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pacinosgf · 1 year

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After Midnight Mayhems’ first split up, Barbara was nowhere to be seen. Not in Texas, not in California, couldn’t be reached through the phone: the woman had vanished from the planet. Travelling, everyone assumed, since Jim had also disappeared, and they were right. After almost two years travelling around and exploring the world, she came back home a few weeks after Brooke Wellington’s first album release. Healthier, almost totally sober and more introspective than ever and with a leatherbound notebook, every single page filled with random-seeming scribbles to anyone, Barbara didn’t want to talk to anyone. Her hidden scribbles were the idea for what would become her first and only solo album, Contemplations and Ramblings.

It would take a while to convince her to play again, though. The Robinson couple decided to get into producing, Barbara being very vehement about her desire to live peacefully and away from the spotlight, as much as she could. Being a producer and technician meant she got to spend the days analyzing (criticizing), discussing and playing music, all that safely. Why would she want to put herself on the edge again?

She kept writing, almost obsessively, even with no plans of ever returning to the other side of the recording booth. Acquaintances at the time justified her refusal by saying she didn’t want to be compared to Brooke Wellington, former bandmate and lover — the true reason was never revealed, but Contemplations and Ramblings’ production began in early 1982, after Barbara invited her closest friends to her home studio to show what she had come up with on the keyboard, a tune that would later be known as Stroke. She first intended to sell it to another artist, but ultimately changed her mind.

barbara ann: i was so excited, had just written something completely alone, something that i deeply related to. i didn’t want to see anyone else playing it, but i also didn’t want to let the lyrics rotting in my notes. so, i had to release it somehow, and i always thought that if you gotta do something, you gotta do it right.

Barbara played most of the instruments heard in the songs, including bass, keyboard and ryhtmic guitar. Jim played the drums, and any other instrument was played by session musicians. The cover was shot in her property in California, and the full shoot depicts Barbara barefoot and in a modest dress, wandering around the property, the cover clashing with the record content. Though it gained more attention and acclaim with time, Contemplations and Ramblings received modest critical acclaim and attention from the public when it was released. There was barely any promotion and it has been the said that the folk looks from the record cover and name put off a lot of fans from Midnight Mayhems. The only hit was completely unintentional: Call Her got to the top 10 of the country, allegedly written about a major celebrity at the time. In 1997, Barbara Ann told press she didn’t regret writing the album.

Barbara opens the record with Core, announcing her own return after almost four years away from the mic. Disappearing suits me, you don’t need to say it twice, she addresses before anyone else can do it, spending the next four minutes diving into her own core. She knows she is seen as a weakling now, and directly tackles the subject by confessing how much she needed time alone to be able to face herself again. Though I ruin everything / Let it crash over me / I will pick up the pieces / With no intentions to flee again. She doesn’t regret doing it, having understood that her life is for herself and herself only.

Don’t Tell Me is a sorrowful ballad about trying to start over after going through an intense heartache. The narrator pleads to remain unaware of what happened ever since the last meeting with her lover, savoring the sweet memories though conscious there’s no way of fixing the problem. And if you should ever find it in your heart to forgive me / I’m setting you free / We must go on.

In Success, Barbara sings about working hard day and night to make her dreams come true, though nobody else seems to believe. She references her days as a nurse and finishes the song with Here I am, only the tenth hour of this shift / God, if you think you have some time for me / Please, I’m working hard / For some success. It fades right to the next song, Failure, where Barb admits not being able to appreciate her success and feeling empty and angry while supposedly on the top of the world. The song starts as a drunk chat, Barbara laughing while trying to tell her story, but the tone becomes serious in the second verse. The thing is / Nothing matters when I feel like this / Empty, down and more miserable that I want her to think / All this while mistreating everyone around me / Failure is not for the weak. Both are played like traditional country songs with some rock arrangements.

The longest and most personal song of the record, Annie pictures Barbara’s life from her healthy early childhood in Houston to the present. Annie is a childhood nickname, used only by her closest friends, and by revealing that Barbara exposes a softer side of herself that she usually likes to. She talks about her marriage (And if anyone can handle me / I’m glad to say the one is Jim / Through the thick and thin / I’ve been able to trust him), and about her former lover, Brooke Wellington, also referencing her album (I threw myself into the eye of the storm / A natural disaster / I never thought I’d miss).

No one expected a song like Love Bites, but Barbara didn't think about that when she first sang Your teeth on my skin / Gentler than a kiss / I won't turn to ashes / You can bite me, setting a pun with Brooke Wellington's song Ash. She is more rational in Bait, describing the process of trying to get over an old flame when the attraction is so strong: I take care of myself / knowing I will be your bait / at the very first opportunity / Give you myself in a silver plate (...)

Playing With You and Moving On also touch the subject of an old flame, with Barbara being able to acknowledge mistakes from both sides. Bitter in Playing With You, she confesses the wish to see her lover as miserable as she feels, dropping the act and telling the truth. Still, she collects herself in Moving On, giving what may be the last step to get over the relationship: I danced in the eye of the storm / Turned to ashes and howled like a madman / I will take my blame and let you live.

Barbara returns to the topic of facing herself with Stroke, in the happiest of the record. It doesn’t matter what happens, she says, it’s a stroke of luck having myself again.

Call Her is the final track, added to the album only a month before release, forcing the album to be remade and reissued before the official date. The song describes the journey of a rising star known by her scandalous behavior, and the not so bright future it might be upon her. It’s been said that Barbara was inspired by the actress Amèlie Bergstein to write the song.

barbara ann: i was attending one of those boring celebrity parties, looking for the guy i was supposed to be making a deal with. he didn’t show up, jim was nowhere to be found, i didn’t know anyone, i was so pissed off and overwhelmed and then she enters — everybody instantly stops, like they can feel her presence. she was on tv, she was on the movies, amèlie bergstein was the biggest star you could think of. she walks into the room barely acknowledging how shocked everyone is, just smiling, greeting and making her way when she stops and looks right at me. “barbara ann, isn’t that right?”

i remember she took me to the bar and i could barely babble a sentence, even more overwhelmed than before. people were saying she’d get an oscar for black widow, it was the first time i felt so in awe in the presence of someone famous. but she was so charming, she dropped the fancy act and spoke to me in her oklahoman accent after the second sentence. mind you, i could only smile and nod! she said she loved midnight mayhems when we were together.

my expression probably changed when she mentioned the band, and i remember she pulled me closer and told me make a new record so we’ll have nicer things to talk about. i told her i was finishing one, when i didn’t even know if i’d release it. when a woman like that demands something from you, you just accept it. i got home and started writing call her immediately.

it wasn’t the nicest song ever and i think the lyrics were too obvious and maybe even a bit rude, but people liked it and as soon as she caught up the references, she called me to go meet her and play it exclusively for her. the rest is private.

#barbara ann.#IT'S HEREEEEEEEEEEEE

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apn-music · 3 months

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'EASY-TO-USE' Free Virtual Instrument Arturia Analog Lab Play

Arturia's synthesizer preset collection 'Analog Lab' Clear Targeted Version: Play Sound Samples First Impressions Detailed Manipulation for Additional Sound Design Limited Number of Presets Desiring a Virtual Instrument that Inspires Learning

Arturia's synthesizer preset collection 'Analog Lab'

Arturia's Analog Lab is akin to Native Instruments' Play series. Both companies are renowned for their virtual instrument plugins. Analog Lab and the Play series both aim to facilitate easy sound manipulation with simple operations. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1BSnJP3Flc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WbQ5QnpHjdg However, Analog Lab has a slightly different nature right from its name. While NI's Play series mainly focuses on sampling instruments suitable for specific genres or styles, Analog Lab is a collection of presets utilizing the sounds of Arturia's analog synthesizer modeling products (V Collection). Yet, the interface is not complex. The sound remains analog-like, while the user interface is intuitive and follows abstract imagery. In that aspect, it seems to be a good choice for users seeking both analog sound and convenience.

Clear Targeted Version: Play

The latest version of Analog Lab is Analog Lab V. Recently, Arturia has switched the sales approach of Analog Lab V to 'Pro' and 'Play' versions. Play is a free version with some features restricted. While it might be a very 'personal' thought, I wonder if this move is aimed at the Play series of Native Instruments. Nevertheless, these two products have similar intentions and characteristics. Manipulating every knob and parameter of a synthesizer to create sound can be fun but quite exhausting. Especially if you're clicking on a small monitor with a mouse, it can be frustrating. As someone lacking expertise and manic passion in synthesizing, I naturally became curious about the direction of a product like Analog Lab Play. Installing Analog Lab V through the Arturia Software Center grants full access to the Pro version for licensed users, while Analog Lab Play seems to be activated for non-purchasers. Currently, the installed virtual instrument or download manager still displays 'Analog Lab V,' but the official name has been changed to 'Analog Lab' on the Arturia website. Moreover, it appears as 'Analog Lab Pro' on search engines, leading to confusion regarding the product name, indicating a need for improvement.

Sound Samples

First Impressions

Whether it's a synthesizer or an amp simulator, the sound set as the 'first sound' when you load a plugin is crucial. Although users may change it to their desired sound, the initial sound when launching a virtual instrument should provide satisfaction and excitement, as it sets the tone for the experience. Analog Lab Play starts with an EP sound reminiscent of the JUNO series. I wanted to try different sounds immediately but found out that I could switch to the next preset directly using the left and right arrow keys without moving the mouse. I only realized this feature later and changed presets using the mouse initially, but I wonder if it would have been helpful to have a popup guide at the beginning.

Switching presets with the keyboard arrow keys navigates through different categories of presets such as EP, bass, strings, leads, etc. It's not random but follows a predetermined order. However, looking at the order within 'All Presets,' it doesn't seem to align with the direction keys. While it might not be significant, it feels like they're arranged more as a demo or trial experience. It would have been more intriguing if the sounds changed randomly.

Once you specify the preset category and press the arrow keys, the sound changes within that category. You can also categorize presets based on sound type or instrument type in the browser. Additional sounds can be purchased from the store.

Detailed Manipulation for Additional Sound Design

I found myself just pressing the arrow keys to listen to different sounds without needing to touch the mouse or do anything special. This seemed to be the identity and intent of this Play version. Nevertheless, some sound modifications are possible.

You can manipulate knobs like Brightness, Timbre, Time, Movement, etc., for basic sound design. Depending on the preset, controls like Reverb become available instead of Brightness, tailored to the sound's characteristics. Adjusting the Mix knobs of effects like Chorus, Phaser, or Compressor allows you to completely remove or increase the effects. Reverb and delay can also be controlled separately with volume knobs.

You can mix an 808 drum with applied amp sound using the Mix knob. In fact, to implement such FX effects with effectors, you would need to manipulate more knobs. There seems to be evidence of considering what minimal controls are needed while using this preset. Although the Play version provides only a simplified set of knobs for sound manipulation besides selecting presets, it still allows for various sound designs.

The Keyboard Split feature, which has been available in Analog Lab, is also usable in the Play version. For presets mainly composed of layered pad sounds, you can see orange and green lines on the virtual keyboard. Two sounds are playing in these presets, and by assigning these two lines to certain keys, you can allocate MIDI notes to be played. It's an advantage to have such excellent features of Analog Lab available for free.

Limited Number of Presets

The most significant limitation of the Play version is the small number of presets. While the possibilities of extensive sound design offered in the Pro version might be a merit for those proficient in composition, the fact that more presets can be used is undeniably the real advantage of the Analog Lab series, which pursues simplicity and convenience.

The Play version allows for 100 presets. While this might not be too few, categories like EP have only 4 presets, and drums have only 7, making the scarcity of presets quite apparent. The Pro version offers 2,000 presets and the ability to add custom presets. The regular price of Analog Lab Pro is $199. Although it's currently discounted to $99, it still raises doubts whether upgrading at such a price from the free version is worthwhile. Perhaps the Play version already offers too much? If you're considering purchasing after trying the Play version, it might be more beneficial in the long run to buy the V Collection, which provides more freedom and utility.

Desiring a Virtual Instrument that Inspires Learning

As virtual instrument usage becomes more simplified and accessible, there are concerns as well. Analog Lab Play allows for the easy use of satisfying, good-quality sounds without much effort. Furthermore, if MIDI sample packs easily available on the internet are used, composition might just become looping MIDI files while pressing arrow keys to browse presets.

As you use the limited number of presets and restricted sound manipulation features, you might begin to feel the limitations of the free version. However, instead of igniting curiosity and eagerness for sound design, it merely makes you wish for more convenient presets. I recall my frustrations and excitement when I first encountered synthesizers as an undergraduate, trying to create patches. I always hope for virtual instruments with interfaces and functionalities that promote user curiosity and learning. This article was published in partnership with Monthly Mixing. Read the full article

#AnalogLab #arturia #free #pluginreview #VSTi

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drewoclock · 4 months

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My Keyboard's Secret

Originally published October 6th, 2014

I had just set my alarm perfectly. Sixteen minutes for me to fall asleep and six hours for me to sleep--it was the scientifically perfect circumstances for going to bed right at that moment. So of course, I started playing my keyboard.

I played for a while before I thought I heard a noise. I paused briefly before playing on, but the noise persisted. It was quiet, and I tried to identify it. I thought it might be scurrying and immediately envisioned a malicious squirrel, scurrying under my furniture like a true thug. I got up and surveyed the area, but no critters. I briefly considered that my roommate may be hiding in my room preparing to kill me. I checked under the bed. No roommate. I was alone.

And so I went back to playing, more cautious. The noise was still there. Eventually I oscillated between quick bursts of playing and not playing, and I noticed the noise seemed to stop when I stopped playing. So in order to further my investigation, I had to keep playing. The sound was beginning to sound less random and more rhythmic. A rhythmic mystery sound--could it be my roommate next door having sex? I realized he was alone--could it be my roommate masturbating? I realized that sound would not have persisted so long. I stopped playing and noticed something--the noise was continuing. I had been wrong; there was no link between my playing and the noise.

I really listened now, good and hard. I suspected it might be drums that I was hearing, but how? Was my keyboard playing the drums? I cranked the volume of my keyboard. The noise was no louder. If it was my keyboard playing these drums, it should be very loud right now. I hit various buttons on my keyboard to test this, and sure enough, everything was uncomfortably loud--except this noise, which was uncomfortably quiet. It probably wasn't my keyboard.

I had an idea. I've heard this noise before. Distant, barely audible rhythms? It's my iPod, having been left on and blasting through my ear phones. I victoriously retrieve my iPod from my backpack to see that it's off. I don't have any other electronic devices, but quickly running out of ideas, I momentarily wondered if I owned a secret iPod that I never told myself about. I decided this was a bad idea.

It definitely wasn't my laptop--that's hooked up to my speakers and cranked (because my laptop doubles as my alarm clock). Was it from outside? It's a party kind of neighborhood; maybe Sunday night is begging for some loud music on the streets. But no, it wasn't. The outside world was hardly buzzing. Desperate, I powered off my keyboard.

The sound stopped.

I powered it back on and the sound continued. I decided to follow the noise with my ear and, just as I suspected, I found my ear at the keyboard speakers. Now the noise was very clear: With my ear pressed directly to the speaker at its loudest volume, I could hear the sounds of jazz.

I know my keyboard has prerecorded keyboard tracks, and jazz is a reasonable track to have, so I chalk this up to a bizarre malfunction. My keyboard is playing a jazz track very quietly, repeatedly, and no amount of button mashing can stop it. It's not the worst thing in the world, but it's definitely distracting to my keyboard playing. I groan, knowing I'll have to put fixing my keyboard on my list of things to do.

My ear is still to the keyboard. The song isn't bad, but it's changing. The piano I had been hearing has now been supplanted by very brassy instruments. It's still jazz, but it sounds less and less justified for being on my keyboard. What's going on? Is my keyboard secretly playing jazz music while I'm trying to play my own music? The only way this makes sense is if...

I grab my iPod and tune into the radio, one ear on the speaker and the other in my ear bud. With the very first radio station I heard, I found a match. My keyboard was playing the music from a local jazz radio station, and so quietly you could barely hear it.

How is this possible? I don't know. How do I fix this? I probably can't. What can I do? I'm guessing nothing. I suppose I can relax having solved the mystery. I can keep playing my keyboard instead of sleeping. And I guess I can be sort of proud. I don't know many musicians get to have an instrument that's always playing its own music.

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

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Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why?

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise.

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge.

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly] Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan: Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside.

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human.

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people.

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating...

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright.

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother?

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?!

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly] We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy.

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

#my stuff #my fic #mbmsam #au #modern au #jgy #jzx #mxy #qs #text #ALSO THANK YOU LITTLE-SMARTASS FOR THE IDEA FOR THE THEME SONG I added that on the AO3 version because I FORGOT

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junicai · 3 years

Text

ridin’ n rollin’.

| order no. | 8/21

| summary | When the world is already off kilter, should you not free fall down to meet it?

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | injuries

| era | circa. April 2020

Aria stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her free hand was pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of her trousers.

A pair of hands joined her, unravelling the wires quickly and efficiently. Once the mic pack was removed, it was handed off to someone else - Aria wasn’t sure who - and she was being spun around to face a concerned Renjun.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

Aria didn’t know.

The day had started off on the wrong foot; like god himself had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

Donghyuck had stumbled into the bathroom at six in the morning, and his retching woke up Jisung who was sleeping next door. The maknae had sleepily shuffled into the bathroom to see what was wrong, but when he was greeted with a shivering Donghyuck clutching to the toilet bowl like a lifeline, the tall boy snapped awake.

Aria had been woken up, and then Jeno, and Renjun and Jaemin woke up soon afterwards from all the noise caused by the commotion.

It took them two hours, but by eight, Donghyuck was curled miserably into the corner of the couch, pale cheeks contrasted by a bright red flush sitting high on his cheekbones. A waste bin was placed on the floor in front of him, and two fever reducers were all but force-fed to the boy.

