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#This story may ruin your childhood...
rythmicjea · 2 months
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Hobbyism is the best way to get through grief. ~Cole Sprouse
NEW FIC BACKSTORY
Okay... so... This is an odd one (and a long one). This is kind of representative of my current "chaos era". It's a bit of a story and I put most of it in the A/N. But this was not a story I was ever intending to write. In fact, I am not part of the fandom (scandalous I know), and better yet, I had no idea that the show even existed until this past November... But apparently it was big! My excuse is that I was not of the demographic for it age wise. I think if it's age appropriate, anyone can watch anything. Rock on, man.
The backstory of this goes, I found out that my baby boy (cat) Jayne, had advanced kidney disease. For a brief and shining moment, I thought that he would beat the odds. Unfortunately, he was gone within two weeks. I held him as he passed. I have a little altar to him on my desk because he will never be forgotten. But, in my grief, I knew I needed to find an outlet. While I can't journal write (I absolutely hate it lol) I can tell stories. And I wanted to write something very dark and nihilistic that basically combined Peaky Blinders with Riverdale (Chaos Era).
So while I was falling down the Jeronica rabbit hole, I was gathering playlists and mashup videos to aid in my inspiration. But, the story refuse to appear. Instead, YouTube kept suggesting clips from a show I had never heard of. And the clips were OLD. Like from over 10 years ago. Though I said I was uninterested the recs kept coming. So I did ONE google search. I read ONE synopsis. I saw a cast list and I saw a timeline of a relationship. I thought that was all I needed. My brain said NOPE!
The timeline of this relationship ended every entry with "and they hugged". I was very confused about why this couple was only hugging. Then when I saw that the last episode was graduation I got a little more incensed. I had two puzzle pieces that didn't connect without a third. So, I asked around. I have friends that were of the age demographic at the time this was on. And every one of them said that 1.) they loved the show and 2.) It was a very Disney show. Now, there were some sporadic kisses here and there but I remember being that age in high school and while I wasn't some "light BDSM scene on the second time I ever had sex" (Looking at you Bughead in Riverdale...) I definitely did more than just hug my high school boyfriend.
Even though I wasn't satisfied with the answer I thought that was the end of it. My brain had other ideas. My brain told me that if I didn't write this story then I would never write again. Well. That's death to a creative type like me. While I never wrote every day or even put out stories consistently, I was still crafting stories in my head. I needed to be able to write. I was in a desperate state. So I thought "fine, I'll write 3000 words, delete it, and then write what I want."
I wrote 10,000 words in one sitting.
I wrote 50,000 words in 18 days.
I didn't watch the show until I was like 80% done with the fic.
It currently stands over 100,000 words.
If you've made it this far you're going "WHAT IS THE STORY?!"
Okay, I'll tell you. It turns out I was being recommended the clips because of an actor. This actor is Cole Sprouse. I knew him mostly as Ben Geller from Friends. I didn't know he had an actual career before Riverdale. I just thought he did something as a kid, and then came back after college. I was so wrong... So so so so so wrong...
If you guessed The Suite Life of Zack and Cody and The Suite Life on Deck you would be correct.
This massive story started as a way to explain why Cody and Bailey "only hugged". Turned into a love story. I made Zack not straight and married to a man with identical twin girls. London is a pediatric surgeon (and I still stand by that decision knowing what I know now). And Cody and Bailey are probably the least likable characters in the entire thing but they are relatable. This is a story of trying to find love after you discover the amount of abuse you went through. Why running from things is not ideal. And maybe, even when you live an outlandish life, there's some normalcy to discover. It's kind of dark, but there's a lot of humor. If you're not familiar with the show, I would just think of it as an original work. (I know, I know... certain death for a fanfic writer lol)
If you enjoy it, please drop a kudos and my comments section is open and I welcome kind and constructive criticism and questions. Like, fuck me up with questions. Please.
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charlesslut16 · 10 days
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Can you write a fic (I was thinking about max but you can do any driver really) where the reader and the driver are best friends to lovers in the early days of the drivers career. The reader supported the driver through it all and wants nothing more but for them to succeed. As the drivers career really starts to kick off, the reader falls pregnant. When the driver finds out, (thinking of max here) he thinks he's going to be a terrible father and gets nervous thinking how he may ruin a whole life, he suggests getting rid of the baby and the reader thinks it's cause of his career, tells him she respects the fact that he doesn't want the baby, but she's going to keep it. ANGSTY please
-losing you to trauma-
summary : max is to unsure to have children, to stay with you and raise your daughter...
PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader
WARNINGS : max leaving reader, angst
note : as i'm a girl of a single mother, whose father did almost the exact same thing, it hurts. But i hope that you still like it!
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Max Verstappen's Formula One career was just beginning to take off. He was young, talented, and driven, with an intensity that made his presence felt on the track and off it.
His best friend, you, since childhood, had always been there, cheering him on from the sidelines, through every victory and defeat, every celebration and heartbreak.
You both shared a bond that was unbreakable, an understanding that didn't need words. You had seen Max's potential long before the rest of the world, had believed in him when he was just a boy with a dream and a passion for racing.
And after time, you two had become a couple. A happy one, both driven by the drill of driving and passion. But as Max's career soared, so did the distance between you both. Not in your hearts, but in the time you could spend together.
You understood; you had always known that Max was destined for greatness, and you were content to support him from the background. You never complained, never asked for more than what he could give.
Your relationship had evolved quietly. What started as innocent hand-holding during tough times in your racing careers became something deeper, more profound.
It wasn't long before you crossed the threshold from best friends to lovers, a natural progression that felt right for both of you. You didn't need to label it; you simply knew you belonged together.
But then, life threw the both of you a curveball. You found yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test, the weight of the world suddenly resting on your shoulders. You knew this would change everything, for both.
When told Max, his reaction was far from what you hoped for. Instead of joy, there was fear in his eyes. He looked at you, his face pale and his hands shaking, and said, "I can't do this. I don't know how to be a father. I'll ruin everything. Maybe we should... maybe we should consider not having the baby."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. You had expected hesitation, but not this. Not the suggestion to get rid of the life you had created together. Tears welled up in your eyes, but fought them back.
You needed to be strong, for yourself and for the baby.
