”

* To be fair, he’s always flirting, it’s basically apart of his personality at this point

* “You’re being melodramatic.” He chuckles and throws an arm over your shoulder. “Worst case scenario you kill her, Carlisle doles out his funeral punishment-don’t ask, and then we have to start over as freshman again somewhere else.”

* You groan, you finally worked your way up to a junior, you were just starting to get used to this crappy town, you don’t wanna start all over again in a new one

* “What’s the best case scenario?”

* Edward thinks hard for a minute.

* “Best case scenario...the music teacher agrees to teach me how to play the violin and I impress you with my magnificent playing.” You smack him on the arm.

* “Not the best case scenario for you!” You know he’s doing it on purpose. He just wants to make you laugh

* It works, you do laugh. How much more absurd could this situation get?

* “Everything’s going to be fine, if Jasper can handle having to smell 300 students he thinks smell good, you can handle 1.”

* He’s got a point

* “Wait-didn’t she smell good to you?” Wasn’t that like, the whole d*mn point?

* His eyebrows thread together and he shrugs

* “Um, she smelled alright, no better or worse than the others. I’m not sure what you smelled-“

* What you smelled? The rich but refreshing flavor profile is sublime

* The f*cking heathen doesn’t even know what he’s missing

* “But to me she smelled like peaches”

* Well he kinda knows what he’s missing

* “She’s definitely anemic though, there’s a sever lack of iron in her scent” ah that must be that cheesy smell you’re getting

* Well ain’t this ironic. The girl who’s going to steal your best friend is only getting noticed because of you.

* “I don’t know, personally I prefer Henrietta the 3rds blood, but that’s just me” he’s lying, your blood is good and all, but it’s definitely still not on par with a humans blood

* He’s just trying to make you feel better.

* He rubs your shoulder, before patting it and moving to stand up.

* “Now come on, we have to make you eat some human food so you can throw up in front of the nurse and she lets us leave school early”

* You roll your eyes, anything to leave school early huh?

* “Yeah all right, lead the way Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding”

* “Why do you always say that? I don’t brood that much anymore!”

* “You know how some people have resting b*tch face? You have resting brood face.”

* “Says the person who literally radiates despair” you shove him as you both walk towards the vending machine

* You take a deep breath as you watch Edward fumble with the vending machine

* The dork literally sticks a credit card up to the glass and demands the machine give him chips.

* (Y/N/N) why isn’t this working? Am I supposed to insert my card through this slot?”

* You laugh. You’re pretty sure he’s not doing this on purpose.

* “You’re supposed to use cash Edward.”

* You watch as he fumbles with his wallet muttering:

* “Do you think it’ll take a twenty dollar bill?”

* You watch in amusement as Edward tries - and fails- to use a twenty dollar bill, and then proceed to use obscure profanities to curse “this vile wretch of human technological advancement”

* You feel a sigh of relief escape you.

* Yeah, everything is going to be fine.

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #emmett cullen x rosalie hale #carlisle cullen #jessica stanley #angela weber #jessica stanley x reader #bella swan #bella swan x reader #superhero--imagines

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

Must be this tall to Hunt| Boba Fett (tcw age so like 13/14)

Couldnt find a good teen boba gif, so heres bosk instead

Warnings: fake blame,

Reader: female

"You are expelled from the order-"

"What!?" Y/n shouted looking up at the council, "I did nothing! Master Plo! Reason with them!"

"I am sorry little one, I-"

Y/n was heart broken, looking up at the surrounding Jedi, this couldn't be true.

"Master Obi-Wan!" Y/n pleaded.

"Your attachments grow," Windu spoke, "and with them your anger."

"My anger?! My anger?!" Y/n shouted at him.

"Little one please." Plo pleaded, "I have brought a witness."

"You!?" Y/n argued, "Master I demand an answer! Why! Why would you- You out of all People!-"

She watched Anakin walk in guilt ridden on his face, "You!? Anakin! You!?"

He kept quiet as Fives walked in, her world stopping.

"Y-Your lieing!" She shouted, "Fives?! Not you! I trust you and you do this!?"

"Arc Trooper Fives." Windu spoke, " what have you seen Padawan Y/n do?"

Fives looked at her, "I. Saw Genral Y/n with a clone trooper,"

"Im with troopers everyday!" Y/n defended.

"What was Padawan Y/n doing with this clone trooper."

"...intercourse sir." Fives responded.

"Thats Obsurded Fives! And you know it!" Y/n argued, "You're my brothers- Why in gods name would I fuck any of you!"