At first, Donghyuck had adamantly refused to take them; saying that he wasn’t sick, he had just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and he was fine now, see?

Aria all but scoffed at that. She held it in, because she knew she’d be doing the exact same thing, would she be in his position. The broadcast performance was scheduled to be filmed that evening, and no one liked stepping down. Not even for a day.

It was only when Aria had fixed him with a pleading look, eyes wide and worried, that Donghyuck caved. The two pills were swallowed, and when he was once again comfortably swaddled in as many blankets as they could salvage from around the dorm did the members return to their own morning routine.

After all; the world doesn’t stop turning for a sick member, although sometimes Aria wished it did. She hated to leave Donghyuck alone; and she knew he’d never admit it to them, but he hated it to.

All of them did, really. It was visible in the way that Jeno had put the back of his hand up to Donghyuck’s forehead three times in the last ten minutes; in the way Jisung was hovering anxiously, waiting for an instruction to go get a glass of water or another pillow; the way that Renjun had only rolled his eyes a tiny bit when Donghyuck insisted he was well enough to perform but stumbled backwards onto the couch when he attempted to stand up. Jaemin had lunged for his arm, catching the sick boy before he could do himself some more damage.

The van had pulled up outside the dorms several hours later; and Donghyuck had waved them a sullen goodbye from his position on the couch. Aria closed the door behind her, but not before reminding him again to take another fever reducer in an hour, and to keep himself hydrated.

Donghyuck had rolled his eyes, and told her to stop worrying. “You’ll turn yourself grey, mom.”

Aria had narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, swinging the door shut. She relished in the bright burst of laughter that echoed through the hall.

The journey to the venue was quiet.

As was the changing room - the only noise coming softly from Chenle’s earbuds that he’d put in the second they’d located their room, and the soft bustling of the stylists as they moved around the members.

Aria was tensed in her chair, anxiety running up and down her spine at the thought of something happening to Donghyuck while they were gone.

What if his fever spiked again?

What if he fell and didn’t have the strength to get up?

What if-

“Noona.” Jisung’s voice dragged Aria out from her own head. His larger hand encircled her smaller one, gently but firmly unravelling the fingers that were digging her nails into her palm.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thanks, Sung.” She whispered, patting his hand lightly.

Jisung made no move to leave, and instead took up the vacant spot beside her on the plastic-covered sofa in the corner of the room. “You’re worried.” He stated.

Aria turned to look at him. Jisung had lost a lot of the baby fat from his cheeks that year - accentuating his jawline. He looked older, more mature. It suited him, she decided. Maturity was something he wore like it belonged on him; settling like the sun sets comfortably without fail.

“We all are.” Aria sighed out eventually, taking a glance around the room. Jaemin was laid back in the chair as a stylist worked on fluffing up his hair, keyboard clicking obnoxiously as he typed on his phone.

Normally the sound would bother Jeno - who was sitting adjacent, in a similar position - was it not for his phone making identical clicks.

Aria couldn’t blame them; she’d turned her phone off silent the second they’d left the dorms in case Donghyuck called one of them.

If the boy knew how frazzled the group was without him there, he’d have a fit. He’d never let them live it down.

“It’s hyung, noona. He’ll be fine.” Jisung said, nodding resolutely.

“He will, Sung. He’ll be fine, and then we can all go back to complaining about his presence.” Renjun made his presence known as he entered the room, directing his attention towards the pair immediately.

“Ari, they’re looking for you for mic check.” He said, jerking his head over his shoulder.

“Right, okay. Thanks, Injunnie.”

The following thirty minutes passed in a smushed blur of costume fittings, foundation brushes and an uncomfortably suffocating amount of hairspray. Aria was coughing by the time the stylist let up, waving a hand to try and disperse the smell.

“Ari? We gotta go.” Jeno called, already halfway out the door.

“C-coming,” She choked out, eyes watering slightly but determined not to wipe at them, less she end up with a streak of black across her cheek.

By the time Aria had met up with the others in the wings, sliding her in-ears in, her breathing had steadied, and a little knot was beginning to form in the bottom of her stomach. She still got nervous before performing - didn’t think it ever really went away completely - but those were normally excited nerves.

This pit that was slowly growing felt foreboding.

It went ignored, sliding under the radar as her in-ears began the steady metronome click that she’d become so accustomed to. She zoned out, and zoned back in, body moving in time with the others in flawless unity.

Dancing without a member always felt off - felt empty, but it was nothing the group hadn’t dealt with previously. They knew the formations, knew who took what lines to fill in, and where their positions changed to keep formations looking slick and clean and not like one of them had been knocked over like a bowling pin; out for the count.

Aria stepped backwards to let Chenle take her place as centre. Her mind was busy, tracking Jaemin’s positioning and making sure she stayed far enough away to give him space; so when a heavy, piercing sound ran through her right ear, she hardly registered it.

It took her a moment, but her gasp of pain was heard over the microphones, a both hands coming to clap over her ear as the in-ear continued to bleed head-scrambling sounds into her brain. Aria tilted sideways, knees crumbling beneath her as she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.

She didn’t hear the gasp that floated up around the room; skimming right over her head that was pounding like a sledgehammer. Her hands scratched at the floor, trying for purchase and finding none.

Jeno, behind her was already half-dancing his way closer to her, and trying to help her back up without completely abandoning the song entirely. Aria’s breath was coming fast; the tech team having enough sense to cut her mic for the time being.

When a half bar of silence sounded instead of Aria’s vocals, Chenle stepped in, ever the professional, singing her lines for her as the girl tried to regain her balance.

Despite Jeno’s insistent push towards the wings, Aria shook her head minutely at the boy, rejoining the second last chorus. She could feel the boys’ eyes on her, burning into her back.

The in-ears bounced around her neck on their chords, having unconsciously tugged them out from her ears.

Per the formation, there was to be a metre and a half gap in between each member, but Jaemin paid no mind to that, coming to stand almost directly beside her in the final few bars of the song; completely prepared to catch her should she take another stumble.

Aria was the first off the stage, stumbling over her own legs.

She stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

Her vision swam like she was sea-sick.

With her free hand pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of the orange trousers, her breath was coming in heavy, shallow gasps.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

“I don’t- I can’t- ringing-” Aria gasped, hands coming to clutch at Renjun’s jacket. “My ear, it’s- it’s ringing, I can’t-”

“Ari, I need you to breath, hold on a second, okay?” Renjun asked, shooting a look at Jaemin, who went to gently pull off Aria’s sweat-soaked jacket.

She sunk to the ground, knees giving out for a second time. Renjun followed her, Jeno’s arms slipping beneath her armpits to stop her hitting the ground too hard.

The only sound in the room was Aria’s uneven breathing, coming in irregular pants and choking her.

The members settled around her, but being mindful to stay a comfortable distance away. Should Aria slip too far into her own mind, too many hands could send her flying into another panic.

“I can’t hear.” Aria whispered eventually, hands still maintaining their tight grip on Renjun’s jacket. He inhaled sharply, turning to face her dead on.

“What? What do you mean you can’t hear?” He questioned, his own hands moving to gently grip the sides of her face.

“Ringing,” Was the only explanation that Aria offered, canting sideways in his grip.

Renjun choked lightly, trying to hold her upright. “No no, Ari, you gotta stay sitting like this, okay? What happened?”

Chenle and Jeno exchanged a glance.

“Did she hit her head?” Chenle asked.

Jeno instantly shook his head. “No, I saw her fall. She was clutching at,” he pointed. “Her right ear though.”

Renjun looked back to him, before returning his focus to Aria. “Hey, Ari? Ari, your ear is ringing, right? Am I right?”

Aria nodded slowly.

“Okay, that’s okay. Was the feed too loud, or something?”

This time, Aria shook her head, lifting a hand to mime an explosion by the ear. “Was like it exploded.”

Jisung looked frantic. “Did her earpiece blow up?!”

Jaemin emerged from the doorway, a mic pack clutched in his hand and a dark look on his face. “Feedback.” He grit out. “Mic pack malfunctioned, sent nearly 120 decibels into her right ear.”

Jaemin held up the offending piece of equipment. “It even fried the voice coils.”

Renjun was trying to keep Aria from slipping sideways. “What does that mean?”

“It means, Ari just got blasted with the sound of a fire cracker right in her eardrum. It’ll be ringing for a while.” Jaemin moved to crouch behind Aria, taking some of the weight from him.

“Permanently?” Jisung asked.

“They don’t know, but probably not. It’s mostly the shock of it, that causes ringing, I think.”

Jeno swiped a hand over Aria’s forehead, swooping the hair back from her face. She whimpered at the act, nosing her way closer to the hand. Leaning down to her left ear, Jeno lowered his voice to let him whisper gently.

“Hey, baby,” He began, keeping his voice level. “You’re gonna be okay, alright?”

Renjun’s arms tightened around Aria’s middle, and it wasn’t long until Jisung and Chenle moved forwards to do the same.

“The in-ear got a little loud, that’s all,” Jeno continued, hand coming to gently flick at her right ear. “No explosions - your ear is still there. Do you want to try standing up with me?”

At Aria’s mild agreement, Jeno shifted into a crouch and the multiple pairs of arms around her waist loosened minutely.

“You’ll be a bit off balance, baby, but that’s fine. That’s normal, and you’re okay. If you feel like you’re going to fall, then I can carry you, okay?”

“So, what I’m hearing is, we’re never using in-ears again?” Donghyuck whisper-yelled from his position on the couch; Aria tucked into his chest.

His fever had broken while they had gone, and their manager suspected it was just a twenty four hour bug.

Aria shifted slightly, whining at the noise, and Donghyuck instantly began crooning at her, whispering soft words of comfort in her left ear to get her to go back to sleep.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Jaemin considered it.”

“Hyung looked like he wanted to murder someone.”

"I still do."

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bunnysuit-femboy · 3 years

Text

End These Games

Armin x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: fingering, exhibitionism, mentioned masturbation - slight dub con

Summary: Reader has been watching her boyfriend play this stupid game for nearly an hour. She is in desperate need of some attention, but he is still ignoring her. Guess she’ll have to force him to pay attention to her by offering something he could never say no to.

Notes: I got inspired and wrote this in one sitting. Also, I don't know shit about Skyrim but... enjoy!

You never understood what was so intriguing about Skyrim. It was a low quality game about being an adventurer in a dangerous world. It was fun, sure, but not that much fun. It wasn’t fun enough to completely ignore your girlfriend after begging her to come over to your house. Nothing should be that much fun.

You watched from Armin’s bed as his fingers moved skillfully over the keyboard. His screen showed the game as his avatar maneuvered through the snowy woods. He talked into a headset, asking his friends where they were for the fight and where they were going next.

You had been watching your boyfriend for the last ten minutes, your face set into a permanent frown from boredom. You loved seeing him happy, but you preferred when his happiness was tied directly to you. Whether you were making him happy from the thing between your legs or from the words coming from between your lips, you didn’t care. You just loved making him happy.

You disappointedly threw your phone to the bed and slid to the edge. Armin didn’t notice anything in the room had changed, so you continued. You moved to his chair, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder before whispering sensually to him.

“Can I join you?” You asked, sweetly, your voice barely audible to the game-obsessed boy.

“Yeah,” Armin said quickly, moving back on his chair to give you enough room to join him. You grinned before swinging your leg over the boy.

He was used to you joining him while he was gaming, but never like this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, facing the screen and watching him play. You would even flick his fingers during stressful battles, much to his opposition. You would laugh as he playfully cried out, trying his hardest to keep his avatar alive on the screen, fighting battles with both you and the enemies from the game.

But, you now sat on him backwards than what he was used to. You straddled him, your chest close to his as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. He had his arms around your body, his fingers still moving across the keyboard. And, your arms were pressed in between your’s and his chests, bent at an awkward angle.

He continued to play, despite his initial confusion. He still talked to his friends through his headset and moved his avatar around the map. You thought sitting on his lap would be enough to calm your anxious heart, but you needed more from him. You didn’t like sharing your boyfriend’s attention with an inanimate object.

Inanimate objects couldn’t compare to you, they couldn’t make him as happy as you could.

“Armin,” You whispered into the soft skin of his neck.

“Yes, baby,” He said into the side of your head, giving a single peck to the hair above your ear.

“Remember when we first met?”

Armin smiled to himself because of course he remembered the day he met you. It wasn’t too long ago, but even if it had been a hundred years ago, he would have remembered it like it had been yesterday. He felt pity looking back on a version of himself that didn’t know true happiness yet, but he also felt warm and fuzzy remembering a time when everything you two did was new.

“Yeah,” Armin said with a grin, “I remember.”

The first time you had met Armin was purely accidental, a series of fateful events all leading towards the love of your life. You were invited to the event because of your close relation to Sasha, since you helped her study for her chemistry final exam. She wanted to pay you back for helping her get a good grade, so she invited you to Eren’s apartment for a small get-together.

At said get-together is where you met Armin.

You were awkward at first, sitting on Eren’s couch as they all played games on the tv. Sasha offered you excessive amounts of alcohol, to which you mostly accepted. Then, you drunkenly talked to everyone in the room, finally finding your way out of your own shell.

You made your way to Armin, the one person in the room you wanted to talk to more than anything. Ever since you walked into the spacious apartment, you found your eyes drawn to the blonde boy. You wanted to hear anything he could say. You wanted to be near him, you didn’t have to touch, just to feel his presence was enough.

That night made you certain that wishes came true. You talked endlessly with the boy - about anything and everything - and you even got his number before he dropped you off at your apartment. He went home thinking about you and you went home thinking about him.

It was the beginning of a cliche love story, and you liked that. You liked the boy so much that you even thought about him for the rest of night, with your hand in your pajama pants and panting breaths escaping from between your lips.

You leaned back from the boy, making eye contact with his blue eyes. You took in the sight of his up-close face, something so familiar yet so extraordinary at the same time.

“I think about that day a lot.” You smiled tiredly at Armin.

“Oh,” He said with perched eyebrows, “Why?”

You had directed the conversation to exactly where you wanted it. He was exactly where you wanted him to be. The prey making his way to the predator’s trap.

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away, feigning shyness, “No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I doubt it is.” Armin grinned. “Just tell me.”

“You promise not to make fun of me?” You tilted your head, smiling like a schoolgirl. Armin nodded, his mind no longer occupied on the game behind you. He’d rather talk to you anyway. “I have to hear you promise.”

“I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

Your grin was now gone, along with your feigned innocence. You leaned closer to the boy, your chest now flush against his own. Your hands found a new home on his sides, your fingers grazing over his ribs, feeling every bump under your fingertips.

You leaned your mouth to his ear, whispering sensually, “I masturbated to the thought of you that night. After meeting you, it hurt me, just how badly I need you - it hurts.”

Armin’s entire body fell into shock. His stomach tensed under your hands and his breathing came out ragged and broken. His lips were parted slightly, letting his breaths escape.

You knew him well enough to know what was going through his head. You knew he imagined the imagery you set before him. You knew he was thinking about you, lying all pretty on your bed, one hand down your pants and the other covering your eyes. As if you were ashamed to be unknowingly aroused by the idea of him being inside you.

He thought about the desperation in your voice as you confessed to him and he was suddenly hyper aware of your hands on him. You were so close to him, situated on his lap in the perfect position for him to hump up into the air and touch something. Something he suddenly needed as well.

“Oh,” Armin's voice came out as a whisper, “You did?”

You bit back your smile, “Yeah. I still think about it to this day. When I’m lonely. When you’re busy with class. I just think about you, and what I’d let you do to me.”

“And what would you let me do to you?”

Snap. The trap closed around the prey, much to the predator’s delight.

You looked intently into his eyes, “Whatever you’d give to me, I’d take it all.”

Armin’s thigh twitched at the sound of that. He thought about how many inches separated his cock from your entrance. And, his heart rate accelerated when he realized that it was only a few inches, maybe two or three. It would take one strong move and he could finally hear you moan out for him. But, he instead decided to work slowly.

One of Armin’s hands suddenly came to your arm, not even the slightest bit interested in the avatar running around a seemingly empty village behind you. He had his fingers wrapped gingerly around the plush of your bicep.

“Seriously,” Armin asked innocently, “You’d take anything?”

“And everything.” You stated with a glint of desperation in your voice.

Armin moved his arm under your own, his fingers now resting on your hip. You felt your chest tighten with the movement. You knew where his fingers were headed, and your heart couldn’t take the suspense of the moment.

“And,” Armin asked with a curious tilt of his head in your direction, “When do you want me?”

“All the time,” You whispered back to the boy.

It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He dragged his hand along the soft skin of your thigh, fingers digging into the skin and leaving temporary indents.

“And,” Armin said while he watched your eyes intently, “Would you let anyone else touch you this way?”

“No,” You said, “Only you. I only want you.”

Armin loved the thought of you subconsciously comparing everybody else you’ve ever been with to himself. And, he loved knowing they could never come close to him at the top of your mental list. He could even die happy knowing you would never leave him because you know that nobody would ever make you feel the same way. It didn’t matter how he treated you - though he treats you amazingly - he could destroy you mentally and you’d still come crawling back to him at the end of the day.

Armin brought his hand under the opening of your sleep shorts. His fingertips now played with the lacy fabric of your panties underneath. Even physical contact close to where you wanted it caused your core to throb desperately for more.

“Kiss me.” Armin demanded, insinuating a trade with his words. With every good kiss you gave, you’d get something you want in return.

So, you leaned forward and kissed your boyfriend. Your body moved closer to him with each second of the kiss, your back arching and your chest brushing up against his own. Your fingers, still on his sides, now dug into his skin, your nails leaving behind shallow marks to his soft skin.

The room, once filled with the sound of Armin’s mindless conversations with his friends about dragons and taverns, was now filled with the sound of lips smacking together desperately. You then pushed your tongue into his mouth to which he whined hopelessly onto your lips.