"Is this about your career?" you asked, her voice trembling but steady. "Are you worried that having a baby will ruin everything for you?"
Max shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. "No, it's not that. I just... I don't want to mess up. I don't want to be a terrible father. I don't want to ruin a whole life because I don't know what I'm doing."
You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Max, I respect that you're scared. I am too. But this isn't just about you. This is about us, and about this baby. I can't make this decision for you, but I need you to know that I'm going to keep it. I understand if you don't want to be involved, but I have to do this."
His face crumpled, and he pulled you into his arms, holding tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."
You clung to him for dear life, tears streaming down your face. "I love you, Max. And I believe in you, just like I've always believed in you. You can do this. We can do this."
But as much as you tried to reassure him, you could feel the chasm widening between. Max was consumed by his fear, by the thought of failing not just as a driver but as a father.
And though he loved you, his terror of the unknown, of the future, was driving a wedge between the both of you. He could never but your love above the insecurity and that broke you to pieces, that could not be set back together.
The months passed, and Max's career continued to flourish. He threw himself into his racing with a ferocity that left little room for anything else. You watched, heart breaking a little more each day, as the man you loved slipped further away from you.
When the baby was born, a beautiful, healthy girl, Max was there. He had not held her, at the side of you and the baby, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and fear. But he still couldn't shake his anxiety, couldn't let go of the belief that he would fail them both.
You knew you had to be strong, not just for yourself, but for your daughter. You had always believed in Max, and would continue to do so. But knew that he had to find his own way, had to come to terms with his fears on his own.
And so, with a heavy heart, you let him go, hoping that one day he would find his way back to them. That he would realize that he could be the father their daughter needed, and the partner she had always believed he could be.
Until then, you would keep supporting him from the sidelines, cheering him on just as you always had. Because that's what you do for the ones you love, even when it breaks your heart.
Deep in your heart, you wanted him to come to your house and say that he was sorry and wanted to be in your lives, but as time passed, you realized that he would never come to terms with it.
His trauma being too deep for him to start a family, you accepted the fact, but you never forgave him for it. You love him with your whole heart, and you always will.
Maybe your ways will meet again, who knew?
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yoonguurt · 6 months
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Summary: A failed relationship and an ailing mother forces Y/N to move back to her hometown, despite not wanting to.  She knows in her heart that everything will be the same as the day she left. Nothing ever changes in a small town. Except when it does. A new neighbor, a new hardware store, and two new additions to the town bring the holiday magic into Y/N’s life. The question is, will the magic stay or will the ghost of Christmas past ruin everything?
Pairing: non idol!San × reader
Genre: fluff, angst, smut
Trope: strangers to lovers
Word count: 15,207 (yikes)
Warnings: mentions of death of a parent, mentions of cheating (not San or reader), mentions of depression and antidepressants, reader's mother is in poor health. Smut warnings under the cut.
A/n: this is the longest fic I have ever written and I genuinely had fun writing it. I'm so proud of this. Thank you to @kwanisms for making the banner as always
@anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @millennial-fangirl @kpop-stories-21 @twisted-tales-of-all @skyechild @staytinyville
Smut warnings: Switch!San, switch!reader, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, marking, protected sex, they just soft for each other.
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You step off of the bus, leaves crunching under you feet as you look around, noticing that the town looks pretty much the same as the day you left. Some of the buildings are more run down than they used to be, the roads are a little less maintained, but it’s nothing major.
You sigh and readjust the bag on your shoulder, tightening your grip on the suitcase beside you. Your thoughts drift, reminding yourself to call the moving company to confirm the arrival date of the rest of your things. Your thoughts shift to Joshua and you hear bits of your final conversation, before blinking away the tears starting to form and take your first step.
You had sold your car, knowing you wouldn’t need it in such a small place, your mother can no longer drive so you can use her car if needed. You look at your watch, not having a cell phone since not only was it on Joshua’s plan, but you didn’t want an easy way for him to contact you.
You start walking along the sidewalk, keeping your head down and lost in your thoughts. Your childhood home isn’t that far from the main square and you still know the way like the back of your hand.
A few people stop you and make small talk, surprised that you’re back in town and seeming to be staying for a while. You try to be polite, though avoidant when they ask questions, only telling them that your mother needed you here so you came. Your patience is being tested, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. God, you really don’t want to be here.
After finally getting away from the nosey town people, thinking that no one in this town has anything better to do than worry about other people’s business, you smile as you pass the local diner. You know you’ll be the talk of the town for a while, but the memories of all the time spent in that dingy diner drift through your mind.
Your first date, your first job (well sort of), your last hangout before leaving town. You remind yourself that you really need to stop by and talk to Lou as soon as possible. Out of everyone here, you’ve missed him the most and you know he’ll be happy to see you.
You make it to your mother’s neighborhood, looking around to see what, if anything has changed. Everything looks mostly the same, your mother’s house is in desperate need of paint and good lawn care, though. You notice the house to the right of her mother’s has changed.
There is a swing set in the yard, a small inflatable pool and a tricycle scattered throughout. You guess that the older lady that lived there must have moved. Of course she would have, it has been 12 years since you left. That lady may not even be alive anymore, that thought bringing a ping of hurt to your heart. She was always such a wonderful lady. You shake the sad thought away before stepping up to the front door and pulling your key out and unlocking the door.
You call out to your mother, letting her know that you made it. You hear your mother’s voice sounding out from the kitchen. You kick your shoes off beside the door and walk down the short hall, making a right into the kitchen to see your mother standing at the island in the center of the room, a smile on her face. You greet your mother with a hug and accepts the mug of coffee she hands you.
You look around as the two of you talk about your trip, noticing that there are many repairs that need to be made. Cabinets need to be painted and finished, the counters need to be fixed, and the wallpaper is peeling. You briefly wonder what else needs to be fixed.
You think you noticed the railing along the stairs was tilted. You sigh again, knowing that there’s no way you can leave these things the way they are. You know these things are bothering you, but in her current state you also know that she can’t fix them herself.
Your mother’s questioning about Joshua brings you out of your thoughts, and you force a small smile. “ He’s fine, mom.” You know that your mother can tell that there is something you aren’t saying, but decides not to push the issue right now.