"Y/n! That is enough!" Plo argued.

"You believe this crap!? You're suppose to have MY back!" Y/n demanded, "I'd have your back no matter what! And you turn on me!"

"Are there any other witnesses?" Fisto spoke.

"Yes." Windu spoke, "bring them in."

Y/n watched, her brothers, the wolf pack, Commandos and even some from the Corosaunt Gaurd walk in, and they strung there string of lies and they strung them high and low, entagled the lies beyond untanglement.

"Padawan L/n is to be expelled from the Order and that is our final verdict."

The platform she was on went downward, the clone troopers who had made there testimonies were gathered at the bottom, a path for her to go through.

"Y/n-" Wolfee spoke reaching out a hand.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She shouted in anger pushing past the clones.

"It had to be done." Commander Thron spoke quietly.

The others nodded.

"Damn it!" Fives shouted running out the room and rushing down the halls, after the light echoing of Y/n's angered footsteps.

She pushed the doors open and just walking out them she stopped, hearing Five's steps behind her.

"General. It had to be done-"

"What!? The lies! The string of lies you built! Why!? Why would you do this to me?!" Y/n argued looking back at the clone.

"We wanted to protect you-"

"Bullshit Fives! Bullshit! I love all of you! All of you!" Y/n shouted, screaming so loud it was sure to be heard all the way down to the lower level.

"Y/n listen!-' he grabbed her shoulders trying to plead with her but she pushed him away ingiting one side of her double sided saber as Fives quickly backed up.

"Touch me again and I'll kill you." She spoke.

"I don't even deserve death. I know- I-" Fives tried to explained, "We wanted to protect you-"

"Then you should of had my back!"

The bright blade turned off and she turned around leaving without a second thought.

"Hey! Wake up!" Boba argued.

Y/n turned her self around as she opened her eyes, "what do you want Fett."

"Rations idiot." He spoke as Y/n sat up, the girl only a year older than Bobba.

She was thrown a rations bar by the boy as they were in a hotel room, she had been sleeping on the couch.

"How much longer we waitin?" She asked taking a crunch out of the bar.

"An hour, I told you that the how much longer last time you woke up." He argued looking through the window.

Y/n kept quiet as she ate her food, it bland and bleak in both tast and color.

Bobba took an arm chair by the window as he ate his own rations. It was silent for a long mintue.

"Did. You have that nightmare again?" He asked.

Y/n looked over at him, "when do I not?"

Boba ate a peice of his own ration bar, he never knew what the nightmare was about, but knew it was the same one, on repeat.

He had the same.

"You, uh. Wanna talk about it?"

She looked his way, then looked away quickly, only able to see the faces of her brothers.

"No." She replied coldy tossing the barely eaten ration bar on the table, her appetite gone, "I'm gonna go scope the roof, don't wait up for me."

She walked towards the door, grabbing the sniper on the way out.

"I'll come with you. Incase someone tries to get you from behind."

"I don't need someone to have my back." Y/n argued.

"Well then Im coming because I want to!"

He pushed past Y/n as she scoffed, following him close behind as they walked towards the steps, somewhere along the way Y/n hacked into a vending Machine, Boba going up the stairs himself, stealing whatever she pleased putting it in her sling bag, enough for her only.

"Sharing is what?" Y/n questioned Woflee

"An opportunity for someoen to get there arm chopped off, it's my food." Wolfee told her.

Y/n sighed, how she hated her own little life lessons to her brothers, and stole more food, enough for both Boba and her, and a little extra.

Walking up the rest of the steps she made it to the door she kicked open with the bottom of her foot.

"Could you try and be quiet?" He seethed.

"I mean. I could. But no." Y/n responded walking towards the edge where Boba sat on a near by utiliy unit.

She sat down setting her back infront of her as she laid herself on her side her back to Boba the lights of the bright city below barely reaching the top of the tall hotel they sat on.

"You want one?"

Boba looked over seeing Y/n holding up a soda.

"Where did you get that?"

"Stole it."

Rolling his eyes he walked over to her snatching the bottle and sitting himself by her head.

"Hey hey. Fives calm your tits." Y/n laughed.

Boba stayed silent as he looked at her, she too busy looking out and onward, but feeling the stare she looked besides her.

"Oh." Y/n realized, "My bad Fett."

Boba stayed silent, as Y/n took a drink of her own soda, he had realized she had become more sympathetic with her apology.

"You wanna talk about it now?" Boba questioned.