Armin’s hand made its way over the lacy panties under your shorts. His fingers brushed against your clothed core. Your boyfriend’s body lit with satisfaction at the knowledge of just how wet you were from only kissing him, sitting on his lap, and talking about how much you needed him. The wetness was already on his fingers, soaking through the thick fabric of your panties.

His fingers brushed the sensitive spot that needed him most and you moaned quietly to his mouth. His lips ate every whine you gave while his fingers brushed further into the sensitive area.

You moved closer to the boy as your hips tried to get even closer to him, desperately bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance. Despite the lack of space between you two already, you tried to connect further to both his body and hand. You wanted to feel everything he felt, you wanted to feel his body heat on top of your own.

Armin had now completely forgotten the game behind you. He wasn’t bothered by leaving his avatar in the middle of a random tavern that his friends had decided to meet up at. And, his friends weren’t bothering him through the headset, instead they all sat quiet on the other end of the call, patiently listening for your moans.

You didn’t know about the boys’ interest in your moment with Armin. And, Armin was too deeply indulged in you that the thought of muting his end of the call never crossed his mind. The boys’ made sure to mute their own ends though, right when they heard you say that first sentence of masturbating to the idea of him. They were sure the moment would progress and nothing was better than free porn, especially when the free porn was moaning so desperately into their ears.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet down your panting breaths, “Can you touch me more?” You whispered the words onto Armin’s lips. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Armin nodded against your face, his lips finding yours before doing as you pleased. His fingers slipped past the wet fabric of your panties, pushing them to the side. His calloused fingers brushed the soaked area under the panties, dragging out a mostly quiet moan from between your lips.

“In, in,” You said desperately to his mouth, “I want them in.”

Armin smiled against your lips, “Be patient.”

You nodded and felt as his fingertips brushed delicately against the area. His fingers teasingly played with your throbbing core, only making the wetness problem worse. His middle finger leaned up towards your entrance, using the collected slick to enter without much trouble at all.

You let out a high pitched moan at the feeling of something being inside. You lazily kissed Armin’s mouth, leaving wet kisses down his jaw, neck and onto his collarbone as a silent thank you. He openly accepted the gratitude, moving his head up to allow more kisses.

You brought your hips further down, widening your straddle as best you could on the small desk chair. You opened yourself further, hoping the boy would get the memo of how badly you needed a second finger in with the first without you having to say it out loud. But, you knew Armin better than anyone, and you knew he loved to hear your hopeless pleas even if he knew what you wanted already.

“Please,” You whispered into the skin of his neck, “More.”

He listened to your pleas this time, whether because you asked so nicely or because he truly wanted to give you more, you were unsure. But, the logistics of the situation became irrelevant when he pushed the second finger into your entrance. You felt the pressure of the fullness of both fingers and let out a soft moan into his hair, trying to muffle the noise.

“I wanna hear you,” He said as he pushed the two fingers in and out of you, “If you want me to continue, tell me.”

“Please,” You cried out to him.

He loved seeing you so desperate. He loved watching just what a small part of his body could do to you. Whether it be his fingers or his tongue or even his half-hardened cock pressed against your ass while you make breakfast. He loved hearing just how badly you needed him, and only him.

You normally try to stifle your moans, hoping not to disturb a silent peace in the room. But, when Armin told you he wanted to hear you, he meant it as a bargain. If you were loud and desperate for him, he would give you something to be loud and desperate about.

And, loud and desperate was exactly what you were. You pushed your hips into his hands, trying to suck his fingers up further than what he was allowing. You let go of that mental filter in your mind and let your moans come out as they came to your throat. You sent each whine into the sensitive skin of his neck, to which he proudly continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

The lewd noises coming from beneath your shorts could be heard throughout the entire room and even through the headset. The boys on the other end heard each squelch of your pussy, and mentally stored the sounds in their own heads. They could also hear your moans, and your desperate curses as Armin curled his fingers inside of you, finally letting his fingers hit your sweet spot.

“Armin,” You whined his name out, “I-I’m-”

“You gonna come, baby?” Armin’s voice asked sweetly, contrary to the crude words he had spoken. You nodded your head fiercely against his neck, in silent response to his question. “Then, come.”

And with that final word, you let yourself release on his fingers and in your panties. He rode out your high, letting his fingers stay put for a few moments while you tried to catch your breath against the skin of his neck. You gave the boy sweet kisses to the soft skin, silent thank-yous for what he had done for you.

“Baby,” Armin whispered as he pulled his fingers from under your shorts.

“Mhm,” You mumbled against his skin.

“Want me to fuck you?” His voice was once again sweet for such a crude question.

Your eyes snapped open, “Right now?”

You lean back and look at the boy in front of you. His blue eyes were darkened with a newfound lust from your shared moment. And, you could see he was smiling innocently, despite having just pushed you to climax only a few moments ago.

“Yes,” Armin said, “Right now.”

You nodded before nearly throwing yourself from the desk chair and off of his lap. On your way back to his bed, you ripped your shirt and shorts off before throwing yourself on top of his comforter. Once on the bed, your panties and bra made a dramatic exit as well, sliding off of your legs and arms.

Armin rose from the chair and quickly ripped the headset from his head. With the force of throwing his headset, they unplugged from the computer, much to his friends’ disappointment. Armin walked towards you, taking his clothes off as well and letting them mingle with your own on the floor. He then joined you on the bed, pulling you against him in one swift move and kissing you passionately.

#armin x reader #armin arlert #aot #attack on titan #modern au #college au #f/m #x reader #smut #armin aot

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mckennamayfairgoode · 3 years

Text

I Take Flight but You Hold Me

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: You hate her. You hate the way she makes you feel, you hate the way you can’t get her out of your mind, you hate the way she makes you burn. You hate her, but you think maybe you could love her too.

Warnings: Brief mentions of past toxic relationships. Slight NSFW. Angst? Yes. Yearning? Haha, no of course not….. 👀 Also, yes.

A/N: I’m supposed to be working on a fluffy Ally piece, but I love this song so much and all it does is make me think of Mina. So this happened instead. 🤷‍♀️ Writing her and trying to capture that snarkiness with the underlying insecurity was very difficult. But I think it came out okay.

Song: To Be Loved by Askjell (ft. AURORA)

You’d seen Wilhemina Venable before: walking through the hallways of Kineros Robotics, her cane tapping rhythmically against the ground in a way that insured others kept a wide berth; sitting outside on a picnic table during her lunch hour, always at the same table, the same space, facing the sidewalk, always, always; once, even, as you stepped out of the elevator to the parking garage at the end of the day.

She’d stood ramrod straight next to her car, one hand gripping the head of her cane and the other fidgeting with her keys. Something inside you had tugged insistently and you had slowed to a stop, your gaze drawn to the fingerless gloves she wore. They were made of a dark purple leather that covered her slender hands all the way to the first knuckle. Her nails were short and unpainted and for some reason, you couldn’t stop staring.

Someone cleared their throat, breaking your trance and causing you to jerk back as if suddenly woken from a daydream. You looked up and met dark eyes. They were deep and brown and furious. She wore a scowl on her face, one you recognized easily as you’d seen it often enough when you passed her in the corridor. “Don’t you have somewhere to be instead of staring at me with that idiotic look on your face?” she snapped and you realized, in all your time working there, you had never heard her speak.

Your face growing uncomfortably warm, you had muttered a vague apology under your breath as you darted past her and into the direction of your car. Her voice had been nice. Low and husky with a slight rasp that gave you goosebumps. You tried not to think about how you could feel her eyes on your back.

You went home that night and lay in your bed and tried to ignore the heat coiled low in your belly. But your thoughts ran rampant in your mind, pulling and twisting into versions of her you had yet to see. You wondered, if when she touched you, whether she would take those gloves off or keep them on so that all you could feel were her fingertips. You wondered if she would speak to you, low and husky and warm. You wondered if her bite would sting.

The thought burned you from the inside out.

The next week, your boss retired and you were granted a promotion. You were excited at first. A better job meant better pay, but now, as you stand in front of Wilhemina Venable’s desk, you think maybe it’s not all that worth it after all.

“I don’t have time to sit here and indulge in your little exercise. Unlike some people in this establishment, I have actual work to do,” she says, tapping at her computer and not bothering to spare you a glance. Like you are less interesting than a fly she has to swat away. The notion churns in your gut, twisting your insides unpleasantly. You resist the urge to shift on your feet, knowing that she will catch the motion in the corner of her eye and latch onto it like a dog with a bone. She is an apex predator always looking for weaknesses she can exploit. You refuse to show her any.

“This ‘little exercise’ comes down from Jeff and Mutt. Spending time with you isn’t exactly on my list of priorities,” you snap and you blink and you wonder where it came from.

Her motions cease, fingertips hovering over her keyboard. You try to ignore the way your gaze lingers on her hands. “Is that so?” She looks up then, suddenly meeting your eyes. You want to look away, to move, but you feel frozen in place. They are so brown. Her words are sharp when she speaks. “Do you not recall the gaping fish impression you showed me in the parking garage last week?”

“I wasn’t gaping,” you retort, neck warming. You hope she can’t see. The flick of her eyes to your ears tells you she can.

Venable gives you a blank look. “Of course not. Because that would imply that the space between your ears is filled with more than just hot air.” The words get under your skin. They rake across the sensitivity of your nerves and coil around your very being and sink into your bones and you hate it. A part of you thinks you could hate her.

Your spine feels like it might snap as you stand up straight, tension lining the squared edge of your shoulders. “Ms. Venable, we really need to discuss these layoffs,” you say, hoping that professionalism will get through to her so you can go on about your day pretending that she doesn’t set your soul on fire.

She arches a single dark brow, pursing her lips. “What layoffs?”

“I’ve been looking at the account ledgers. We’re overstaffed.”

Venable tilts her head, studying your face. “And what is someone with the brain capacity of a park squirrel doing looking at our accounts?”

Your jaw flexes as you grit your teeth. “That’s my job.”

“Since when?”

“Since three days ago when the head of finance retired.”

“Oh really? And they chose you to replace him?” She clicks her tongue, lips pursing once more. They’re a plum color. You silently reprimand yourself for noticing. “I can’t imagine why. It’s clear you have no capacity for intelligence, no work ethic, and not enough brain cells to do it yourself.”

Heat washes through you like an ocean’s surf. “You’re HR,” you retort.

Her fist clenches around the top end of her cane, those damned leather gloves creaking beneath the force of it. “And you’re finance. As far as I’m concerned, if it weren’t for your department, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.” She locks eyes with you for one long moment that makes your breath catch. You force yourself to remain still and curse the fight or flight instinct inside you that’s telling you to run, that she is a danger, that if you look directly at her, you will be turned to stone. “Figure it out,” she demands, voice clipped. Then she drops her eyes and returns her gaze to the screen of her computer.

You resist the overwhelming urge to shove everything off her desk and demand her attention, her time, her respect. Your body burns with anger and humiliation and the need to know what her gloves would feel like against your bare skin, but you smother it down and squash it beneath your foot like a lit cigarette into the pavement of a sidewalk. You turn and walk away and listen as the same rhythmic tapping from before resumes as if you had never been there at all.

You feel her eyes on you as you leave, but when you turn to look, all you can see is the top of her head. It was just your imagination, you tell yourself. The piece of you that spent a better part of a year being aware of any and all movement tells you that isn’t true. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in the sights of a predator.

However, it is the first time you find yourself hoping that you are.

Later that night, you still sit hunched over your desk, finalizing the changes you made to the account ledgers. You don’t know what time it is. All you know is that the sun had gone down long ago, that your back will probably hurt in the morning, that you’re exhausted and your brain is running on fumes, but also that you need to finish. Just a little more time, and you can save these people and their jobs. Maybe a part of you wants to show Venable that you can do it too. She doesn’t believe you can. So you will.

You hear her coming before you see her. The building is completely void of life except for the janitor who came by to greet you a few minutes or an hour ago, you’re not sure. The steady tapping of her cane against the pristine flooring echoes in the empty space around you. You look at your computer, save your progress, and wait.

She appears in your doorway like a ghost draped in lavender. Her pale skin and bright red hair stand out from the shadows like the highlights in an oil painting. You will yourself to look away, but find that you can’t. She raises her eyebrows at the sight of you. “You’re still here.” It’s not a question.

You bristle at the tone of her voice and sit up in your chair. You want to cross your arms, but don't; you don’t want her to think you’re being defensive. She will only see it as an act of war and you are too tired to battle with her tonight. Maybe tomorrow you will adorn your sword and shield and finish what you started, but tonight... Tonight, you just want to look at the stars in her eyes. “I had some things to finish up,” you say once you finally find your voice.

Venable hums, her eyes raking over your form in a way that is not comforting at all. Her path raises goosebumps along your skin. You tell yourself not to blush, and bite back a curse when you do. You search her form for a reason to break the tense silence between you when you notice the folder she holds between her fingers. “What is that?” You nod to the item in question.

She glances down at it as if she forgot she was holding it in the first place before extending it out for you to take. “It’s a list of low level employees.”

You rifle through the papers and recognize several of the names. People you know, people who work under you, people who trust you. There’s the janitor who always checks on you when you work late and the security guard at the front desk who greets you every morning by name and the young woman who used to work in the cubicle next to yours before you were promoted. Her name is Maria and she has a daughter. You know because there’s a picture on her desk of a little girl with a gap-toothed smile. Your stomach churns unpleasantly. “So those you deem expendable.” You can’t help the bitter tone to your voice.

Venable catches on if the slight raise of her eyebrow is anything to go by. “They’re replaceable,” she says simply.

You shake your head and with a flick of your wrist, toss the file back onto your desk. It slides to a stop back in front of her. “I don’t need it.”

She blinks once, twice. “What?” She watches as you stand and begin to gather your belongings. “What do you mean you ‘don’t need it’? Unless you simply tossed them from the window, someone still needs to be fired. Don’t tell me you’re that incompetent,” she scoffs.

You grab your bag by the strap and throw it over your shoulder. “I figured it out,” you respond, voice bitter and words sharp like knives. You refuse to be prey, to roll over until your belly is exposed and your weaknesses are aired out for the whole world to see. Not again. Especially not for her.

Just as you’re about to march out the door, she grabs your arm. You freeze in place. You think you both do. The tips of her bare fingers brush the inside of your wrist and you wonder why your skin burns when her hands are so cold. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, you can only stand there and wonder if she can feel the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Does it speak to her? Does she understand? Does she want to?

You lock eyes. One long, impenetrable moment passes between you and you hate that you can’t tell what she’s thinking, you hate that she has your heart in her grip, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her. She blinks and the sharp glint in her gaze returns. You snatch your wrist back before she can say something that poisons your soul. You flee your office like it’s on fire. But it’s not your office that’s on fire. It’s you.

When you’re alone, you think about her. You chastise yourself, force the thoughts away, but eventually, like the tide rolling in, they always, always come back. It is infuriating. You don’t really know this woman, and the things you do know are nothing good. She is selfish and entitled, cruel and hateful, and worst of all, she makes you burn without ever having touched you a single time.

The sound of the bell jingling above the door yanks you abruptly from your thoughts and you resist the urge to sigh out loud as you realize, once again, where your mind has gone. You tighten your grip on your book, forcing yourself to concentrate on the words but only managing to repeat them several times as they don’t sink in like they should. You’re vaguely aware of a familiar thumping sound growing steadily closer and it’s not until it stops at your side that you realize what it is. Or rather, who it is. You look up to see dark brown eyes already staring down at you.

“You’re in my chair,” she says before you can even work up the courage to speak.

You blink. “Excuse me?” For a moment, you’re reminded of the picnic table she sits at during her lunch hour. The same table, the same space, facing the sidewalk, always, always.

“I know it’s hard for you to comprehend the English language, but if you could summon all of your brain cells to at least try, I’m sure society would thank you.” Venable looks at you disdainfully, her eyes flicking to the open collar of your shirt and then down to the book clasped in your hands. “Lord knows I won’t,” she mutters.

You bristle at her tone, at her words, at her everything. “This is a public space, Wilhemina.” She blinks owlishly at your use of her first name and taps her cane against the ground, just once, before settling both of her hands on top of it. It is a warning you ignore. “You don’t own this chair or this table or this cafe. I’m sure you can find another seat.” With that said, you turn back to your book, intending to ignore her further.

It works… until you hear the scraping of a chair against the floor and you glance up just in time to see her easing into the space across from you. She pulls a book out of her bag and sets it on the table, but does not open it. She looks at you instead, her eyes cold and calculating as she tries to size you up. You could imagine the gears in her head turning but you decide you don’t want to see inside her mind. If you did, you don’t think you’d make it out alive. “I don’t recall asking you to take a seat,” you comment pointedly. Your body hums at her close proximity and it drives you mad.

“I don’t recall asking for permission,” she snaps back. You huff, but concede her point and avert your gaze, anything to keep yourself from looking into her eyes. “I’ve never seen you here before,” she says.

“That’s because I’ve never been here before,” you retort under your breath, looking at the words on the page but not reading them.

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? In my chair?”

You sigh and close your book. “How exactly is it your chair?”

“It’s my table.” Her response is spoken with the conviction of someone who thinks they are always right. Your nostrils flare in annoyance. Venable’s eyes are intense and endless as she studies you like you are a science marvel she can’t figure out and it makes you uncomfortable, like you’re nothing more than an experiment under a microscope. She tilts her head, the motion causing her bright red ponytail to fall over one shoulder.

Your eyes travel the length of it and you’re suddenly gripped with the urge to free it from it’s restraint. You want to see it draped over her bare shoulders or formed into a halo around her head. You want to know what it would look like in the morning, in the earliest rays of sunlight, if it would hurt your eyes to see. You swallow the ball in your throat. “What?”

