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titularkilljoy · 3 years

Text

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #okay but ive been doing some thinking and i can formally declare that i think their song is call it what you want (by taylor swift)#it fits tbh

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Rayaari headcanon - travel through the emotions with tears

(inspired by this lovely anon)

Tears of sorrow and pain

Raya is so young when she loses her mother, that the concept of death is difficult for her to understand. The reality doesn't strike her until bedtime, when she slowly begins to realize that Ma will never again be there to sing her a lullaby, or hug her fear of the monsters away. Benja is unable to stop the tears for hours, as Raya screams and cries and hits her small fists on the bed. Finally, she upsets herself so much she throws up, and her crying trails off to quiet whimpers instead. For months afterwards, Benja and Raya both dread bedtime, for this is when sorrow hits the hardest for her.

Namaari is nine when her Ba dies. Death is not an unknown concept for her, unfortunately. She has already begun to see its cold grasp ensnaring Fang citizens as famine begins to sweep the lands. But nothing can prepare her for the news the young soldier delivers of her Ba's accident, nor the expression on Ma's face when they both realize he won't be coming home. She doesn't cry for the first week after his death, and people whisper about how stoic and brave she's being. In reality, she is too shocked and numb to demonstrate any further emotions, until one night she awakens to find Ma has crawled into bed next to her, hugging her close in her sleep. Hot tears fall down her cheek, and she burrows into her mother's embrace as she cries silently.

After the Druun return, after she loses her Ba, Raya finds herself scared and all alone in the world, besides faithful Tuk Tuk. During the day, she wraps herself in false bravado, learning how to be a confident young woman instead of an easy mark for people with questionable motives. She employs a 'fake it until she makes it' approach to life, and it carries her through well enough...except at night. At night, she can't help but remember both her parents, and in the darkness she softly sings her mother's lullaby to soothe herself as the tears fall.

When the magnitude of what she has done by trying to take the Dragon Gem hits Namaari, she is horrified with herself. She cries quietly at night for weeks on end, reluctant to talk to anyone about her guilt. And then one day, she wakes up and decides she has no right to cry over it – she should step up and be responsible for her own actions instead, and be the best leader she can be. For several years after that moment, she refuses to let herself cry. Then one scouting mission, she loses her first soldier to the Druun, watching him turn to stone over her shoulder as they flee. She manages to hold it together as she tells his family how brave he had been; then, she goes to the kitchen, stealing as much rice wine as she can carry. She hides with her serlots, drunkenly crying into their soft fur until she can barely breathe. After that, she allows herself to cry sometimes, but only ever when alone.

The first time Raya visits Talon, she is fourteen and half-starving. The market place is loud and confusing, but it’s also full of food and wonderful scents. Unfortunately, she has no jade pieces and the soldiers patrolling the stalls do not seem like people with whom she should risk get into trouble. She almost walks away instead of trying to buy anything, but her stomach cramps just at that moment, and she almost gasps in pain. It breaks her heart, but she slowly hands over a ring of gold in order to buy some food – the only thing she has with her that belonged to her mother. ‘You know, that vendor scammed you,’ a young boy tells her with a snort, as she walks away. ‘You should have gotten far more product for the worth of the ring.’ The food tastes like ashes in her mouth after that, and hot tears slip down her cheeks as she tries to choke down the rest of her dinner.

Namaari’s scouting party is ambushed, not by the Druun, but by angry citizens from Spine. She loses good people that day, watching in horror as they are overwhelmed by Spine’s army, still acting as good soldiers trying to protect their Princess until the end. The last warrior screams at her to run, and even though it is against her instincts, she turns and flees into the forest, not even stopping when a sharp pain pierces her side - an arrow hitting its mark. She collapses some distance later, crying in pain and fear. For the first time, she fears she will die alone, bleeding out amongst the trees. Then she remembers her mother, remembers her duties and the promises she made to herself, and staggers upright. Her serlot finds her as she slowly makes her way forwards, and when she finally manges to crawl onto her back, they take off towards Fang.

‘You’re a traitor to your people,’ someone snaps at Raya, as she tries to mediate between two disagreeing Heart citizens. ‘You try to tell us what to do, but you’re a Princess who doesn’t even know half of her own culture. Too busy cavorting with binturis from Fang and other lands to bother with your own.’ She can feel the tears coming on as the words cut deep into all the fears she has about herself – how she isn’t a good leader, how she lost so many years where she should have learnt about Heart and her role as Princess. A hand lands on her shoulder squeezing gently, yet the voice behind its owner is cutting. ‘Gentlemen, I suggest you leave now before you make me do something I regret,’ Namaari says, and when the men depart angrily, silence falls. Namaari doesn’t say anything at first, drawing Raya into an embrace instead. ‘You’re a better leader than they could hope to be,’ she whispers into Raya’s hair, kissing her head gently. Raya clings to her tightly, arms wrapped around her waist.

‘You’re not welcome here, binturi,’ comes the accusation thrown into her face, and Namaari flinches, much to her own disgust. The celebratory gathering is supposed to be for all the lands to come together, but she can understand Fang not being so warmly welcomed. She is trying though, trying to atone for her mistakes, and after a long day of talking herself into having the confidence to attend, she is now just feeling overwhelmed with their cutting remarks. She simply nods and tries to walk away while hiding her face, but Raya is already pushing past her, getting into the personal space of the other women with a snarl. ‘She’s more welcome here than you currently,’ she growls. Then she spins around, holds out an arm gallantly to Namaari with a smile, and says ‘shall we?’ with a wink. Namaari links their arms, and they walk away with their heads held high.

Tears of laughter and joy

There is something charming and fun in watching Sisu learn more about people and their odd behaviours. Namaari is still slightly in awe of dragons in general, but she finds it easier the more she spends time with Sisu and watches her do ridiculous things. Sisu often brings Tong, Boun and even Noi along to visit Raya, and Namaari loves this time especially, because Raya will go and join in on the fun, laughing at her friends’ antics until tears stream down her face. Namaari sits and watches them with a smile, until Raya runs over and grabs her by the hand, dragging her over to the group.

Raya likes to think she is excellently athletic and nimble on her feet, and to a certain extent this is true. Unfortunately, she has a rather clumsy side to her also, and she spectacularly demonstrates this in front of Namaari by mistake. She is trying to demonstrate how smooth her mounts and dismounts from Tuk Tuk’s saddle are, and even goes so far as to try and show off by standing up on his back. And yet, she slips sideways instead, arms windmilling in the air before she drops onto the floor. ‘Are you alright?’ Namaari calls, and as soon as Raya answers in the affirmative, she can hear a cackle of laughter. Namaari is laughing so hard that there are tears shining in her eyes, and Raya can’t feel too embarrassed by her tumble when it brings Namaari such joy.

At the end of a very long day of Council meetings, Raya wants nothing more than to escape the political grandstanding and disappear into the night instead of staying for dinner. She manages to grab some food from the kitchen before it is even brought out for the guests, and then steals Namaari herself as company. They sit under the stars, enjoying their picnic and complaining about the day. Namaari does a wonderful impersonation of the most annoying Councilor in the meeting, and Raya startles into loud laughter at how realistic it is. Soon they are lying next to each other, giggling loudly until they are both crying from laughter.

Namaari kisses Raya for the first time during a sparring session. They are fighting in a casual manner for once, not trying to be highly competitive as usual, but preferring to shoot as many teasing remarks towards the other as punches, enjoying the moment. Raya manages to pin Namaari down on the ground, leaning forwards slightly to highlight her triumphant and teasing expression, and instead sees Namaari staring up at her with a soft smile. Namaari brings both hands up to slide her fingers through Raya’s hair, drawing her down until their lips are touching softly. Raya feels tears welling up behind her eyes at she feels the love emanating from Namaari.

Raya proposes after two years of dating and several days of angsting over whether she has the correct words to say or the correct proposal gifts. But when it comes to the moment, she forgets everything, and just blurts out ‘I love you. Marry me?’ Namaari stares at her in shock for a moment, before stepping forward to kiss Raya. ‘Yes, yes of course,’ she says, her voice shaking from her emotions. Raya cups her cheeks in both hands, gently wiping away her tears before they kiss again.

When they marry, neither of them can get through their vows without some tears of happiness. No-one judges them for it though – most of their family and friends are crying also.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raya x namaari #one for sorrow #two for joy #tears headcanons #been a whiiiiile #work work work makes no time for headcanons writing #but hopefully i will have time now for moooore #enjoy this offering in the meantime

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fayeimara · 3 years

Text

Sakusa Kiyoomi || Quiet Corners of Our World

SUMMARY. A busy Sunday becomes something else entirely when your typically routine-loving boyfriend has some unexpected surprises in store.

PAIRING. You x Sakusa Kiyoomi

GENRE. Fluff <3

WARNINGS. Suggestive

Reader Request Part Two | This is a continuation of the story in Small Moments.

It's a small kiss behind your ear that wakes you up, along with a whispered, "Good morning, love." You turn towards the deep baritone, seeking its owner even though you've barely roused. Sliding one hand forward to squeeze in between the cool pillow and cooler sheets, enhanced by the press of Sakusa's head still lying atop it, your other hand finds his cheek even before you've opened your eyes. When you do briefly flicker them open, it's to meet his amused gaze for just a moment before the bright rays streaming in from your windows compel your lids to flutter shut again. There's an enticing aroma in the air and it's not just your boyfriend's aftershave.

Tilting your head up in a silent plea for his soft lips to meet yours, you hear a low chuckle instead before you feel something light brush the tip of your nose back and forth. A butterfly kiss. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth but quickly turns into a pout when he his teasing tone breaks the silence again.

"I'd like a proper kiss, love, wouldn't you?"

You nod with an assenting hum and it seems he'd anticipated your non-verbal answer because he's already continuing. "Then you'll come brush your teeth, won't you? I have a surprise for my little butterfly."

The words are still soft with temptation and your eyes peek open again, this one longer than your first attempt. This time, when you meet Kiyo's deep gaze, it anchors you to him as you fight off the last hazy remnants of your sleep. If only you didn't feel like you could lay there falling into the dark, mesmerizing pools of his eyes instead.

You're tempted to close your eyes again just to regain your equilibrium but it would be quite futile. That, and you're realizing it's Sunday, which means both you and Sakusa have your respective engagements for the day. Your mind wanders back to the previous day, an improvised but perfect lazy date indoors, which already seems so far from reach.

What if the two of you canceled your plans to pursue a whole, lazy weekend? Would the world stop turning? You smirk, tempted to be a little bad and see if you can convince Kiyo to join your sudden scheme.

"What's that little smile about, sweetheart?" You startle, realizing your thoughts have wandered while he continued to study you, holding your unfocused gaze. He has his own little smirk on his face, as though he's actually able to peer right through your eyes and view your most intimate daydreams.

A blush works its way onto your cheeks, you can feel the warmth even if you can't see it but you're definitely aware of his eyes tracking every miniscule change with that beguiling smile still curving his lips. You pretend to stretch out in order to hide your clearly telling expression, hoping to compose yourself again quickly. With your arms hovering over your face you miss his movement, only feeling the slightest shift before his fingers caress the now exposed skin at your stomach and waist.

"Kiyo!" You're jackknifing so fast in order to jump out of the bed as you reach for his wrist to pull his arm away but he's not done with flustering you when you're in your sleepy state because his other arm catches you mid lunge and you're drawn back against his hard body before you can even register that you're trapped.

Kiyoomi's long legs stretch out alongside yours, shepherding them with light pressure so that he can form a cage around you, finally complete when the hand with the wandering fingers enters your line of sight before dropping to your shoulder. Arms criss-crossed around you, one across your waist and the other crossing that space just below your collarbone, he finally leans in with a brush of his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, "Didn't you want to stay in bed longer? Isn't that what you were just thinking... How you might convince me to stay?"

Even as your stomach flips at his seductive tenor, your face burns as you're caught at your own game before you could even begin to truly consider it. What a dangerously perceptive man you've chosen to call your own. And how like him to torment you when you're caught unaware. He had better be prepared for some payback. Much later.

"Ah..no."

"No?"

"No." You shrug as much as you can in his hold, thankful you're at least facing away as you boldly lie, "I was... thinking about you brushing my teeth."

You might have actually thrown him for a loop as he pauses and then, his flirtatious game forgotten, warily repeats, "Me brushing your teeth?"

Oh no. You can't laugh. But it's difficult as you can quite literally imagine the exact look of distaste on his face at this very moment. He might end up thinking it's an amusing or even cute concept some day but this reaction is pretty typical when he processes new actions that go against his natural instincts. Exactly why you chose this very visual.

"Mhm. You withheld my rightful kisses because you wanted me to brush my teeth first, didn't you?" Okay, so maybe there's a little payback for him sooner than you'd planned. Three birds, one stone. What a feat.

"So... you think I want to brush them for you...?" He trails off, completely unsure where you're going with this.

You shake your head, tone quite glib when you elaborate on your lie, "Not quite. I just imagined you might force me, like a bad puppy or something you apparently think you can order around. That why I was smiling. The imagery and all."

"You were smirking." He corrects with authoritative tone completely ignoring your subtle admonishment. Is that humour seeping back in, as well? "But if you want me to treat you like a pet..."

You jerk forward again, trying to slip his hold as he manipulates the conversation to regain the upper hand. This isn't where the conversation was supposed to flow.

"Not a pet, Kiyoomi."

"Really? If you like that stuff, I guess I can give it a tr-"

"It was a joke!"

"You sure, pet?" His amusement is back full force and you have to roll your eyes at your now failed attempt to regain your composure because, well, maybe you walked into that one by being impulsive.

"It was actually a lie, wasn't it?"

You stay silent, debating if it's better to just refuse to talk until you're completely awake with a cup or two of coffee to fortify yourself from your boyfriend's unexpectedly bold banter today. It seems like Sakusa is in a playful mood but you have no idea why, given that you each will be going separate ways for your respective commitments in less than two hours.

You find yourself suddenly lifted up in his arms, as he effortlessly carries you off the bed before swinging you up like a ragdoll, in a maneuver that ends with his arms cradling you bridal style as he walks you both to the adjoining bathroom. Now you're actually speechless, without deliberate intention, as you find yourself staring up at the elegant lines of his face, hands having wildly grabbed his shirt at the chest and behind his neck when he moved.

His dark eyes are filled with mirth as they connect with yours, "Your silence is incriminating, love. I may just have to follow through with your request in retaliation for ever uttering such a suggestion."

"I didn't ask-" You start of indignant but end up cutting yourself off as a thought occurs to you, "Wait. Do you actually like the idea?"

His eyes narrow down at you, face falling into his classic inconvenienced expression as if you've somehow disrupted his rhythm. Isn't it the other way around? Hey, you should be the one giving him that look!

"Of course not." His voice is clipped and slightly unconvincing.

When he finally sets you down on your feet, you lean on the counter to watch him as he reaches for your toothbrush, neatly squeezing out the perfect amount of paste on its bristles before letting it swing quickly under a soft, brief stream from the tap.

It's when he turns back to you, holding it up holding the instrument up to your mouth and going, "Say ahhh." as if trying to feed a toddler, that you realize he's actually going to try to brush your teeth. You suppose neither of you have been good at backing down from the others' challenge and it's placed you in odder scenarios than this. A giggle spills from your lips at how silly this one is and it's his small answering smile, with a mix of self-deprecation and good humour, that prompts you to obediently follow his instructions.

It's... intimate, to say the least. He's very methodical, probably too gentle, as he makes sure to count out the strokes at each and every side. You find yourself with rare minutes of being able to study him completely unfettered, starting with the tiny dent between his brows from the intense concentration to his task at hand. The way his head tilts and mouth purses between instructions to you is quite endearing.

But as his eyes wander up to yours, the bristles begin to tickle your gums, as if he's applying exactly the wrong amount of pressure, enough to make it unbearable so you're pulling your toothbrush from his fingers to finish the job with ingrained, thorough efficiency.

You notice he doesn't move for his own brush, watching you instead with a silly smile that no one else would believe Sakusa Kiyoomi could produce. When you finish, mouth clean and minty fresh, he leans down to present another butterfly kiss but this time you finally feel the soft melt of his lips onto yours before he pulls away again. Hm.. he's already brushed his teeth before you woke?

You can't help but tease, "So that's it, huh? I suppose my kisses were denied on account of morning breath."

"Not quite." He mimics your own words from just earlier and it has you arching an eyebrow in challenge.

"Mhm.. convenient timing to receive my first kiss of the day, then."

"Love, I would kiss you any time of day or night. There's nothing about you that could push me away."

The absolute certainty with which he says that makes it feel like your heart could beat its way out of your chest just to go claim its space in the undeniable warmth of his.

But.. "Then why use it as a bribe?"

Instead of answering, Kiyo curls his fingers around yours to draw you back into the bedroom as he throws over his shoulder, "It's probably cool by now, so it might be a little late but..."

And with a little gesture, he reveals the source of the heady aroma that you couldn't place earlier, the savoury scents of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup permeating your room, scents which now feel quite familiar and easily placed once you see the prepared breakfast tray perched on his side table.

"Oh Kiyo.. breakfast in bed?"

"We missed it yesterday and I was up early so I wanted to surprise you." He sounds a little disheartened but you've never been one to shirk food even if it's not piping hot.

It couldn't have been sitting too long either, it hasn't been more than ten minutes since he tried to wake you, maybe fifteen. You move back to the bed, careful to fold the soft down duvet to the lower half of the bed. It's a pretty big step for him to bring such spillable and worse, stainable, meals into your room, let alone on the bed.

You look him over carefully but truly can't find a single tell that it's bothering him, so you accept your tray gracefully, seating it on the bed between you both as you notice two pairs of chopsticks. A shared breakfast in bed. While he's long since gotten over his aversion of sharing food, at least with you, it's definitely a monumental milestone and an incredibly romantic gesture in his special way.

It's over this new shared moment that you're tucking away in your memories, that Sakusa give you his biggest surprise yet.

"I've canceled our plans for today." "You ca- our- what?" You're at a loss for words, wondering what's prompted these sudden impulses in your typically steadfast boyfriend.

"I've canceled out plans for today and made us new ones."

You're speechless again, in the calm face of Sakusa Kiyoomi, who has managed to spend the little time you've been awake completely blindsiding you with new experiences and developments. Why is he pushing himself so?

"Baby-"

"Love. Don't question it. Just follow my lead, yes?" His question is so openly trusting, as if the only answer you can give is an affirmative yes, that it takes your breath away. This man..

"...yes."

The first place Sakusa takes you on what you've now realized is a second attempt at your much anticipated but canceled date from yesterday is far more extravagant than the simple park picnic you'd planned. The two of you spent about an hour's car ride before finally arriving at your destination - the breathtaking botanical gardens you're now strolling through.

It's everything you imagined and more, having never had the chance to visit previously, and it's the perfect time to see almost all the flowers at their very peak, in full, resplendent bloom. The air is heavy with the natural fragrance of the vast gardens, the scents tantalizing without becoming overwhelming, possibly due to the natural paths that divert from extremely aromatic sections at just the right pace and lead into refreshing contrast of scents as you weave through each of the different environmental hotspots.