Y/n sighed, answering in silence for a mintue, "My only family betrayed me. Strung a String of lies to supposedly keep me safe. I think about it all the time. We use to find these abaonded places and sit up on the roofs like this, we'd sing, start a bonfire, get drunk."

"Your as old as me." Fett argued.

Y/n shrugged, "war does that, you only live once Fett."

"Then why are you still worrying about it?" Boba defended.

"Why do you still worry about the things you worry about?" Y/n questioned, "but I was kicked out of my group, my name stripped of me, and instead of having my back, they had me cast out. Happy Now?"

It was silent again, the hearing of honking and swearving down below could be heard.

"I lost my dad to the Jedi."

Y/n stopped mid way lifting her drink to her lips but then contuined to drink then pull away.

"They tend to do that..." Y/n responded, "they expect you to follow every rule every word, there no better than the sith."

"You know alot of jedi and sith."

Y/n looked at him once, "It was when you father died did I stop really believing in the Jedi-"

"You knew my father?! You're a jedi-"

"Shut your trap and listen before you get rowdy you damn idiot!' Y/n argued Boba gritting his teeth, "I met Jango Fett when I went on a small assignment, my first one, with Master Shakk Ti- it was basically playing paper boy. I remember delivering work to your father...alot of people were mean to me, he. He never was, always said thank you, always asked me if I had eaten. He even watched me leave on the ship back to Master Plo Koon. So when I went througy reports and found him dead I was in shock, later to find out a Jedi did it. I started to loose faith. Why kill a man lookin out for him and his child, sure capture him- but taking family...I know how that feels and no one should go through it."

Y/n took a drink finishing her bottle and tossing it over edge, "so. I fought. And I fought and I fought. If i couldnt save Jango, I'd save what was left of him- the clones- my brothers. They share the same face but are diffrent than any could imagine. I spoke, I wrote, I pleaded, I trainned. It never was enough, and it was my 'emotion' that got the better of me. Pssh. Yeah right the Jedi can piss off because if they want to see emotion? I'll give it to them."

Boba listened, he had nevee seen Y/n before hand, maybe he had and just didnt remember, he never knew someone could share his pain. Neverless with the same person.

"Windu will pay." Boba seethed, "and your a jedi! You can help me."

"I will go head to head to him, I don't plant bombs." Y/n defended.

"We can take him! Two on one!" Boba tried to persuade, "you know his fighting style! I know guns! You know sabers! We take his head and anyone else that stands in our way!"

Y/n looked at him dully.

"Come on! How many bounty hunters have you single handedly taken on! And killed! How many sith have you injured! Jedi that chase after us! Without your laser swords! We can kill him! Together!" Boba explained standing up, Y/n move to sit up, "We're the left behind! We are the strongest! Because we were left behind! We round up a few others! Bane! Sing! Bosk! And there's always someone paying for a Jedi's head!"

Y/n stood up grabbing hee sniper rifle as she did and looked at her watch.

"It can be a sniper shot! A saber battle! Whatever you want! As long as he die and Im involed I don't care how!" Bobba argued.

Y/n looked down below aiming her sniper adjusting the scope.

"My father would do the same for you-"

He was cut off by a bullet shot and soon the sounds of crying folks who see a man just drop dead on the street, the target they had been waiting for dead. She pulled away from her weapon slowly, turning her head towards him.

"I'll do it.-" Y/n agreed

"No." Boba spoke, "We'll do it. Together. For everything the jedi took from us!"

Y/n looked at the outreached hand as she took it.

"Together."

"As One Unit."

"As One Unit." Y/n responded, "well one and a half"

"Im not that short." Boba argued.

"Shorter than me." Y/n chuckled.

#star wars #star wars boba fett #young boba fett #tcw boba #boba fett #boba fett x female reader #x reader #starwars x reader

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whiningsanddribbles · 2 years

Text

EVIDENCE-BASED & TRAUMA-INFORMED

Dec 5th 2012

The plane lands. It is snowing. I’ve never seen snow before. The flight from CA to Utah is a brief 55 minutes. In that time I'd managed to get to know the blonde woman to some degree. She was 24, and had been doing this transporting thing for almost a year. She kept telling me she had never been to Alpine Academy but had heard of how beautiful it was. She said it was the best the industry had to offer. This was supposed to make me feel better but I was still in active rage thinking of how little my mother had to say as I was getting pulled out of my home in the middle of the night. While the woman went on about how beautiful the campus was supposed to be I had intrusive thoughts of running away the second we got off the plane, running and screaming to someone , anyone, and declaring that I had been kidnapped; please arrest this criminal, and bring me back home to my mother who hates me. Another thought enters of getting to the facility, promptly excusing myself to tinkle between pleasant introductions and hanging myself with the belt I was wearing off of the bathroom door knob. I thought of how my mother would react to that, if she would regret sending me away, if she'd cry. But alas, I had built rapport with the transporter and so that meant I wanted her to like me, and I could not accuse her of kidnapping me to a stranger, and to the second; I didn't actually want to die.