She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

You raise your eyebrows and fold your hands around your coffee cup, allowing the warmth to seep into your skin, your bones, eager to feel anything other than the burn inside you. “I just moved down the street from here,” you answer absentmindedly, watching as a man pulls out a chair for the woman in his company. She smiles up at him, warm and real. She’s in love with him, you think. You can see it in her eyes.

“Why?”

You sigh. "Why do you care?”

She laughs and it startles you so much that you turn to watch it leave her lips. It lights up her face but it is not right. It is cold and harsh and cruel. You wonder if this is what the gods hear before they are smote and sentenced to a mortal life on Earth. “Care?” She laughs again, and shakes her head as if the thought alone is one she wishes to physically knock from her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I merely wish to know if this will be a common occurrence.”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest and you hate, hate, hate how she can get under your skin. You will not give her the satisfaction of watching you break. You shrug indifferently. “Considering this is the closest coffee place to my apartment, probably.” She looks peeved and you preen a bit like a proud peacock for finally making her feel something other than indifference. You stand up to leave.

“Wait,” she stops you. She doesn’t move; she doesn’t have to when your body ceases all movement as soon as she speaks. That fact alone fills you with dread. You watch in amazement as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She flicks her ponytail back over her shoulder and lifts her chin. “You don’t have to leave.”

For the second time in less than an hour, you feel yourself become speechless. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, runs the tip of her index finger absentmindedly along the spine of her worn, hardback novel. “Stay,” she says. She sniffs then, as if allergic to kindness. “If you’d like.”

You meet her eyes, briefly, intensely, too long and not long enough. It feels like a trap. Your brain throws mental hazard signs all around for you to see, bright flashing lights and neon letters that read ‘DANGER, DANGER! DEAD END; TURN AROUND BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.’ You don’t. “Okay,” you find yourself saying. You sit back down in your seat, pull your book closer to your chest and resume where you left off. Your eyes dart back to her figure and you watch from across the table as Venable does the same.

Silence settles between you like a blanket. It is warm and comforting and still, you burn.

The next week, Venable comes into the coffee shop on her usual day at her usual time, and just as she expected, she finds her chair empty. What she didn’t expect to find was you, sitting on the other side.

No words are spoken. She takes her seat, you stay in yours. You drink your coffee, you read, you people watch, you take comfort in another person’s presence. You don’t know why, but you feel safe.

You hate it. Truly, you do. It doesn’t make any sense. How can you be safe in the presence of the one who belittles you? Who makes you feel small? Who has only shown you cruelty and whose words are always laced with razor blades?

And then you realize, this makes perfect sense. For the woman you used to love hid her cruelty behind pretty words and even prettier lies. She had torn you down and disguised the knife in your heart as a beautiful red rose. She had put your hand around the hilt and convinced you that it was you who had done the hurting, the breaking, the stabbing. She had said, with conviction and earnestness in her words, that you were the cause of everything that was wrong with you and her and the both of you together. You had believed her.

Venable is not like that. She does not lie. She does not hide. If you want to find her, all you have to do is look- and she is a painting. It’s pretty at first glance, but the longer you look, the more you see. The beautiful and the ugly, the deepest darkness and the hidden light, all the things she tries to hide and fails to be rid of. You see her.

Sometimes, you wonder if she can see you too.

The days bleed into weeks and you wonder if you will ever be free of this hold she has on you. It’s like the seed she’s buried in your head has finally taken root and no matter how hard you try to fight it, you can’t get her out. That’s days, weeks, it feels like years, that you spend thinking about Venable, burning and scorching until you’re sure all that’s left inside is ash. You hate it. You think you might hate her. No, you don’t, a part of you whispers, but you ignore it like you always do.

You butt heads at work. Often and with force, but she will never fire you, because despite her best efforts to prove otherwise, you are competent and you get things done. She thinks you are a menace; you think she is a mad goddess high on a pedestal of her own making. You want to knock her off. You refuse to be another sheep cowering at her feet. When you pass her in the corridors, when you see her on her lunch hour (the same table, the same space), even during the late evenings when you catch her in the parking garage, you don’t cower. You don’t flinch. You look her in the eyes and dare her to smite you.

Every Saturday at 7:50 in the morning, you go to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. You sit at the table in the back right corner with a coffee and a book and you wait. At 8 o’clock on the hour, Venable will join you. She will sit in the chair facing the room, pull out her novel, and read while you do the same.

The thoughts that plague your mind don’t stop until you are in her presence. When she sits down, your mind goes quiet. Finally, finally. So you sit and you read and sometimes, only sometimes, do you wish you could reach across the table and stroke her hand.

You rarely speak. When you do, it’s a discussion about literature, about the authors you find redundant and the works you think are derivative. Sometimes, she will comment on something that has happened at work. It is always sarcastic, a jab at some hapless employee or something inane like she is just trying to fill the silence, like she wants to talk to you.

You know this can’t be true. Venable likes no one, takes pleasure from no one’s company, but sometimes you think maybe she doesn’t mind yours.

You and Venable eventually settle into a new rhythm, one that ebbs and flows with the days and the flux of your emotions but it is one that is constant and real. Most of your arguments have progressed from barely concealed insults to clever banter and a back-and-forth repertoire that make smiles come unwittingly to your mouth. She smiles sometimes too when she thinks you aren’t looking. A little lift at the corner of her mouth, barely there, but noticeable all the same. Only because she never smiles and it looks so out of place there on the curve of her lips. If you blink, it will disappear, but you see it. You always do. You think it is beautiful; you also think you are losing your mind, being so attracted to a person you dislike. But you don’t hate her, a little voice in the back of your head reminds you.

You can live with that though. The attraction, the thoughts running on a never ending cycle in your mind, the burn. And you do, for many weeks that turn into months that turn into long hours working together in overtime, that turn into you sometimes joining her on her picnic table during lunch, the same table, the same space, always, always. It isn’t lost on you that she’s let you intrude on her safe spaces, not once, but twice. You don’t know what it means so you don’t think about it. You don’t want to give water to a plant you aren’t sure you want to grow. And you are fine with that. You live with it.

Until one day, you fuck up.

It’s one of those Saturday mornings in which you speak. These mornings are not so rare anymore, but when they happen, you cherish them, turn them into memories in your mind. You don’t even know why, but you bottle them up like four leaf clovers and put them in your pocket for safe keeping. The sun is out, shining through the window over Venable’s shoulder. It sets her hair aflame. It hurts your eyes to see, but you can’t look away.

You don’t even remember what you’d said and doesn’t that just eat you up inside? That a woman you can’t stand has the ability to completely turn your brain to mush? You’d said something and it had just come bubbling out of her: a laugh. A real one, warm and low and husky. The sound of it makes it seem like she laughs all the time, like those laugh lines around her beautiful mouth are genuine. You have never seen her look happy before. You wonder if you make her happy. You wonder if you could, if she would let you.

As you look at her, as you watch the smile on her face grow, as her hand comes up to settle on her collarbone like the motion will keep her heart from leaping out of her chest, you feel your own heart drop unpleasantly into your stomach. And you freeze.

Oh.

Oh, no.

You don’t know when it happened. When the Venable who made you feel small became the Venable who laughs at your jokes and smiles where you can see her. When the Venable who tore you down became the Venable who presses her hand into the small of your back when she passes by you at the office. When the Venable you detested and who detested you became the Wilhemina who makes you feel safe.

You don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know.

She is the deep blue underbelly of the ocean and she is pulling you under. You don’t want to drown. You want to burn and burn and burn. But she looks at you and douses your fire. She is the chain around your ankle, the anchor weighing you down, pulling and pulling and you wonder at what point you stopped fighting and let yourself sink.

Stomach churning, you lurch from your seat and make for the door.

No, no, no.

You don’t notice her following you until you’ve made it down the sidewalk and feel her hand clasp around your wrist. Just like old times. Her fingers are gentle and soothing and this time, they trace the veins under your skin, timid and softly and barely there but you can feel her. You want to weep. You wonder if she’d been wanting to do that, if she had wanted to do that last time. Can she feel how your heart beats for her?

You watch her fingers for a moment, too scared to look in her eyes, fearful of what might be there. What if she wants you too? What if she doesn’t?

“Wilhemina-” you start, and that single word has her dropping your wrist as if it were on fire. Maybe it is. Maybe you are.

Her eyes darken and she turns without saying a word. Your heart in your throat, you watch her back as she walks away, determination in every step she takes. The picture is enough to hurt you more than the idea of falling in love with her scares you.

You’ve been hurt before. Mistreated, gas lighted, bruised, and broken. But you are not broken anymore. You remade yourself. You became a new you that you rebuilt from the ground up, piece by piece, until you were a wall of solid brick. You are not soft, you are not naive or gullible or innocent, not any longer. You know the damage she could do, the danger she poses to your heart and your soul and your brand new walls. How did she knock them down without you realizing? The only conclusion that you come to is that she was supposed to.

You realize, suddenly, with an ache in your heart, that the walls weren’t meant to protect you. They were not even made of bricks. They were the walls of a home and inside was your heart and painted on the front door was a sign. A sign addressed to Wilhemina Venable that simply read: Come on in.

You’d taken too long. She’s almost at the end of the block now. Your heart thunders in your chest as you break into a jog, rushing to catch up with her. “Mina!” The nickname tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

Wilhemina jerks to a halt, shoulders angry and bunched up around her ears, reminiscent of a disgruntled cat. She locks her fingers around the head of her cane. It seems like she might turn around, like she might let you in. Look at me, please look at me, please, please, please. For a moment, you think she might. Her head turns to the side, just barely, just enough for you to admire the way the sun glints off the sharpness of her cheekbones. But you blink and she’s walking away from you still.

You dodge pedestrians and cyclists and dogs on leashes and in your mind, you beg and plead for her to stop, to turn around, to do anything but walk away from you. You would rather her yell at you and belittle you and call you names. You would rather feel her thorns against your skin, or feel the ire build up in your bones until you know nothing but anger, anything, anything, but this intense helplessness. You can’t do anything but run.

By the time you catch up with her, she is ascending the steps to a townhouse. You reach the mailbox, watching as she pulls her keys from her pocket and fiddles with them like she doesn’t actually want to use them, but feels like she must. “Please don’t run away,” you plead, your voice quiet from exhaustion, from pain, from the feeling of your love for her overwhelming you completely as it fills your body and inflates your soul. You wonder how you hadn’t felt it before.

Wilhemina stops and you could sob with relief when she finally, finally looks at you. Her eyes are so very dark, but they are not stone. They are weary, cautious and guarded, but not impenetrable. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said,” you retort, and it’s just like old times. The sparring games that never really ceased. It’s time to pick up your sword and shield and fight for the love of your life. “Please, Mina.”

Her jaw flexes and you can see her knuckles whiten from where her fingers grip the head of her cane. “I’m not running from anything. I am simply going home.”

“Really?” You move down the sidewalk, closer to her and further away from the real world. You want to live inside her bubble if she will let you. As she has before. As she will again. If you cannot quit her, she cannot quit you. Please, please, please. “Because I think you love me and that scares the hell out of you. Well, guess what, it scares the hell out of me too.” It hurts to say, and a part of you is afraid that voicing it out loud may make it disappear, but your heart still yearns and your chest still burns. The realization that it’s real, that it’s not all in your head, has you ascending her front porch steps. You need to be closer. You need to look in her eyes and feel the weight of the world lift from your shoulders. You need to see the stars.

“Funny, I recall you fleeing the coffee shop like I had a disease. Clearly, you don’t want to be seen with-'' You kiss her, smother the words against her lips and press her back into the townhouse door, holding her firmly but gently against you. If love is a person, you can feel her right now beneath your hands. Warm and soft and whole.

She hesitates, only for a second, before you hear the clatter of keys and her cane falling to the steps. Her hands reach up, bare of her gloves, and wrap around the collar of your shirt, simultaneously pulling you in and pressing against you. She bites your lip, harsh and unforgiving, and it stings but it hurts so good. You whimper when she soothes it with her tongue. “Foolish girl,” she hisses against your mouth.

“Am I?” You ask breathlessly, running your fingers up her spine. She’s trembling, but she leans into your touch all the same. “I think you like that about me,” you murmur against her lips.

You look into her eyes. They are still guarded, still cautious and they search your face like she is waiting for the punchline. You realize, with a great overwhelming sadness, that she is expecting you to laugh at her, to betray her and say it’s all a joke. She is afraid of you. You reach up with your other hand to sooth the furrow between her brows. You follow the elegant line of her nose, trace the small groove above her top lip, brush your fingertips along the curves of her mouth. “I won’t hurt you,” you whisper. Like it is a secret, and maybe it is, but it’s a secret just for her.

You watch in wonder as Venable disappears, as chocolate brown eyes turn glossy and vulnerable, as her lips tremble, and Wilhemina appears before you. Your gazes lock, and if two souls can speak to one another, you know that yours are speaking right now. They’ve been waiting for each other all this time.

You take one of her hands in yours and press it against your chest, to the erratic beating heart beneath your shirt. She may be the ocean, surrounding you, pulling you under, and holding you down, but you realize that you were the anchor all along. You will not falter, you will not move. She is a force to be reckoned with and you- you are the stone that will not break. “Feel that?” you ask. She nods, bites her lip, searches your eyes for the answers to questions you don’t yet know. You don’t need to know the questions. You vow to find the answers anyway. “That’s yours,” you say. “That’s for you. No one else. Not now, not ever, not even before. It’s always been yours.”

“That’s very poetic,” she murmurs huskily, trying to sound sarcastic, but her voice wavers and loses the sharpness to her tone. Her eyes are wet. You realize yours are too.

“I’ve seen what you read,” you respond. You feel her hand curl into a fist above your heart. “You like my poetry.”

She snorts, leans up, brushes her nose down the length of yours. You kiss her once, just to feel her beneath your lips. “Possibly,” she admits under her breath when you pull away. You smile, kiss her again and again and again. She leans into you like she wants to crawl inside of you and become one person, one soul, one being. You think you already are.

Her tongue slides into your mouth, hot and insistent, overwhelming your senses and causing your brain to stutter. The burn that settled in your being when you saw her that moment in the parking garage flares like a fire that’s been coaxed to life with kerosene. You’re familiar with this burn, with the nature of it. It has been a piece of you for months now. The very first moment you met her, she crawled into your heart and built a fire inside you. As she sucks your tongue into her mouth and bites at the tip and her nails scratch down the length of your neck, you realize that this fire was never meant to go out. It was meant to be a bonfire that could rival the stars.

You don’t know when you picked up her keys and her cane, or when she unlocked the door to her townhouse, or when you followed her up the stairs. You don’t know when you lost your clothes or she lost hers or when you traced her spine with kisses. You don’t know how you got here, with her underneath you, her long red hair splayed across her pillow like a halo around her head, but you are here. And you are in love.

You watch her throat bob when she swallows. She’s staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answers to the universe. Her eyes are not guarded, or weary, but cautious. Look at me, please look at me, please, please, please. And she does. Your heart somersaults in your chest. She is right. You are a fool.

The cautious look is gone, replaced with a determination that is both strange and familiar. She cups your face in her hands and tugs you down until your faces are so close, you can feel her lips brush yours with every breath she takes. “I might hurt you,” she admits, voice trembling as she looks into your eyes and you wonder if you look as scared as she does. “But I will try. What I hurt, I will soothe.” Her thumb traces the spot she bit not moments ago.

“I know,” you whisper, before you lean down and press your lips together once more. You gently bring your body down to rest on top of her so that all you can feel is your naked skin against hers. It is warm and soft and unbearable and you know you are crying but they are happy tears. As your kiss deepens, and her tongue comes home to meet yours, you feel a saltiness fall into your mouth and you realize that she is crying too. You kiss her and worship her and love her, love her, love her.

You fall like an anchor into her ocean where you will sit unmovable, impenetrable, always and forever. Her waves can lash at you, the tides can rise and fall, but you will not break. For her, you will be everything.

You breathe her in and feel her body move beneath your bare skin. You trace her spine with your fingertips, press kisses to her collarbone, hold her in the palm of your hands like she is the whole entire world. And to you, she is. You show her the night sky when she closes her eyes, and you teach her to reach up and take the stars for herself. You tell her you love her and you make promises you know you will keep. She doesn’t have to say it back. You can see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she kisses you, in the tender way she traces your face and looks at you like you are the sun. You wonder if she can feel your heartbeat against her chest.

You make love and you burn and burn and burn until you are a supernova ready to come crashing down into her ocean.

#wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #wilhemina venable imagine #american horror story fic #american horror story apocalypse #ahs fic #ahs imagine #wilhemina venable x you #wlw imagine #wlw fic #wilhemina x reader #venable x reader #angst fic #romance fic

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anonquack · 3 years

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Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!

Word Count: 5047

Warnings: None! Just some curse words.

Summary: Breakups hurt. Confrontations hurt. Separation hurts. But when it feels like all is ending, you and Alex always find a way to make things work. [Angst -> Fluff]

After a loud plop of a box against the floor, you brought your hand up to wipe away the sweat that was now resting on your forehead. Yuck.

In an effort to avoid letting your thoughts take over and throw you into a spiral of regret and sadness, you had been cleaning and reorganizing your room. You took this moment to look around, eyes scouting every inch of the room in search for something you could've possibly missed.

The room looked almost spotless at this point. The box you had just plopped down onto the floor contained a lot of the stuff you planned on throwing away. Everything else had been dusted, thoroughly cleaned and placed back where it belonged. Looking at your organized, comfy, bed made you realize just how tired you felt at this very moment.

But there was no time to rest. Rest meant time to think about what had happened. Time to think about what had been lost.

You let out a small sigh as you walked over to the untouched part of your room; the closet. This part didn't necessarily have to be organized, since no one would come into the room and specifically open up the closet. But at this very moment, your brain was telling you to clean EVERYTHING in this room.