Even Kiyo has his mask tucked down under his chin, the clean air and lack of crowds enabling an easy freedom from his usual concerns. You trail through most of the flower gardens in the southeast portion up to the northeast corner of the sprawling land before spying a maze of many tangled trees, all twisting and twining together in various formations.

As you approach, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to pull slightly ahead, you realize it's actually been cultured to grow as a real, living maze. There are arched entrances made from the same twisting bark, strands about the size of your wrist or smaller twining to cover more surface area in specific spots. You duck through one of the entrances to explore, marvelling at being able to hear Kiyoomi so clearly as he calls to you in exasperation to wait for him.

You don't intend to, of course, because you're delighted to discover this little marvel and that excitement only heightens your urge to tease and play with him a little. You're certain he's picked up his pace, hot on your trail as you duck through many different types of 'doorways' and 'windows', sacrificing your sense of direction to barely keep ahead.

He remains mostly quiet, calling your name softly every now and then, but you're undeniably attuned to his fall of his steps and continue to choose the direction that will take you most opposite him so as to avoid sudden junctions where the gnarled maze might allow him to cross your path in his pursuit.

As the sounds of nature start to dull around you, as if soaking into the depths of the maze, you realize that you too have already traversed further than you intended. It becomes more difficult to identify Kiyo's steps around you, lush grass growing steadily the farther in you seem to progress, even the curled branches seem to soften but you soon catch on to the reason why.

Soft buds are now visible and as you go deeper still, you encounter their full blooms, sprouting in a light pink blush. The path is more linear now, with almost no more forks or diversions to choose from, and before you realize it, you've arrived at the center of the maze. Directly in front, at its very heart, stands an elegant marble gazebo adorned with the same pink flowers yet with a complimentary mix of pale white and even dark red flowers threaded through, their striking petals peeking out as if from behind a latticed shield.

You've stopped entirely, taking a deep breath in as your eyes land first on the layered fountain, also gleaming marble, beyond the gazebo and then quickly shift to what's in between the two structures. Two wrought iron benches sit facing each other so that one only has to turn their head to each side to admire a different view and on one of the benches is what seems to be an abandoned picnic basket. Between the two benches sits a pastel picnic blanket, spread out with more than enough room for two.

You feel Sakusa's quiet presence behind you a second before his arm loops your waist and his smug whisper reaches your ear, "Caught you, little butterfly."

Your mouth drops open as you realized how deftly and thoroughly you were enticed into and maneuvered through this seemingly random maze. He really does know you too well, this beautiful man.

"You planned this?"

"You wanted a picnic, didn't you, love?" You don't have to see that small, satisfied smile of his to hear it in his tone. He's practically glowing with the success of achieving his goal.

You suppose, since you had to cancel the reservation at that special restaurant yesterday, he might have felt compelled to make it up in some way. At this point, however, everything starts to overwhelm you and the light sting at your eyes warns you that one of your rare, emotional moments might just intrude on this small moment.

It's Sakusa, grasping your chin to turn and tilt your face up to his, who answers your unspoken question, the one you need answered.

"Not a single moment for this day was planned from guilt. I just.. wanted to make you as happy as you make me."

"But Kiyo.. are you happy?"

He pauses as if to contemplate his current state but when he answers, he's clear and unhesitant, "I'm so incredibly happy, love. I get you all to myself in our own little corner of the world."

There's something about his words that sparks a memory of a thought you had yesterday, when you made what could have been considered sacrifices for him but was really an incredible, restful day you thoroughly enjoyed yourself from the very moment you'd committed to it. Fair enough then, you trust Sakusa to be unfailingly honest with you and can do nothing more than accept his genuine words. It would be a waste of his careful, meticulous plans to let any doubt ruin the day.

He leads you forward through the beautiful gazebo, moving slowly so you can admire the dedication that has gone into cultivating such a striking space, before helping you down onto the blanket. Once he retrieves the basket sitting idly by on the bench, because it was not in fact an abandoned item but a planned one, he rejoins you on the blanket so that you can examine the contents as you help him lay out the spread.

Incredible, he's somehow got your favourite food and drinks together, from substantial meals for you both, to delicious dessert, and even the drinks have remained chilled in the heat of a midsummer afternoon peak.

Hm.. "How exactly did this get here? You were with me the entire hour it took us to make our way up here and I would definitely have noticed you carrying this."

"I had some help."

"Not going to elaborate?" You give him your most pleading look, you actually think you have an idea but your curiosity is more focused on confirming your guess between several most likely possibilities.

But he just smiles and it's almost maddening when he replies, "No. I'd rather talk about what portions of the gardens you still want to visit. I definitely don't want to rush you but I was hoping to leave before it gets completely dark out."

"That's about three hours, right? "

"Yes, love."

You consider what you know of the gardens for a moment and then with certainty, you answer, "There are only two spots I'd like to see before dark. The butterfly garden and the pools, the ones they say make you feel like you're on some other, magical world."

"That's perfect," Sakusa reviews his mental map of the gardens, "They're both on our way through the loop that'll take us completely through the rest of the gardens. It shouldn't take us more than maybe an hour and a half to finish our tour here once we're done lunch."

You hesitate, something on your mind from his earlier statement about leaving before it's too dark, but decide to say, "There's also a whole section fitted with beautiful lights that turn with the sunset, it's been described to be mystical, like finding fairies playing in the gardens..."

"We'll be able to enjoy that on the way out, love, I've already checked."

"Oh." You pause for a moment in both surprise and appreciation, "You're just so well prepared today, aren't you?"

He arches an eyebrow with indignation, "When am I not?"

"Hm," you let out a chuckle at his expression before clarifying, "I mean, with the finer details of the date, Kiyo. You usually leave that to me?"

"Are you disappointed so far?"

"I'm as far from disappointed as I can be, baby." Without knowing, you answer Sakusa with a smile he's seen countless times today.

It's a stunning one but that's not what's so special about it - it's the very smile he loves to see adorn your face, this expression of complete joy and abandonment. A testament to your free spirit thriving even anchored to his grounded beast, the two of having met in the middle to ruin each other in the best way possible.

The remainder of the afternoon flutters by as you and Kiyo finish your meal before following the plan of action you discussed. The butterfly conservatory and oasis of pools are as breathtaking as expected, creating a multitude of small, precious moments for your memories. The fairy lights quite literally seem to be out of this world, almost as if you've been transported into a beautiful fantasy that's really just another perfect little corner of your shared world.

When you finish up at the gardens with the sun having set, you find out that Sakusa has yet another surprise in store for the day as you both first head home to change into semi-formal outfits. He looks decadent in his black silk button up and you finally get to wear the stunning cocktail dress he gifted to you on your last birthday.

You're moved to tears for the second time that day when you realize where he's taking you for dinner, the very restaurant you had to cancel the reservation for the day before. The same restaurant you both shared your very first date together, back when it was still a little known but elegant spot, long before becoming as popular as it today.

It's there, as you sit on the towering balcony, so unnervingly close to the skies and under a carpet of twinkling stars that you feel you could almost reach out and brush, that Sakusa finds his breath becoming shorter and hands shiver with nerves, as one slips into the pocket of his slacks to brush against the small velvet box that he's carried with him since your third month together.

There have been many small, perfect moments today, ones where his hand slipped in and out of his pocket as he debated if it was the right moment. This weekend has been an unexpected whirlwind of worthwhile compromises but the best example of why he knew, that very day he was drawn to step into the jewelry store, that there would never be anyone else he wanted by his side more than you.

It's at this small moment, in this quiet corner of his world with you, that your eyes meet his with your brilliant, perfect smile painting your lips, and Sakusa's hands suddenly still. His breath evens out, certainty calming his thoughts as his answering smile curves at his mouth. There's no doubt that with you, every moment is exactly the right moment.

A/N: Surprise! It's your date with Sakusa (adorably planned by Sakusa) <3 :D This is partially why completing your request took a little longer - I'm honestly so happy to be able to explore writing a request (so excited that I made it two oop-) and as I've mentioned by now, you were my first lol so I really wanted to make sure it was commemorated with something special. Also, how could I give you only just one or the other with the love of your life? He's literally perfect and has a piece of my heart too so once I thought about how to fulfill your request and landed on the first part, the second just kind of bloomed from it. An expected date turning into a lazy day and now a day that begins lazy but is really the most thoughtful of surprise date days planned by the man who treasures your love... I really hope this was along the lines of what you were looking for and that you enjoyed reading <3

Vibe. Oh, and in case you're curious, I had Daydream in Blue by I Monster on repeat for these :)

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savoies · 3 years

Text

Things Changed - Pierre Luc Dubois.

Summary: Neighbors to lovers.

Word count: hopefully 1.6k

Warnings: hints of angst, a few bad words, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol

A/N: Since I have a cute new neighbor I thought why not use the neighbors to lovers trope to live out all my fantasies. I had a lot of fun writing this with the help of a few close people so enjoy! (not proofread)

taglist: @hartsyhart @nhlpetey @mitch-slap @frostythegoalman @ryanssuzuki @aria253264 @josty @kaitieskidmore1 @kiedhara @laurenairay @teenagekook @alxvlasic @hockeyallthetime @barzy-baby @officialgritty @bowenbyram @mems06 @joshsandersons @connormcdavo @maattamatthews @pierreslucdubois @selenophileangel @boqvistsbabe @ana-maa @stars-canucks

tagging some friends: @npatrickz @beauvibaby @heybarzy @tkachuk-yeah @cozycozzy @2manytabsopen

(*credit to gif owner*)

Y/N had recently moved to Canada seven months ago and honestly it was going just fine. Nothing major had happened other than wanting a change of pace and well she had gotten it. Well at least the most change her dog and her could get.

Today was a nice day so she decided why not head to the dog park that was connected to the apartment complex and just spend all day there. What she did not suspect was running into a cute stranger who happened to be her neighbor from a few doors down.

Pierre had come to the dog park well to see the dogs. After the trade from Ohio to Winnipeg he decided that it was best to leave his dogs with his mom until he got settled in. He probably thought that most people would find a broading 6′ 3″ man sitting on a bench creepy but honestly he couldn't care less because the smile the dogs provided him as they ran by was worth the stares.

"Brody! Brody come back here." Y/N yelled as her dog ran across the yard in and around anything he could get through. As her dog ran up to a cute stranger sitting on a bench she couldn't mutter enough curse words to process why this was happening now and today.

"I am so sorry about him, it's just we don't get out much." She replied and mentally shook her head, not understanding why she had to explain herself to a complete stranger.

"Oh it's totally okay, I love dogs. I actually have two but they are back at home. This might seem kind of straight forward but if you ever need a dog sitter I can offer my services." Pierre smiled at the dog and stranger in front of him.

Y/N knew that she shouldnt take up the offer but with work and life and a cute stranger who seemed actually genuine she threw away mostly all her morals and said why the fuck not.

"Really, that would be really helpful. I'm not sure if I should tell you my apartment number now or after I find out you're a murderer." She looked up at him. After assuring her that he was indeed not a murderer and just a normal guy who loved dogs they traded numbers and apartment info. I guess after all the dog park was worth it.

The First Time.

The first time Pierre earned his title of dog sitter was when you went away for a work conference. It had been three days. Honestly you were quite nervous since you had never really left your dog with anyone other than your family but after hanging out with him so often you felt like it was okay.

"Brody say bye to your mom, we are gonna have so much fun without her huh." He said as he led Brody into the living room and waited for you to give any special instructions.

"Pierre thank you so much for doing this. I want him the same way as when I left him." You hugged him as you said your goodbyes and gathered your things to head off to the airport for your departure.

"Have some faith in me Y/N." He said as he closed the door and watched netflix with the dog cuddling into his side.

The Second Time.

A family emergency had presented itself and as much as you wanted to take Brody with you you just knew it wasn't the best choice. Pierre had come over a few times to "spend time with Brody." Even though most of the time was spent joking around and talking about each other's week.

You had got the call when Pierre was over. Both of you sprawled out on the cold tiled floor. "Hello?" You answered as someone quickly informed you on what was going on. "Wait what, uhm yeah I'll go back home right now." You said as you hung up and quickly sprang up to your feet to pack.

"Pierre I know you're busy and you can say no but can you watch Brody, a family emergency has come up." You spoke hastily.

"Yeah of course, everything ok?" He asked worried.

"No but hopefully soon." You gave him a soft smile as you said your goodbyes and rushed out your apartment door.

The Third Time.

The third time was different. Not necessarily an emergency but mostly a way to make sure that your dog was okay for a few hours. Or at least not alone and spending it with one of his favorite people aside from you. You had gone out to a club with some coworkers and had dropped off Brody at Pierres earlier in the day. Of course you asked if he was busy and he said he had to catch up on some work so that's the only reason you really asked him to. You knew he had a life aside from your dog sitting escapades.

Later on in the night as you arrived home with a guest you had asked him to wait by the door as you went to go pick up Brody from a few doors down. It was late and maybe you should have just done it in the morning. But your mind being hazy with the few drinks from earlier didn't think about Pld being asleep and you knocked before you could stop yourself.

Pierre was slowly drifting off to sleep with thoughts of you in his head. How he had to adapt to this new city which he barely knew anything about but since you had come into his life everything seemed somewhat easier.

There was a soft knock on his door and as he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes he walked up to the door with Brody close by to his feet and he saw you. "Y/N hey what are you doing here?" He asked confused on why you were here at one in the morning.

"Just here to pick up Brody." You smiled at him as he looked towards your apartment and his smile dropped as he saw the random dude standing in front of your door awkwardly.

He knew he shouldn't be making a big deal out of it. You guys weren't anything in the first place. But Pierre couldn't help what he felt towards you.

"You okay?" He asked before letting you head back.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." You said as you walked away.

After that things weren't the same. You could sense it. After getting the stranger out your bed you cleaned up and headed over to Pierres for your weekly brunch hang out but he didn't answer. That wasn't what made you realize that it wasn't the same. I mean you knew he had a busy life. Maybe it was the way that every time there was a knock on your door you were hoping it was Pierre hoping to "hang out with Brody" but it never was.

Or maybe it was that he was ignoring you. It had been a week since you had last seen him and as you walked to the elevator you tried to rack your mind with what you could've done to upset him.

As you reached the elevator there stood the boy that you so much wanted to see. Pierre rolled his eyes as you arrived, having deliberately been avoiding you for a full week and bumping into you in the only place he couldn't escape.

Y/N looked up at him hoping that he would talk. Hoping that somehow he would reveal why he was mad or at least why he was ignoring her.

"So it seems like you were just using me as a dog sitter huh.” Pierre broke the silence. He was feeling so many emotions seeing the person that made him feel good about himself.

"What, Dubois what are you talking about?" Y/N looked up at him confused on why he would even think that. Cause honestly it did start like that but after that it grew into a friendship that she was so thankful for.

Pierre just scoffed thinking of what he would say next. "The dude you brought back to your apartment."

"What about him?" Y/N asked.

"Look when i offered to be your dog sitter i didn't think it was for bringing guys around."

"Look Pierre i don't mean this to sound rude at all but when you offered you said it was for whenever i needed a dog sitter and i brought Brody over because I thought you liked spending time with him. And honestly the guy is a one time thing.” Y/N spoke up suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable recalling the events from last night to her not so stranger anymore cute neighbor.

"I do love dogs, honestly spending time with him was nice but why do you think I always came over to hang out with Brody?" He asked putting air quotes around hanging out. Then it clicked in Y/Ns mind. Him coming over more than two times a week, him ignoring her after her unfortunate night with a stranger, them now spilling their guts to each other in an elevator. He liked her. At least she hoped that she was right and was not about to make a dumb mistake.

"Oh." escaped from her mouth. As the door opened and Pierre smiled at Y/N waiting for somewhat of a reaction other than oh.

"Pierre I've always been bad at reading signs so I'm really hoping that I'm reading the correct sign right now. Uhm would you like to maybe come over later, you know to hang out with Brody?" You asked as you put air quotes around hanging out with Brody like he had down earlier.

"I thought you'd never ask." He replied before placing a kiss on your cheek leaving you with a small smile on your face.

#ari writes #hockey #hockey boys #winnipeg jets #nhl fic #nhl fics #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurbs #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey fics #hockey blurbs #hockey blurb #pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois x reader #wasnt suspecting to post it do early but tumblr is wack so here you go...

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 18

Previous | Next | Master List

Hey! Welcome back to another chapter of MOaO! I won’t be able to update this as much as I want to (I’m not really updating it as fast as I won’t to right now but I’m trying) as exams are coming up as well as other various things. (I just realized that I haven’t said this earlier I’m so sorry, Ramadan Kareem to those who celebrate it!) Also, thank you so much for 128 followers!

"...I believe I found a way to subdue Hawkmoth"

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Her eyes repeatedly scanned the page, making sure she was reading it correctly.

"It won't defeat Hawkmoth" Damian carefully pointed out, not wanting to diminish her excitement. "But it'll be able to stop him for some time, a month or two at most"

"Do you know what this means?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "We'll be able to have some peace of mind! We'll be able to prepare ourselves! The whole of Paris! Who know, maybe we'll be able to get some clues on his identity as well as Mayura's as well!"

By the end, Marinette was spinning around the room, her slight giggles of happiness appeared here and there. Damian chuckled at her delight, seeing her happy was probably one of his most favourite sites in the world, that and seeing her flustered.

"I understand that you're excited but what do these cryptic messages mean, 'a tear of joy'? Did I translate that correctly"

She giggled at his confusion. "No that's one of the ingredients for the power up. Speaking of ingredients, I need to get some" Her bluebell eyes quickly scanned over the tablet again before she speed walked out of the hotel with Damian on her arm. "We're going to Master Fu's old place, he still has some ingredients we could use"

The two walked in silence, there was a topic that they needed to discuss, the end of the week was approaching fast.

"Maybe in the small time of peace, I can get Father and my brothers to help"

The bluenette chuckled slightly but not out of amusement. "I almost forgot, you'll be leaving in a few days" her gaze fell to the ground before she looked up at her boyfriend, solemnly. "It's gonna be a lot different, huh?"

He squeezed her hand gently with a comforting smile on his face. "It will be but I'm sure we'll handle it"

The couple grabbed the necessary ingredients and made their way back to the hotel. They dropped them off at the hotel room before making their way upper to the restaurant to get some food. Their dinner was quickly interrupted by a rockstar coming to congratulate his niece.

"Nettie! You're rock'n'roll! Your song is a huge hit!" Jagged exclaimed once he reached the table, he only seemed to register there was another person there once he sat down. His moderate cyan eyes widened in recognition when his gaze landed on the green-eyed boy. "You must be Damian, you look just like you're old man Brucie"

Damian shook his hand when the rockstar had offered it. "I am, Mr Stone"

"Uncle Jagged-"

"You break my niece's heart, I'll send Fang to eat you"

"Uncle Jagged!-"

"And I will gladly let you"

"I approve of your relationship, I just wanted to give the shovel talk since it sounded fun"

Marinette gaped at the two males on her table. "Dami, don't encourage him! I've already got Gami waiting to spar with you"

"Ah yes, my son's girlfriend is just as scary as Penny" Jagged visibly shuddered in good nature.