In a haze, somehow we'd gotten to the campus. It was tucked into the smallest roads in rural Utah, for miles and miles all you could see was white. The world looked as if someone had laid down a thick, fuzzy white blanket. I scoffed but really, I had never seen anything so beautiful but I would not allow myself to find any of this good. The transporter gave me a hug once we had gotten to a little house at the front of campus. Looked normal enough.

She told me I'd be okay. The hug was jarring, as I wasn't touched often, or ever. I remember wanting her to squeeze me tighter, and holding on for slightly too long, which made her squeeze hard one last time in a genuinely melancholy attempt at an apology for having to let go. I needed someone to put their arms around me and not let go, keep all my pieces together so I could not collapse into a heap of paper mache on the ground.

I'm introduced to a woman who works there who calls herself an associate, named suzie. She's a great big woman who is wildly caucasian. Up until this point let me add, the only white people I'd ever been around were my own immediate family. And even they were used to being the only white people they really knew either. Maybe my mother had some other white girlfriends but i hardly knew them. My friend groups at home and the school district I was in very much comprised of minority groups, from students to teachers. I had never seen so many red faces before utah. She takes me into a room and does an inventory on the things my mother had packed for me. I'm only allowed to keep some of it. 4 shirts, 2 pairs of pants, 8 socks, 2 pairs of shoes. At this point I'm still too much in shock to put up a fight, and to add to it; I can barely see through the tears that have been constantly and consistently free flowing through my face for at least 5 hours now, without breaks.

She marks off things from a paper checklist. I am quiet as I slide the phone I snuck into the facility under a couch, and make a mental note to come back for it. She keeps unpacking my things and I ask her when I get to speak to my parents. Two weeks. I can not contact them for two weeks. Part of the acclimation process, she says. I go through the backpack my mother had packed me while Suzie goes through the suitcase. You would've guessed my mom was a stay at home martha stewart with all the baked goods she packed me. She knew i wouldn't eat these, i hadn't eaten anything but saltines for 3 weeks, who was she performing for?

I plead and cry to call home. The answer is no. Another woman comes into the room, an associate named ashlyn. She is very, very pregnant. She can't be older than 22, and she's stunningly beautiful with long blonde hair and perfect big lips around her perfect teeth. She is sweet to me but tells me sternly that crying will not help the situation, and that I just need to submit- I mean integrate. I sob for another two hours alone in a room called the “pretty room”. 3 great big couches along a coffee table with a phone, and large photos of the founders of the facility, and the founder of this particular home, lila bjorkland and gene smith respectively. The house I'm in is called Gene smith. That's our little section. There are 9 other girls making us a perfect home of ten troubled girls. This is how each house on the alpine is.

Alpine Academy is a school and residential treatment center -for profit organization put on by the Utah Youth Village, run by the founder's son; Eric bjorkland. They are mormon. The whole staff is mormon. Every adult I would come into contact with for weeks was mormon, who was in charge of the facility. And they were all related in a gross act of nepotism. Here's the breakdown of the Alpine academy system, as per their website:

Alpine Academy was created in 2001 as a program of Utah Youth Village, a nonprofit organization founded in 1969. Both our Lakeview Campus for males and our Mountain View Campus for females are licensed as residential treatment facilities in the state of Utah. Each is certified as a non-public school.

Treatment takes place in a family-style environment, which provides a nurturing, individualized, and strength-based treatment environment.

In addition to an intensive therapeutic environment, we provide comprehensive academic services that are designed to help improve your child’s academic self-esteem and to get them back on-track to be successful at home, or in college.

Alpine Academy is a nationally certified Teaching-Family Model treatment program. Through its strength-based, trauma-informed, individualized approach, students are taught healthy behaviors in a setting that replicates family, school, and community life.

Another click and you get their explanation of the teaching family model:

The Teaching-Family Model

The Teaching-Family Model (TFM) is a philosophy and practice of care and treatment that prioritizes therapeutic relationships with caregivers as the primary conduit of effective treatment in supportive family-style settings.