As soon as you opened the door to the closet, your eyes landed on an item you did not want to see right now. As your eyes continued to roam across all the clothes on the hangers, it started to dawn on you that this might've been a bad idea. Maybe cleaning closets really wasn't necessary.

There were multiple of Alex's hoodies on the hangers, all looking as comfy and cozy as ever, but at this moment they didn't bring that comfort and happiness they usually would. Rather, they brought back all those painful thoughts you'd been trying to avoid.

You gently bit at your lip, slightly frustrated since you'd been 'doing well', cleaning and trying your hardest not to let your thoughts roam.

Your stubbornness to not rest and keep cleaning had been your own demise.

You weren't really sure what to do. Part of you wanted to take one of the hoodies off its hanger, put it on, and crawl into bed. The rational part of you knew you should probably return these to him. You had no business having these in your room anymore.

That thought alone made your stomach twist and turn. It really was over. These past few days had felt like an absolute nightmare, but at the end of the day it was reality. You and Alex had actually broken up. It was all history now.

You reached into the closet, grabbing all the hoodies and placing them onto the chair near your bed. They were a problem for another time. The closet was going to be your distraction for now. You'd avoid facing reality for just a little longer as you organized the shirts and sweaters in your closet.

—

It sucked. Not having anything to do, having nothing to serve as a distraction from the fact that Alex would no longer be a part of your life. You were now sitting on your bed, playing with the strings on the hoodie, remembering how these looked on him.

They fit him so well, some fit loosely against his figure, others fit just right, showing off his toned figure. You vividly remembered how the material of the hoodie had felt whenever he wrapped his arms around you, whenever you would hug him and just snuggle your face close to him, looking for a source of heat.

The memories of how you acquired these hoodies also came flooding back. Some had been him noticing it was cold out and you lacking common sense to bring a sweater to keep yourself warm. Him pulling off the hoodie and handing it to you, the way his cheeks turned red as you thanked him, his eyes narrowing and telling you it wasn't that big of a deal.

Other times you'd directly ask to borrow his hoodie. One that smelled like him just in case he couldn't visit or hang out in the near future and you were in dying need of his affection.

You wondered whether these hoodies might still smell like him. As weird as it might've looked, you were now on your bed, bringing the hoodies up to your face and holding it close, snuggling your ex's damn hoodie to see if it still smelled like him. It was so fucking stupid. It was over.

You set the hoodie down as you felt your eyes water. Not because of sadness, but irritation towards yourself. You'd already spent days crying your eyes out over the breakup, and yet here you were again. There had been progress made already, and now it felt like you were back in square one just because of some fucking hoodies. Cloth.

You gently pinched the bridge of your nose as you took a moment to recollect your thoughts. You'd return the hoodies, and be done with him once and for all.

Picking up your phone and pressing onto his contact, your message history flashed onto the screen. Old messages were spilling all over, making a mess of you all over again. Not what you wanted at all. You'd wanted to delete his contact number and erase the messages, but hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it.

And now, once again, you were dealing with the consequences of being unable to let go. You tried to ignore the old conversations that were on display, instead pulling up the keyboard and typing up a civil message to send.

y/n found some of your hoodies at my place. mind if i give them back?

You felt an uncomfortable feeling settle in your stomach as you waited for the message to deliver, waited for any sign that he might've read it. Waited to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't want them back. Maybe part of you hoped you'd at least get to keep something of his, something that made your relationship with him feel real. Made it feel like it indeed happened and wasn't just a part of your imagination. Part of you didn't want it to officially come to an end.

Giving away the last thing of his you had meant officially putting an end to this. Whatever the fuck you had with him. You hadn't even noticed you were biting at your nails until the loud ding brought you back into present time.

alex sounds good. where would you want to meet?

It was starting to feel real. The split was at hand's length away. Meeting him to hand the hoodies over solidified the end.

y/n maybe the library? its near both of our dorms.

alex alright. see you in 20?

y/n yea.

Such simple discourse was already eating at you. This wasn't him. But that was to be expected. You weren't his anymore and he wasn't yours. Nothing would ever be how it was.

Even with that realization, you still looked at yourself in the mirror, checking to see if there was any signs that you'd been crying, or just you looking like shit overall. A few glances and strokes to the hair and you were ready to go, the small stack of hoodies resting on your arm as you walked out of your dorm room. To officially end things.

—

As you walked towards the library, you noticed it was rather quiet. Nobody was out and about at this time, it was peaceful. It gave you a moment to really reflect on all that had taken place. What had lead to you being here, on your way to officially cut all ties with Alex.

It had been a misunderstanding, really. Something that was going to happen eventually. Being college students with different majors and goals was challenging enough. But balancing the giant workloads and quality time with your partner had proven to be difficult for him, and perhaps even you too. There was effort being made in the beginning, but recently it had just not been the same. Perhaps things change, feelings change, but it didn't change the fact that it hurt.

After a few confrontations and harsh arguments, he had stated that he didn't want to be in a relationship if it meant that attention was required of him this often. He admitted it felt like a chore recently, having all his school work and also having you to deal with, especially when you got confrontational.

It had been heartbreaking hearing him say that you were the reason for his recent headaches and that he no longer was enjoying the aspect of a relationship. He wanted space, he wanted to have a moment where he could do absolutely nothing. Not have to worry about another individual's feelings. It was valid, and you had agreed that it would be best if you two just broke up. Clearly if you two weren't going to be happy, it was better to just end it.

You really couldn't blame or hate him. He was studying law, and you could only imagine how stressful and difficult it must be. And to have to worry about a relationship on top of that must've been hellish.

You couldn't shake off the memories though, all the great parts of your relationship. You struggled too. You had homework too, but he was the highlight of your college experience.

Even if you were drowning in homework, you knew you could waltz into Alex's dorm and just cuddle with him for a bit. You knew he would walk into your room any second of the day just to declare you two were going to take a break from studying to go eat at this place he'd found near the university. He was the light that shined brightly and took you out of the holes you dug yourself into when you worked too hard and barely had time to take care of yourself.

You thought you had the same effects on him, but instead you were draining him of energy. The hangouts and time spent wasn't a nice break for him, it was a chore. It was something he felt obligated to do.

You shook the thoughts away as you noticed the library getting closer and closer. Once you got there, you walked in and headed to where you knew he might be waiting, or where he'd know to go if you were the first to arrive.

Fortunately for you, he still wasn't here, so you simply took a seat and looked around the library. You could feel the guilt settling in your stomach. Perhaps this felt like a chore as well, having to come all the way out here to meet with you, just to get some hoodies you could've dropped off at his dorm. 0 interaction needed.

The small bell rang, notifying everyone inside that the front door had been opened. This was it. He was here. You held your breath as you waited to see Alex, if it even was him who had just gotten here.

Surely, it was. He was wearing these black sweatpants, a white baggy shirt, and his beanie that neatly tucked away the strands of hair that would usually hide his facial features. He looked good, to say the least.

You watched as his eyes scanned the room, looking for you. Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your breath hitch in anticipation as his brown eyes finally met yours for the first time in about a week or two. It was so nice seeing him again, it felt right, but this was most likely your last time meeting with him.

You watched as he walked over to you, a small, polite smile on your lips as he came closer and closer. Once he was finally standing in front of you, a small, "Hi-" slipped out, which you instantly regretted. It sounded so pathetic.

"Hi." He replied calmly as he took the seat across from where you had been sitting.

He actually sat down. This meant he was planning on sticking around for a bit, right? If he wanted to leave right away, he would've stood, extended his hand out to show that he wanted you to hand him the hoodies. But here he was now, sitting in the chair across from you.

Usually when you two came to the library, he was seated beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you two scanned a textbook of a shared electives class or both did your own studying. It was always so peaceful and actually allowed you to focus on what you were studying. His presence was so good for you, but it was recently made clear the feeling wasn't mutual.

Right.

You cleared your throat, not ready to hand over the hoodies just yet. "How have you been..?" You asked, trying to maintain a calm tone.

It might've been stupid to try and make conversation with him, but you were hanging on by a thread. You'd risk it, push your luck until the thread snapped and disintegrated in your own hands.

"I've been.. alright. You?" He hesitated to answer, and was currently avoiding eye contact, staring down at the table and then your hands that were placed on top of the hoodie stack.

"I've been okay. Big change to get used to." You admitted, a small chuckle escaping your lips. It was not a laughing matter at all, but you couldn't help it, especially since you were feeling rather nervous.

"It is a big change." He admitted as well, finally looking up to meet your gaze. The eye contact broke your heart. Usually looking into his brown eyes would heal any and every scar that may appear on your heart, patch up anything that may be breaking, but now it was these brown eyes that were killing you and breaking you apart.

It was now your turn to look away, settling your gaze on the strings of the hoodie, hands playing with them absent-mindedly.

The soft fabric against your finger tips reminded you why you were here in the first place, making you finally look up at him again. You were surprised to see that his gaze was already on you. Although your eyes widened slightly, you quickly brought them back to normal and cleared your throat, pushing the hoodies forward and towards him.

"Found these in my closet and figured you might want them back. They've been washed." You clarified towards the end as you watched him take hold of them.

And that's when it was official. They were now under his possession again, not yours. The hoodies were no longer yours, he was not yours. You could feel the lump forming in your throat at the thought, and figured it wasn't a good idea to be at this library for even a second longer.

You watched as he looked down at the hoodie stack that he was now holding. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say, yet was clearly holding back. It was a horrible sight to see. You knew you'd be thinking about this gaze, the words his eyes screamed, the words he failed to verbally say now. It would eat at you during late nights in the near future.

—

Now that the hoodies were in his hands, he realized just how real the breakup was. He hadn't been doing too well himself, beating himself up for reacting that way, for lashing out on you that way. For saying things he hadn't meant, and had only said because he was stressed out and in serious need of space. That was all it was.

And now here he was, sat in front of his ex, receiving the hoodies he had gladly gave them. He remembered when he handed each of these, what the occasion was and how cute you'd looked once you'd put it on. The pride that had filled his chest at the sight of you in his hoodie. How lovesick he'd felt whenever you came to his dorm with his hoodie on, when you wore it out in public and let everyone know that you were indeed taken. By Alex himself.

And now here he was. You couldn't even look at him for a few seconds without having to tear your eyes away. He wondered if you had cried just as much as he had, if you had blamed yourself or called yourself clingy, annoying, the worst of the worst because of the horrible things he had said to you. All things which he greatly regrets now.

When he had walked into the library, he'd spotted you almost instantly, sat at the table where you two would usually study, looking as cozy as ever. If he hadn't fucked up so badly, he would've walked over, wrapped his arms around you and left the softest kiss on your lips, maybe one on your jaw as well as he mumbled "hi baby," against your skin. The laugh that might've escaped your lips at his words and actions, the fact that he can't experience that anymore because he fucked up. It was killing him.

He knew that any second now, you'd stand up and walk out of his life permanently, and there'd be nothing for him to do about it. He'd already caused enough damage with the bullshit he had spewed just a week ago. He couldn't ask anything of you. Not a second chance, not a moment of your time so he could explain that he didn't want to lose you. That he had just been stressed and taken it out on you, tried to blame it all on one person rather than just taking a step back and thinking things through. Admit that he had fucked up. It would be extremely selfish of him to fuck up in the way that he did and then ask for you to forgive him. He just couldn't do it.

He wondered if you could tell how awful he'd been doing. Was it obvious that he hadn't slept? Too busy replaying the scene where he had broken your heart over and over again as he lay in bed, avoiding any and all responsibilities. When you'd reached out to him, he had been laying in bed, quickly getting out and trying to look as composed and not like he'd been feeling like absolute shit this whole past week.

But now he was sitting across from you and the hoodies were in his hands. The exchange had been successful and there was now no business for you to be here. Any second now, you'd stand up and leave him here. For real this time. He wouldn't get to see the way you smiled with your eyes, wouldn't be able to hear nor cause your wonderful laugh. Wouldn't be able to hold you close whenever he pleased, wouldn't be able to kiss you as many times as he wanted. Wouldn't be able to whisper secrets to you as you two lay in bed at 3 in the morning.

No. He had lost those privileges a week ago, as soon as those horrible words left his mouth.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him back to his senses, along with the sound of the chair scraping against the floor. He quickly looked up, catching the words that were slipping past your lips.

"Well, now that you have your hoodies, I should probably head back to my dorm now." You said softly, an awkward smile on your lips. It was clear you weren't necessarily sure how to say goodbye. He wasn't either.

His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour in his poor brain, your moves were almost in slow motion in front of him as he panicked and tried to figure out what to do for you to stay.

No matter how many times he had lied to himself and told himself that he would be fine with you finally walking out of his life, it was exactly that. A lie. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't ever be ready to lose such a wonderful person that had walked in and changed his life for the better. Not at least without explaining himself. Asking for a second chance, as selfish as that might've been.

As he stood to his feet, the loud scraping of the chair against the floor caught everyone around you two off guard, especially you as you almost bumped into his chest as he suddenly blocked the path with his body.

"Y/N." He said, almost breathless. Your eyes were wide in confusion at the new barricade that stood between you and the door.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally said. Even if it was just two words, he already felt much better. He wanted you to know, to know that he was indeed sorry for ever saying such horrible things to you.

The shock in your face was evident, your mouth opening and closing slightly, truly at a loss for words. He took this as a sign to continue.

"I'm sorry for the things I said to you that day. They really weren't true. I was just– so stressed and I needed to take that out on someone. And you questioning me and asking why I'd grown distant just pushed me over the edge and I snapped at you. But I didn't mean a single word I said. I love you so much, Y/N. I couldn't fucking live with myself this past week, it's been eating me alive, the fact that I said those horrible things to you. You that could never do harm, you that has helped me so much throughout the years I've known you, whether it be as a friend or as my lover." He paused, it was so clear he was suffering from a severe case of word vomit, and people were staring now.

Your eyes had softened slightly as you listened to his word vomit, but you were cautious, it was evident to him. Your stance said it all. You looked around for a bit before letting out a small sigh.

"Not here, Alex. This is a library. Why don't we go talk somewhere else?" You offered softly, gaze way softer now, almost as if you were being cautious of the state he was currently in, scared he'd fall apart any second now. He silently nodded, leading the way out of the library with you quietly following behind him.

—

Your heart was beating rapidly against your ribcage, unable to truly process what the hell had just happened. Was that real? Did it really happen? Or was this a cruel joke, and soon you'd wake up on your bed, clutching one of his hoodies tightly to your chest.

You were walking behind him as he lead the way out of the library. You replayed the words in your head, unable to grasp that he had actually apologized.

You had gotten up to leave, saying your final goodbyes to him, and that was what lead him to crack. He had stood up quickly to block your path, and had began to spill his apologies, explaining how he's been a mess and feels horrible about the things he had said. He hadn't meant it. You weren't a bother. The relationship wasn't a chore. He perhaps still wanted you.

You had mixed feelings about all of this, especially considering the pain he'd put you through this entire week. But you also were obviously not ready to throw away a relationship that had lasted this long, and that had been going so well up until last week, when he presumably accidentally took it all out on you.

You were brought back to reality as he stopped walking and turned to look at you. He had lead you two to a coffee shop, one that you two frequently visited. Not for the coffee, but for the pastries and other drinks they sold, all quite delicious and a perfect breakfast for when you both were running late.

You looked at him as he opened the door for you to walk in. As you walked in, you were immediately hit with the smell of the freshly baked pastries. He then asked if you could sit while he ordered.

It didn't take long before he was back, with the usual orders you both got from here. It was touching, and probably an effort from him to patch things up. You thanked him for the drink and delicious smelling pastry before taking a small sip, awkwardly seated as you waited for him to speak again, attempt to explain himself further.

When he realized you were just waiting on him now, he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I'm really sorry. I hope I didn't make a scene or anything at the library. It was just, kind of a desperate last minute attempt to fix things between us."

Us. Us. It left a savory taste on your tongue. It felt right. Yes, Alex, us. You and I. That's how it's supposed to be.

You shook your head, "Nono. It's not that. It just- caught me off guard obviously, and well, I didn't want you to get in trouble for speaking a bit loudly, at the library."

He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the slight teasing tone at the end of your sentence. God, you had missed his laugh so much over the past week. It always managed to cheer you up no matter how bad things were.

"So uh, I'm sorry once again, Y/N. I know what I did was shitty, I've been beating myself up for it this entire past week. And even if you don't accept this apology and you want nothing to do with me after this, I just need you to know that I could never ever mean the things I said. You mean so much to me, and I just- I fucked up big time. You're not a chore at all. In fact, you make my life better, but it just took me so long to realize just how much you've positively changed my life. I'm so sorry for being distant. It's school, I promise. It's not because I don't love you anymore or anything. It's impossible for me to not love you, I hope you know that–" He paused to take a moment to breathe. He had just dumped all of this information onto them again. But he was just so scared that you'd up and leave any second now. He had to let it all out before it even came down to that.

"It- it was a bit of an overload, regarding information." You said once you realized he was waiting for a response. "It might take me a while to think about this. I mean, what you said really hurt me, Alex." You confessed, watching as his expression saddened, it was obvious he regret it. Everything he had said. "Don't get me wrong, I still love you, so so so much. Words cannot explain." You said, hand shyly reaching out to grab his. He responded almost instantly, fingers interlacing with your own. His hands were warm, against your own. You'd missed his warmth so much, and finally having it, even if just for a few seconds was sending you over the moon.

His grip on your hand was tight, but not tight where it hurt. It was tight, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were real, that you were really insinuating that you'd give him a second chance. And honestly? Of course you would. This man meant the absolute world to you. And you understood where he was coming from, why he'd done what he did. It didn't take away the fact that it hurt, but you understood him, and would forgive him, eventually.

"I love you too." He said softly, gaze meeting yours as he smiled softly. "Take as much time as you need. I really am sorry, I'll never stop being sorry for the horrible shit I said. But no matter the outcome, I'll accept it."