"Wait, Luka and Gami got together? Without telling me?!" The bluenette huffed, offended. "And to think I'm his honorary cousin"

Jagged chortled at her reaction while Damian had a faint smile playing on his lips. The rockstar decided to take his leave shortly after that, not wanting to draw some unwanted attention. He did manage to leave a pair of blushing teens as he told them to "Use protection!" before departing. Marinette was utterly embarrassed while Damian was flustered. Once dinner was finished, the couple went back to Damian's hotel room to discuss what they were going to do next.

Doing his best to help, Damian passed the ingredients to his girlfriend who then mixed up said ingredients in a pot.

"Can you get the Tear of Joy, Dami?"

The green-eyed boy looked through the ingredients until he found the slim bottle with a minuscule amount of clear liquid. He eyed the water as it squished in the bottle, it seemed so ordinary despite the great magic it could create. Damian could almost see the water taunting him with its mystic properties, he could just about feel it as he brought the bottle closer to the cauldron.

"This is it, correct?" The ravenette showed the blue-eyed girl the bottle in his hand

Her eyes lit up when presented with the vial. "Yes, that's it" As she removed the cork that was sealing the bottle shut, Damian asked a question that was lingering in the back of his mind.

"What exactly is the tear of joy?"

Marinette turned to smile at him. "It's a tear of joy"

"So a tear caused by laughter?"

"Precisely" She looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "I remember, when Syren attacked, Master Fu was trying to decode what a 'tear of joy' was. It took some time but we managed to figure it out in the end" She sighed. "It's great that we managed to find out about 'power-ups' but if we found out about them sooner, maybe more people would've been saved."

He put his hands comfortably on her shoulders. "What did Syren do exactly?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. That wasn't the reaction that Damian was expecting, whatever had happened with this Akuma must have been bad to induce this response.

The bluenette sighed and looked at the green-eyed boy straight into his emerald eyes. "Syren was one of the most dangerous Akumas we've ever had to deal with. She flooded all of Paris with her tears, only a few hundred people managed to reach the rooftops in time"

A breath quickly sucked in through his lips, the scene itself sounded horrible, imagining it even more so, having to actually see it must have been... traumatic.

"But Ondine is doing much better with Kim. And it's all in the past, we've learnt how to deal with the memories!" Her smile hurt to look at. His girlfriend had to deal with so much and she couldn't even express her negativity without fear of becoming an akuma. Damian placed a kiss on her head as she finally got the lid off of the bottle.

Both teens watched in anticipation as the droplet rolled down to the bottle's lip, teetering over the edge. It fell in. The concoction then shimmered a silvery blue. Grabbing a bottle, Marinette poured some of the liquid inside it, looked at the bottle and hummed in satisfaction. She quickly put all the equipment used back in a box and cleaned up any mess made. Once she was finished, she turned to the boy standing over her.

"I'll bring these back to Master Fu's old apartment then I'll drop this bottle off at my house, you can tell Tikki and Plagg that they can come out now"

The contents of the box shifted to one side, Damian helped steady both the bluenette and the box before going to the kwamis. Once the kwamis where comfortably with their owners, Tikki in Marinette's purse and Plagg in Damian's hoodie pocket, they made their way to the apartment. It still technically belonged to Master Fu, he rest hadn't rented it out so they were free to roam around. After putting the equipment away, the couple strolled to Marinette's house hand in hand. The bluenette went up to her balcony, with Damian close behind, and hid the bottle under her pink-striped deck chair, away from the sunlight.

"It needs to 'mature' in the moonlight, I guess. So when the moon is out, I'll take the bottle out" Marinette gestured for Damian to follow her as she went back down to the bakery portion of her house. "I'll give you some Camembert with the power ups infused. But I'll have to make it first!"

She hummed as she went upside to retrieve other substances that Master Fu had taught her to create. In the moment she was gone, Plagg appeared.

"I hate transforming!" The black kwami whined, settling in the boy's hair.

"What's so bad about it?" Damian raised an eyebrow at Plagg's outburst.

"It ruins the beautiful taste of Camembert, and it tastes weird"

"Quit your whining Plagg" Tikki's squeaky, but still relatively scary, voice rang out as both she and her owner returned.

"But Sugarcube-"

"No 'but's Stinky Sock!"

Damian watched with quiet amusement while Marinette giggled, handing him a wheel of Camembert.

"The cheese is cut up in different slices, each representing a different power up. I'll explain which is which on the way back to the hotel"

Damian put the wheel in his pocket before taking the bluenette's hand. "I look forward to it"

~~~

Each power up was simple enough, they all had a different colour corresponding with it's ability, making it easier to memorize. The couple walked by a dark alley as Damian check the time. Passing his phone to the bluenette next to him, Marinette took one glance at the time before dragging the two of them into said dark alley. It was time for patrol. Once both were done transforming, Noir and Ladybug made their to the assigned rooftop. When landing, Noir took his staff and looked through the help guide to get a better idea of what weapon he was working with. Spinning the staff with his hands, he separated the staff into two separate batons. He hummed in contentment.

"Grayson never gave me his escrima sticks for missions. I suppose this is good training if I ever want to use them"

The two rods snapped back together with a satisfying snap. Continuing to look through the articles on his now full staff, Noir didn't even notice when Ladybug moved to stand behind him. In one swift motion, the spotted heroine pulled down the black hood that was shielding the black cat-themed hero's face.

"La-"

Her covered fingers stroked his black cat ears, she giggled as his cheeks flushed. The feeling itself was unusual to the green-eyed hero, he had never felt anything remotely similar before but he wouldn't say he didn't enjoy it. It was just... unexpected. The spotted heroine, however, quite liked making the stoic Noir flustered. His ears felt so much like a real cat's that Ladybug was nearly taken aback, she got used to it after her shock, though. Noir found himself leaning into her touch but looking at everything but her in embarrassment.

Had his ears not been occupied he probably would've heard the two other heroes arriving, he only knew they were here as he saw them in his peripheral vision, rolling his eyes as he noticed them snickering.

'Angel, Rena and Chien are here'

Ladybug's head snapped in the direction of the two other heroes, one of her hands left his head as she she greeted the fox and the dog.

"Hello Rena Rouge, Chien" Ladybug greeted them casually, something Noir knew he couldn't do at that moment.

"Hello to you too LB! Hey Noir, did the bug find a way to tame you?

He mumbled a reply.

Ladybug giggled before turning to properly address the other heroes. "I've been thinking of adding three more members. I know it's a lot since you, Rena, have only just been announced as a permanent user and you, Chien, have basically just joined. But Noir and I found something that will require their help. I have a hunch that Hawkmoth might try something like Guerrier but with the same level as Syren"

The fox-themed hero nodded. "You need all the help you can get. So who do you have in mind?"

"A Snake, a Bee and a Dragon" The spotted heroine answered with no hesitation. "We'll need a snake as it is... intuitive"

Upon registering the description, Chien chuckled. "Isn't that the point?"

"Perhaps" Ladybug hummed with a smile on her face. "A dragon can control elements, a strong power would be useful. The bee miraculous's power is immobilization-"

"Paralysis can be very beneficial when trying to stop an akuma" Noir provided his input.

"Yes. So what do you think?" The spotted heroine looked between the three heroes standing on the rooftop with her. Noir hummed approval while Chien gave her a thumbs up.

"You always have the best ideas, Bug!" Rena voiced out her agreement, Ladybug let out a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding.

"Then I'll go get them now shall I? We gotta teach them as fast as we can" The blue-eyed heroine took the yo-yo from her hip, spinning it with a flick of her wrist. "I'll send them here and then you show them the ropes"

"Aye aye Captain!" Chien saluted and Rena followed suit, only after a quick laugh. Noir rolled his eyes in good nature while pulling his hood back up, flicking his cat ears before doing so.

Hurling her yo-yo at a nearby building, Ladybug hissed through the air, her yo-yo latching onto another building as she neared the previous. Soon enough, she landed gracefully in a quiet area where two familiar figures were strolling hand in hand.

"Ladybug?" A boy with dyed hair questioned, a bluenette with short hair and almond eyes next to him.

She nodded before pulling out two miraculous from her yo-yo with, presumably, unlimited storage. "Luka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, these are the miraculous of the Snake and the miraculous of the Dragon. They grant you the powers of Intuition and Perfection. You will use these miraculouses for the greater good, can I trust you?"

Luka and Kagami shared a knowing look then turned to the heroine in front of them.

"You can count on use Ladybug"

"We're honored to be chosen to fight by your side, my Ladybug"

She gave them the miraculous and watched as they both transformed into Viperion and Ryuko. "The others are waiting at this location." She showed them a map on her yo-yo. "I'll meet you there once I finish with a task a have to do." She hissed through the air once more, thanks to her yo-yo, and landed on a rooftop that was very familiar now. There stood a blonde, leaning on the banister.

"Ladybug?" Chloe's confused voice rang out.

"Hello Chloe Bourgeois" Ladybug took something from her yo-yo. "This is the Bee miraculous, it grants the power to immobilise your opponents. Should you choose to help us-"

"I can't"

"Pardon?"

"I said I can't" The blonde looked solemnly at the heroine. "I've been an utterly horrible person, I don't deserve to be a hero. Especially after... Queen Bee"

"People can change Chloe" Ladybug put a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "As long as they are given the chance to. Do you want to take this chancep?"

Chloe stared at the miraculous before looking at the heroine with a determined expression.

"I won't let you down, Ladybug"

~~~

Ladybug soon returned with a bee-themed heroine, named Honey Bee, by her side. After a brief reintroduction, the patrol began. Rena Rouge took the west side with Honey Bee and Viperion, Chien and Ladybug took the East while Ryuko and Noir took the North, they had already checked the South. Most of the patrol was done in silence, other than the odd 'nothing wrong here'. Ryuko had been the one to start a conversation

"You're the new wielder of black cat miraculous, correct?" The dragon user questioned Noir. He recognised it as the beginning of an interrogation.

"It certainly seems that way" Ryuko hummed.

"You fancy Ladybug, don't you" The question obviously took him aback. "Do you consider yourself... worthy?

The cat-themed hero didn't hesitate. "No"

He saw her raise her eyebrows.

"Ladybug is too virtuous for this world, there's not a soul in this entire universe worthy of her affection"

The dragon hummed in satisfaction. "You remind me of the boyfriend of one of my friends. Though I have yet to be convinced that he should date said friend, you have proved yourself worthy of Ladybug. I approve of your relationship even though it isn't my place to make such a decision"

"I am pleased" Despite the fact that he is a leader in this team, he's content with the fact he has the great dragon user's approval as she is the most intimidating of the team, other than Ladybug herself.

"Also don't mess this up, Ladybug is a Queen " Ryuko casually pointed out.

"Glad I am not the only one that thinks so"

"How can you not? Have you seen her?!"

"She's a goddess"

"You have my approval again"

~~~

Noir and Ryuko were first to arrive as they had finished their patrol early, the rest of the team weren't too far behind, however.

"Alright" Ladybug began once everyone returned. "Honey Bee, Viperion, Ryuko, it'll be best if you memorize all of Paris. That way, when there's trouble, you'll know your way around."

"I found that an aerial view is the fastest way to know the city like the back of your hand!" Rena Rouge pointed out.

"That's also the way I did it!" Chien chimed in,

"Yep! If you don't mind, there's something I'd like to discuss with both Rena Rouge and Chien. Noir, will you join us?" The spotted heroine turned to the heroes named.

"I ought to" He replied flatly.

"Alright then, follow me!" Ladybug hissed through the air followed by Noir with his staff and Rena and Chien with their enhanced abilities. Soon they landed in an alley. "I know you already know this, Rena, but I think it's fair if Chien knows too"

"Fair that I know what?" His gaze moved between the two heroines before landing on the black cat hero, silently begging for answers, to which Noir returned with an unconvincing shrug.

"That you know this. Tikki, spots off!" A blinding red light filled the narrow corner they were in, Rena shut one of her eyes while Chien shut both, Noir was shielded from the light thanks to his hoodie. Then, a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood where the spotted heroine once was.

"Wh- Bu- How-" Chien spluttered as his brain combusted with all the information that was flowing through it at once. Marinette giggled at his confusion, Rena full on laughed, clutching her stomach while Noir merely smirked. "But, but I saw you standing next to Ladybug! Wait no, yourself? My brain is melting! Wait, you two knew?!" The dog-themed hero screeched.

"She's my best friend" Rena shrugged with an innocent expression, her transformation dropped. Chien stared in shock.

"She's my girlfriend" Noir mimicked Rena Rounge's shrug while letting his transformation fall too, leaving Chien the only one transformed.

"Okay THAT makes sense, you're both deathly attr- Wait, did you say best fRIEND?!" Chien shrieked and detransformed.

"ADRIEN?!" Alya exclaimed, Marinette and Damian watched in amusement.

"As entertaining as this is-" The green-eyed boy cut in before the pair would attract unwanted attention. "-Marinette needs to explain the reason why she revealed her identity to you"

The bluenette nodded. "You see early today, at school, I had this 'miraculous burn' I guess you could say from Guerrier's attack. Thanks to Alya I'm feeling better but that resulted in getting my identity revealed. So to avoid anymore incidents like that, I also told you Adrien. I can't tell the rest of the team yet as I don't want them to go all protective over me, you'll three will have enough overprotectiveness"

"Not wrong there, girl" Alya said without shame.

"I know I have to tell them my true identity at some point but right now it's better just to have you three know."

"We understand" Alya and Adrien said in unison.

"Great, now let's go back to the others so we can tell them patrol is over"

~~~

It was sunset, the orange cotton clouds contrasted beautifully with the darkening blue sky. A cool wind blew through the air, cold enough to make one shiver but not enough to catch a cold. Walking hand in hand, a couple made their way to Le Grand Paris. The bluenette looked up to the noirette next to her, leaning onto his arm covered by the Robin-themed hoodie and smiling while doing so, she closed her eyes to savor the moment.

"Angel?" Damian brushed the stray hairs on her face as she pulled away to look at him properly.

"You know, I'm really going to miss this" Marinette raised their conjoined hands as they approached the hotel doors.

He hummed and in response, put his arm around her waist to pull her closer while going through the elevator doors. "I am too"

They soon reached the hotel room, the kwamis roaming around for food once they got inside. Food in hand, Tikki and Plagg sat of the coffee table, leaning on one another as Damian turned on the screen to watch a movie. Once he was comfortably seated, Marinette joined him, snuggling into his side. He brushed his fingers through her silky midnight hair. He was going to miss this, deeply. What would life be like going back, without the beautiful bluenette physically next to him?

'I do not want to find out'

———

Provisional Cessation, It was created for the purpose of temporarily stopping a miraculous from being used if any harm were to come to the user. It would also deem it unusable for a certain period of time if the miraculous were ever come into the wrong hands. The reason Master Fu didn't tell Marinette this information was because the last time a user tried this power up, they were put into a magical induced coma, it was too risky.

———

Taglist:@little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn,@mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot,@toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat #maridami #mlb x dc #ml x dc #damianette

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bluwwo · 3 years

Text

I dreamed that Yor has stopped a missile (which I discovered it was actually a torpedo, thx Lacrow) some days ago so... I made this

The image is merely illustrative

The actual thing is down bellow~

-----

The ship floats softly and calmly on the blue sheet as those men and women moved hurriedly, slyly and were maliciously running towards a thorny hole, they were walking towards their own death.

The woman, owner of such trap, used her mastery to eliminate one by one in her thorny trap. And one of them was a man hiding in the vessel's hold and who had access to bugs spread throughout the ship.

The place looked like a small command room, but the woman didn't mind because as the director had already told her, many parts on that ship were once parts used in Ostanian warships.

Next to what was once a "coworker" of hers was a small desk with assorted buttons, a control panel. Everything seemed to be fine until a green and yellow light caught the woman's attention.

Her scarlet eyes gleamed, reflecting that light as she curiously approached the dashboard. She realized that this was just a radar, with its waves trying to find some other vessel or threat. At first, Yor thought it wasn't even working until a loud and repeated "beep" caught her attention.

As she looked at the radar, her eyes widened in horror. A small blinking dot slowly approached the ship that was represented by a large triangle in the center of the radar. The radar was big, so whatever was approaching was really far.

Yor didn't have to be a Marine Lieutenant to know that it was…

"A torpedo…" Her voice barely left her throat.

Her body trembled, and the color drained from her face. A powerful weapon like that targeting innocent people, children and families?

Her muscles tensed and she quickly fled away from that place. And with her heart beating unsteadily and fearful of the impending catastrophe, she chased the Director across the ship with agony coiled in her throat.

"Director!" Her voice was a loud whisper, fraught with anxiety. "Please tell me you have a secret entrance and exit to the sea."

"Thorn Princess, why all this commotion?"

"Director, you told me this ship has parts from old warships, right?"

The man narrowed his eyes and just nodded.

"It seems that this is not the only one... According to radar, a torpedo is heading for this vessel." Yor exhaled, trying to maintain a serious facade.

The director's normally stoic, expressionless face contorted in surprise and confusion. The man gulped.

"Are you sure about this, Forger?"

"Mister Director, why would I lie about this?"

The man sighed, and the tension in the room was so thick that people around them could feel the sweat running down their spines.

"Luckily for you, there is an emergency exit in the depths of the ship that gives access to the sea, but you'll need great lungs." The exasperated man said, looking seriously at the Princess.

The woman just nodded and followed the director, Olka, who had heard everything along with her fake husband, followed the assassin.

The director had some keys that gave access to certain areas of the ship, and using that, he made his way to a deep room, and they stopped in front of a heavy door.

"And what do you intend to do with the projectile, Forger?"

"I'll deflect it up." She pointed to the sky.

"But there's still the risk of it falling somewhere else." retorted the director with mild irritation.

“And that's when you two…” She points to the director's two partners “… get into it.”

"How?" asked one of them, scared.

“My husband seems to have a lot of knowledge in military equipment, he always slips a thing or two correcting the action movies…” Yor reveals with a slight smile. "And according to him, this type of projectile can be distracted by fireworks, creating new targets and preventing it from hitting the actual target." She said, taking a box of fireworks and handing it to the man.

"I need to launch these fireworks, but when?" He replied, still pale.

"You'll know when, just look at the sky, if you see a trail of smoke, release the fireworks." Reaffirmed Yor with an inspiring smile.

“Forger, there's a pier a few miles from here, when it's done, go there and wait for the ship, one of the guys will be on deck, and I'll stay here with Olka, he'll see you and send the signal and then I'll open the way for you to board." The man explained, and the woman nodded. "And, Yor, what if it doesn't work?"

"I need to try... My family is on this ship." In a voice full of sorrow, she said. "And in case I don't make it, I'll be just another dead flower in the garden." She smiled. "If I don't come back, just say I fell overboard and drowned."