After finishing your coffee, you excuse yourself, telling your mother that you are going to unpack your things and you make your way back down the hallway, making another right to go up the stairs.
As you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, taking a look around the upstairs of the house. Your childhood bedroom is to the left of the stairs There is a door to the right before you get to your room, your mother’s old sewing room. You remember sitting on the bean bag chair on the floor of the room reading while your mother sewed.
The next door on the left is the bathroom, you think about how many days you spent hours in there, trying to make sure you looked your best for school. Your bedroom door is the last door on the right, the room across the hall is an old storage room that you’re sure has many of your childhood toys. Your mother has always been a sentimental hoarder.
Before entering your room, you turn and take a long back down the hallway. There aren’t as many rooms down the right side of the hall. Your parent’s room is the only door on the left, the master bedroom with their own bathroom and there’s a small alcove with a bay window on the right.
Your eyes pause on the door at the end of the hall, your father’s study. You stare at the door for a moment before turning back to face your door. With one more sigh, you open your door, throwing one last look at the door at the end of the hall, and head into your room, closing the door softly behind you.
You let your eyes drift around the room. The desk that you used for homework is set up against the back wall and you quickly take your laptop from your bag, setting it on the desk and plugging the charger into the wall.
You had found a job as a remote legal assistant, mostly fielding emails to the correct parties, getting video calls of meetings that you needed to type the minutes for. You were very thankful that your former boss had put you in contact with someone that had the position available. Without being able to stop them, your thoughts drift to your old life.
You had left your hometown not long after graduating, knowing that the small town life wasn’t for you. You had quickly found a job as a receptionist for a law firm, and you were damn good at your job. And you loved your job. You regret that you didn’t visit more, really only making the two hour drive back home for the holidays. You had still talked to your mother every day, but you knew that she would have loved to see you more.
After being with the firm for a year, a new partner was welcomed into the work family. Joshua had immediately caught your attention. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was soft spoken and polite. A true gentleman. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was just amazing.
For two years, your life had been everything you had wanted. Until the death of your father. His death hit you hard. You essentially shut down for a while, you can admit to that. You know that Joshua tried to bring you out of your grief, but you hadn’t let him in.
Though you could realize that those things happened, that didn’t excuse Joshua’s actions. It didn’t excuse you walking into Joshua’s office on day to find him fucking his assistant. No, there was no excuse for that. You had come to tell him that you would need to come back home for a while, your mother wasn’t doing well and you needed to get her settled. Now, your visit has become a permanent residence.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts and focus your attention back on your room.
Your bookcase sits left of the door, mostly empty. Your face falls into frown. You didn’t read much when you were a teen, too busy with parties and friends. You had picked up on the hobby after you had moved. The thought that the bookcase would be full once the rest of your things arrive lifted your spirits a bit.
Reading had become one of your most treasured hobbies. When you had a bad day, you could lose yourself in a fictional world. The thought that you didn’t know if you could take away the worries and doubts you have currently makes your heart sink a little bit, but you swallow the sadness down, determined not to let yourself breakdown again. You had done her crying the night she left and you promised yourself that that was the last time you would cry over Joshua.
You look around your room again, smiling at how it looks exactly like you left it. Your queen size bed still has the zebra print bedspread you had gotten when you were 16 and you cringe a little. “The first thing I’m buying is a new bedspread and sheets.” Your voice is a whisper despite being the only one in the room.
Your slight grimace fades into a smile when you see the handmade quilt your aunt had given you as a Christmas present folded and placed at the foot of your bed. You take a step forward and rub your fingers along the fabric, her eyes watering a little at the memory of your aunt giving it to her. You really need to call her and see how she’s doing. You huff a small laugh, remembering that even in this day and age, both your mother and aunt still have wall phones, thinking that they really are sisters.
After taking a shower and changing into a tank top and sweats, you make your way back downstairs to check on your mother and help her make dinner. You pop your head into the kitchen, clearing your throat to let your mother aware of your presence. “Need any help?” Your mom smiles and nods. “I would love some.”
The two of you make small talk as you bumble around the kitchen, cutting vegetables and preparing everything your need. You turn to face your mother, only to notice that she is winding, but trying to hide it. “Mom, sit down. I can handle the rest of this.” She opens her mouth to argue, but you throw a stern glare at her and she sighs and sits at the table, a slight pout on her face. What an adorable woman.
The food is ready in no time, and you make a plate for each of you.
“Wanna eat in the living room? Maybe we can watch The Thornbirds?” Your mother quickly agrees, glad to be spending time with you and watching something you both love.
You eat quietly, paying attention to the movie like you haven’t seen it a million times. When you’ve finished your food, you set your plate on the coffee table, fully intending to wash it once the movie is over. It hits you just how much you have missed spending time with your mom like this. You pull your feet onto the couch and throw a blanket over yourself as you lay your head in your mother’s lap, simply enjoying how much better it makes you feel.
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“Y/N. Wake up, sweet girl,” your mother’s voice wakes you up.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you guess that the comfort of snuggle up to your mother must have lulled you into slumber. You stand slowly, stretching with a grunt. Your mom stands as well, much more slowly than you had.
“Mom, is it your feet?”
She nods and tells you that it’s fine, but you make sure to help her up. You wrap your arm around hers, helping her up the stairs. “I can do this on my own, you know?” Her voice has a bit of her trademark attitude and you have to bite back a laugh. “I’m sure you can, but you’re not.” That makes her fake angry front break and she giggles.
Once you make it to your mother’s door, you let go of her arm. “I’m glad to have you home. I love you,” she ends with a kiss to your forehead and you tell her that you love her too before turning to return to your bedroom. You hope that your bed is as comfortable as it used to be as you climb in, getting comfortable. Sleep comes quickly, though your dreams are filled with arguments and tears.
You wake up later than you had planned the next day, though you don’t feel guilty about it. Your new job doesn’t start until next month so you don't necessarily have to be up early.
You hear your mother moving around downstairs and you make a stop by the bathroom to potty and brush your teeth before heading downstairs. You can’t help but stop at the top of the stairs, your eyes stopping on the door at the end of the hall. The thought of walking into the study crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it, knowing that you aren’t ready for that.