His words meant the world to you. Even if you knew you'd accept his apology soon, it still meant so much that he just wanted you to know he meant what he was saying, even if you decided to leave forever.

"Thank you, Alex." You said with a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to tell yourself as well that this was real. You felt him squeeze your hand back gently as well, and smiled slightly bigger at the memory that he did this whenever he wanted to reassure you about something. You really did love this man.

The day had started off with attempts to forget the very man you were currently holding hands with, attempting to get rid of every trace he had in your life in attempts to heal, attempts to move on. But he had stopped it all. He had apologized, admitted to the horrible week he's had, admitted to his faults, and was willing to accept if you no longer wanted him in your life.

But how could you ever wish that in regards to Alex? The one that brought sunshine into your life, the one that made everything better just by being himself.

Things were going to get better from here on out. Alex apologizing and stopping either of you from leaving each other's lives was a clear sign of that. From now on, you wouldn't allow such atrocities to take place either. You two would work on this.

As you stared at Alex who sat across from you, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility of having him back. Having everything go back to normal. It was clear he was thinking the same, as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at you so brightly, almost bright enough to leave you sunburnt. Alex was sticking around, and so were you.

Maybe you wouldn't have to give the hoodies back after all.

#alex quackity #quackity #quackity x you #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #gender neutral reader #quackity brainrot #quackity scenario #help pls #streamer #quackity headcannons #quackity imagines #breakup #but fluffy

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part II

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, model!bestfriend!Felix, barista!Seungmin, agedup!straykids, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, mentions of death/passing away, mentions of injury, slight angst, mentions of self doubt, mentions of bad economy.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 4.6 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: lmao if anyone is wondering why the cafe is open at night; it actually exists! most commonly found in korea but hey this fic doesnt have a set place so just imagine that it’s a cafe that works 24/7 ALRIGHTY?

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

“What do you think this means? Why does he want to contact me?”

You anxiously paced around the living room, Felix sitting on the small grey sofa, his soft brown eyes going from left to right, following your distressed figure.

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you directly, make it feel more personal you know?”

Felix sounded unsure of his own answer as he tilted his head questioningly, his gaze still glued on you.

“But why does he want to know me personally? Does he do this with every model?” You bit your lip as you thought, stopping hastly before running to the kitchen and grabbing the water bottle from the day of the photoshoot.

“y/n! What are you even...” Felix abruptly halted his sentence before widening his eyes at your intentions.

“Surely you’re not actually gonna call him?” he asked in surprise.

“I should at least find out what his motive is! I can’t just ignore the poor boy can I?” you held the water bottle tightly in your hand, removing the plastic wrapper with the number scribbled on and observed his delicate handwriting.

“He seems...strange, to say the least. He rarely talks to people during events and is only ever interested in anything that involves his work.”

Felix knew since he himself was a model. The two of you met during a casting in the earlier years of your career, both being youthful teenagers with dreams and slightly puffy cheeks, babyfat that eventually got away and revealed your hidden features. The day of the casting Felix injured his foot causing him to fall when walking in front of the hawk-eyed judges. Your heart ached when you saw his desperate figure on the cold floor, he was just like everyone else in that frigid casting room, just a youngster with a dream. You passed the audition, smiling as you accepted a blue clipboard with papers from the judges, feeling everyone’s eyes drilling into your back with jealousy. Moments later, after night had fallen over the big city, you found Felix hunched over a small step of stairs meant for the fire escape.

“H-hey,,,uhm, are you fine?”

You hestitated speaking to the quivering boy, his hands covering his face as tears dripped of his chin.

“W-what do you care?!” he spat towards you, his attitude making you want to leave but you felt to guilty to do that, after all he was simply upset and not actually mad.

You inched closer to his cowered body and sat down next to him on the hard stone steps. You looked at him in guilt. You had passed the audition but how were you any better than him? Softly, you put your hand on his shoulder, patting it a couple of times and letting the dark haired boy cry out, his sobs echoing in the dark stairway. He leaned into your touch and you ended up hugging him in silence for what seemed like hours.

Times change and here he is. Signed to a highly respectable agency and catching flights left to right. Nothing more made you prouder than knowing that he didn’t give up on his dream.

“Felix! He’s not strange... maybe he’s just shy?” you tried to defend Hyunjin but realised how defensive you got over somebody you barely knew.

“Shy? In this line of work?” he furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the white wrapper in your hands. “I’m not sure...what if he’s interested in you in that way?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest upon hearing Felix’s words.

“You mean r-romantically?” you cleared your throat, feeling butterflies in the depths of your stomach.

“Well...that will never happen, don’t wanna ruin your career, right y/n?”

Your gaze fell onto the white wrapper in your hand as your heart started beating faster.

“R-right y/n?” He coughed as you grabbed your phone and started typing in the digits, glancing over at the wrapper and pressing accordingly.

“Y/n, are you crazy? What if he actually has romatic interests in you? That could ruin both of your careers especially since he’s a world famous photographer that has every girl wrapped around his finger because of his looks.” Felix spoke bitterly, looking at your phone screen and then back at you with heightened eyebrows.

“I’ll guess I’ll have to find out, Felix”

“Ok but do that after I leave, I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore and also be careful. You never know whats brewing on the inside in people like him” he said while rolling his eyes.

“What you wanna eat then bestie?” you laughed as you threw your phone onto the couch and made your way to the pantry.

♡

Hours later Felix was waveing at your from the other of the door, you waved back at the freckled boy, smiling at him.

“Be careful with that dude!” he yelled as he walked down to the flight of stairs, his voice echoing in the old apartment complex.

“I will, mom!” you laughed at his cute consideration before shutting the heavy door.

Silence broke out once the door shut, leaving you alone in the apartment yet again. You dragged your feet on the light laminated floor, making your way to the couch where your phone was buried underneath a multitude of pillows.

“Where did I put that number”. You searched for it, finding your phone and the wrapper wedged between two seat cushions. Sitting down, you landed with a thump on the soft couch, the blue light from your phone emitting onto your face as you typed in the number yet again. A big lump was situated in your throat, your hands shaking as you sent a message to the number.

[y/n] Hi! It’s y/n, it was a pleasure working with you.

You stared at the message you sent before cursing to yourself.

“Why the fuck did I write that? He’s gonna think that I’m some sort of weirdo, can I ever do anything ri-”

A pling from your phone erupted in the living room, catching you off guard. It’s probably not him, why would he reply so fast?

You were wrong, it was him.

[Hyunjin] Hello! It’s Hyunjin, hope you weren’t too surprised at me leaving my number. I’m just happy that you decided to reply.

You gulped as you typed. It didn’t seem like he’d ever done something like this before.

[y/n] No, not at all! Did the pictures turn out well?

[Hyunjin] Oh, you haven’t seen them?

[y/n] My manager usually shows them on the date of the release...

[Hyunjin] How about this, we meet up and I’ll show you the pictures beforehand. We’ll keep it a secret from your company.

M-meet up? This soon? A million thoughts passed through your mind in an instant, your mind zoning out while your eyes were glued on the well-lit screen that displayed the messages. You were curious about the photos but also about him. Wanting to know more about the blond boy and his abrupt ways you replied back, fingers shaking while moving over the keyboard.

[y/n] Sure, when and where?

You didn’t have any work to do anyways so why not solve the mystery called Hwang Hyunjin?

[Hyunjin] 2 PM, tomorrow

An adress was attached to the message which led to cafe you used to work at, not to far from your place. You placed your phone beside you and looked up at the white ceiling, sighing heavily. Maybe Felix was right, it’s strange to meet someone you’ve only met once, especially since he’s met countless of models just like you if not even better. The thoughts consumed too much of your energy and you ended up falling asleep on the couch, chest heaving peacefully.

♡

The sudden vibration of your phone woke you up, the sun shining through the window as you grabbed your phone, light straining your eyes.

[Felix] I’m 100% sure that you messaged that dude, right?

You laughed before typing through squinting eyes, laying down on your back.

[y/n] What if I did?

[Felix] You’re insane

[y/n] That’s my charm, Lixie~

Putting the phone away you slowly sat up, looking around the sunlit living room as if you’d never seen it before. Rubbing your weary eyes, you yawned before thinking ‘breakfast!’

Without even taking one step to the kitchen your phone vibrated once again. You lifted your eyebrow at the signal but ignored it for the time being, thinking that’s it’s Felix pestering you about your desicion to talk to Hyunjin. After you made a bowl of porridge and quickly washed up in the bathroom you grabbed the phone, wanting to scroll through your socials but what you saw on your home screen made the spoon of porridge that was on it’s way towards your mouth stop.

[Hyunjin] Slept well?

You’ve met him once and he’s already asking such a question? But something made you believe that this isn’t how he normally is. He’s hiding a type of shyness underneath those bold messages and actions. This Hyunjin isn’t the one that you’ve been described, this is a different Hyunjin.

Your mind was blank. What do you even reply to that? In search for answers you texted Felix, knowing he wouldn’t give you a good answer but at least some emotional support.

[y/n] Lixie, what does one reply to the question “Slept well?”

[Felix] You don’t, you pack up your things and you leave.

[y/n] You dickhead

[Felix] That’s my charm y/n~

If you could punch someone through the screen you would punch Felix. Returning back to the message that Hyunjin sent you, you quickly typed something down and sent it.

[y/n] Yeah, fine! Everything well with you?

[Hyunjin] Yes, it’s fine. See you later then, y/n

The porridge infront of you had cooled down, now being a sloppy mess of oats with a spoon slowly sinking into the substance. You stared at the message before your gaze returned to the breakfast bowl. This wasn’t going to be an easy day.

♡

The clock ticked as your stomach was filling up with butterflies, one by one.

“This is a casual meeting not a date, y/n” you mumbled as you tapped your foot, standing infront of the multiple racks of clothing in your slightly stuffy walk-in closet. You rarely wore even half of the clothes. Most of the pieces were sent by companies or given to you after photoshoots, this being both a blessing and a curse.

Your hand gravitated towards a white blouse with puffy sleeves because it reminded you of him. You shook your head wanting to get the thought out of your head. You hated that you cared so much about him but at the same time you knew why. Because he ignited a feeling of longing. A feeling called love.

Snatching the blouse from it’s hanger you digged through your drawers and fished up a pair of beige colored wide pants. You glanced at the brown watch on your wrist as you stepped into the pants, pulling off your pyjama top in one swift motion before putting on the flowy blouse. You looked in the mirror, combing through your hair with your fingers and reaching for a pair of pearl earrings that rested in a small tray infront of the mirror. Turning around, you observed the shelf that displayed the dozens of shoes in your possession, all while tilting your head and putting on the small pearls. Varnished heels would be good, right? Stretching out your arm to grab the heels, your gaze feel on your watch. As usual, you were going to be late and you hoped with every bit of your mind that Hyunjin wouldn’t find you rude. With the heels on you grabbed your purse, throwing in your keys that were decorated with keychains off all shapes and sizes as you staggered out the door.

The breeze hit your face as you made your way down the street, the heels clicked against the broad stone sidewalk making both women and men turn their heads. Lucky for you, Hyunjin chose the cafe where you happened to know somebody working at.

That somebody being your friend Seungmin.

You see, when you were just starting your career money was an issue. Your family wasn’t well off and when you set out to find your calling in the big city without a stable job your family was worried to say the least. You moved into a small apartment that more looked like a mouse burrow than an apartment. Holding a bag of trash you went down to the lobby of the apartment complex, the trashcan reeking as you lifted the lid and quickly threw in the bag, bending your spine backwards with a disgusted look on your face. Walking back you accidentally knocked down a paper that was resting on a corkboard by just how fast you walked passed. The light yellow paper landed infront of your feet, halting your movements. You picked it up.

« Searching for barista assistent »

The pay wasn’t too bad and neither were the working hours and so you folded the paper and went back into the apartment, smiling as you thought that this was the moment when everything changed.

And it did. Seungmin became one of your first friends in the city, right after Felix came into your life. You have very fond memories of that cafe. Working late nights with Seungmin, drinking coffee to stay awake through the late hours.

“What’s your dream, y/n?” Seungmin asked on one of the first days, still not knowing who you were and what your goals in this big city was.

“I-i want to become a model” you muttered underneath your breath, scared that he was going to belittle you and crush your dreams into nothing but fine powder.

“I believe in you, y/n” he said in a low voice, wiping the counter, not making eye contact as you stood on the other side.

Silence overtook the empty cafe, the low humming of cars on the road being the only noise that was heard before you cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes and leaning against the counter.

“Thank you Seungmin, that means a lot” you said before the silence took over again.

You swore you could’ve cried right then and there. Hearing those words when being in such a vulnerable situation really did mean a lot to you. His words stuck with you and in every interview where the interviewer asked about what you want to tell to aspiring models you always said those words. “I believe in you.”

The neon pink open sign in the window was brightly lit, the silhouette of people sipping on their lattes and chatting could be seen from the outside of the reminiscent building that was covered in hops. You stepped in, your heels making a loud clicking noise on the dark walnut colored wood flooring.

“How can I hel- y/n!!” Seungmin looked up at you, standing infront of the espresso machine as steam was billowing out. The other co-workers gave you a glance before returning to their tasks.

“y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you?” he asked, you had contact on the phone but didn’t meet each other too much due to different schedules.

“Minnie! I’ve missed you!” you squealed out as he walked through the low wooden gate that seperated the working area from the rest of the cafe. Seungmin pulled you into a hug, warmness emitting onto you as your bodies touched.

“I’ve been good!” you continue, smiling as you pulled away from the hug seeing Seungmins waist defined by the strings of the apron wrapping around him, a kitchen towel hanging from his shoulder.

“But I have to tell you something, Seungmin” you say quietly making the dark haired boy tilt his head in question.

“I’m meeting Hwang Hyunjin here in about 5″ you say with a smirk, knowing Seungmin would be jealous.

“Wait,,, the Hwang Hyunjin?!” he said a bit too loudly, alerting the customers before he turned to them with a embarrassed smile, bowing his head in an apology. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“He was the one that suggested it, I couldn’t help it” you answered to which Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“H-he knows about this place?” He was stunned as he looked into your warm eyes.

“Yeah? Such a coincidence right? I was sur-” Your sentence was cut short as Seungmin’s breath hitched and a cold breeze hit your back. You turned back and there he was.

Hyunjin.

His presence shined in the relativly small rustic cafe. A white t-shirt and black slacks decorated his well toned body, a long leather coat draping over his shoulders as his black boots shined perfectly. Multiple silver chains hanged around his neck and the rings from last time were boldly placed on his lanky fingers. The blonde boy is tightly gripping what looks to be brown leather computer clutch.

He waved awkwardly and you smiled sweetly his way, playfully hitting Seungmin whose mouth was wide open, looking at the dashing boy. Hyunjin walked over to you, the other guests staring and some of them already picking up their phones to capture this moment. He looked oddly stiff, mannerisms totally different from how you saw him last.

“Hi Hyunjin! uhm,,, this is my friend Seungmin, he works here.” you said, trying to initiate a conversation but only earning a wide eyed expression from Seungmin before Hyunjin spoke.

“Nice to meet you!” he smiled, his eyes forming into half-moons.

Seungmin snapped back to reality before bowing slightly, his eyes twinkling and his ruffled hair landing infront of his deep brown eyes.

“It’s an honor to meet you, mr Hwang”

Hyunjin chuckles slightly at his cute gesture.

“Your cafe seemed charming” was the only thing he could response before looking at you and blushing.

“2 americanos, Minnie” you said, momentarily glancing at Hyunjin before staring down at your heels.

“It’s on me” Seungmin leaned in to whisper in your ear to which you giggled and looked at Hyunjin’s confused expression. You pointed at a table in the corner of the cafe with your chin, signaling to sit down.

As you walked over to the cedar table you couldn’t help but to wonder about his duality. He seemed so comfortale last time, talking to you with no problem and being as bold as to leave his number but now he seemed like a young school boy that wanted to ask his crush out. You started to understand what Felix meant by “people like him”.

You sat down on one of the wooden chairs with steel details, the only thing seperating you from Hyunjin being the light ash table. He pulls out his computer, clicking away as you observe his perfect features. His concentrated eyes were fierce but had a soft gaze, his plush pink lips being soft, perfect for kissing you thought as your eyes drifted to his adams apple that bobbed everytime he swallowed.

Before Hyunjin could show you his screen Seungmin came over, shyly placing the drinks on the table and striking his sweet smile your way to which you laughed inaudibly until he went back behind the counter, observing the action from afar.

Hyunjin cleared his throath nervously as he turned his computer to show you the colorful photos, looking at your judging gaze in reassurance as he sipped on his americano.

You were amazed. The photoshoot seemed simple when you modelled but no one could have ever guessed that by just looking at the photo. It had a touch of charisma. The angles, the lighting and the editing made this originally plain photo look dimentional while still having a youthful touch with the pastels.

“W-what do you think?” He said, looking at the screen as his ring finger flicked through the pictures, pressing on the right arrow key on the keyboard.

“It’s amazing, no wonder you’re so famous” you said while grabbing your americano without lifting your gaze from the enticing photos. Heat rose to Hyunjin’s cheeks upon hearing your words. Sure, he’d heard it before but not from you. Not in that cute, geniune voice that ringed through his ears like music.

“Thank you y/n” he said, his gaze drifting over to you. He was stunned from how beautiful you looked in the cozy ambiance of the cafe. A wall plant descended down behind you as your eyes twinkled when you caught eye contact with the blond boy. Everything he wanted to do right now was to capture your beauty, make this moment last forever.

“Earth to Hyunjin” you said, giggling as his gaze froze on you, feeling your heated cheeks get even hotter.

“Uhm,,, s-sorry, wanna get some sneak peaks from other photoshoots?”