The woman opened the heavy door, meeting with a staircase.

"When you get to the end of the stairs just hit the wall twice and I'll open the passage."

The woman nodded before starting to going downstairs, the quick sound of her heels impacting the metal was in harmony with the racing hearts of the five people in that room, but the rose’s heart lost its beat and beat slower and slower, the cold sweat made her shiver and she seemed no longer able to breathe.

Upon reaching the end of the stairs, Yor gulped and with clenched fists placed her hands on her chest, asking any deity who could hear her, for a miracle, a miracle to help her save the many lives that were on that ship. And in a sudden movement, she punches the wall, making a loud noise and closing her eyes, she punches it again.

The wall in front of her reveals a door, opening a passage to the sea, her red eyes met the calm blue waves, but in her mind, that blue world was churning in waves that engulfed her, an almost thalassophobic feeling swallowed her, but closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she ran and leapt toward the ocean.

She tried vaguely to open her eyes and to her surprise the salt didn't bother her so much, surfacing quickly to catch her breath, she spotted Olka, being held by her husband and the director McHannon at the door of the sea passage, the expression on her face was worry, fear, the simple discomfort of “seeing her little brother give himself up on such a dangerous journey”, at least that's what Yor felt.

The black-haired woman just waved to the woman she was supposed to protect and dove again. Her trained legs moved quickly and skillfully, giving her a quick swim. The woman rarely surfaced to catch her breath, but when she dove once more, her keen sense felt something heavy approaching at high speed. Yor’s chest writhed in fear, fear of failing and hurting her family and others on the vessel.

She couldn't fail at that, so she surfaced again. Yor touched her chest and took a deep breath, her lips trembled and even though she was already wet, she felt her eyes watering, she couldn't deny she was terrified. She just couldn't fail.

The woman held as much air as she could and dove once more, and her other side slowly revealed itself, the fury of an assassin, a mother and a wife. Her scarlet eyes blazed with bloodthirsty anger as she clasped her arms in front of her face and using all her strength, she pushed herself, swimming as fast as she could, and that sense of impending danger increased each second.

Finally, the time seemed to have come, as Yor felt the hot, pointed tip of the projectile in her hands, the impact of the weapon was spot on, pushing the woman for a few miles, but Yor regained her strength and began to push the torpedo trying to change its direction.

However, as strong and resistant as she was, she was still a human. Her lungs were threatening to reach their limits, her chest ached and her head throbbed, her body was shaky and wobbly… She couldn't take it anymore.

Mama! Mama!

Mama! Let's play!

I love my strong and cool mama!

"Anya." Her conscience whispered, in a desperate attempt to wake her up and remember why she was there.

She needed to stop it; she needed to do it; she needed to deflect it.

She needed to survive.

She needed to see Anya again; needed to hear her voice again, needed to see her smile. She had to see her grow up; had to see her mature; had to see her become a beautiful, grown woman.

She had to be there to see this.

The red eyes snapped open and with a muffled cry across the sea, she gripped the projectile by the base and launched it with all her strength out of the sea, after the adrenaline had passed, her body remembered she couldn't breathe, so she quickly swam to the surface, where she could see the torpedo exploding in the sky, really far from the boat, along with the lights and "booms" of the fireworks.

The woman smiled as the bright lights of the explosion decorated the sky. Blowing up the torpedo wasn't quite the plan, but at least everyone was safe. Yor took a deep breath and kept smiling, if she wasn't keeping a secret, she was sure Anya would love to hear what she just did, the smile faded little by little when she noticed the smoke vestige on the horizon, she had noticed that there was also a trail of bubbles behind the projectile, if she followed that track, she might find the person behind the attack.

Again, her scarlet eyes were filled with fury as she slowly went down the water, the woman swam fast and rose a few times to catch her breath, and then she found a submarine.

While trying to approach the submarine, Yor was quickly captured by a net. The woman struggled but when she realized she was being pulled into the submarine, she faked a faint.

"Yea! It's her! Thorn Princess in person! I really thought she was going to be tougher, but it was easy to get rid of her.” A male voice spoke animatedly.

Yor woke up and watched closely the male figure who spoke exultantly on the phone. She lay a few more minutes to listen to him. The woman had to hold back her laugh as she heard the man say that "I would even try something with her… a date or such, since 'the royalty' is a gorgeous woman."

That man didn't have a third of her husband's charm… her fake husband.

Sly and furtive as a black serpent, the woman rose, her dark-colored dress giving the impression that a black mamba was on board the submarine.

The man had already finished talking to whoever it was on the phone. He was holding a file, probably his next "customer".

"In a little while, you'll be next, your little manwhore." The man chuckled to himself, looking at the file, not noticing the beast that came behind him.

Suddenly, his head was being held in one hand while a sharp needle was slowly piercing his back. Sweat ran down his spine as his mind had simply made him sure that he was just a helpless rabbit against a towering, dominant panther.

"Please, I really want to believe that you are so much more than a child with your expensive little toys." The whisper reached his ears, carrying a defiant tone.

And the coldness in the woman's words made the man shiver. He swallowed hard and didn't even try to turn around, just shivered and remained motionless, waiting for his end.

The bloody eyes continued to watch their hostage intently, waiting for some kind of reaction. But that man was simply too scared to react in any way.

"You… you really are… the… royalty." He stuttered, and Yor could feel him struggling not to choke on his impending tears.

"So I was wrong, you really are only your toys."

The man began to hyperventilate as the color drained from his body, his cheeks tinged red from the humiliation he was feeling… coming from the person he most admired.

But he needed courage, to at least make the Thorn Princess take back what she said, so, aiming at the red button on the control panel, the man tries to stretch his arm to reach it, but the powerful princess holds him back.

The man spins, making the woman fall on top of the control panel and coincidentally, triggering the big button she wanted to avoid.

The man ran through the submarine, while the red lights flashed a warning of the destruction of the vessel. He searched all compartments for his diving suit, while being chased by the princess.

The annoying sound of the alarm made the woman even more distressed, she had no idea what that button did but, whatever it was, it wasn't good. Then, she finally finds her "coworker" and jumps on him, pinning him to the ground.

"What does that button do?" she asked.

"It activates the submarine's self-destruct. If you hadn't offended me I wouldn't have activated it."

Yor's face contorted in anger as she gripped the man tighter.

"If I hadn't offended you? If you hadn't launched a torpedo, threatening the lives of many innocent people, it wouldn't have even started!" She growled.

"Too late princess." The man replied maniacally, smiling.

The woman didn't even have time to think, all she could hear was a sharp noise as the temperature inside the vessel rose. She turned around and the orangish and yellowish lights lit her red eyes. Suddenly, a loud bang was heard as it simply tore the submarine into pieces.

Yor had to hurriedly hold her breath as she woke from the sudden explosion. Looking up at the surface, she spotted the man who owned the vessel, floating in the sea. She didn't know if he was unconscious or dead, but he would give some good information anyway, so she swam to the surface, and was soon surprised by the pier the director had determined as a rendezvous point.

She swam to the building while dragging the man with her, the woman climbed onto the pier and lay down on the cool wood to catch her breath, however, looking to the side, she noticed a paper near where she had placed the man.

The woman walked over and unfolded the paper, recognizing it as the file the man was reading earlier.

The back of the file read: Twilight, Western Spy. Height: 6'1. Known aliases: Robert, Lionel, and … Forger.

The woman looked closely at the file, and her blood froze when she read "Forger". The first name was smudged by the water as well as much of the file, but the other words were more readable. This "Forger" couldn't be her husband, could he? There must be many people with that last name. Her husband is a good and respectable man. He wouldn't be a spy, a liar and… a manipulator…

Yor swallowed and reread the file once more just to be sure: Twilight, Western Spy. Height: 6’1. Known aliases: Robert, Lionel, and … Forger.

She took a deep breath and turned the file, finding a photograph of the "Twilight", her eyes widened as her hands trembled, the traitorous spy was a blond man, it was the only thing she could see of the blurry and almost unrecognizable photograph, however, unfortunately, Yor was good at deciphering facial features, and using her skill, she realized that the man had blue eyes, and was probably good looking… Just like her husband.

Yor shut her eyes and just refolded the file and tucked it inside her dress, she shouldn't make rash decisions, she trusted Loid... But, that could be a sign that he might not be who he says he is. The woman then took a deep breath and when she turned around, she was greeted by the open passageway to the ship, waiting for her.

She then caught the unconscious man on the pier and brought him with her as the woman boarded the ship again. Her scarlet gaze was lost and wavering, as well as the red sun hidden by clouds in the twilight.

#spy x family #yor forger #anya forger #loid forger #loid x yor #mild angst #agent twilight #thorn princess

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years

Text

wc: 3.9k | warnings: swearing, some violence, cheating mentions

it was past noon when you and seolhee parted ways after eating lunch at an admittedly over-priced restaurant. you two decided to go out because she was leaving the school in two days. the whole jeno incident led almost the entirety of the student body to deem her not too fondly, so even if you wanted her to continue her education here, it would only be hard for her to cope with.

seolhee said that she did not expect jeno to apologize for the things that he did, but you still had your hopes up. which was why the conversation you two had over lunch made you feel a lot lighter inside.

("he said sorry! oh my god, i'm still thinking that it was a dream."

you let out a laugh at your friend's upbeat demeanor, reaching out to a napkin to wipe your lips. seolhee accidentally hit the table from her excitement, but luckily none of your drinks toppled down. "well, he could do more than apologize," you started. "maybe make it up to you by clearing up the situation that happened at the cafeteria so that you wouldn't have to transfer."

a slight frown tugged down the corners of her mouth. "an apology is enough for me, really. that much already means a lot considering his personality. and even if he does clear it up, i've already enrolled at eastwood so there's no undoing it anymore."

you placed down your fork, looking at the hazy expression on your friend's face, and then you opened your mouth to speak.

"do you still like him?"

seolhee choked on her drink.

"no!" she hastily wiped away the stray droplets that made their way onto her chin, staring at you as if you've just accused her of a crime. "of course not! oh my god, y/n—" there was a red hue that washed over her face, and you couldn't hold in your laughter. "i—i was just happy that jeno has the capacity to change. he actually seemed genuine, you know? it was the first time i've seen him like that."

seolhee droned on about how the confrontation went. you didn't get to listen even though you were on the line with seolhee— after hearing jeno's intentions of asking her to meet, you ended the call to respect their privacy.

"he told me that i could punch him if i wanted."

"did you?"

"i would've ended up with a broken hand."

giggles erupted and the clacking of utensils followed after. you finished your meal before her, taking a sip from the remaining liquid in your glass with the straw. it was still quite early, so you figured that you still had an ample amount of time to talk.

"i'm glad that everything turned out well for you, seolhee," you started, placing down your glass on the table. "but remember not to sell yourself short. you shouldn't be satisfied with the bare minimum."

"i know…" she sighed. "that's the most we could get out of him at the moment, and i'm satisfied with that. actually, i don't think he would have even done anything if you didn't reach out to him. so thank you, y/n."

seolhee held gratitude in her eyes as she looked at you, and you pressed your lips together into a thin smile.)

you stared at your phone as you sent your last message to seolhee, walking down the sidewalk on the way to the bakery that chenle and jisung always went to. they were close with the owners, apparently, but you've never gone there until now. the smell of freshly baked goods sent you the signal that you were nearby, and you confirmed upon seeing the lines of pastries displayed from behind the glass windows of a cream painted building.

it was a quick purchase, your hands now full thanks to the three boxes of assorted pastries. you were sure that they'd fight over it if you only got them one— so getting one for each of them would be much better. the other one was for you to bring home to your parents later.

"thank you so much, taeyong! i'll be sure to stop by often," you shot the handsome man behind the counter a smile before turning towards the exit.

"bring the kids with you too! they haven't gone here in a long time and i'm starting to think they've forgotten about me," you laughed at his words, nodding, before finally facing the glass doors that led outside. taeyong was nice, and you were already planning your next visit here. there was brightness in your face as you reached for the door handle, though with great difficulty considering the stack of boxes that you were trying to balance with your other hand.

you were about to push the door open, but you froze, brows furrowed, and the brightness of your face dimmed down. there was a scene going on from across the street— four people ushering themselves into an alleyway. normally you wouldn't be as affected, but you knew these people, and an ominous feeling buried itself in your gut.

"taeyong?" you turned around once more, eliciting a curious expression from the older male. "can i leave these here for a while? i'll be back, there's just something i need to do."

he was evidently confused by your sudden request, but he relented without any questions. you thanked him one last time before finally exiting the bakery, making your way across the street.

"had fun fucking my girlfriend last night, lee?"

it was difficult for donghyuck to maintain his carefree composure when he was shoved against the brick wall with his ribs and jaw throbbing in pain. sweat trickled down his forehead and his hearbeat rang in his ears. he wondered how the fuck was he supposed to get himself out of this situation.

"look, hyunsung. i get that you're pissed, but let's tone down the violence, yeah?" donghyuck let out a wave of nervous laughter, raising his hands in front of him in surrender. "i didn't know she had a boyfriend! so can you really blame me?"

that was a lie. donghyuck knew well that cheonhee (or whatever her name is) was, in fact, taken. someone from the party last night told him so but he didn't exactly give much of a fuck. he thought it would be fine because they were from different schools, anyway— but it looked like he was being too careless.

hyunsung still had him trapped against the wall by the collar, the bigger male's glare drilling holes into his skin. donghyuck knew he wouldn't make it out alive if he made a run for it. he wasn't that strong or fast, and the damned neanderthal still had two other friends to back him up. all donghyuck could rely on was to somehow fool him into letting him go.

but even that didn't seem easy.

"you think i'm gonna believe that, you little bitch?"

donghyuck's blood ran cold and the grin on his face twitched. he felt his lungs squeezing in suffocation when he was pushed harder into the concrete walls, even if what he was saying was true, hyunsung was seeing too much red to believe him. a fist was raised, and he prepared himself for the impact of the third punch.

"kim hyunsung, jung hayoon, and kang jiho."

a gentle voice somehow stopped hyunsung from moving. a mixture of confusion and relief washed over donghyuck, but that was quickly overturned by unease. he froze. he knew that voice, and he internally cursed.

oh my fucking god, were you stupid? at that point, donghyuck decided that being punched would have been the much better option. why the hell were you here? and another question— how did you know these people? worry was writhing inside his gut and he bit down his lip as he watched you walk closer to the scene.

"i didn't expect to see you again, y/n," hyunsung's attention was momentarily diverted to you, but he was still helpless pinned on the wall. jesus fuck, this guy was strong. your gaze quietly moved over to donghyuck, and he hoped that you got the message that he was mouthing. hyunsung leered at him, which brought donghyuck to quickly shut his mouth.

your lips tugged down into a frown. "and i expected that all those corrective sessions with the dean would've at least made a dent into that personality of yours."

hyunsung scoffed. "righteous as always. you know this fucker?"

"he's a friend," you calmly stated, and donghyuck narrowed his eyes. what were you planning? "and i suggest that you let him go."

there was a phone in your hands and the screen was open. he couldn't see what was on it, but then you flashed it over for him and the other three boys to see. "i believe you were already at your final warning before i transferred from daeil academy."

donghyuck could see hyunsung's jaw clench as the guy glared at your phone, and it caught his intrigue. on your tiny phone screen was what seemed to be an open conversation with someone, and on the message box were a series of similar pictures waiting to be sent. donghyuck couldn't see the pictures clearly, nor did he know who were you planning on sending it to, but he got the gist of situation.

"hayoon and jiho might not get any major punishments," your eyes flickered over to the two boys, and they froze upon your stare. hyunsung's grip tightened. "but you're already on your last thread, hyunsung. you'd be expelled once the dean sees this."

at that point, donghyuck concluded that you were very very scary. but you were also very stupid for getting yourself involved in his own problems. no matter how much leverage you had over hyunsung at the moment, a guy like him would still find a way to get back at you.

"you've already done a number on the guy. don't you think that's enough?" you reasoned. "this isn't my business in the first place, so i won't send this if you let him go."

hyunsung's glare was as cold as ice.

"delete it."

but you didn't seem to be shaken at all.

"of course."

you sighed, explicitly showing to him that you permanently deleted the evidence from your phone. hyunsung finally let go of donghyuck, and he released a long breath, hid hands gently nursing the bruise on his face. the pain on his jaw and chest was momentarily dulled by his fear that you'd also get pummeled, but it once again resurfaced and donghyuck flinched at the throbbing feeling.

"you're still the same, y/n," hyunsung let out a bitter chuckle, signalling the two other boys to start moving, and you sent him a nod and a smile.

the three eventually left, but donghyuck still hadn't moved from his spot. he stared at you who seemed to be frozen in thought, that is until you released a sharp huff of breath and your knees nearly gave in to the floor.

"oh dear god, i thought i was going to die," you exhaled, sauntering over to donghyuck who was ready to catch you in case you actually did fall over, but you shot him a glare to stop him. "don't move— you're hurt."

donghyuck gulped and firmly nodded in obedience. you found yourself before him, but you didn't say anything further yet. you didn't scold him or ask him if he was sleight. instead you had your yes locked on your phone, fingers tapping down before shutting it off and shoving it down into your pocket. you finally looked up to him, and your brow raised upon seeing his puzzled expression.

"what were you doing?"

"sent a message to the dean."

his eyes widened. jesus, you were seriously scary. before donghyuck could press on any further, you quickly snatched his hand, staring over to the only opening that led out of the alley. "c'mon, let's go."

you already started walking before he could even retort, dragging the flabbergasted male behind you. "w-wait, where are you taking me?"

there was no answer from you, instead you just kept on walking and donghyuck was left with no choice but to follow.

“will you two be okay?”

“mhm! thank you so much, taeyong!”

the both of you were hidden in the furthermost area of the bakery, donghyuck sitting on the available chairs with a pack of ice firmly pressed against his bruised jaw. taeyong had been generous enough to let you two stay here for a while (the ice was from his, as well), and you promised to buy another box of pastries to thank him, to which he firmly refused with the shaking of his head.

“just make sure you get the guy home safe, okay?” he told you before going back to man the store. you concluded that taeyong was perhaps the nicest person you’ve ever met, and you were suddenly worried by the idea that chenle and jisung might have extorted this man’s kindness somehow (the former, mostly).

“y/n.”

donghyuck’s voice— lacking the confidence and cockiness that it usually held— called out to you amidst your thoughts. your ears perked as you sat before him, leaning forward in your seat and your eyelashes fluttered as you waited for him to continue. he wasn’t looking at you though, eyes in a faraway daze as he looked at the bakery’s sleek wallpaper.

“thanks for saving my ass earlier.”

he muttered, a slight pout on his lips as he did. donghyuck couldn’t bear to look at you at the moment due to his stained pride, but he isn’t that prideful to miss out on actually thanking you. It was genuine, though the embarrassment of you seeing him so helpless was still present. he was suddenly afraid because you weren’t saying anything, but then the sound of your chair screeching as you closed in on him happened, and all he felt now was confusion.