You peek in each room looking for your mother, eventually finding her on the back porch, a cup of coffee in her hand as she sits on the porch swing. She flashes you a smile and wishes you a good morning. “Though it’s almost afternoon. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” she laughs at her own little joke.
“Morning Ma,” you greet her. “I’m so glad you made coffee. I’m not used to that bed anymore so I tossed and turned all night.” She hums in acknowledgement and you turn, moving forward to the kitchen to get your coffee.
While in the kitchen, your attention is brought back to the state of disarray of your mother’s home. You make the decision that today you'll go into the main square and get yourself a new bedspread and some basic necessities. Tomorrow you can go to the hardware store and look into what you’ll need to fix the kitchen up.
You make your coffee, and return to the porch and talk to your mother about your plans for the day, asking if her mother needs anything.
“All I can think of is that my medicine should be ready at the pharmacy. Do you mind picking it up for me?”
You agree and the conversation turns to what happened to the older lady that lived next door. “Oh. Her son had to put her in a home after she fell. I heard she passed after about a year.” Although this was what you expected, knowing that this is what happened still hurts.
“There have been a few people in and out of the house since then. Right now, there’s a young man around your age and his son. I don’t know much about him, but he seems like a nice boy.” Maybe more changed around here than you thought.
You take your time enjoying your coffee and chatting with your mom, getting a shower afterwards and getting ready to run your errands. The hot water feels amazing on your skin and once again you take your time. You’re used to being in a rush when you get ready and it’s nice to just be.
Looking through your clothes, you choose a pair of black skinny jeans and a band tee. You complete the outfit with your black combat boots, the ones that have little metal hearts on the side. A lot of things have changed since you left town, but you still sure hasn’t.
When you decide that you’re ready go, you stop by the back porch to tell you mother that you’re heading out and telling her that you’ll see her later.
The late fall air feels crisp and you take a deep breath, simply enjoying it. The fresh air is definitely something you’ve missed about being home. The city is great in many ways, but the air quality certainly isn’t one of them. It’s also nice to step outside and not hear sirens and horns everywhere immediately.
There’s something peaceful about being able to feel the breeze and just walking in silence.
As you step off the front porch, you find yourself walking to your mother’s car out of habit. You had already decided to walk, though you have second thoughts when you remember that you’ll be carrying a bed set home.
You stand firm in your decision to walk, thinking that the walk could be the replacement for a gym trip that you totally would have gone on in the city. (That’s a lie. You hate the gym, but it sounds better in your head.)
As the slight breeze hits your back, you think about grabbing a jacket. If your back gets cold, you’re fucked, but you take the risk instead of trudging back inside. Plus, you remind yourself, the weather here is finicky and it could suddenly warm up and you could be sweating.
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As you walk to the square, you feel as if you’re repeating the day before. Multiple people stop you, they obviously haven’t heard the gossip from the people that stopped you yesterday. Or they just want to see if they can get something else out of you, which is entirely possible.
As you make it to the center of town, the sidewalk traffic slows down and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You notice that the hardware store has barely changed, only the name is new. You glance through the window, the inside still looks exactly the same. There’s a little boy grinning and talking to anyone he see. The boy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His little afro bouncing a little as he runs around.
Smiling softly at the image in front of you, you turn your head back to the sidewalk as you press on. Just past the hardware store is the pharmacy. It looks as if it hasn’t changed a bit and you are certain that an older version of the pharmacist sits inside behind the counter. You make a mental note, reminding yourself to stop and get your mom’s medication on your way back home. The thought of carrying medication around the home goods store makes you uncomfortable, so you feel resolute in your choice.
You lower your head as you pass the diner, not ready to be stopped yet. You still need to stop in and see Lou, but you think that you’ll do that tomorrow. The home goods store is a couple buildings down from the diner. It still baffles you that this town has such a large store, though it wouldn’t be considered large by most people’s standards, and you’re kind of shocked it has lasted as long as it has.
The bell dings as you open the door and you cringe slightly, hoping no one notices that it’s you who walked through the door. You walk down the main aisle, looking at the signs on the edges of side aisles trying to find the bedding aisle. Honestly, you don’t have high hopes about the selection they’ll have, but you guess anything is better than the zebra print monstrosity that is on your bed currently. You finally find the bedding aisle and you are pleasantly surprised to see both sides of the aisle are full of options. You look over the choices in front of you, realizing that you were correct. Most of the options are different brands of the same plain sets. When you resign yourself to having to get a plain white set, you find something that perfectly suits your taste. It’s black in color and has a large sun with smaller stars and moons floating around randomly on the rest of the comforter. You discretely jump in happiness when you see that they have one queen sized set left and you quickly snatch it up and make your way to the register, remembering half way there to grab some new body wash and basic necessities. Luckily, the store is fairly empty and you don’t recognize the young girl at the counter, so you feel relief at someone probably not knowing you. You’re very glad to know that your assumption was correct, the girl barely pays attention to you and you’re able to quickly pay and leave.
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As you carry the bedding, you groan internally, annoyed at yourself for not stopping at the pharmacy before you went to the home goods store. The bedding is slipping from your hand and the angle is awkward. This is not one of your best decisions.
'Mistakes have been made. '
Readjusting you grip on the bedding, you pick up you pace, doing your best to make it to the pharmacy as quickly as possible. As you turn towards the door of the pharmacy, you let out a groan when you realize that you going to have a time getting this open with your hands full.
Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to put the bedding down to open the door, you’re surprised when a hand and a soft “Let me,” comes from your right. You turn your head and you have to hold in your gasp gasp.
An absolutely beautiful man is smiling a bright smile, briefly reminding you of the boy you saw earlier through the window of the hardware store. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead and you have the thought that you want to run your hands through it.
His shoulders are broad, but his waist is tiny. He’s gorgeous.
He pulls the door open, gesturing with left hand in an “after you” motion. You smile, slightly shyly which is very unlike you, and thank him. He holds the door open for you before he steps inside him self. “You’re welcome,” he replies. “Just couldn’t stand to see a pretty lady struggling,” he adds, giving you a smile and a nod, turning while you continue straight toward the counter.
A friendly older man smiles as he asks you what he can help you with. You were right when you guessed it was the same man that worked here before you left. People tend to stick to the same thing forever in small towns.