Family-style relationships are seen as essential to healthy development of social, relational, and interpersonal skills. The TFM is a strength-based, comprehensive, and trauma-informed model of care that builds positive change while remaining focused on the holistic development of the person served.

The Model is rooted in cognitive behavioral theory and can be used with children, youth, and adults with a range of diagnoses and symptoms, as well as with those who have experienced significant trauma, maltreatment and loss.

The Teaching-Family Model is an evidence-based approach which is fully integrated at both the individual and the organizational level. It provides effective individualized and trauma-informed treatment services to children, youth, adults, and families.

Through peer-reviewed research and clinical practice, the Teaching-Family Model is recognized to be cost-effective, replicable, and highly effective for all participants.

TFM & TFA

FFPSA: FEDERALLY APPROVED ACCREDITOR

TRAUMA-INFORMED TREATMENT MODEL

RESEARCH & IMPLEMENTATION SCIENCE

ACCREDITED AGENCIES AND CERTIFIED STAFF

ENSURES PERSONS AND FAMILIES SERVED HAVE VOICES AND CHOICES

MOVES THEORY INTO PRACTICE

EMPOWERS MILLIONS OF INDIVIDUALS AND FAMILIES

Tall over their website they keep telling you it's evidence based, yet anywhere you click; somehow semmes to be a lack thereof. Maybe if you type it out enough it will be true. What the “teaching family model REALLY IS, is a made up concept. In fact when you google it, you can find no evidence that it works better than any other treatment model, what you CAN find is how substantially more cost effective it is when you're running a for-profit business.

The TRADEMARKED FTM (family teaching model) was developed by a student of Kansas University in the 1960s named Gary Timbers and researched by Montrose wolf, who was the inventor of time-out as a learning tool to shape behavior. You Have Montrose himself to thank for the way all of the boomers were parented by their parents. We know how well that all went, and how loved that generation was.

Basically what it is, is a play. Yes, a theatrical play. It's a makeshift version of a nuclear family. A father, a mother, and associates.

Seems easy enough to understand. Here's how it worked at Alpine Academy:

The moment I arrived I was given something called a skill card. Each day you had the chance to “make your privileges' '. Privileges were being able to talk to your friends, have a sweet snack, and wear makeup at the lowest level called daily. And, daily, you had the opportunity. After you'd gained trust at that level for the amount of time the staff decided, they'd move you up to the next level called weekly. These were the two main levels. At weekly you had the opportunity to earn privileges on a weekly basis, which meant more could go wrong. Because when you didnt make your privileges, you had to sit at a wooden table, speak to nobody, were starved of food, without access to any tools of self expression like makeup, couldn't listen to music, couldn't read personal books, and had to write essays on your behavior and what went wrong. For a day, this seems medieval but it seems doable, but at a weekly level it meant for a whole week this is what you had to be okay with.

Everyone had the chance to make their privileges by a series of points on your skill card. Each good behavior would earn you 1000 positive points, each negative would earn you negative points. The problem was this isn't an exact science and it was to the discretion of staff. This meant that if you didn't make 10,000 positive points a day, by the end of the day; no privileges. To the table, you go. And you'd have a list of skills you'd be working on at the top of the card. A list of arbitrary skills like “saying ok” “accepting feedback'', “following instructions”. There were over 200 to choose from but you could only have up to 4 at a time. Then finally there was the last level, “achievement” this meant no more points. This meant at the end of the day you had to write down why you thought you deserve your privileges with your words, and the staff had to tell you why you didn't. Achievement was the last phase until transitioning home.

The standard time that each person would move up a level varied. It took me 8 months to move from daily to weekly because I wouldn't say ok when an adult gave me feedback I didn't agree with. I would not indoctrinate smoothly. This became a problem. But let's go back to that first week.

I wouldn't meet my house parents until days later, on account of me arriving on their holiday week off. My stomach lurched, and i realized i hadn't eaten or drank anything for almost an entire 48 hour period and basically lost every ounce of water in my body through my tear ducts. The associate heard my stomach from 5 feet away and realized i had to be hungry, and escorted me to the dining table for breakfast. As I sit down I'm watching 9 girls stare at me and trying to avoid eye contact with them all. I eat my oatmeal trying not to feel their eyes on me.

In the weeks following I'd learn all of these girls names, reasons for being here and familial quirks. Some of them would become my best friends, lovers. One of them, my first love.

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