“what are—” donghyuck was about to look at what the hell were you doing, but when your hand gently made contact with the non-injured side of his face, turning his head to look at your worry eyes, the words he was about to say fizzled into air in his throat, leaving his mouth agape in fluster.

“it’s fine, hyuck. does it still hurt?” the rapid pace of his pulse when you brushed away the ice pack in his other hand to examine the dark bruise somehow made him even sensitive to the pain when you mentioned it. he flinched, unable to say anything. “ah, this is gonna last a while. you should drink some painkillers in the meantime, okay?”

donghyuck gulped. oh my god, why were you so close. your soft voice flooded not only his ears, but his entire being and it felt like he was drowning in your presence. the pain that was screaming under his skin was blocked away, numbed into nothingness because all he could feel was how his heart was running to follow you even though you were already so, so close.

he wondered what the fuck was going on with him.

all of a sudden, he felt like an absolute idiot. how would people react upon seeing the rumored fuckboy, lee donghyuck, flaring up at something as innocent as this?

he needed to pull himself together.

“ah!" donghyuck made a hissing sound when your fingers brushed over the area again, instinctively jumping away from your hold, and your brows furrowed in worry. he pouted at you, pressing the half melted ice pack to soothe his jaw once more. "i don't think ice and painkillers would be enough to get rid of the pain, y/n."

instantly, your eyes widened in panic. "oh no, does it really hurt that bad? should i take you to the hospital? oh my gosh, what if it's broken? donghyuck, how much does it—"

"maybe you should kiss it better."

there was silence.

your voice stopped midway, mouth hanging open and you deliberately put it to a close. a cheeky grin was painted on donghyuck's face, one that made it look like he wasn't feeling any pain at all. he noticed the worry on your face being slowly washed away, replaced by your lack of emotion, and you stood up. once more you decided to move closer, walking up to him and barely hovering over and— wait a minute, were you actually gonna do it?

he didn't think about it this far, oh my god.

"wait. y/n, i was just— jesus fucking christ—"

"you deserved to get punched."

donghyuck let out a yelp of pain, hunched over as he hugged his torso. he forgot that he was also attacked on the ribs and was only reminded when you mercilessly jabbed your finger to his chest. he looked at you as you went back to your seat, letting out another groan. “did you just hope that i was also injured here or did you actually know and deliberately subjected me to pain?”

“the latter,” you hummed, crossing your legs. “i was watching from the beginning.”

“so you just let that bitch hyunsung attack me?”

“like i said— you deserved it.”

there wasn’t a hint of jest in your voice and features, meaning you really waited until the last moment before you decided to swoop in. donghyuck bit down his lip, unable to meet your eyes. you were there from the beginning meaning you knew why hyunsung was about to beat the living daylights out of him. suddenly he felt like he didn’t deserve to be saved by you.

"but why did you still help me?"

he was genuinely wondering why you did that. you let him get beat up for a while before deciding to finally get between, but why? it really didn’t make sense to donghyuck, and his heart hammered against his pained ribs while he waited for a response.

“did you really think i was just gonna leave you like that? hyuck, you’re my friend and i care about you.”

what was supposed to be an answer only raised more questions.

“but— but didn’t you say i deserve it?”

“i thought that two hits was enough.”

donghyuck was flustered by your responses and he didn’t even know why. people either sided with him or were against him yet you were situated at both boundaries at the same time. it was a kind of combination that brought him to a place in his head that he’d never been before. you probably noticed the flurry of emotions swirling in his face, so you decided to speak up.

“donghyuck, are you alright?”

“o-oh, yeah,” he shot up under your worried gaze, and he pressed his lips together before speaking. “thanks again for helping me.”

he felt like he wasn’t worthy of your kind smile. “a-also, can i ask a question?”

“go on.”

“don’t you think that i’m like… a shitty person?”

donghyuck was afraid of your response. he was afraid of hearing that you’d agree even though he knew that he was really a terrible person. more than anything, he was afraid of what you thought about him, actually.

“i don’t think so,” you said. “but maybe you’ve done a lot of things before that would be considered ‘shitty’.”

he was genuinely surprised by your answer.

“it’s never too late, hyuck.”

it was quiet for a moment, but it was welcome. donghyuck took this time to think for a moment, to actually get in touch with the mess that had been long ignored in his head. he looked at you as you silently busied yourself with your phone, lips pursed in a manner that had his chest tightening. as if you noticed him staring, you shut off your phone and faced him.

“i think we’ve been loitering here for too long,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. “should we go?”

donghyuck nodded before scrambling to get up. he went over to pick up the boxes neatly placed on the table beside you, but you quickly smacked his hands away. “what?”

“do you think i’m gonna let you bring all of this while you’re injured?”

“y/n, my hands are fine. didn’t you watch as my face and chest got brutally assaulted?”

“you’re still hurt, hyuck,” you protested. “also i’m not letting you go home by yourself. what if hyunsung decides to come after you? do you have anyone to come pick you up?”

donghyuck bit down his lip at your question. he wasn’t planning on going home and he somehow knew that you weren’t going to let him off easily if he told you that. there were many options that flooded his head on what he should tell you— maybe he could say that he’ll head to his dad’s company so that you wouldn’t have to worry, or maybe he can call renjun or jeno pretending that it was his mom.

but for some reason he didn’t want to lie to you.

“um,” his eyes were trained behind you when he spoke. “i don’t really want to tell either of my parents to know what happened... and i don’t want to stay at home, either.”

surprisingly, you didn’t press any further.

“okay,” you assured, and he sighed. he didn’t think that one simple okay could make him feel lighter. “still, i don’t like the idea of letting you off on your own. why don’t we call one of your friends?”

wait a second—

“should we ask jeno? wait, maybe we shouldn’t bother him for now.”

donghyuck’s face paled.

“what about renjun? ah, he might be busy today.”

god, please no—

“oh, let’s ask nana! maybe he’d let you stay over at his to rest for the time being.”

he wanted to stop you, but you were already calling him, and his blood ran cold. there wasn’t a problem with him staying over at jaemin’s— he was actually planning on doing that, anyway. the problem laid on the fact that jaemin would probably kill him once he found out that you were with him. donghyuck was too dumbstruck by the situation to even realize that wait— how did you know jeno and renjun? you even had their numbers? what the fuck?

“thank you so much, nana! i’ll text you the address,” there was a smile on your face when you were talking to him, and donghyuck didn’t want to get rid of it by telling you that the person on the end of the line was probably scowling at your request right now. that would also mean that he’d have to tell you that jaemin had been trying to pursue you, and he didn’t want to get in the middle of that.

so all he could do was smile and nod as he waited for his friend’s wrath.

but much to his surprise and relief, it never came. because the moment jaemin arrived to drag his ass to his house, he seemed to be too distracted by you to even look at him. he noticed something different from his friend; the bright gleam on his face when he looked at you was something he had never seen before, and it welcomed a feeling that he had never felt before.

“thanks again, nana! i’ll see you two tomorrow,” when you finally parted ways, donghyuck expected to finally be berated by his friend for, once again, not listening when he told him to stay away from you, but all that happened was the dimming down of his previous elated demeanor.

“let’s go?”

jaemin uttered without a trace of anger or malice or anything— and donghyuck was more unnerved by this. he nodded in response, wordlessly trailing behind his friend as he went over to crash at his place for the umpteenth time that week.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE // A HEART FOR A HEART

as they say, what goes around comes around. so when you break a hundred hearts out of the selfishness of your actions— be prepared to get your own heart broken a hundred times, as well.

24 // kiss it better

a/n: it’s 12:30am as i’m typing this and i’m just about to shut down oh my god ayways i hope you enjoyed this part!! some hyuck action hehehehe i’d say more shit but i’m really so tired rn so good byE

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#NCT-WRITERS #nct dream x reader #nct dream social media au #nct x reader #nct social media au #huang renjun x reader #huang renjun social media au #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno social media au #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck social media au #haechan x reader #haechan social media au #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin social media au

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

dating rich | ksj

⤑ series: sugar free

⤑ genre: fluff, rich!jin x artist!reader, college au.

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 3.4K

⤑ warnings: there aren’t any, lmao.

⤑ A/N: today was a bit of a busy day so this is later than i wanted it to be! (im in the process of moving) buuut, it’s here and i really like it :( they’re kinda cute ngl . let me know what you think ! x

You hadn't been expecting the knock at your front door, was weary on your way down the steps to see who was standing on the other side. A large man, black hat pulled low on his head shuffled on his feet from behind the peephole. A box tucked underneath his armpit.

Watching him, you waited until he did the normal delivery man thing – dropping the box outside of the door and ditching second after knocking; not even giving you a chance to reach for the doorknob. He didn't, though. Seconds passed and the man just stood there, waiting for you to open up.

“Package for Miss Yn,” His deep voice had your body jumping as if he had sensed your presence on the other side of the door. With a quiet breath, you were reaching for to pull the door open, caught off guard by the dazzling smile of the tall man. “Are you Miss Yn?” He asked, that grin not wavering for a moment.

“Yeah, that's me. I didn't order anything, though.” You kept good track of your orders, knew when you would be expecting a visitor. Never could be too careful as a young girl living on her own.

“It's from Master Seokjin, a dress for tonight.” The man was holding the box out to you and you couldn't hold back the urge to roll your eyes. Did this guy really have his own delivery service where the workers referred to him as 'Master'? How ridiculous. “Great, thank you.” You forced the smile, watching as the man nodded before taking a few backward steps down the stairs.

Pushing the door closed, your attention was dropping to the box in your hands. It was neatly wrapped, probably done professionally with the way this man loved to throw his cash to the wind. A pretty gold bow holding the thing together and you weren't gentle with the way you tugged at it, watching as the careful ribboning came undone.

With the lid now off, you were faced with the expertly folded laid inside. A creamy white color, silky to the touch. Noting how short it was when you finally talked yourself into pulling it from the box. Singed at the waist with a matching belt tie, the dress was beautiful. And you didn't have to peak at the price tag (that he didn't bother to detach) to know that it was expensive.

You had been so enthralled with the fabric, you almost missed the items that laid at the bottom of the box. A pair of long dangled silver earrings beside a pair of matching silver stilettos. This man sure paid a great deal of attention to detail. There was a note placed just below the sole of the shoe.

Lifting it, your eyes scanned over the words written, not being able to fight the smile breaking onto your lips.

'don't you think this is much prettier than some tired cocktail dress? (no idea what you have in your closet) – nd no offense either. like i said, im sure you look great in everything. though, i heard chiffon does wonders for a pretty woman; wanted to test that theory.'

A compliment hidden somewhere within his obvious need to flaunt his wealth. It was kinda sweet and he wasn't wrong, this dress was much nicer than any old thing you would've thrown on at the last minute.

If you were going to be dating rich... might as well look the part, right?

Another knock sounded at your door exactly five hours later. 18:27. Three whole minutes before Jin had told you he'd be picking you up. Was he extremely punctual or just excited to see you? Not allowing yourself a moment extra to mull over the question, you were pulling the door open, new dress hugging your body, heels adding to your height, and earrings fastened in your ear.

Jin took his time taking in your appearance, a not so subtle jaw dropped expression as his eyes scanned over the way the fabric hugged your body. “You look amazing,” His words were riddled with disbelief, hushed as if he was speaking to himself.

Either way, that smile was pushing its way onto your lips. Not able to place just why you were so fond of receiving compliments from him. Maybe it was the fact it seemed as if he actually cared how you looked... you the fact that $3,421.78 made you feel desirable. No need to mull over that either.

“Thank you,”

He nodded, acknowledging your gratitude before offering up his arm for you to hold. “Minho is keeping the car warm for us, come on.” Only then were you noticing the shiny SUV parked directly in front of your house? The same man from earlier standing outside of it, ready to pull the door open when needed.

Your hand fit nicely against his bicep, heels clicked as you stepped forward pulling your front door closed behind you. Jin led you down the steps, advising you to watch your step as he brought you to the car.

Minho greeted you both with a soft smile, the back door of the car being pulled open and Jin was ushering you in like a true gentleman. The door was closing behind you and moments later, Minho was climbing into the front seat and shoving the car into gear.

The car ride to the restaurant was uncomfortably silent. You couldn't come up with something interesting to say and couldn't stop scolding yourself for actually wanting to say something to pique his interest. Jin was quiet, uncharacteristically so. Eyes staring out the slightly tinted window as his leg bounced quickly next to you.

Was he nervous? Doubtful.

You took to fumbling with the hem of your dress, counting down the moments until the car was stopping and you'd be inside of the restaurant. Actually hungry and excited to try the food there. $50 a plate (you had surfed the website for their cheapest dish, that was it), their food had to be good, right?

Relief is instantly washing over you as Minho is sliding the car to a stop, stepping out without a word to open the door for both you and Seokjin. An innocent hand lands on the small of your back as the two of you make your way toward the entrance and, surprisingly, you lack the urge to bat it away.

“Hey, Dae-Ho!” His bright personality is back, complete with his matching smile as the two of you approach the man standing at the door. Dae-Ho? Is turning, a grin spreading on his lips as he spots the two of you. Of course, they knew each other.

Jin is clapping hands with Dae-Ho, engaging in that generic guy handshake where they pat each other on the back while holding hands but not getting too close. “It's been forever, dude. You don't shadow your old man any more?” Dae-Ho is wondering and Jin is quick to shake his head.

“Not as much... think he was afraid if I learned too much I'd surpass him too fast,” Jin is joking and his friend is letting out a heartfelt laugh, eyes squinting as he shows off his perfectly white teeth. When the laughter dies down, the guy's attention is zeroing on you. He stares for a moment, brow arched as he watched you, waiting... for what?

If Jin notices the weird moment, he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even bother to drop his hand from your waist, just continues on smiling at his friend and speaking up without missing a beat. “Is Moonie around?”

Moonie? How many people did this guy know behind these thick glass doors? Dae-Ho is nodding his head, reaching for the walk-y that was clipped to his waist. He speaks into the receiver, voice much deeper and direct now. “Moon, there's someone here to see you.”

'Moon' is coming out just minutes later. A short silver-haired girl with small features and a pointed nose. Her smile is large when she spots Jin, not hesitating to pull him in for a tight hug when she's able to reach. “Wow, where have you been Jinnie?”

“You know around,” Jin shrugs. “Heard you bought your father out, took his name off all the papers of this place...” The girl is nodding excitedly at Jin's words, leading the two of you past the front doors as they continue to catch up.

So he was close to the owner? Seemed like old friends from the way they addressed each other and smiled so fondly. With a snorted laugh, she was sitting the two of you down in a quiet corner of the place. “I haven't seen you in so long, man. This one's on the house, whatever you want.” She's handing a menu over to you, that pretty smile taking over her features again.

“Wow, I'm so rude. Is this your girlfriend? What's your name?” You tried not to flinch at the label, pushing a polite smile onto your lips as you got ready to answer. “I'm not-” You start, quickly being interrupted by Jin.

“This is Yn. We go to school together,” Moon takes a moment to look between the two of you, obviously picking up on the tension but not saying much about it. “That's cool, then. Let me go grab a server for you two,” She's turning to leave before either of you could weigh in.

“Why didn't you let me correct her?” Jin is looking at you with a furrowed brow, shoulders shrugging before he's reaching for the glass of water placed on the table and taking a long sip. “Did it really matter?” Did it? Maybe it didn't... it wasn't like you were ever going to see that girl again. And the two of you weren't exactly friends.

What was he supposed to introduce you as? The girl that he was kinda interested in, but not really because he was probably this way with any girl he found remotely attractive. Yeah, that was definitely a mouthful.

No, wait. It did. Girlfriend was a big deal. And you had just barely agreed to go on this date with him. Two people can go on a date without being accused of actually dating. That's not weird to say. He was courting you and that was the bottom line, nothing had been promised.

Through your mess of thoughts, a small fact was hitting you. He knew the owner of this place and acted as if the two of you would have trouble getting in based on what you wore. So why had he insisted on buying you a new dress if he knew that wouldn't be a factor?

Sat across from you in a nice but regular button shirt tucked into a pair of simple black jeans. Everyone else around you two was dolled up, so there most definitely was a dress code, yet he didn't have to follow it because his friend was the owner. So why a new (expensive) dress for you?

Something wasn't adding up.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, having dinner with Jin wasn't as bad as you had assumed it would be. He was kind, funny, and all-around an entertaining person to be around. It was as if he genuinely enjoyed seeing you laugh, hearing the sound of it, and was ready to spew out joke after joke just to hear the sound.

He had ordered for the both of you, warning you quietly that not many things on the menu were all that appetizing. Well, he thought he was being quiet, he did however earn an eye roll from his friend Moon who hadn't been too far from the table.

The awkward laugh that left his lips, oddly, warmed your heart pushing a smile onto your face and breaking the layer of ice you had been keen on keeping intact. Jin listened intently to the answer to each question that he asked, seeming honestly interested in what you had to tell him. Wanting to actually know more about you and your personality rather than just asking the questions to fill the silence.

You told him whatever came to mind, not being able to hold back after realizing that he was interested in what you had to say. Told him about your dreams as an artist, your love for literature, and film work. Even told him the embarrassing story of the time you thought you could be a poet and actually entered a poetry slam.

He had a good laugh hearing your story end in stumbling off stage in fear, tripping over the microphone on the way, and busting your ass in front of the entire audience. You couldn't silence his laughter after that and quickly, you were urging him to make up for it with an embarrassing story of his own.

Which he shared without a second thought, animatedly telling you about his friends and the times they got themselves into a mess, the sound of his laughter interrupting his words more often than not. As the seconds of the night ticked by, you found yourself feeling more and more comfortable around this man.

Almost had you second-guessing the snap judgment you had made prior to this. How quickly you decided that you weren't interested in getting to know him when he was kind of great when it came down to it.

A gracious tip was left on the table, despite the meal not needing to be paid for. With a soft smile, Jin's reaching to set his hand on the small of your back once more; leading you out of the restaurant with the gentlest guidance.

Moon is stood at the front door, flicking through the menu as the two of you pass her. She looks up immediately, waving with that brightest of smiles. “Come back soon! You need to treat your pretty girlfriend as often as possible,” She's calling out. It's not even hard for you to push down the urge to correct her, only pushing a smile onto your face and waving back.

Jin nods grins at his friends before the two of you are exiting the building. Minho is pulling up just as the two of you are stepping out. Dae-Ho nowhere insight when you look for him, but you're not given the chance to wander with the way Jin's ushering you into the backseat of the car.

“So,” He's prompting after a few moments driving in silence had passed. Your attention had been out the window, watching the trees as they whipped by and trying to wrap your mind around how pleasant this evening had been. Wondering just how your guard had managed to slip, Jin letting himself in without a second thought.

You turn to face him, a smile instantly lifting the corners of your mouth at the sight of him. Had he always been this unbelievably handsome? “You had a good time tonight, huh?” He's asking with that cocky smile of his and out of habit, you're rolling your eyes.