You give him your mother’s name and tell him that you are her daughter and are here to pick up her medication. He gives you a nod and steps away to locate the medication. You quickly set the bedding down, giving your arm a stretch so it doesn’t get stiff.
The pharmacist comes back with the medication for your mother and gives you the total of the purchase. You pays pausing to ask him a few questions about the medication before you grab your things and head toward the door. You notice the man from earlier standing in front of the vitamins, looking a little confused.
You step forward, voice not too loud to scare the man. “You need any help there?” He startles a little and you chuckle a little and apologize, telling him that he just looked like he was confused. He laughs shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-uh, came to get my son’s vitamins, but they’re out of the ones I usually buy. I’m trying to find a suitable substitute.”
You give him a firm nod turning to look at the options. You asks him what kind he normally gets and he tells you the brand. You scan the shelf, unaware of the eyes on the side of your face, before making a small “aha” and setting your bedding down again and reaching out to grab a bottle.
“These are just as beneficial as the ones you normally get, but they’re cheaper. Plus, they’re gummies so he’ll probably like them more,” you explain as you hand him the bottle. He smiles widely at you and you can feel your breath catching again as he thanks you.
“No need for thanks. Just returning the favor.” He gives you another big smile and follows you to the door, opening it again so you can step outside. You thank him and tell him to have a good day as he turns back around to pay.
The rest of your trip home is without incident, much to your relief. You walk through your mother’s door and call out. “Mom! I’m back!” You take your things upstairs to drop your things off in your room. You go back downstairs to find your mother. She asks about you day and you decide to bring up her medication as you hand it to her.
“Momma, why didn’t you tell me things were so bad. Mr. Jones told me a bit about these medications. Antidepressants, medicine for chronic sinus issues and face pain, and pain medication for your feet.” You watch her face as she processes what you’ve said, not pushing her to answer you immediately. You want her to be able to take her time.
After a moment or two, she speaks. “I’ve been handling things the best I could. You had your own life and I didn’t want to worry you more than necessary.” Your eyes begin to water and you hug her, apologizing for not being around more.
“Oh dear, I’m not upset with you for growing up and going on your own path. But I sure am glad to have you home.” The two of you stand in each others arms for a bit longer.
You think it’s finally time to break the news to her mother that you and Joshua are no longer together and the reasoning behind your breakup.” Mom, Josh and I aren’t together anymore. I found him with another woman a week or so before I came back.”
She tilts her head and pulls you back into her arms, asking if you’re ok. You softly tell her mother that you’re ok, still hurt, but ok. You mother suggests that the two of you cook together and watch another movie and you smile and agree.
After eating and watching the movie, you had decided to watch Ma and Pa Kettle, an old favorite of yours, you help your mother to bed and change your bedding. You take a look at what feels like a brand new bed, beyond pleased to have the god awful zebra atrocity gone from sight.
You check your email before bed, noticing an email from Joshua. You delete it without even reading it, not even thinking twice about it. You order yourself a new phone, already tired of not having one and climb into bed.
You wake up earlier than you did the day before and go through the routine of brushing your teeth, showering, and having breakfast and coffee with you mom. You definitely picked up your coffee addiction from her.
“Just a reminder that I’m going to the hardware store today. Gotta get started on fixing this kitchen.” She nods telling you to take the car today, and you agree with a laugh, telling her that you had already planned on it. “Are you dead set on these white cabinets?” Your mom smiles softly.
“The kitchen is your project, my baby. You do whatever you want with it. The house will be yours eventually, might as well have it the way you like it.” You smile despite the painful thought that one day your mother won’t be here. “Besides, you did always talk about designing the perfect kitchen.”
You give her a wide smile, glad she remembers how much you always talked about designing the kitchen in your future home. You tells her that you will see her later as you grab the keys to the car and steps outside.
You hear laughter from the lawn of the house next door and turn to see a little boy running to the car in the driveway, and a man hunched down chasing him, wiggling his fingers like he’s going to tickle the boy. The sight warms your heart and you briefly think that they look familiar. You smile to yourself and makes your way to the car.
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You park the car in the small lot in front of the hardware store, sitting for a moment before getting out and stepping to the door of the building. Pulling on the handle, you find that the door won’t open. You check the hours on the front of the glass, it says that the store should be open by now. You heave a sigh, something that has become quite common lately, and turn to head back to the car.
“Are you trying to get into the hardware store?” A voice comes from behind you. You turn to find the man from the pharmacy the day before, a set of keys in one hand and the hand of a small boy in the other. You give him a smile and nod, waving at the boy. You bend down a little.
“Well, hello there.” The boy smiles and waves back. “I’m so sorry. Normally, I’d have opened up by now, but a certain little boy didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” As he finishes his sentence, his eyes flicker down to the boy, who is still wearing his bright smile.
You laugh and tells him that you understand and there are still some days where you don’t want to get out of bed. The man laughs his beautiful laugh again and opens the door, making the same motion with his hand as he did the day before.
Once you get into the store, the man snaps and makes an oh sound. You jump a little and look at him with a confused look. “This is the second time we’ve met and I still haven’t introduced myself. I’m San and this is my store.” He’s wearing a small smirk as he speaks.
You give him your name back, trying not to let your tummy flutter when he says that it is a pretty name. You squat down to the boy, making sure you’re face to face. “And what is your name, cutie?”
He gives you a big smile. “I’m Mason Choi and I’m four.” He holds up four fingers as he speaks. “My address is--”
“Ok, buddy, you don’t have to tell her all of that,” San interrupts with a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. You stand back up to full height, asking San where you can find the paint, and he points you in the right direction before you both go your separate ways.
You browse the paint aisle, taking your time looking through the colors. You aren’t sure you’ll be able to pick one for certain, but you know she’ll be taking home some swatches. You spend a few minutes thinking about the overall theme you want for the kitchen, trying to think about what would go best with what you have in mind. you gets a memory of what she wanted to do as a child, softly smiling at where your thoughts have drifted.
“You must really like that color.”
A voice comes from you left, a laugh following. You turn to find San there, giving you a smirk. You laugh softly and tell him that you were just thinking about a childhood memory. “When I was little, I wanted to design my mom’s kitchen. When she asked me what I wanted to do with it, I had a solid plan. Bubblegum colored walls, with white paint dripping down and splats of bright colors randomly placed around. I wanted the walls to look like ice cream.”