You nodded excitingly, feeling special but also questioning why he treated you so specially. He was shy, theres no doubt about that but it almost seems like he trusts you. You move your chair closer to him, wanting to see the screen properly before you notice Hyunjin shifting awkwardly in his seat, not used to being this close to you.

“H-here are some I took last week, another one of mr Styliz many projects” he smiled timidly before taking another sip of his beverage.

Once again you were amazed by his talent but what caught your attention even more was how undressed the female model was, her curvy body being covered by nothing more than a short glittery dress with a plunging neckline, displaying her cleavage. In her hands there was a delicate red bottle, decorated with art deco lines.

“What was the concept?” you asked, curious of this sensual vibe that emitted from this photo.

“Something along the lines of elegancy. It’s for Aurora Perfumes”

He namedropped the famous brand in the most colloquial fashion, seemingly an everyday occurence for him.

“Y-you worked for Aurora? That’s,,, wow” you were speechless as Hyunjin quietly giggled at your reacting, waveing his hand in the air in disagreement.

“I don’t like to b-brag about my career so hopefully I don’t come across that way” he said, almost worryingly.

“No! Not all, it’s really impressive, your entire career is.”

Your sweet voice made his heart flutter, never before had he heard compliments sound this pleasant.

“Why did you become a photographer?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling over as he looked at you with his penetrating brown eyes. The mood suddenly got cold. Hyunjin took a deep breath, exhaling loudly from his nose as you sipped on your coffee.

“I’m an only child and therefore I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was younger.”

You knew this was going to be a sad story, you bit the inside of your cheek, regretting asking that question as you thought that it might be too personal but judging from how Hyunjin’s words spilled from his mouth you believed that he felt comfort telling you.

“They had photoalbums stacked up in their attic which I flipped through for hours, observing their youth and innocence and seeing how time fled by. When I got my first camera I was overjoyed, taking pictures of everything around me and putting them up on my wall, acting as if my room was an art gallery.”

He smiled when talking, his voice turning mellow as he reminisced.

“But when my grandparents passed away,,, I noticed that I didn’t have any photos of them nor of my friends or family which made me feel disappointed. I had spent so much of my time trying to capture beauty when beauty was infront me.”

Shivers ran down your spine as his sugared voice ran through the words. Hyunjin looked nervously down on the table and you did the same, not knowing what to say or how to comfort the blond boy.

“I-I’m sorry for your loss”

That was the only sentence you could muster to say but Hyunjin glanced at you, his dimples appearing as he smiled.

“Why are you sorry? No one usually asks me that question so it feels nice to get it off my chest.”

You nodded shyly as silence erupted in between the two of you.

“It really was a pleasure working with you y/n, I would like to have you modell for me again” he blurts out, trying to put an end to the painful silence.

“Y-you what? B-but my manager hasn’t told me anything ab-”

“No, just the two of us.”

You went quiet, not believing your ears. A photoshoot, the two of you? Isn’t that practically a confession? Your dazed mind seemed to wander off to places far off, imagining the tension that would be looming over the both of you. Felix sure as hell wasn’t going to like this but you didn’t care. Hyunjin seemed comfortable with you, talking as if he’d known you for years and now he was asking you to modell for him? Saying no to this opportunity would be a crime.

“S-sure, when were you thinking?”

“You free tomorrow?” Hyunjin says, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs comfortably, looking up at you through a curtain of blonde.

“Yeah,,, sounds great!”

A smile crept up on your face as heat rose to your cheeks, feeling everything and nothing all at once. In this moment you didn’t care about the shutter coming from the guests phone cameras. You just cared about him.

The next half an hour went by in a blur. In that short time you probably covered half of the conversational topics on this earth. Hyunjin laughed as you told him about your childhood.

“That’s so cute y/n”

“Well it wasn’t cute in the moment but now I can laugh at it” you laughed with him, stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I think you’re cute y/n”

“Of course I was cute when I was little” you roll your eyes at him, tears prickling in your eyes from laughter but when you glanced at Hyunjin he wasn’t laughing, he was simply observing you.

“I think you’re cute now”

You froze. All these things he’s saying made your heart beat faster than ever, a nervosity that couldn’t be described with words.

“You too” you exclaimed without thinking to which Hyunjin glanced at you with a grin. He coughed before streching his arms.

“Time to head home?” He said, packing up his computer.

“Yeah, I have something to do” you said looking at your watch, knowing very well that you had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day except for anxiously thinking out every potential scenario that could occur tomorrow.

“Meet me at my studio tomorrow at 5 pm”

You nodded carefully, knowing exactly where his famous studio was.

“Don’t tell Bangchan I showed you the photos” he laughed mischievously, looking a bit like a ferret.

“Alright, alright I won’t even though I really want to tell him how good of a photographer you are” you said cheekily as you stood up. The both of you headed towards the wooden door with glass panes, flashing a wink towards Seungmin that had his eyebrows heightened, amazed from how the little cafe lit up with two attractive people walking side by side.

Outside the sun beamed, the bustling of the city and high skyscrapers stimulating your senses.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow Hyunjin”

You scratch the back of your neck nervously as you speak before remembering something.

“Oh! Do you have a concept in mind?”

“Wear whatever, I’ll think of a way around it” he said.

“Mhm! See you tomorrow!”

“Text me when you’re home, ok?”

That sentence made your heart flutter and before you could embarrass yourself by saying anything stupid he waved, his rings shining in the sunlight. Turning around, you promptly started walking back home.

Your heart thumping, your thoughs scattered, your mind dazed.

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Note

For the kissing category, May I get #24 with Will?

Part of Youvebeenlivingfictional’s 2K Follower Celebration Pairing: Will Miller x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical danger, Smooches™

You hated recon in heavily populated areas. It put you on-edge; there were too many unknowns. One of the guys tended to handle any tailing; you tended to stay back, eye the monitors, warn them of anything incoming if needed.

“Alright, Ironhead, target’s on your six, comin’ up fast.”

“Copy,” Will’s voice came in through the earpiece, crackling low and thick over the static.

You leaned back from the mic, lifting your hand from the console and leaning back, glancing at Benny where he was stationed in the seat beside you.

“Can we cut back on that interference?”

“Working on it,” He muttered, fingers moving over the dials. You leaned a little further back, glancing at Santiago in the front seat.

“How’s it looking?”

“Street’s pretty fuckin’ busy… But if you looked through the monitors, you’d know that, cutie,” Came his bored answer.

“The feeds are lagged, Garcia, don’t give me that shit,” You argued, turning back to the pixelated, lagging camera feeds. The three of you were set up in a recon van, with Will on the ground; Fish and Tom were dealing with their own target elsewhere. You watched the feed of Will going inside and raised your hand to the keyboard to switch feeds to inside the store.

You could see Will lingering along the shelves, a little ways away from the target. You raised your hand to the mic.

“Keep your distance, Will,” You warned.

He gave no answer; his head didn’t turn even a little to acknowledge the message. You frowned, lowering your hand to the channel and fiddling with it, getting only static in turn. “Ironhead, poke something on the shelf in front of you so I know you copy.” You waited, watched– even with the lag, nothing.

“Shit,” You muttered.

“Is that-- Yorke?” Benny asked, leaning closer to a different monitor. You looked up, brow furrowing. Shit, Benny was right-- you’d been going after the man’s second in command, but the kingpin was strolling down the goddamn street—

“Ironhead, fall back, we got eyes on Yorke,” You ordered through the comm. Nothing-- just a lag of Will following the original target.

“Fuckssake-- You two follow Yorke, I’ll get Will. Link up at the rendezvous point,” You hissed, pulling your headphones off and opening the back door of the van. “Copy,” Santiago called over his shoulder.

The team had a code that you rarely used in situations like this. If someone needed to call off a hit, change their route in a populated area, you’d fake a call or speak to another teammate— and slip in the word Bordeaux. You slowed your pace as you approached the storefront that Will had gone into. You were going in with limited knowledge— you had an idea of the last place he’d been in the store, the last place Yorke’s second-in-command had been. You took in a deep breath as you walked into the store, peering around. You spotted — just as he was rounding the aisle. “Honey,” You spoke up, your voice bright. Will hesitated before he turned to face you. “...Hey,” He greeted cautiously. “Oh, I’ve just been looking for you all over the place, I thought you were still in the hardware store,” You pushed out a laugh, “I just got off of the phone with Gina— you remember Gina, my cousin’s friend from yoga, she’s the travel agent? Well,” You walked closer to Will, resting your hands on chest, “See, I told her we were thinking of going to Paris, but she suggested that we go to Bordeaux.” Realization washed over Will’s face, and he nodded a little bit. “Bordeaux,” He repeated softly. “Mhm. She said that uh— Well that she knows how much you like to cook, so she thinks we could get a deal renting little place with a kitchen— and we could go on a few wine tours,” You took a few steps back, eyeing the aisles behind Will. “And we could take a day trip to Paris, of course, maybe stay overnight–” “Suppose we could,” Will nodded, following you. You saw the second in command coming around the corner— you knew that the team would be moving on him, on Yorke, in a matter of days if your information panned out. “That is, if you still want to go,” You tacked on. “We can go anywhere you want,” Will answered, a small, almost amused smile growing on his face. Your eyes darted over his shoulder one more time before you grinned. “Oh, great!” You grinned, cupping Will’s face and drawing him in for a kiss. You were careful to spread your fingers across his face, trying to shield as much as you could. Will seemed to cotton on, wrapping his arms around you and turning the two of you. You found yourself pressed back against a store display, and you felt your breath leave you in a huff. It was a logical enough conclusion— most people hated the sight of couples’ public displays of affection. Yorke’s second in command was no different— you heard the man scoff and hurry pass the two of you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were more focused on the feeling of Will’s lips smoothing along younts, his hands large and warm, smoothing over your sides. You curled your fingers in what of his hair you could reach, and he hummed softly, his tongue slipping along the seam of your lips. You opened your mouth to him, your tongues slipping along one another. You could taste the mint of the gum that he was constantly chewing— you didn’t even care that there was a command hook display digging into your back. You heard the ringing of the door’s bell opening, and you managed to open your eyes, catching the sight of the target’s retreating back. Will seemed to have heard it, too. His kisses cooled, brushing along your lips softly as the two of you backed off. “Side door,” You murmured, taking hold of WIll’s hand and leading him away from the counter. You did your best to ignore the pounding of your heart, the feeling of warmth under your skin, a tingling in your lips— “Where’d they go?” Will asked as the two of you stepped out into the street. “Caught a sighting of the big man, they’re chasing him down. We tried to warn you off, but the interference was a bitch.” You reached into your pocket with your free hand, glancing down at your phone. “Anything?” “Not a thing,” You huffed, shaking your head, “Let’s just— Let’s just go to the rendezvous point.” “Sounds like a plan.” Will kept hold of your hand as the two of you walked, keeping an eye out for the van, listening for your phones. When you arrived at the square, Will stopped you at the back of a crowd watching a few street performers. “Here,” He said softly, leaning back against a wall and pulling you close as he kept an eye out. You sighed softly, looking around. “Thanks,” Will said after a few moments. “Hm?” “Thank you.” “For what?” “Bordeaux.” You glanced up at him, “Oh— It’s nothing.” “It was something. Benny would’a busted in and run around the store.” “C’mon,” You laughed a little, “Don’t say that. Benny would’ve had some tact— and he was trying to work out the interference, but then we spotted Yorke. There just wasn’t any time.” Will nodded a little bit, looking out over the crowd again. “...Doesn’t sound so bad,” He added after a moment. “What doesn’t?” “Bordeaux… Couple of days in Paris,” He glanced down at you, his eyes soft before he glanced down at your lips. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach— until you heard the mutter of, “There’s the van. C’mon.” You followed him dutifully— you’d follow Will anywhere. “Everything go alright?” Santiago asked, looking back at the two of you. “Fine,” Will answered. Santiago looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, leaning back in your seat. Santiago and Benny began telling you about what had happened with Yorke, but you just weren’t hearing it. You’d made the mistake of looking at Will as the van started to move, and you couldn’t help the butterflies that made a reappearance as you saw him tug a pack of gum out of his pocket. He slipped a piece out, unwrapping it. For the life of you, you couldn’t look away, not even as Will placed the fresh piece directly on his tongue. Your eyes lowered to his lips before you hurriedly directed your gaze out the back window. “That was lucky, huh?” Benny asked the two of you. “Mhm,” Will hummed. “Lucky,” You sighed.

#Youvebeenlivingfictional Follower Celebration #Follower Celebration #2k Follower Celebration #asks #replies #prompts #Will Miller x Reader #Will Miller x You #Will Miller/Reader #Will Miller/You #Anonymous

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trainsinanime · 3 years

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In the past few weeks I’ve built a model railroad signal for garden railways with a custom DCC decdoder. Here’s what it looks like:

youtube

I’ve heard from a number of people that they thought this was interesting, but they didn’t really understand what I was doing. So today I’ll try to explain the core of it all, this circuit board:

And here’s the associated circuit diagram:

I’ll try to explain why this is the way it is and what it does.

(This whole explanation is aimed at people who have never done anything with electronics before. If that’s not you, then this may be a bit boring. Also, I didn’t come up with any of the parts of this. Most of this is based on things I learned by reading OpenDCC and Mikrocontroller.net. I’m sure I still made a lot of mistakes, though, and they’re definitely all mine and not the fault of anyone on these sites.)

The goal

First let’s talk about requirements. My goal was to build an american signal type “Searchlight”. Such a signal has between one and three lamps. Thanks to a clever electromechanic design that moves different color filters around, each lamp can show different colors - up to three from a total selection of four.

Replicating this system for a model railroad is not practical. I need something else. Having multiple colored LEDs next to each other wouldn’t work; they’re too big and I want it to all look like one light source. There are LEDs that contain red, blue and green in one housing, but that would require a lot of wires quickly that all have to be put in the mast. The solution is this:

This is an “adressable” LED, better known under the name “Neopixel” used by a large american online store. There are many variations from different manufacturers. The key thing is that each LED has a tiny control circuit built right in. It takes four wires: Plus five volts, minus, data in and data out. If you have more than one, you can connect the data out of the first directly to the data in of the second and so on. Connect the plus and minus as well, and you can control almost unlimited amounts of LEDs with just three wires.

The data line has a special protocol that you need to generate. Basically you need to switch it from 0 to 5 to 0 volts again and again at a certain rate; the time it stays at 5 volts (“high”) determines whether you’re sending a 0 or a 1. From these bits you form bytes, which tell each LED what specific color value to send.

Due to this dataformat, you definitely need some electronic circuit controlling the signal, and the first requirements for this are:

Provide five volts DC power

Generate the data for the LEDs in the correct format

The Input

There are a lot of options for designing the input side of things. In my case, I’m assuming the signal is electrically connected to the rails of a model railroad that is controlled digitally. With digital command control (DCC), the voltage at the rails has a constant value of about 15 to 25 volts, larger for larger scales. This voltage constantly flips polarity; first plus is on the left rail, then it goes to the right rail (and minus vice versa), and then back. It’s like AC in normal wall outlets, but with very abrupt changes instead of a smooth sine wave.

This voltage has two tasks. First it supplies the locomotives with power, but it also transmits information. If one of these change-and-back sequences is long, it transmits a “0”; if it’s short, it transmits a “1”. These bits together then form the bytes that form the messages that say things like, “Locomotive three run at speed step 64” or “switch 10 switch to direction left”.

This decoder uses both features. The digital voltage provides both the data and the power. For a locomotive, that is required since the only conductors you have are the rails. This is a stationary decoder, so I could have designed it so that it only uses digital commands, and gets the power from an external power supply. However, I wanted to use the least amount of cables, so I’m using the simple version.

With that, the requirements are fixed. The circuit has to:

Turn the digital power (15-25 Volts, AC-ish) into 5 Volts DC

Read and understand the digital data signal (decode it, hence the name “decoder”) and calculate the colors for the LEDs.

Computation

This calculation is the real key here. The digital signal has a completely different fromat than what the LEDs expect. It’s slower, but also has completely different meaning. At best it transmits “set switch or signal 10 to state 0”. Which color values are associated with that, let alone any blending to make it look nice, are things the signal has to decide for itself. There is no way to build a simple stupid adapter here; I need a complete computer.

Luckily, you can get those for cheap and in really tiny.

The ATtiny85 costs about 1€ depending on how many you order, and it’s smaller than one cent coin (I think in basically any currency), but from a technical point of view, it is essentially a full computer. It has all the important parts anyway. There is a CPU that can run at (depending on the version) up to 20 MHz; half a kilobyte of RAM and eight kilobyte of internal storage for the program. Multiple programs is a bit of a challenge. If you know Arduinos, the ATtiny85 is related to the ATmega328p in the Arduino Uno and Nano. Far less powerful, but cheaper and significantly smaller.

What it lacks are all the surroundings like keyboard and screen for input and output. The chip is designed for applications where this isn’t needed, or at least only minimal things. The software that you write can assign each pin (okay, five out of eight) freely for different tasks: The pin can work as an input, telling the software whether there’s a low or high level of voltage at it (meaning 0 or 5 Volts), or it can work as an output and write high or low values, meaning setting the pin explicitly to 0 or 5 Volts.

There are other options for the Pins as well; among other things it can also read analog voltages and generate them to some extent. But for this task I only need the simple digital high-low inputs and outputs.

These types of chips, known as microcontrollers, exist in thousands of variations by different manufacturers with very different performance characteristics. They are the key part of basically everything that’s digitally controlled these days. Washing machines, everything that plugs into a computer including every single Apple lightning cable, TVs, TV remotes, amazing amounts of parts in cars and so on are all the realm of microcontrollers. The ATtiny85 is, as the name implies, very much at the low end of the scale (though there are smaller ones), and even here, it is a bit out of date. But it is very easy to program and very forgiving of mistakes, which makes it great in hobby situations.