“It's alright,” You shrug, turning your attention from him to hide the coloring in your cheeks. If you hadn't looked away, you would've seen the cute way Jin rolled his eyes at you, his body sinking into the comfort of the leather seats as his head turned to get a better look at your profile. “Just alright? That grin hasn't left your face since we sat down. Not that I'm complaining,”

You're quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. Not like he even needed it, the evidence was right in front of his face. He doesn't push it, his attention going to the window at his side of the car.

“I had a really good time tonight,” It sounds more like a silent confession than a declaration meant for you. As if he couldn't believe it himself. You couldn't either, but you don't say anything. So positive that this was just tonight. No matter how much fun he was, how nice, how attractive... he was still the same Kim Seokjin. Still, the same womanizer name riddled with rumors.

Who knows if this wasn't just a calculated plan he used each time he took some girl on a date? Yeah, you weren't falling for it. Couldn't believe you almost let yourself believe it was any different.

You're quiet the rest of the ride, mind reeling. So badly, you wanted this night to be more than just... some night to him. It had been a good time and it kinda sucked that you knew this would be it.

Minho is pulling up in front of your house and before he can move, Jin is opening up the back door. He turns to offer a hand to you, much like a true gentleman would. You're accepting it, allowing him to pull you out of the vehicle.

“Have a good night, Minho!” You're calling over the shoulder, the man in the driver's seat jumping slightly at the mention of his name but quickly replying with a quick goodbye and a large smile.

His hands slip into the front pockets of his jeans as he leads you up the walkway to your front door. An awkward silence fell over the two of you and you had no idea what you were supposed to say in a moment like this. Thank you? See you around? The date was great, too bad we can't do it again? All horrible conversation starters that you had no idea how to steer.

Silence was the best option.

Jin stops once you're at your front door, hands shoved in his pockets while he toes with a loose pebble. Head ducked as if the stone of your porch is the most fascinating thing, but you can still see the tint in his cheeks. He was blushing? But why?

Was he fixing to ask if he could come up? Complete the night like you were sure he and his friends prided with. Minho still hasn't moved from his spot, does that mean he was planning to just come up for a quicky and meet Minho back downstairs?

He's lifting his head and you prepare yourself for the question, ready to reject the idea of a quick fuck that most likely followed his dates. Did he think just because you had a good time you'd be willing to give yourself up to him? Not happening.

“Did I manage to change your opinion on me?” His voice is hushed, almost as if he's afraid of the answer. Did he really care that much what you thought of him? Why you? Why did your opinion matter so much to him?

Slowly, the pieces were starting to fall into place. The expensive dress, the way he flaunted his connections within in the restaurant you picked, how interested in you he seemed to be throughout the whole night... not to mention the shy way his fingers would brush yours as if he wanted to hold your hand the whole car ride home.

Was he actually interested in you? The thought had a smile pushing on your lips and you hated the easy effect the idea of Jin having a crush on you gave away. Before you can talk yourself out of it, think it all the way through – you're stepping forward, hands braced on his biceps as you lean on your toes.

His lips are warm against yours, very soft. It takes Jin a moment to realize what's happening, that your lips are pressed firmly against his but once his mind is settling, he's slipping into it. An arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close while he slowly moves his mouth over yours.

You don't let the kiss become too deep, your head already spinning. You pull away just as he steps forward, looking up just in time to see the dopey smile on his face. You can still taste his lips on yours and figured that will be enough to hold you over for the night.

“I wouldn’t mind doing this again,” You watch the way his eyes light up at your confession, his cheeks tinting pink. “That's good, then!” He's taking backward steps off your porch, eyes never leaving you.

“I should call you then?” He wonders and you nod, turning to unlock your front door. “Yeah, call me.” He offers a quick wave before he's turning and you watch him walk all the way to the car, slipping into the front seat next to Minho.

Faintly, you can feel the pressure of his lips. His strong arm wrapped around your waist. How nervous he looked before asking if you had thought differently of him. Had you? You couldn't know for sure. But maybe you were wrong about him.

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

↲ masterlist ↳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lilacdreams-00 @sw33tnight @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okblve @jinhitwhore @tae165 @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansbun @betysotelo18 @cherriigguk @koostime @kooinluv @butterflylion @kookiesjoonies @uxwi @honeyoongles @imajiningseokjin @amoreguk @beeeb05 @tommasauras @bluefaeriefury @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @soulstaes @thesunisup-theskyisblue @jinsearth @aizuwusho @moonb0yy @tan-dulset @8sjaf @mini-coop25 @marifujioka @sunskook @elliemeetsevil @ratking101�� @leovaldezisfire

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

A Way Into the Future - Luxu

Alright, we’ve got the green light kiddos! So, without further ado, here’s my piece for the Shattered Fates - Foretller Zine. Enjoy!

Music Inspiration: I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead - Set It Off

~~~~~

Footsteps echo off the stone walls of the underpass beneath the Outer Gardens. One set—much faster than the other—struggles, moving unsteadily and with a lot of panic. It’s no wonder considering the owner of said steps took quite a beating. He put up a decent fight, but poor Braig had no hope of prevailing against his tormentor: a legend, a man of time, a Master—Luxu.

Ruthless yellow lights barely have the power to illuminate the tunnels, but the young man doesn’t need to see to know the man hunting him is not far behind.

As the black coat stalks persistently closer, his prey stumbles down the path, unaware that he’s being driven straight into a trap—doing everything that the stalker had intended to a T. Luxu has spent many years refining a variety of skills, both combative and strategic; coercing his victims into his snare is child’s play. Decades of thought have gone into formulating the criteria for his perfect vessel and, unfortunately for the young man, he matches every point perfectly.

Unbeknownst to the Radiant Garden native, Luxu had scouted his playground days prior to this encounter and had collapsed the only escape that gave his victim any prospect. His hope is effectively crushed at the sight of the clogged tunnel.

Eyes wide with pure terror, he turns back to Luxu. The sharpshooter has a quick draw, even in fear, but it proves just as useless as it had before. Barely any thought is spent on the barrier that prevents the bullets from reaching their mark.

“I already told you resisting me was useless,” Luxu drawls. “All this fear and pain could’ve been avoided if you had just done as I asked. But I guess it’s only fair to assume any self-respecting warrior worth his salt would struggle.”

Backed against the debris, the kid quivers. To his merit, he maintains his aim, despite how utterly doomed he is.

“What do you want with me?!”

Luxu pauses his approach. “Hmm, let’s see—that brand new job you just took at the castle is a good start.”

“A job? You want my job? I-I can talk to my boss! Just let me talk to Ansem!”

“I hate to tell you, kid, but I need more than your job. I need your entire existence. Or more specifically, I need your body.” The boy’s petrified face goes pale. “My scapegoat has finally arrived; things are about to get very interesting and your life perfectly fits all my needs. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop struggling; I’d like to avoid injuring that body any more than necessary.”

As he closes the gap and the boy cowers beneath him, Luxu recalls how he came to be here, stealing the bodies of young men.

~~~~~

“Master, what is this?” the young man asks, looking over the paper and not entirely sure he’s read it correctly.

As he has many times before, Luxu stands in the Master’s study. The room is filled with books, vials, and plenty of objects of which Luxu couldn’t even guess the purpose of. The only thing he can be sure of is that none of it is as it seems, and that broad statement brings with it its own sense of security. It has always been filled with wonders and the Master seems to introduce him to a new one each time he visits. This time is no exception.

The eccentric man folds his arms. “What do you think it is?”

His voice catches in his mouth. He’s read it over once, twice, but surely, he must be mistaken. “This sounds like a method for taking over someone’s body.”

“Bingo! You are correct, sir!” the Master praises, waving his hands animatedly.

“WHAT?!” In his exclamation, young Luxu throws the paper in the air.

His master snatches the fluttering paper. “Don’t lose it! I only have one copy of that!”

“Okay, one, why don’t you make another copy? And two, why do you know how to possess someone’s body?!”

“Oh, I don’t know how; this is all just theory. I wrote it this morning.”

His master never fails to perplex him. “And you think I need it why?”

“Because you’re only human,” the Master of Masters replies. “That body of yours will become old and decrepit and weaken over time but your job will be far from done. So, you need some way to continue living and persist into the future.”

The Master may be a strange man, but it’s no secret that he enjoys pulling emotions from his pupils—his favorite being shock. Luxu has made a point to accept his master’s eccentricity and all it entails, having come to see the unpredictability as predictable. It’s been a long time since the Master has been able to truly flabbergast the young man.

Luxu’s arms wave in disbelief. “And you think body snatching is the way to do that?!”

Matching the animated gestures, the Master retorts, “Well do you have any other bright ideas?!”

Luxu glances away. “Couldn’t you figure out immortality or something else?”

The Master holds his arms up in an X. “Absolutely not. Immortality is far more complicated and we just don’t have time for that. So, this is your only hope of completing your task.” Again, the paper is pushed into Luxu’s hands. As the student stares at the page, the Master’s tone turns serious. “Remember, while the others have very important roles, everything hinges on the success of yours. If you don’t see this through, the Book of Prophecies won’t be written and things will fall in ruins.” His tone drops even more, almost as if he’s threatening his pupil. “And all those people you care about will die for nothing.”

Those words strike the young man. Aced, Ira, Invi, Gula, and Ava—they’re family. Even if they sometimes bicker and disagree, Luxu grew up with them. He already disliked the idea of them fighting, possibly to their destruction, but they’re all fighting for the light’s survival. If he doesn’t do his job, they’ll lose their guidance and their struggles will be meaningless—his family will die in vain.

But taking someone else’s body and losing his own: it’s unthinkably horrifying. He’d never considered that his body could be disposable; that something so undeniably “Luxu” could just be swapped out as easily as his coat. These thoughts become too much to deal with in this moment, so he decides not to. Still, he can’t simply throw away a key aspect of his master’s orders, so the paper is carefully folded and tucked into his jacket to address later.

“Thank you for your guidance, Master,” Luxu murmurs.

Back to his light-hearted self, the Master of Masters slings an arm around Luxu’s shoulders. “That’s more like it. Now, let me show you why you’re going to need that paper.”

~~~~~

Spasms wrack every gasp he takes. They come not from his chase of the now-unconscious man at his feet, but from the seriousness of what he must do next.

Staring down at his very first victim, he feels a heavy guilt in his chest. Based on what’s written, he can only assume the original heart will be ejected and either become a Heartless or ascend to Kingdom Hearts. This man had no say in the matter; he was hunted down like a dog and endured only terror and pain in his final moments. He’s still young and could’ve had a full life ahead of him filled with happiness and adventure. He had potential but Luxu deemed him a lamb for slaughter.

Luxu shakes his head; he can’t have these sorts of distractions dragging him down.

The old parchment slips from his pocket, a perfect cross forever creased into its aged surface. Instructions written in black still read perfectly clear despite time’s efforts. He’s read and reread the page thousands of times, each time going through the shock of what exactly is being asked of him: ice shoots through his veins while his skin scorches, a suffocating grasp squeezes at his throat, and a violent churn nearly upheaves his stomach. The possibility of failure reels in his mind, threatening to evolve into a full-blown panic attack. He spent his whole life as himself—as Luxu—but now, for the sake of light itself, he must discard that. Just thinking about looking in a mirror and not recognizing the face looking back reminds him of his nightmares. Supposedly, his heart will retain his memories, but he still worries over exactly how much of himself he’ll get to keep; after all, sacrifices for such sins must be made.

The tremors in his chest have spread, shaking the page in his gasp. A deep breath does nothing to soothe his fears but allows him to regain focus. He reminds himself that this is for the existence of everything—for the people he loves. It doesn’t matter if he’s scared, it doesn’t matter if he loses himself, it doesn’t matter if the people who matter don’t recognize him, he has no choice.

Sighing, he lets the paper float to the ground, letting his eyes linger on the victim at his feet. He can’t let himself dwell on anything lest his mind trail back to his fear. He gets started.

Clearing his head, he rests both hands against his chest. The suggested mental imagery serves him well while his heart begins to compress. He remembers the most important parts of himself—the things about himself he values—and imagines placing them in a box. His personality, skills, and knowledge are added inside. Memories follow suit; all the good, the bad, and the in-between are stowed away as important, for they have shaped the person he’s become. The young man takes great care in packing all of himself away.

As these things fade from his conscious mind—all bound to his heart for transfer—the darkness stalking at the edges of his mind begins encroaching on his thoughts like wolves prepared to devour him. Luxu’s natural instincts react in fear, causing the man to tremble and his physical heart to pound in his ears. Just like the darkness, a chill creeps along his quaking limbs, his control over them waning. With every bit of himself that he stows away for his next life, the little rationality that must stay behind cowers in terror. He would simply do away with all his senses, but he knows that some of his consciousness must stay to facilitate the move. He must suffer this fear and lose part of his mind to succeed.

The body to be left behind is nearly shut down. His throat closes, no longer able to draw air into his spasming lungs. He has no idea if he’s doing anything right or if he’s even ready, but the innate fear of death has him in a panic. He has to go now.

Eyes snap open, nothing but bright light consuming his vision. This is it; this is where he discards everything he is. This is the point of no return. With the dread as potent as ever, his consciousness fades as he sends the light on its way.

Instantly, Luxu becomes aware of the intense, stinging pain. Every nerve is like a needle, searing at his heart. He would absolutely be screaming if he could but, as it currently stands, he has no access to any vocal cords, let alone a mouth.

A firm pressure resists his heart, struggling against him. The way it reverberates is reminiscent of his own screams. This is his victim, desperately fighting to keep control. Their panic gives them strength, allowing them to push against Luxu to the point he feels his grip slipping. A desperate alarm shoots through him, fueling his struggle.

As it turns out, Luxu’s fear is stronger than that of the man he’s possessing.

Resistance suddenly stops. Slowly, the presence of the other heart begins to fade, allowing Luxu’s heart to fill the hole left behind. The pain begins to ebb at an unbearably slow rate, but there is solace in the fact that it is fading.

His consciousness begins unfurling within his brain as he lies on the ground gasping. Comprehension begins weaving through the unpacking, bringing attention to what exactly just happened. He hadn’t been prepared for resistance; he didn’t know he could still lose after disarming his target. There was no warning for that. If Luxu’s heart had lost the struggle, he would’ve been expunged, become a heartless, and failed his task; he would have failed his loved ones. And this is only his first time.

It takes an eternity for the agony to fade enough and allow him to assess the body. It’s all still sensitive, like a limb falling asleep and waking back up, only far more intense. Nevertheless, he manages to open his eyes. Even they feel the stinging, giving him blurry vision. Nerves feel like fire as he struggles to raise a hand. The trembling extremities are different: the skin tone is a shade off, fingers are slightly longer, and there’s no sign of a mole he used to have on his wrist. It’s strange to feel and control the hand of a stranger.

It takes some time for all the nerves to properly connect. Small repetitions get the muscles moving as they should, and after a few hours, he is able to stand. Weak legs hold him up while he tries to regain his bearings. Palms press against his eyes, struggling to get rid of that remnant sting.

When his hands drop, he finds nothing. The expelled heart is gone and so is the body he left behind. There is no going back.

The old paper flutters, threatening to fly away. However, this is only the first of many stolen bodies and he will need those instructions to repeat the move in the future.

Reaching down, he scoops up the paper. The action nearly topples him. Despite his careful decision for this particular individual, he couldn’t find someone exactly like himself. There are still differences that will take some getting used to, driving home one very important, horrendous fact.

He is no longer Luxu.

He is no longer himself.

The reality finally kicks him in the gut, bringing him back to the ground where a foreign scream tears from his mouth.

~~~~~

“You’re crazy! Stay away from me!”

The cry drags the man back from age-old memories. Braig is the latest of his numerous casualties.

Luxu could’ve stopped long ago, given up his master’s orders and spared so many ignorant hearts—innocent people didn’t have to die for this. However, sacrifices must be made for sins, and Luxu’s been paying his due. With every bit of himself left behind, the rest naturally tries to fill in that hole, but it’s not the same. The new pieces become influenced by the suffering and bitterness Luxu endures with each move, filling him with more and more darkness. That’s not to say darkness is a bad thing, but it fuels the apathy born from repeated trauma.

Luxu’s views on humanity have deteriorated; each passerby could die at his feet and he would simply step over them. Those chosen as new vessels hold some interest, but he no longer has any qualms putting them down. Only the people he started this journey for mean anything to him now; they are the only light left in his unrecognizable life. They would likely look down on him with disappointment, scold and abhor him, but he would burn every world in existence for their fates. But the end is near. The scapegoat has finally shown himself and soon Luxu will be free of this burden—his family will return to him. No matter what wrath he may incur from them, the relief of the end is just too tempting to spare this last victim.

Luxu shrugs. “You might be right about that; repeatedly losing part of your mind does that to a guy. Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing more dangerous than an insane person with a goal. You were simply the poor soul that caught my eye this time.”

“N-No! Please!”

Having done this so many times, Luxu doesn’t even need the instructions, so he burnt them long ago. His mind already begins to pack away the things he wishes to carry forward and the chill starts in his fingers.

“Sorry, but everything I’ve dedicated my life to hangs in the balance. Neither of us have a choice here. But don’t worry—this isn’t my first time and I’ll ensure it’s as painless as possible.”

As he strides closer, the man scrambles closer to the wall. Fear shines brightly in his eyes, but it doesn’t faze a man who’s seen it so many times before—who’s endured it so many times before.

“Take a deep breath, Braig. It’ll all be over soon.”

#kh luxu #zine feat nova #luxu

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rex101111 · 3 years

Text

For a glass of Cactus Wine

Summary: Migelo does both his duties at the fete, one to the Empire, and the other to his kids.

Rating: T

Fandom: Final Fantasy XII

Well! Been a while since I wrote something substantial, but @sevi007 has been doing a live blog of this game, thus reminding me how much I love it, and so here’s a fic depicting the one missing scene in this game I really wanted to see, also to give Lizard dad the content he deserves. Enjoy!

Seeing Arcadian troops stomp in the halls of the Royal Palace made Migelo want to crawl right out of his hide. It’s been two years since those bastards in their tin plates stomped into his home and his city and still he could only barely keep his anger in check at how disrespectful the whole lot of them were.

Leaning on pillars built centuries past, wiping their feet on rugs that took months to weave, pointing and laughing like children at art that they would never understand the importance of. If he heard another one of these piss-drunk bureaucrats call one more thing in this palace “quaint” he’s going to use that same thing to break it over their heads.

Still, years of experience in burying his feelings and opinions about his costumers helped him plaster a smile on his snout. This was simply business, he was providing sundries and food for an event, like he’s done dozens and dozens of times over his long career.

“Watch that crate!” He yelled out to one of the servants, “it’s got wine in it, worth more than ten of your lifetimes! Handle it with a bit of care why don’t you?” The servant sheepishly apologized and asked for help from another servant as Migelo turned his gaze elsewhere, “dear girl, you’ll break your back like that!” He went to a maid and corrected her posture and how she held her tray of food, “there we go now, better?”