He gives a big laugh and you feel your insides churn again, internally cursing yourself. “What even brought that to mind?”
You tell him that you’re here to pick out paint, but you needed to think of a theme first.. He nods his head as if telling her to continue. You tell him that you current pet project is to redo the kitchen and that it’s in desperate need of a remodel.
“Do you plan to paint first?” His question isn’t judging, merely asking as if he’s trying to help. You think for a moment before shaking your head. “I should probably replace the cabinets and counters first, a slight blush coming to the surface of your cheeks.
You should have thought of that. And why are you blushing? You don’t blush. What is going on?
“In that case, you’re probably going to want to look into what kind of style you want the cabinets you want. There’s many different styles. Same goes for the counters. So many different patterns for counter tops.”
He pauses for a moment, allowing you nod to let him know that you are paying attention. Honestly, you don’t think you could pull your attention away from him.
“Now, I don’t have pre built cabinets here, but I’m sure I could track down a catalog somewhere that you can look through.” You give him a shake of your head, telling him that he doesn’t have to go through that much trouble, you could just do a search online. He gives you a sideways smile, telling you that he’s going to do it anyway. The smile is so fucking adorable that it has you smiling with him.
“So, are you going to be doing this yourself or is your dad or boyfriend helping?” The mention of both your dad and a boyfriend makes your smile fall and your body stiffen a little.
“No, it’ll just be me.” He gives you a shallow nod, his smile falling slightly too. He quickly recovers, though, keeping his cheerful mood. “If you need any help, please just ask. I don’t mind helping at all.” You smile and tell him that you will definitely keep that in mind.
Mason runs up to San, telling him that someone has come into the store asking for him. San bends down and thanks his son with a kiss on the cheek and stands to take his hand. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.” You tell that you will and he gives you a wink as he heads to the front of the store.
You look at paint swatches for a while longer, lost in thought. Your stomach eventually begins to rumble and you make the decision to finally brave the diner. You make you way back to the door, throwing San and Mason a smile and a wave before leaving.
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You walk to the diner, stopping to take a deep breath before making you way in front of the windows and to the door.
Pulling the door open, you’re hit with the smell of greasy burgers and fries and you sigh, suddenly overcome with a homey feeling. The diner holds many memories, both good and bad, and you figure it’s time to face them head on.
You slide into the booth in the back, it was always your favorite. You glances down, seeing the menu on the table, knowing that you don’t even have to look at it to know what you want.
A middle aged woman comes up to you and asks if you’re ready and you nod. You go with your favorite, a bacon cheese burger with extra pickles and a tea. Lou makes the best burgers. Before the waitress can leave, you ask her to tell Lou that it’s Y/N. The lady gives you a confused look before nodding and walking off to the kitchen.
You can hear the waitress yell Lou’s name before her voice lowers. You smirk slightly, counting down in you head. Only a second later, a tall man with a big belly comes barreling out of the kitchen area, throwing his apron on the counter.
You stand up from the booth, waiting beside it as the man makes his way to you. Lou greets you with a hug, telling you that he’s missed his best waitress. You laugh at his antics.
“Lou, I never actually worked for you.”
He brushes you off with a wave of his hand and asks how you’ve been. You tell him that you’ve been better, but you’ve also been worse. He gives you a sigh and a nod.
“You’ve always been so quiet about how you actually feel. Come on and tell Big Lou what’s going on.” You sit down, motioning for him to sit across from you. He holds his finger up in a hold on signal and walks back to the kitchen. You smile as he walks away, thinking back on your time knowing the gentle giant.
Lou has owned the diner for as long as you can remember, though you knows that it can’t be as long as it feels since the man is in his late 40s. He’s a man that looks gruff and unfriendly, but once you really get to know him, he’s a great person to have in your life.
Lou has always been your group of friends’ confidant in a sense, always listening, never talking unless asked. With you in particular, he always dragged what was wrong out of you. When you first boyfriend broke up with you, you went to the diner, obviously upset but refusing to talk about it. Lou told you that if you were going to sit and mope, could you at least take an order to a customer since he was short staffed.
You remember that you had looked at him like he was a crazy man and he just gave you a toothy grin. That had made you smile as well and you grabbed the plate and took it to the customer. That had started the tradition of you coming to the diner when you were sad and Lou giving you things to do to take your mind off of it. He always paid you out of the money out of the register, even though you told him that he didn’t have to. You always ended up telling him what was wrong and he always gave the best advice. It was an unusual friendship, but one you greatly treasured.
You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Lou sliding into the booth, your burger on a plate in one hand and a plate full of cheese fries in the other. “Lou, I didn’t order cheese fries,” your voice is teasing. He just tells you to hush and eat you food. You laugh a big laugh and start to dig in.
“Alright Peanut, spill the beans.”
You take a breath and repeat the story of your relationship with Joshua. You vent about your mother’s health and how you’re worried about her. You talk about the kitchen remodel. For the first time since your father’s death, you talk about it and how you handled it when it happened and how you’re handling it now. You mention your thoughts of going into his study, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.
By the time you’ve finished spilling your guts to Lou, you’ve finished your burger and are starting to work on the fries. You flick your eyes up to Lou’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the spew of information you’ve given him. His eyebrows are furrowed, obviously deep in thought. You stare at him for a moment, waiting patiently. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He looks at you with a serious expression before opening his mouth.
“So, you looking for a job?”
The question makes you burst out laughing, the first whole hearted laugh you’ve had since finding out Joshua was cheating on you, probably since you lost your father. You laugh until your stomach hurts and you have tears gathering in her eyes. Lou reaches across the table to pat you on the hand.
“You’re a strong woman and you’re gonna get through all of this and come out stronger on the other side. Now, what is this boy’s name and where does he live. It’s for science.”
You give his hand a slight slap and tell him to get back to work. He stands and gives you another hug and you move to go pay for you food. Lou moves in front of the register, shaking his head and pointing to the door. You giggle and shake your head, knowing this is a fight you won’t win and leave. As you reach the door, you hear Lou call your name. You turn back to face him, an eyebrow raised.