To run, this chip needs around 3-5 Volts DC (some versions like the one here can also run on a bit less) and exactly one capacitor. I’m already generating 5 Volts DC for the LEDs anyway, so this chip will get them as well. That means for all the calculation, only two pieces of hardware are required.

There is some more associated hardware, though, for getting the program (which I’ve written myself) on the chip. For that you need a programmer, a device that you can buy for some money, or make yourself astonishingly easily from an Arduino. It needs to be connected with six wires to the chip. The standard for this is with a six-pin plug, which I’ve thus included here as well. There are standard six-wire cables for this.

You could connect the cables differently, for example with some sort of spring-loaded contacts on some programming circuit board you’d have to build for that, or in the worst case, just temporarily solder the cables in there. But the plug version is both simple and convenient, with the only downside that it makes the circuit a bit more pointy.

(Due to the Tumblr image limit, the next part will have to be in a reblog)

#model railroad #electronics #attiny #attiny85 #dcc #decoder #arduino

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ey8508 · 3 years

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Helm

Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

[ He always knew how to insert each screw where it should be. ]

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 14-17 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 -Caerus, there is an investigation task for you. - Target name? - Guozi is a newcomer who organized the audit. Her relevant information is in the attachment. - Once received, when do you want it? - Before next Wednesday. - with such little time, the salary has to be increased by 20%. After the dialogue on the screen was stagnant for a while, the other side only replied a word: OK. Page 2 Duan Junjie put down his phone and was about to continue to look at the acquisition contract in front of him when he was suddenly patted on the shoulder. The colleague smiled and asked him: "Lawyer Duan, our department is going to have a dinner on Sunday. Would you like to come together?" "Sorry, there is something on the weekend, I can't come." Duan Junjie shook his head. The man's face was a bit unpleased: "Last time you also said that when something happened, why didn't you stay active with everyone? Eating a meal is also a way of communicate feelings." Page 3 "Forget it, I have been in Huarui for so long, and I haven't seen lawyer Duan participate in the department team building!" The female colleague opposite Duan Junjie smiled and replied, "I would rather offend the high-level staff and never work overtime. You still want to occupy his weekend, don't even think about it." The colleague left angrily, but Duan Junjie kept his head buried in work without commenting on the evaluation of him by the people around him. At exactly six o'clock, he sent the compiled attachments of the acquisition contract to the mailbox of the president's office, ready to pack his things and get off work, when the computer suddenly received a notification. Page 4 Is President Li so optimistic about the contract? Although he knows that the person in charge of the Huarui Group is extremely efficient, the time limit is too ridiculous. He clicked on the message and found that it was an anonymous email with a bunch of garbled characters. Duan Junjie frowned. This string of garbled codes was in disorder, but he soon discovered that it was an e-mail with two layers of special encryption, and the secret key was only available to members of BLACK SWAN. After deciphering the garbled code, he found that it was a sentence and a "S" symbol with a thicker style at the end. Come to the conference room of BLACK SWAN headquarters. Page 5 Duan Junjie read this sentence silently, and frowned. The other party does not use the B.S. communication channel, but uses an anonymous IP to send it. Obviously, it wants to bypass the surveillance of some people in the organization. After the establishment of the BS board of directors, the original Twelve members did not easily surrender to the BOSS. They were secretly engaged in a few small actions, although Duan Junjie is just a crew responsible for intelligence, because of the nature of the work, someone from Twelve has either hinted or tempted him, They secretly made a few small moves. Although Duan Junjie was just a screw responsible for intelligence, because of the nature of the work, there was also TW elve. Duan Junjie refused either by suggesting or tempting him but Duan Junjie refused. And now... Duan Junjie looked at this email and realized something vaguely. Page 6 He glanced at the time, and now he is leaving to meet the sender of the email. It should be too late to get home at eight o'clock and cook cat food for Amo. Although he was mentally prepared, when he opened the door and saw the man sitting across the long table, Duan Junjie still couldn't help but blurt out: "Mr. Li" The man opposite the long table did not erect the barrier to cover his face. He wore a suit with a straight back and a calm expression, no different from sitting in the office of the president of Huarui Building. Duan Junjie paused, then changed his words, "BOSS." Page 7 Li Zeyan pushed the document in front of him, "I know that your superior has just sent you a task, push that task, and do this first". "Push it." Duan Junjie took the file, "Does it mean that I don't have to keep in contact with him again?" Li Zeyan did not speak. His silence indicates his answer. Duan Junjie fixed his glasses and read the document roughly: "When do you want it?" "Before next Wednesday. Is it difficult?" Page 8 "It's not difficult, but it will take up a lot of my rest time. And I see that this part of the document is just a lead, and the things that need to be explore later are much larger than these papers." He emphasized, "This will be a long work, BOSS." "State your salary expectations." Duan Junjie seriously considered his mortgage and car loan: "Fourteen salary." "Sixteen salary." Li Zeyan looked at him directly, "correspondingly, you have to get back information worth this value." Chapter 2 Page 1 Duan Junjie’s life is very regular. He gets up at 8 in the morning and makes a cat meal for Amo. Then he takes the subway that arrives at 8:27, leaves the station at 8:47, and walks for five minutes to Huarui building, go to the cafeteria to get an egg, two buns, and a cup of soy milk. Sometimes, according to the mood of the day, he changes it to milk, and make sure to turn on the computer at nine o'clock and start working. He is just a screw built in the Huarui Group, as long as he is firm and wedged in where he should be on time everything should be fine. It’s just that there are accidents occasionally in a regular life, such as today. Page 2 At 8:51, when Duan Junjie was about to walk to the door of Huarui building, his footsteps suddenly stopped because a fallen leaf was hanging in front of him for five seconds. An Evolver has used their ability. Duan Junjie quickly reacted. He looked around, cars, pedestrians, even the giant screen advertisements that flickered forever in the distance stopped. In the world of silence, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the ground seemed so clear. Page 3 Duan Junjie saw Li Zeyan appear from the other end of the intersection, walked calmly to the middle of the road, came straight to a car and bent down. When he got up again, there was a tabby cat in his arms. When Li Zeyan hold the cat and stepped onto the sidewalk, time began to flow again. The noise reappeared in the city in an instant, the cars and the crowd were intertwined, and no one noticed the small change just now. Li Zeyan stepped forward, suddenly as if he noticed, that he turned his head to look at Duan Junjie not far away. "Mr. Li." Duan Junjie greeted him and walked over. Page 4 Li Zeyan nodded, took the cat to a safe place and put it down. The little cat was shocked and still seemed to be reluctant to leave Li Zeyan. After stepping on Li Zeyan's hand back and forth, it turned around and jumped into the bushes of flowers. Duan Junjie looked at the back of the cat, and inexplicably thought of his own Amo: "It has a labelled ear and it is a sterile cat." "The cats in this area have been neutered." Li Zeyan replied. These two sentences have no beginning and end, but the atmosphere is calm. Duan Junjie continued: "I didn't expect you to be a cat lover." Page 5 Knowing that all the cats in this area have been neutered and willing to use EVOL to save a cat, it really does not fit Duan Junjie’s impression of Li Zeyan. "It's just a matter of effort." Li Zeyan took off the cat's fur on his cuffs. "If it is not careful, it will not be saved every time." As soon as the voice fell, a thin mist gathered in Li Zeyan's always firm eyes, and his expression became a little dumbfounded as if something had touched his mind. Page 6 Duan Junjie saw Li Zeyan with this expression for the first time, but he intuitively felt that he shouldn't ask more. So he took a step back, "Then I will go first, and the yesterday's document will be sent to you before a quarter past ten in the morning." At 8:57, Duan Junjie arrived at the Huarui cafeteria. Today he bought one less egg because he wants to save time and punch in on time.

Chapter 3 Page 1 Whether as Caerus or Lawyer Duan, he has been very busy this time. Huarui's acquisition plan has advanced to a critical stage, and the investigation of the "small syringe" has also fallen into a bottleneck. Even Duan Junjie, who has no commercial sense, knows that this kind of medicine that can enhance Evol can create huge benefits that can change the world. He once suspected that Li Zeyan’s reason for being particularly concerned about "small syringes" was the instinct of capitalists to seek profit, but if they were chasing profits, they should put this unstable pharmaceutical package on the market as soon as possible, instead of letting him investigate The "black hand" behind the shadow of the "Syringe" incident. "Lawyer Duan, we'll be going first." Page 2 "Okay, bye." Colleagues picked up their bags and said goodbye to him. When they walked to the door, they could still hear a faint sentence floating over there: "Lawyer Duan also works overtime. It's really rare." The sky gradually darkened, and the neon lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows lit up for the first time. Duan Junjie was the only one left in the huge office. No breathing could be heard in the silent environment, only the monotonous keyboard percussion sounded in the ups and downs! A sharp alarm interrupted Duan Junjie's work. He quickly opened the alarm interface and found that the source of the alarm was actually for Li Zeyan's office of the president! Page 3 "The sound pulse in the office fluctuates abnormally" Duan Junjie whispered while looking at the screen, "someone went there?" It’s not surprising that Li Zeyan would be watched. Duan Junjie was surprised that someone dared to do something in Li Zeyan’s office. He immediately sent an encrypted signal to Li Zeyan to get the other party out of the office immediately. However, after a long time, Li Zeyan on the camera still motionless. Immediately he saw a girl pushing open the door of the office, still holding some documents in her hand. The boss of Huarui Investment’s gazed at the film and television company, also a member of BLACK SWAN, Miss NOX. "That's it, there wasn't anything major?" Page 4 Seeing this scene, Duan Junjie breathed a sigh of relief. It also reflects that the time for NOX to report on official business is the anti-tracking time given to him by Li Zeyan, and he must be worthy of the sixteen salary that Li Zeyan gave him. An hour later, Duan Junjie stood in front of Li Zeyan's office and knocked on the door three times. "Come in" Duan Junjie walked in, first closed the door carefully, and operated the small anti-eavesdropping device in his hand a few times and installed it on the door. Then he turned around and said straightforwardly: "Boss, it's done." Page 5 "Tell me." "The source of the eavesdropping was traced to a tea room in Xicheng District. This is the background check of the tea room owner and the personnel he has been in close contact with recently." Duan Junjie operated a few times on his mobile phone, and the corresponding intelligence content popped up on Li Zeyan's computer. , "A few people have contact with the small syringe". The person who installed the eavesdropping has also been found. It was the cleaner who cleaned your office yesterday. According to the monitoring comparison, they were not from Huarui, but they should have sent someone in disguise. People have been arranged to go to the Dingsha Tea Room, and they can act at any time. Page 6 "Understood" Li Zeyan's tone was always faint, his expression calm, it was not like he had experienced a tense eavesdropping crisis one after another, or for this man, he had experienced countless things. Things that are unimaginable even by Duan Junjie's thoughts. More dangerous than this, more knife-pointed. The scene of life and death on the front line. He scanned the page for a few times, pressed the button, and said: "Go to the next stage." Page 7 The meaning of entering the next stage is that he does not need to care about how those eavesdroppers will be dealt with. Duan Junjie nodded knowingly: "I understand." Li Zeyan's gaze cast through the floor-to-ceiling windows, to the distant ground, as if he was talking to Duan Junjie, or he was saying to the invisible opponent: "The line has been laid long enough." Page 8 Duan Junjie lowered his head: "I will continue to report to you if there is a new situation." He turned to leave the office, and suddenly wrinkled his nose before leaving. A faintly sweet smell that he did not know where it came from, on the tip of his nose, it was like the caramel scent he would smell when he passed the dessert shop downstairs. This type of scent should not appear in Li Zeyan's office. It might be an illusion, Duan Junjie thought.

Chapter 4 Page 1 Unknowingly, it was the end of the year again. At this time, the center of the topic in the tea room of my colleagues will be more and more to rely on a lottery draw in the main link of the Huarui annual meeting. "Last year based on the report someone in the department next door got paid for a month of paid travel and wine!" "I want to pick a camera. Maybe the equipment is configured, and my photography skills will also improve." "Lawyer Duan, what prize do you want to win?" "The Sunshine Award." Duan Junjie replied. Everyone went silent. Page 2 Duan Junjie thinks this topic is meaningless, and he doesn't think he has the luck to win a lottery. Excessive surprises are often accompanied by huge risks. He is greedy for peace and stability, and does not want to give life too many twists and turns. It's better to go home and cook an extra meal for the cat when you have the time. Huarui’s annual meeting has always been very lively. In addition to the people at the headquarters, some cooperating companies will also come to socialize. The police, like the boss of the film and television company of the company, will not be absent every year. Page 3 After the last eavesdropping incident, probably out of affirmation of his work ability, Li Zeyan handed him more tasks. As a result, he came into contact with this woman who had an unusual relationship with the BOSS. Although he exchanged information online, the other party did not know his identity in reality. He glanced at the energetic girl, and then turned away, not intending to say hello to her as Huarui's lawyer. Page 4 What Duan Junjie didn't expect was that he won the second prize at this annual meeting. The moment his name appeared on the big screen, his colleagues seemed to be more excited than him. These guys who usually claim to be the elites of the law surrounded him laughing and making noise, and they said that they should be invited to share the joy, "You're from our department. Duan Junjie you finally won this year's prize! " Duan Junjie was so upset by them that he simply slipped out of the annual meeting with an excuse. He had just gotten in the car and was about to start, and suddenly two figures flashed in the corner of his eyes who shouldn’t be there at this time. Page 5 Li Zeyan and NOX walked to the garage side by side, and the two seemed to be talking about something. Duan Junjie thought it might not be an official business, because the girl’s face had the brilliant smile that she have on her age. She carried a bag of vegetables in one hand and gestured twice with the other. Li Zeyan’s eyebrows were still the same. It's cold, but there is a slight arc in the corner of his mouth, and if Duan Junjie is right, is this BS BOSS carrying a bag of cat litter in his hand? It's the same cat litter as Amo. Duan Junjie raised his eyebrows, he felt as if he had discovered something extraordinary. Page 6 So Duan Junjie asked questions unrelated to work for the first time in the work email when he went to work the next day. Why is the poster of the Huarui Annual Meeting is a Siamese? Li Zeyan quickly answered him. That is my cat, it is a Ragdoll. Chapter 5 Page 1 Affected by the public opinion of "Huarui's malicious acquisition of pharmaceutical companies", the atmosphere in the company has recently become much sluggish than before. The pantry is no longer full of laughter and gossip, but turned into quiet discussions and sighs. "When I went to drink coffee across the street today, the clerk saw my badge and said that he would not accept it. He won't even talk to me afterwards" "Hmph, he didn't accept it?, you should complain to him at that time, not only complain, but also wear a Huarui badge every day to buy as a Huarui employee, it is never a shame!" "Yes, I should do that" Page 2 Duan Junjie was stunned and stopped for a while, and the colleague in the pantry had already noticed him: "Lawyer Duan." Duan Junjie nodded at them and poured the remaining water from the glass into the sink. A female colleague smiled and greeted: "Lawyer Duan, how is Amo at home?" "It's ok, Amo has not been losing weight recently." "By the way, we have recently established a Huarui cat-related group. Lawyer Duan are interested in joining?" a female colleague asked him with a smile, "Occasionally I can see President Li's cat too, Pudding!" "Thank you, I'll think about it." Page 3 After bidding farewell to his colleagues, Duan Junjie set off for the BS building. One or two minutes before, he sent a message from the special communication channel of B.S. saying that an emergency meeting would be held. Before coming to the meeting room, he habitually knocked on the door three times, and after getting permission from Li Zeyan, he walked in. "BOSS" "The next phase of the plan can start." "Understood, I will arrange manpower." Page 4 Li Zeyan ordered him to do the next thing as usual, until a silver-haired man suddenly broke in and interrupted Duan Junjie's bargaining over the length of overtime. The two talked in private. Before the silver-haired man glanced coldly on him, Duan Junjie turned around and left the meeting room. Only doing what should be done, not listening to what should not be heard, this is the work principle he has always believed in. Page 5 Duan Junjie feels that his current life is very good. Both Huarui and BLACK SWAN are huge and sophisticated machines, requiring countless from 'attorney Duan' and 'Caerus' as screws to maintain their operation. The man at the helm who directs the operation is Li Zeyan. Screws can get stuck occasionally and can be replaced, but Li Zeyan make no mistakes, let alone replace any mistakes, the consequences are fatal once it appears. Perhaps in terms of risk, following Li Zeyan is already the biggest gamble in Duan Junjie's life. Page 6 His chips were all bet on this man, and he inexplicably believed that Li Zeyan could win, not because of the gorgeous numbers in the Huarui annual report, nor because B.S. continued to grow these crowns and glamorous surfaces under his leadership. It is because the stray cat was rescued, the brand new "small syringe" industry chain, and the badge on the chest of a colleague. The reason lies in these small things. Duan Junjie turned on the phone and opened a chat window before starting the next stage of work. "What is the cat-related group number?"

#mr love queens choice #mr love queens choice victor #mr love victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #rumors and secrets Victor

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hanoella · 3 years

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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Part 3 Word Count: 3k

A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)

Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful

Read Part 1; Masterlist

---

A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.

Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?

He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.

He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.

The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.

Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.

A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.

“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.

He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.

Unmoving.

---

The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.

“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”

“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.

“… What?”

“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”

“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”

“For her shoulder?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.

“Never mind, I-”

“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”

“Similar to yourself?”

“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.

“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.

“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.

“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.

“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”

Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.

“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”

“… That’s terrible.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.

“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”

Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.

Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.

“Ready?”

Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.

---

You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.

All the questions.

“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.

“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.

“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”

“… They were concrete.”

She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.

“Let’s look at your range of motion.”

You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.

The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…

---

You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.

He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.

Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?

Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.

---

The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.

In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.

Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.

Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.

Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.

---

Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.

You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.

---

Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.

The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.

A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.

“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.

He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.

“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.

“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.

“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.

“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”

“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.

Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.

As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.

“Thanks again… Good night.”

“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.

Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.

Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.

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