“Thanks Migelo.” The maid smiled gratefully, before her face turned sour, “these imperials get nasty when they’re drunk, they keep asking me to run back and forth for all sorts of nonsense.” She sighed harshly, “probably just want a peek up my skirt.”

“You let ol’ Migelo handle them, Meina.” He soothes, turning her to a different direction, “empty that tray and take a break for ten minutes, I’ll have someone else make sure they don’t notice you gone, yes?”

She went off with a smile and Migelo continued like that, his time cleaved cleanly between ordering servants this way and that soothing fraying nerves. This fete needed to go flawlessly, with the consul himself attending every hand on deck needed to give it their all and then some. If the pompous royal left this evening with a good opinion of his food, he might transfer said opinion to the rest of the city. If he did that, maybe his boys and girls could have more room to breathe.

He looked ruefully over the staff, some of the younger ones he’s known since they were children, helped them train for applying for work in the palace. Rabanastre was a small city, everyone knew everyone, and that only became stronger as the plague and the war ravaged the place. Seeing these kids, his kids, running around like cockatrices with their heads cut off for the sake of their invaders made a lick of fire burn in his gut, no matter how hard he tried to douse it.

Worse of all was that he knew he was delaying the inevitable, he had an invitation to answer soon, and the longer he ignored the worse things would get not only for himself, but everyone else living in Rabanastre.

He took a few long breathes, practiced his best servile smile in a nearby plate, pictured the smiling face of every single child under his care in his mind, and went off to sit at the right of the eldest living son of Emperor Gramis, Vayne Carudas Solidor.

The consul was deep in debate with the others sitting at his table, something about tax rates and territory dispute that went right over Migelo’s head, but as soon as the old bangaa drew close enough, as if he could hear his footsteps over the rancor of the room, Vayne stopped talking and turned his head to meet his gaze.

“Ah, Sir Migelo, so nice of you to finally join me.” He motioned for one of the nearby soldiers to pull back the chair at his right side, “please, sit.”

With practice ease, and complaining stomach, Migelo bowed in apology, “I hope you would forgive me, Lord Consul, I had so many things to fix and move, my responsibilities nearly made me forget your most gracious offer.”

“Think nothing of it good Sir,” Vayne waved off easily, “We should all wish to have your work ethic Migelo, so we could accomplish our own work half as well.” Vayne complimented him smoothly as Migelo finally sat, the others at the table nodding sycophantically, before beginning to pour the store owner a glass of red wine. “But, let me remind you that I asked of you to refer to me by my first name.”

Taking the glass with all the grace he could manage, Migelo bowed his head again with an outwardly warm smile, “ah, forgive this old lizard sir consul, I still feel ill at ease referring to one of your station so informally.” The other reason was the only people he called by name were his friends and his kids, and Vayne is not, would never be, either. “Perhaps I’ll manage that better,” he made a show of laughing from his belly, “with a bit of fine Arcadian wine in my system, eh?”

“Of course.” Vayne’s sharp eyes and sharper smile made Migelo feel as if he were strapped to a table, “please, indulge as you please, we have all night after all.”

Nodding, Migelo started to drain his glass, and had to fight his gag reflex with every gulp. Arcadian wine made you feel like someone was trying to prove something to you, too rich, too fruity, too damn much. Seeing the people around him gulp this stuff down was aggravating as it was confusing, you could stuff as many flowers into a bottle of Slaven piss as you wanted, it was still a drink of cold piss.

Decades of honing his poker face in the interest of more returning costumers made sure none of that disgust was visible on his face of course, to any casual observer Migelo savored every drop of the expensive Slaven piss, finishing his glass with a pleasured sigh. “Ahh, what an excellent, uh, flavor profile! So full of life and character!” He turned to the consul with a toothy grin, “How’s about you give me another to loosen my tongue?”

“You are a man of great taste, Sir Migelo.” Vayne complimented, smiling thinly as he filled the offered cup before filling his own. “I’ve heard Dalmascans do not have a high opinion of my home’s signature brew.”

“Bah.” Migelo scoffed easily, “children with no experience on their tongues Lord Consul, nothing to be offended by.” He internally grits his teeth, he heard some of the younger men voice some of their very loud opinions about Arcadian wine in a place where a couple of soldiers could hear them. It ended well for absolutely no one, and he was only glad to make sure his kids didn’t see or hear it. “We Dalmascans are very proud of our own drinks, I think you would see it would make sense to be a bit defensive.” He took another gulp, “pardon m’candor, of course.”

“Indeed.” Vayne nodded, finishing his own glass, “and you have a great many things to be proud of, I’ve heard a fair share of good things about Dalmascan cactus wine.” He looked at Migelo with a gaze that made his scales itch, “have you tried it before?”

He was almost insulted the man had to ask, “o’course I did lord consul!” He tried to be casual about it, but a bit of hometown pride seemed to seep in every other word, “Cactus Wine is easy to brew in large amounts, made from Cactoid fruit and the sands are absolutely littered with the little buggers, it’s what you order when you have something to celebrate or as a victory drink.” Migelo could go for an entire barrel of it right now. “It’s a…simple drink. Simple but hearty.”

Vayne nodded politely as the bangaa went on, before he took the bottle of his expensive wine and looked at it quietly, “…I suppose there hasn’t been much call for it, lately.”

Migelo nearly swallowed his tongue, for all his talk of taking in all of Dalmasca’s hatred onto himself, the consul seemed adept at choosing words to inspire said hatred. “Y-No, Lord Consul, not a lot to celebrate.” He quickly recovered, smiling again as he waved his glass about, “b-but fret not! Us Dalmascans find reason to celebrate no matter the weather! You’ll have your taste of cactus wine before long don’t you worry!”

“Why wait my friend?” Vayne said smoothly, Migelo barely exerting the restraint he needed to stop himself from cursing the consul out on considering himself something he is not, “I have found myself a few bottles for this grand occasion.”

Migelo was stopped short, he had double checked every scrap of food and drink meant for this fete, triple checking the alcohol in particular, and he was sure there wasn’t a drop of cactus wine in the whole palace, he figured the imperials wouldn’t want to touch the stuff. “Y-you did? F-from where lord consul?”

“From the palace cellars of course.” He replied, motioning with his hand to another maid, Kayta if Migelo remembers right, who held a very familiar clay jug in her hands. “If one kind of wine isn’t enough to call me friend, perhaps two would suffice.”

Migelo held Kayta’s conflicted gaze for a moment, before he turned to Vayne with a doubtful expression, “the cellars my lord? Those haven’t been disturbed since the war ended! Who knows what kind of vermin have found their way to the stores?”

“I had my men carefully inspect each bottle.” Vayne assured, which only made Migelo more ill thinking about what Imperial soldiers considered inspecting. “Please, do not be reticent, I find myself curious what a man of your expertise has to say about the difference between one wine and the other.”

Kayta poured Migelo a glass with a sorrowful expression, Migelo soothing the girl as best he could with a smile only she could see, and the bangaa took a long whiff of the drink, before slowly draining his glass.

Cactus wine was sweet, almost sweet enough you could give it to a child without them puffing their little face. Its taste was subtle, airy, doing nothing more than what a wine ought to do and made your face and belly warm. It was cheap drink, cheap enough that working folk could indulge in it without endangering their pay over-much.

It was Dalmasca to the last drop, warm and honest.

“So, sir Migelo?” Vayne inquired when the bangaa finished and had not said a word, “how is your home’s brew compared to mine?”

He was quiet for a few more moments before he turned to the consul, “I must admit to having a bias sir.” He put the glass back down on the table gently, reaching over to grab a grape nearby to soak some of the alcohol in his system, “I’ve been drinking cactus wine since I was a whelp, y’see, it’s a drink for the heart as much for the stomach nowadays.”

Vayne chuckled good naturedly, “well, now you have me curious.” He picked up his own glass and motioned for Kayta to fill it, the girl nearly tripping over herself to bow as she poured without spilling it on him. He took a careful sip…and stopped, an emotion Migelo could not name fliting across his face. “…it tastes…” The consul was quiet for a moment, the rest of the table perfectly silent to await his judgment, “…honest.”

Migelo released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, allowing himself the tiniest amount of pride as he looked at Vayne, “Dalmasca knows no other way, Lord Consul.”

“Pritas.” Vayne looked at one of the people sitting at the table, some peacock in a stuffy red shirt with a pencil moustache, “you should try it, I am certain people in Archades would flock to try this, exotic yet gentle on the tongue.”

Pritas hurriedly motioned for Kayta to pour him a glass, and no sooner than he had a drop of it he was nodding enthusiastically, “y-yes Lord Vayne! You are absolutely correct; everyone will want a bottle of this for any price!”

Migelo, despite his mood and the alcohol in his system, found himself smiling at the sound of it, feeling someone patting his shoulder. “Migelo, after the fete be sure to grant Pritas here the information for whoever you get your cactus wine from, they’ll find more business than ever.”

Migelo could picture the family of brewers in his head, nearly jumping for joy at the chance that fell into their laps, a contract to sell cactus wine halfway across Ivalice. He then imagined their faces when he told them to which half of Ivalice the wine would go. He imagines the shock, the outrage, the sorrow.

He imagines the table with one more chair then they needed, the extra gathering dust for two years now.

“Yes, Lord Consul.” He said as calmly as he could manage, looking into the face of a man whose night has gone exactly as he had planned, down to the last detail, painting a smiling on his snout. “Thank you for this opportunity, I’m sure they’ll see this as a chance to build their life back up to how it was…” He could feel his lips curling over his teeth. “…before the war, that is.”

Vayne’s face drew downwards slightly, an almost robotic motion, “yes, the war has devastated both sides long enough,” He squeezed the shoulder he was holding, in a move meant to be reassuring, “it is past time we helped each other back onto our feet.”

Vaan crying into his shoulder, cursing and yelling and screaming every curse he knew. Penelo holding him tightly as she sobbed. Fire in the sky, visible from his window.

His home, under siege and under iron boots.

Migelo bit his tongue, brought to mind every orphan he and Old Dalan have struggled to keep fed and working and warm, and managed an impossible smile, “yes…way past time…Lord Consul.”

Vayne shook his head with a fond smile, and poured Migelo another cup of Arcadian wine. Migelo drained it without tasting a drop.

(Not long after, barely an hour after, he sees his boy in chains and his girl crying for his freedom, and all the wine in his veins is cold and freezing.

As they dragged his boy away, as his girl fell into the arms of Kayta as she sobbed, Vayne Carudas Solidor came to him, smiled, and clapped his shoulder.)

#Final Fantasy 12 #Migelo #Stuff rex wrote #Cactus wine #Migelo has a hell of a time taking care of his kids

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Prompt 18 and 20 with good old (Daddy issues) Satan

Can I say that I absolutely adore his character design? The artists were like ‘Lucifer, but green and preppy’ and no one gave it a second thought until the day the game was released. Plus, you *can’t* tell me that tail isn’t good for something. There are just too many… dangly bits on that man for none of them to be useful.

TW: Implies Threats, Physical Assult, and Toxic Mindsets.

It only started to hurt when you sat up.

Satan hadn’t been gentle, he hadn’t been careful, momentarily forgetting to approach the idea of touching you so tentatively as he took you by the wrist and threw you into your room, leaving you to stumble and fall and hit your forehead on the corner of your wooden bed-frame before you were able to catch yourself. The collision wasn’t bad, hardly leaving a bruise, but it throbbed as you pushed yourself into a kneeling position, the ache only getting worse as you straighten your back. You pushed yourself onto your knees as you checked for blood, leaning onto the mattress, but each little touch only caused a new rod of white-hot pain to crack open your skull and stir its contents, the injury as remorseless as the monster who’d caused it.

You kept your back to him, your first priority quickly becoming making sure you could still see properly. Satan was as fond of that as he was of any other decisions you’d made, that night.

“Are you going to ignore me, now?” You couldn’t be sure when he’d shifted, but there was an unmistakable, guttural roughness in his voice, the primal edge just as telling as the rustle of feathers that soon joined his footsteps. Your suspicions were only confirmed by a hand on your shoulder, twisting you around with an unnatural strength and allowing you to get a better look at the backward-bent horns that never failed to make your heart drop into your stomach, something behind your forehead pounding at the sudden movement. His tail writhed and coiled, constricting around its host’s leg as he scanned over your expression. He must’ve been able to feel it, but Satan only scoffed, rolling his eyes like you were the one who’d fallen into a rage at the drop of a pin. “Don’t look so scared when I’m around. You always stare at me like I just killed your goddamn puppy.”

“I can’t help it,” You mumbled, halfheartedly. There was no force behind the words, but Satan still pulled away like he’d been burnt. His scowl was embedded so deeply into his features by now, you couldn’t help but wonder if his lips would sink into his face. The thought alone was enough to prompt you to continue. “You do scare me, you scare me every time you get like this. I want to trust you and your brother, but--”

“Me and my brothers, me and my brothers,” He mocked, shrugging on the prior sentiment, but he had to be irritated. The spines of his tail were starting to tear through the fabric of his dress-pants, an act that would correct itself next time he came out of such a demonic mood. “It’s always me and my brothers, isn’t it? If I broke those pathetic legs of yours, I’m sure you’d go crying to Lord Diavolo about how Satan and his horrible brothers hurt you.” He paused, watching you push yourself to your feet. In any other situation, he would’ve moved to help you, you knew he would help you, but Satan didn’t spare it a second thought, closing his eyes and crossing his arms as you shakily supported yourself on a bedpost. “Am I right, (Y/n)? You don’t have to be ashamed of it, I already know how generalizing humans can be.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” You couldn’t hide your frustration, your own tone making your cringe. You needed to get someone to look at your head. You needed bandages, or ice, or something to stop the pain. “Look, I don’t hate you. I think we could get along, but I haven’t done anything to you, Satan. You can’t just… get mad and throw me around, because I’m not just going to stand here and let you.” You forced yourself to stop, taking in a deep breath and rubbing at your temples. “You’ve barely even talked to me since we made our pact… Do you want me to apologize? I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry--”

Before the thought could get through your lips, a green, pointed spike was between your eyes, only a hair’s width away from puncturing your skin. It seemed to have lost its temper before its owner, shock flashing across the demon’s face before he pushed his reaction below the surface, wide-eyes swiftly replaced by a piercing glare, one sharp enough to match the weapon that’d been thrust at you. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.” He moved towards, only taking a fraction of a step, the looming threat never wavering. “I spent so much time making sure everything was perfect… you’re not allowed to ruin it. You can’t just descend from your realm and make everything complicated.”

You struggled to find your voice. It’d hidden inside of you, filling the little space your confidence left when it did the same. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” There was a scoff, but it was followed by a chuckle, the noise too airy to comfort you. Taloned nails brushed against your arm, and you held yourself rigid, the gesture dripping with unearned familiarity. “You don’t even know how you affect the people around you, do you? Even if you do go crying to someone else, I can’t be held responsible. Not when you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you forced yourself to speak regardless. “Get out.”

Satan was caught off-guard, hesitating at your side. “Wha--”

“Get out. Get out of my room. Leave.” Something dark rose inside of you, swirling and crushing and powerful, and you recognized the feeling automatically. It wasn’t just a demand, it was an order, whether or not you’d meant for it to be. Exhaustion followed shortly after, your knees buckling as you struggled to hold yourself in place, but Satan was already following the command, turning on his heel and walking stiffly, not bothering to close the door behind him. You didn’t care anymore, though, just taking a deep breath and falling back, letting your body crash into blankets and pillows without the slightest hint of resistance.

You didn’t know what he was talking about. You didn’t know why he was so mad at you, and you weren’t sure if you could fix it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to fix it, honestly.

But, you knew you could focus on one problem at a time. And some issues required more attention than others. More immediate attention.

Your head was splitting open, and that was all you had the energy to care about.

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years

Text

Love Made Me Crazy - 2.

CEO/ Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Part 2 of the Love Made Me Crazy series.

Run-through: It was all strategic; a plan meticulously constructed by you and your business partner; against James Buchanan Barnes. Not to take him down, no. But just to be one step ahead of him in the business world by uncovering his secrets; to learn his ways and hope to be better than him in every way possible. The façade you put up – of being close to him and earning his trust was supposed to be short-lived, most importantly; harmless. But then as always, things got a tad bit more complex when feelings intervened…

Themes throughout the series: ceo!bucky, angst, smut, fluff, manipulative reader, mob!bucky

You were miserable for the first few days after you got home.

But then Tony’s confidence rubbed off on you, and the moment he said, “Remember who you are, kiddo.” You stopped sulking and you were up and ready for work in no time again.

For the next few weeks, you were engrossed in work.

You thought about Bucky from time to time. But each time Tony would come by your office and saw that you were zoning out; he’s say something funny to snap you out of it.

And while Tony never noticed, you were always keeping an eye out for Bucky. You noticed that the news stopped talking about him, so did the magazines. It felt as though he just disappeared out of nowhere.

But you knew, deep within you, that one day he’ll come by.

Little did you know that that day would be just a few months away…

Between travelling with Tony on business trips, making more and more deals and expanding your company and making both your family and Tony proud; you lost track of time. And before you knew it, it was around three months since the last time you spoke to Bucky.

Tony never mentioned him, but Bucky was always there in the back of your mind. Then some more time went on and a certain rumor floated around – about how James Buchanan Barnes morphed into what they called a mob boss. Rumor had it that he was mean and ruthless now. That he dealt with things he didn’t before, and his associates were no longer famous businessmen, but other members of the underworld and the mafia. Some even went to say that he had a gang; a large, armed association who worked for him.

No one knew exactly what he did, or how. All they ever said was that he had turned into a ‘monster’. And people wondered what triggered this sudden switch in his behavior; but you didn’t. You did have an idea of what might have done that.

You looked everywhere, just to feed your curiosity, for more information about him. But never found anything; no pictures, no articles, nothing.

So you gave up.

If he’s a mob boss, with a gang and dealing with stuff which are out of your league – then he surely wouldn’t have time to even think about you. or find you, to extract some stupid revenge.

Right?

---

Wrong.

Almost another month later, while you were trying to shut out any news about Bucky, or what he had become – he managed to find you.

You came home one evening; after – not a bad – but a rather bizarre day. You hadn’t heard from Tony all day. Usually, on days when he can’t drop by your office, he calls. But you heard nothing from his end today. You called him, and texted him, but he replied to nothing.

Upon entering your front yard you realized that your front door was wide open. You looked around and you saw several black SUVs and a little voice in the back of your mind whispered to you;

Well, seems like he found you.

You closed your eyes and sighed. There was no escaping the confrontation. So you put on your serious, mean face and entered your own home with caution.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the living room, with his back to you. This was the first time you were seeing him in six months and he seemed so different. Not even his stance was the same as it used to be.

He heard you step closer and he turned around to face you; with a smug smirk on his face.

“Hello baby.” he said, and you were surprised for a moment.

He was so different. His long hair was gone. His facial hair was somewhat the same – a light stubble as always. The shine in his eyes was no longer there. He looked like his past self, just meaner and more ruthless – like people said he was.