“Go into the room, Peanut.”
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Deciding to head back home, it’s been hours since you left that morning and it’s well after lunch time, you make you way back to the hardware store to grab your mother’s car, noticing San’s car is gone.
You wonder if he is only open a few hours a day, but quickly dismiss the thought, deciding that it’s none of your business and continue on your way back home.
Turning into the driveway, you hear laughing from next door again, thinking that you’re glad your new neighbors are so cheerful. You hear a small voice calling your name and you turn to see Mason smiling wide and frantically waving.
You says his name with as much enthusiasm as he had said yours and start waving just as frantically. San stands in the background smiling at the two of you just standing in the middle of your yards just waving like crazy people. He steps forward with a “howdy neighbor” and you laugh and say hello.
San gives you a wink, saying that it looks like you’ll will be seeing each other a lot and you laugh and agree. Mason cuts in and asks if he and San can go have their lunch now, and San agrees, picking him up and saying goodbye to you before heading inside. You watch as they walk through their door, thinking that this man and his flirtatious nature are going to be problem.
Not entirely an unwelcome problem, but a problem regardless.
You step through you own door, calling out to your mother. You hear her voice coming from the back porch and you slip your shoes off and walk toward the back of the house. Your mother asks how your day has been, and you tell her about your time at the hardware store and lunch with Lou. She gives you a smile, telling you that she’s glad that you met with Lou, and saying that he always asks about you.
“I met the new neighbor, he also owns the hardware store.”
Your mother huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I know, dear. It is a small town after all.” You roll her eyes with a laugh. You mention San telling you that he would see if he could find a catalog with cabinets for you to look at, and your mother hums and nods, asking if you have figured out what you want to do with the kitchen. You shake your head. “San brought that up too, but I need to think about it for a bit. I’m gonna go look at the kitchen and see if something comes to me.”
You walk into the kitchen, glancing around while in thought. You do your best to envision what you want the kitchen to look like. After standing around just looking at the cabinets, it hits you. You look around, picturing what you want. You wanted dark gray cabinets with silver handles.
As you look around, the thought of making a little nook comes to your mind. Cabinets and drawers on the bottom, a counter, the area is boxed in, like a little alcove. On the very top, you envision putting potted plants. Your vision is sort of a forest-y vibe.
Smiling to yourself, you turn around and makes you way back to your mother. Before you leave the room, you make yourself a cup of coffee.
When you get back to your mother, you tell her about your idea for the kitchen and she gives you a smile and tells you that she loves it. You notice your mother getting tired and you offer her your arm and tell her she should take a nap.
She immediately disagrees, but you insist and tell her that you will make dinner and wake her up when it’s ready. Huffing, your mother relents and grabs your arm and pulls herself up. You helps her to her room and tell her to have a good nap and leave her room.
You stand outside of the door, looking at the door to your father’s study. Lou’s words float through your mind and you take a hesitant step forward. You step until you have your hand on the knob, but you quickly let go and turn around and head to your room to grab your laptop before going back downstairs.
Feeling like it’s a bit early to start on dinner, also knowing that your mother needs a nice nap, you grab yourself another cup of coffee, deciding to sit on the front porch this time. You tell yourself that it definitely isn’t with the hopes of seeing San, you just want a change.
You grab one of the wicker bucket chairs on the front porch, sitting in it with your laptop on your lap and your coffee on the small table to your left.
Opening your email, you find two more emails from Joshua. Taking a deep breath, you open the first one. You know that this is the first step in healing and moving on. The email is exactly what you expected it to be. Josh says he’s sorry and that he does love you and he wishes you would email him back.
You close out of the email, still feeling hurt, but not as bad as you had expected. Before you can open the second email, a voice calls out to you making you look up to see San.
“You’re drinking coffee this late in the afternoon?” he asks. You let a little giggle follow. “It’s never too late for coffee.” You have a teasing glint in your eye as you respond. “I think that I have to respectfully disagree.”
The two of you talk for a while, before you remember your vision for the kitchen. You tell San that you have an idea and he tilts his head and motions for you to continue.
You tell him about how you wants everything to look and he nods as you talks. After you finish, he tells you that it sounds like a really neat idea and he will look around for that catalog. You thank him and ask where Mason is. He tells you that he’s down for a nap.
“I know it’s a bit late for a nap, but I never let him sleep too long or he’ll be up all night.” You laugh and tell that him you couldn’t even imagine what it’s like to deal with a toddler that’s wide awake at three am and San laughs with you. You bite you lip and ask if his mother is watching him while he’s down. San stiffens a little, shakes his head. “No. It’s just me and Mason.” You remember you mother mentioning that he was a single father so you aren’t sure why you even asked.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. That was none of my business.” San assures you that it’s fine and that he and Mason are doing well on their own.
“It looks like it. From what little I’ve seen, you seem like a great dad.” He blushes a little and thanks you. You giggle at his sudden shyness and tell him that it’s not a problem. He checks the time on his phone.
“I better wake the little guy up.” You nod and he gives you a smile and turns to head back to his yard. You stop his movement with a call of his name and he turns to face you.
“Would you two want to join my mom and I for dinner? Think of it as a belated welcome to the neighborhood celebration.” San gives you a large smile. “I’ll ask Mason, though I’m positive he will agree. It would seem that he has already taken a liking to you.”
You giggle and tell him that you’ve taken a liking to Mason too. “If you guys decided to come, just knock on the door. It should be ready in a couple of hours.” He nods back at you and you end the conversation by telling him that you’ll make sure there’s more than coffee to drink and you open the door and step inside, San’s beautiful laughter ringing out behind you. You gently wake your mother, telling her that you have invited San and his son for dinner.
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By the time dinner is ready and you take a shower, there’s a knock at the door. Since you’re already right by the door, you open it to find San and Mason smiling at you. Your eyes wander over San. 'Damn he looks good.' He's dressed casually in some jeans and a black tee while Mason is wearing sweatpants and a dinosaur shirt.
You squat down to the child's level. “Wow,” you say looking at the dinosaur on his shirt. “I love your shirt!” Mason smiles up at his dad before looking back at you. “What's your favoritest dinosaur?” you ask.