Dark coat, hands in his pockets; he looked powerful. Even more than earlier.

Seeing you weren’t replying, he spoke again. “It took me a month to track you down, you know that.” He said, that smug smirk never leaving his face.

You decided to straighten your back and face him with confidence. “Really? I thought your people would be quicker than that.” You said, carefully hinting that you were aware of who he had become. What he had become.

He scoffed.

“Tony hides you well. I bet you’re his favorite weapon.” He was bitter, and honestly, he had every right to be. You would be too, if you were in his shoes.

You scoffed.

“That I am. Care to tell me why you’re here?” you needed him to get to the point already. This suspense was killing you, and the guilt was too.

His answer was short. “For you.”

You chuckled, throwing your purse on the nearby couch and crossing your arms over your chest and faced him with the same powerful stance he faced you. Neither of you was less than the other; if Bucky was now an infamous, mighty mob boss. Then you were no less; you were the owner of the largest business company at the moment. Hence, this confrontation was a clash of egos more than anything.

“What are you gonna do, kill me because I left you at the altar?” you asked, knowing damn well you were pushing his buttons.

He chuckled, looking down momentarily before he took a few steps forward and looked you in the eyes again.

“No. I’m going to drag you to that same altar again. And you will be mine.” he said and you almost laughed again. “You’re arrogant, and proud. Of what? Your name, your job?” he chuckled again and leaned in closer. “I’m going to take all that away from you.”

One could say he was threatening you, but his eyes told you that he was almost daring you to snap back.

“You know, people did say you were a monster. They never said you were a lunatic as well. But I see it now.” you sassed at him. “Now get your delusional ass out of my house.”

He scoffed.

“I heard you sent your mom on a world tour, correct? And she’s currently in Maldives, is that right? Well then I’m sure neither of you would mind if her little trip is interrupted by a couple of bullets. I don’t know, if she’s not careful, one or two might hit her, don’t you think so baby?” he spoke, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was aware of everything going on in your life right now.

You wanted nothing more than to just punch his pretty face, but you contained yourself. And kept your calm and composure. Being hyper would only show that you were the weak one here.

“So, if I don’t marry you, you will hurt my mom?” you said it as though you found his threat childish and idiotic.

Bucky scoffed. “I never used any of those words. See, all this time and you’re still manipulating me and twisting my words, you-,”

You cut him off.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! What are you gonna do, tie me up and take me with you?” you sounded much more calm than you expected but you were starting to lose your patience.

Bucky looked like he was mocking your state.

“Well, technically I can do whatever I want with you.” He sounded cocky. “You see baby, I just bought your entire company. And you and Stark with it.”

To you, he still sounded like a lunatic.

“That’s impossible.” You shook your head at him, refusing to believe his crap for even a second.

He looked over at you and smirked, then signaled one of his guys to bring you a file of some sort. You hadn’t even realized that you were surrounded by his guards and his people until now.

The man handed you over the papers and you skimmed through and immediately noticed that the papers and signatures were fake. Tony’s signature was on there too, and you got worried.

“Where’s Tony? I swear to God, if you hurt him I-,”

He cut you off.

“Relax babygirl. Tony’s fine, he’s been taken care of.” Bucky sounded like your typical villain.

Now you were really starting to lose it. “This is fake. Everything on this is f-,”

He cut you off again like it was nothing. “Yeah, and? What are you going to do about it?” he shrugged like he hadn’t just ruined everything in your life.

You could tell he didn’t do it for the money, but rather just for the sake of snatching your power away from you.

You were running out of things to say. “You have no right.”

He clenched his jaw and stepped closer to you, almost too close. “And you didn’t have the right to mess with me either. To fuck me over and use me however you wanted. And leave me when your heart desired. But you still did it, didn’t you baby?”

He had refrained himself from saying ‘guess we’re even now.’ But he wasn’t done yet. Oh, he was far from done.

The guilt weighed you down. It hurt. The one thing you did everything for, the business whose responsibility your dad left in your hands, was now gone. It wasn’t even yours anymore. You knew the documents were fake, but you also knew that no one would even dare to oppose James Buchanan Barnes now; they barely did it back then, and now that he had become…this, there was no way you could legally fight him to get back what’s yours.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? Loving and caring for something, doing everything you can for it but then having someone come in and snatch it away from you. It’s killing you, isn’t it?” his taunts hurt like a thousand cuts.

You knew you couldn’t shed a tear and seem hurt or weak in front of him; so you held it all in.

“Why do you want to marry me? You’re taking everything from me already. You’ll never be happy with me.” You sounded calm again, broken this time.

He nodded, agreeing.

“Neither will you. That’s the price I’m willing to pay. You never wanted to be mine, but now you won’t have much of a choice. Your family, your job, your reputation, it’s all under my control now.” he leaned in as to whisper in your ear. “I own all of you, babygirl.” He said, teasing. More like mocking your helplessness.

You glared at him when he pulled away. He had chosen his words right just to trigger a memory – a rather old one…

-flashback-

“I own all of you, babygirl.” Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed every inch of your body while you laid naked in his bed.

You and Bucky were back from a dinner party, and he was being persistent that someone had been flirting with you all night long. So now he was reminding you that you’re only his.

You giggled as his soft lips kissed your neck, while his hands fondled with your breasts. His hair tickled your skin and your giggled turned into a whine as he mercilessly nibbled on your sweet spot; making you arch your back off the surface of the satin sheets of his large bed.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he growled in your ear while you whimpered just at the sound of his voice.

You felt his hand roaming your body, touching you wherever he could; down your sides, your thighs, and dragging his fingers along your legs as you wrapped them around his waist – pulling him closer.

The need to have him was growing deep inside you.

His cologne and his raw smell filled your mind and his beard scratched your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. And you moaned into his mouth as you felt his hand dipped in between your legs – determined to remind you that you belonged to him, and scared that someone might snatch you from his grasp.

He dipped his head down and nuzzled your neck, nibbling on your soft skin and leaving marks behind which would definitely show for the coming few days.

Your back arched off the bed surface and you let out a quiet moan as soon as he found your sweet spot. He left a loving bruise there and went back to kissing your lips.

His body was warm and comforting. You relished his warmth.

He rubbed his knuckles up and down your folds. It was almost embarrassing how quickly your arousal started leaking out of you.

Bucky chuckled as his fingers spread your wetness around and dipped his head into the crook of your neck again. He kissed your skin all the way till he reached your breasts; and took one of them in his mouth.

His tongue toyed with the bud while his fingers slipped past your entrance.

You rolled your hips against his hand and moaned when he curled his fingers inside you. He pumped his two fingers in and out of you while his mouth teased your sensitive bud. Bucky kissed down your body and soon, his face was in between your legs.

You supported yourself up with your elbows as you watched his actions intently. He didn’t break eye contact as he brought his face closer and closer to your dripping core. You let out a quiet moan when you felt his lips on your sensitive spot. His hands wrapped around your thighs as he angled your body better and slipped his tongue past your wet folds, poking your entrance lazily.

The tip of his tongue circled around your clit and your body shuddered under him. Your elbows couldn’t hold you up anymore so you let go and fell back on the bed.

Your hands found their way into his soft hair again and you tugged on it as his beard scratched the skin around your core. In that moment, you were undoubtedly under his control. And you shamelessly loved each second of it.

He devoured you passionately, and the wet sounds erupting from his actions were downright obscene – and didn’t affect him in the least. Instead, each sound which slipped out of your mouth only intensified the fire he felt within.

With a couple more strokes from his tongue, your legs began trembling against him. Your grip on his hair got a little tighter and your moans were much more audible as you came all over his tongue. He lapped up all that you gave him and kissed his way up your body again.

“You belong to me.” He mumbled against your lips before he leaned in and kissed you deeply again.

-end of flashback-

You could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking about the same thing as you. Judging by the smirk on his face, you could tell that he wanted you to think of that exact moment.

Despite the uncountable amount of things that were wrong with this situation, you couldn’t help but feel as though the Bucky you had betrayed was still in there somewhere, hiding behind the façade of the big bad mob boss. And you wanted to apologize, but then the smirk on his face ruined the moment.

“Seems like I triggered a memory. Was it a good one?” he teased. And you rolled your eyes at him, whispering swear words under your breath.

He chuckled. “Pack your bags, I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.” He spoke and started walking away but then halted and turned around again. “And don’t even think about running, my guys will be outside, keeping an eye on you.” he finally turned around to walk away. “See you tomorrow babygirl.” He added.

You scoffed and swore under your breath again. “You’re crazy you know that?” you yelled after him.

And you heard him chuckle again as he approached the front door. He turned to look at you, a smug smirk on his face which hid all the pain perfectly.

“You made me crazy.” He spat bitterly. And with that said, with a straight face and no emotion, he walked away and slammed the door shut behind him.

---

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

Summer days

I have come to realize i never posted my last Bog fluff battle entry!! The horror! So here it is! The prompts I used for this ones are:

36. Massages 25. Playing with/braiding hair 23. Person A falls asleep on couch to be carried to bed by Person B

Oh, and it’s Geralt and Dandelion, because they are the softest boys and i love them. On Ao3 here and here are my other 4 entries on Tumblr!

Words: 2051

Please enjoy <3

Lazy days are lovely. When nothing is urgent, the weather is nice and no one is hurt. Just, a chosen lazy day. Geralt likes them a lot, rare as they are. There is always a something to take care of, something to kill or some squabble to listen to.

He recently returned from a haunted house, finding a godling in the basement putting up quite the ruckus. So the house wasn’t all that haunted, but he isn’t telling the shitty house owner that. Because sometimes humans are the beastly ones.

So yes, a bit of a break is what Geralt is enjoying right now. Between one village and the next, Dandelion and Geralt found a small hut at the edge of a shallow lake. Too shallow to be inviting to drowners, but really, they could thrive in a puddle.

They decide to stay for a day or two. Just to take a breather.

Summer brings gentle nights with them, and Roach is roaming around the area and grazing. They spend some time laying in the grass, wiggling their toes and watching the clouds. Geralt can’t remember the last time he ran barefoot through a field, and Dandelion looks as outraged as if Geralt told him his new hat is a bit flat.

Not that Dandelion himself has done any barefoot running other than scrabbling out from lovers bedrooms lately, but that isn’t very poetic.

Dandelion teaches Geralt to put a flat piece of grass between his thumbs, pressing his hands together and blowing, to make it sound like a bird. A hoarse, sad bird, but still a bird. Dandelion laughs, throwing his head back when Geralt's blade of grass breaks for a third time.

Something in Geralt loosens at that. Some kind of tension finally breaks, and he allows himself a smile. There still must be vengeance though, so he grabs a fistful of grass and throws it in the offending bard’s face.

They would have slept in the hut. They would have, had it not been moldy and a great deal colder than the night outside. Instead they throw out their bedrolls, enjoying the clucking of water against the beach nearby and a night sky filled with stars.

It is beautiful. Calm.

Geralt watches the big darkness up above, listening to Dandelion’s even breaths, the swish of Roach’s tail, the soft sounds of insects. They didn’t light a fire, but before they went to sleep Geralt found them a tree fungi and lit it with Igni to keep the worst of the bugs at bay. He can’t help Roach much with those, having run out of the ointment he uses for her when it’s especially bad. He will have to make it up to her tomorrow.

He turns his head and watches Dandelion's sleeping form, a dark silhouette against the starlit lake. No matter how much time they spend apart, they always find a way back to each other. Sometimes by accident, sometimes seeking each other out. It’s nice. To have someone happy to see him, someone he is happy to see every time.

Recently, Geralt has come to realize that he is feeling more than he thought. About his bard. About how much he wants to put emphasis on Dandelion being his bard. More than once, he’s found himself staring at Dandelion when he talks, admiring how he looks when he is passionate about something. How much he cares for silly things, and how completely and utterly in love with himself he is. Geralt thinks about how beautiful his hands are, and how his curls bounce when he runs.

Looking at Dandelion now, he feels is maybe more than before.

He falls asleep like that, watching Dandelion. His lids fall shut without him noticing, and the next thing he knows is darkness and dreams.

The early morning brings rain, a small downpour making the world smell sweet. Geralt gets the first drop on his eyelid, the next on his chin. It takes him a moment to remember they actually have shelter, so he sits up and looks around. It is still too early for the sun to be really out, the world a little grey still.

Dandelion hadn’t woken up yet, so Geralt does them both a kindness and carries him inside the hut, putting him down on his own bedroll as he fetches the other.

Bards are terrible when they sleep poorly.

By the time all their things are safe from the rain, Geralt is wide awake. He knows Dandelion will be asleep for another few hours, so he sits down in the doorframe, listening to the rain. Meditating doesn’t give him the same kind of rest as sleeping does, but it settles him. Gives him a chance to collect himself.

This morning, it’s him and the morning birds. As soon as the sun rises, Roach wanders close to them. She wants her morning grains, and she tells him so very clearly. Geralt has never had a cat, nor has he ever interacted with one. But he is fairly sure Roach shares a trait, or five, with them.

As she eats, Geralt looks her over. Checking her legs, untangling knots in her mane, looking for sores and scrapes. Nothing actually ever gets close enough to hurt her, but strain can be an enemy too.

The rain lets up, and a soft mist takes its place as the water evaporates. Geralt pushes his fingers over Roach’s muscles, feeling how tense she is. He really owes her some care.

He starts on her neck, following the lines of her muscles, kneading and soothing. She has stopped eating, but she keeps her head low, relaxing under his ministrations. Then over her shoulders and the big muscles over her elbow. When he gets to the back, Dandelion has woken up and joins them outside, leaning against the hut wall.

Geralt can feel Dandelion’s eyes on him, and he becomes very aware of himself. The tunic from last night is laced open, untucked from his trousers and his hair is untied. It is not in any way immodest, and Dandelion has certainly seen him in worse states than this, but there is something in the air that Geralt can’t put the finger on.

“She looks like she is enjoying herself.” Dandelion comments when Geralt puts more weight behind the kneading, making the entire horse tilt with the movement.

“She’s earned it.” Geralt says, and tries not to react when he notices Dandelion's eyes dip to his half open shirt. He, too, is in somewhat a state. His blond curls fall over his shoulders, just a little ruffled and his white lace shirt is unlaced as well, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms and wrists.

“She really has.” Dandelion agrees. He walks up to Roach, pats her neck, but she ignores him. “Can I help?”

Geralt smiles warmly. Dandelion never was a big fan of dirty work, but spoiling others is something he loves. Dandelions cheeks color prettily when Geralt nods and makes room for him on the other side of Roach. It does something to Geralt's insides, knowing that he put that blush there. Something warm and nice, and he very much wants to see it again.

Dandelion comes up to stand next to him, their shoulders bumping.

“What do I do?” Dandelion asks, putting a hand on Roach’s back. Geralt's eyes get stuck there for two seconds, admiring Dandelions long, nimble fingers. There are very few scars there, only barely-there freckles. He wants to reach out but-

“We follow the lines of her muscles.” Geralt begins to explain instead. “Put your hand here.”

Geralt indicates towards the withers. Dandelion reaches over, for some reason careful not to touch Geralt, and that simply won’t do. So Geralt places his hand over Dandelions, covering it and spreading their fingers. Then he guides them over Roach’s back and over her side, showing Dandelion where to put pressure.

They both jump when her tail whips Dandelion over the back, breaking the spell that came over them.

“She’s ticklish.” Geralt explains and reluctantly lets go of the other’s hand.

“So do I just…?” Dandelion asks, hand hesitantly hovering over Roach. Geralt smiles and takes pity on him, gently guiding his hand to where he wants it.

“Here. You massage the butt. Nothing can go wrong there.” Geralt says, and Dandelion snorts.

“Clearly, you have not been around butts enough.” Dandelion huffs and Geralt elbows him goodnaturedly.

“Roach can hear you.”

“Right you are. Do I just press…? Like this?”

Geralt watches Dandelion's awkward movements, letting him fret as he works over Roach’s side. He’s doing it too much like he would massage a human, trying to use the meat of his thumb as he rubs along her spine.

“No, flatten your hand and spread your fingers.” Geralt corrects him kindly. “Then put your other hand over it, putting your fingers between each other. That is the easiest grip.”

Dandelion follows his instructions. Kind of. It resembles more of what Geralt meant, but not entirely. And he is more patting her than massaging her, afraid to go against the fur. Affection, Geralt realizes. It is affection he feels surging up. And he thinks… hopes that Dandelion feels it too.

“Hang on.” Geralt murmurs, and then steps behind Dandelion, reaching around him and arranging his fingers to his liking. Roach is standing patiently and waiting, against all odds, now grazing on the grass around the little hut.

When Geralt has adjusted his grip, he places both hands over them and shows him how to rub up and down, putting some weight behind it.

Dandelion is curiously quiet, and Geralt is feeling his own nerves acting up. They don’t usually get this close on purpose. Not like this. Not with the crackling energy burning in the gap between their bodies. Not when Geralt's pulse is beating in his ears.

When he feels like Dandelion has gotten it, he lets him go slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides. But he doesn’t move away, he stays behind Dandelion and pretends like this morning is like any other. Despite the crackling, despite the nervous energy, despite everything he feels.

“You got it.” He murmurs, and then he moves back to where he stood and picks up his own massaging. He never finished this side after all.

They stand in silence, the morning birds and the lapping water of the beach creating a background to their work. Geralt sneaks a peak at Dandelion every now and then, watching him move about the muscles with more purpose than he expected. And the tip of his tongue peeking out, as it does when he is concentrating.

Eventually they finish, and it is Dandelion's turn to make instructions. He shows Geralt how to make an intricate braid in Roach’s mane, using as many as five parts at a time. It feels more like weaving, something that Geralt is a little familiar with at least, and he gets the hang of it fairly quick. Until Dandelion disappears, returning with some flowers plucked from the field.

“She is a beautiful girl. She deserves beautiful things.” He reasons, and fair. Geralt keeps working on his complicated braid, and Dandelion stands right next to him, shoulders bumping, and putting small flowers here and there into it.

When it is time to tie it off, they realize they didn’t plan that far. Dandelion rushes inside to their packs and they sacrifice a bit of torn fabric to act as a ribbon. It clashes wonderfully with the flowers and braid, but Dandelion insists that that is what art is all about.

Somewhere mid-rant about art, Roach scampers off and it’s time for a breakfast of their own. They settle on the pebbled beach, passing a piece of cheese back and forth while watching the sun play on the surface of the lake.

It’s peaceful. The clouds have cleared out and a blue sky is stretching out around them. Before lunch both of their hairs are braided, woven with flowers and tied off with an old piece of fabric.

Geralt thinks they can stay here for another night. And he hopes that before then, he will get to hold Dandelion's hand in his.

Lazy days are lovely indeed.

#boys in love #gerlion #bog fluff battle #i forgot to post this one #oops #the witcher #spoiling roach #geralt x dandelion #flirty boys #witcher geralt #dandelion #summer days #dapanda writes #geralt of rivia #just fluffy feelings #calm #fluff #witcher fic #gerlion fic

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