“Raptor!” he enthusiastically answers, even going as far to try to make a raptor noise. You give him a laugh. “Well, my favorite dinosaur is a Spinosaurus, but I don’t even know what they sound like!” you said, sounding impressed. “You sound like you know more about dinosaurs that I do.” Mason nods.
“I’m a dinosaur expert!”
His enthusiasm warms your heart and you stand, inviting them to come inside.
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You show them the way to the kitchen. “Ma, this is San,” you say, formally introducing them. San smiles, stepping forward to shake her hand. “It's nice to officially meet you,” he says as Mason steps forward to proudly introduce himself before you could.
“And I'm Mason!”
Your mother smiles at him. “That's a lovely name, Mason. It's nice to meet you.” Mason thanks her with a smile which she returns before offering San two plates and asks him what they would like to drink.
“Just water is fine.” He makes Mason’s plate and gets him set up at the table before making his own. “Mom go ahead and sit down,” you say as you make her plate and place it front of her before you make your own.
You take the seat next to your mother, San is sitting to your other side. You all chat idly, talking about nothing in particular. San brings up the kitchen remodels and you perk up and start pointing and showing San where you wants the little alcove to go, not noticing your mother watching on fondly.
San listens before offering once again to help you, telling you that he can even draw up your idea for you to see before you starts on it. You give him a nod as your mother asks if he’s an artist and he laughs while shaking his head.
“No ma’am. Before having Mason I was in school studying to be an architect.” Your mother tells him that that is a good field. “If Y/N won’t accept your offer to help, I certainly will. If I left everything to her, this kitchen would be torn apart for months.”
Your cheeks burn, again with the blushing, telling you mother to hush with a slight slap to her shoulder. You all finish dinner, San offering to help clean up but you tell him absolutely not and that he should get Mason home since he’s falling asleep on your mother’s shoulder.
“You have a good point there,” he says while looking fondly at his son.
“I'll walk you out,” you announce before walking them to the door, San holding Mason. “Have a good night,” you say softly as San crossed the threshold. "You, too,” he says just as quietly.
“And thank you for dinner.”
“I'll have that drawing for your kitchen done soon,” he adds with a smile. You thank him and watch as they walk next door.
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A few days later, you wake to your mother knocking on you door. You tell her to come in, rolling on to your side to face the door. Your mother smiles before coming to sit on the edge of your bed, running a hand through your hair. You hum in content, asking her mother what’s up.
“The rest of your things are here. The van is waiting outside. You also got a package this morning. I sat it on the table by the couch,” she says fondly as she smiles down at you.
She leaves and you quickly get dressed and brush your teeth, not wanting to keep the moving van waiting any longer. You step out of the door, greeting the man waiting by the van. He greets you back, opening the back of the van revealing a few boxes. You thank him and you start to help him unload the van.
“You need any help?”
You turn to see San standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leans on Mason’s swing set. “Yes please!”
Once all of the boxes are out of the van, you pay the driver his tip and the man leaves. San lifts a box and asks you where to take it. You momentarily get lost in admiring the way his arms flex as he grips the box before shaking you head and giving him directions to your bedroom. You take a box and follow him.
“You can just set it on the floor at the end of the bed,” you instruct and he does as you ask before you both move to get more boxes.
Once all of the boxes have been put in you room, you offer him some water and he accepts. As you makes her way to the kitchen, he tells you that he will be right back. You watch as he walks out the front door, not being able to stop yourself for look at his ass as he walks away and continue into the kitchen to get his glass of water ready.
San returns soon with a baby monitor and a piece of paper in his hands. “Mason is asleep and I should still be in range to hear him if he wakes up.” He lifts the monitor as he speaks. He hands you the piece of paper and you take it, looking a little confused.
Looking at it, it’s the design of the kitchen. You're happy that it looks exactly like what you pictured. You smile at him. “San it’s perfect! You’re really talented!” The tips of his ears turn slightly red, causing you to giggle softly.
You suddenly remember the package you mother told you about and perk up, telling San that you’ll be right back as you go to get it. You bring it back into the kitchen, setting it on the table and telling San he can sit if he wants. He joins you at the table, making sure to set his glass on a coaster.
You grab a knife and open the package carefully. Once you gets it open, you pull out her new phone. You sigh in relief, going as far as to kiss the box. San laughs from across from you.
“I haven’t had a phone for a while and I’m so glad to have one again.” He asks if you broke your or something, and you go quiet for a moment. “No, I didn’t break it. I left it with my ex boyfriend when I left him.”
“I'm so sorry,” San immediately apologizes. “I didn't mean to pry.”
You brush his apology off, telling him that it’s ok and that it’s been a little rough, but you’ll be ok.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” he asks and you nod.
“Joshua and I were together for two years when my dad died. I didn’t handle his death well and closed myself off,” you start to explain, San listening patiently. “And then when my mother’s health got worse, I went to his office to tell him that I would be coming back home for a little while to help get her situated,” you continue, hesitating as you reach the catalyst for your leaving.
“I found him and his assistant... together,” you continue, not noticing the way San's expression shifted. “Apparently, Josh couldn’t handle me being so down and unavailable so he found someone who was,” the last part comes out a little bitterly but you are beyond caring.
You had been fiddling with your phone the entire time you talk, trying to get it up and running. After you finish talking, you look up to see San’s jaw clenched and a serious look on his face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that shit. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that.” You tell him that it’s ok and thank him, ending in a small cheer when you get your phone ready to go.
You sit in silence for a moment before you look up at San.
“Could I ask you something?” San looks up at you and nods.
“Where's Mason’s mom?”
You notice how San stiffens a little but he relaxes. “So, I moved from Korea to study abroad. I told you already, but I was majoring in architecture and I was very excited to start my new life here,” he starts to explain.
“I met Anora in one of my classes and we really hit it off and started dating. After a year and a half, we found out she was pregnant.” You could hear it in his voice, the way he spoke about his son with such adoration.
“I was thrilled, but Anora was far from happy. Even though she really didn’t want to have Mason, but she stayed.” You can hear the sadness in his voice. “She decided after four years that being a mother wasn’t the life she wanted and she left right before his fourth birthday, almost a year ago.”
You felt your heart break for them. San sighs and continues. “I just felt like we needed a new start so I bought the store and the house and here we are,” he finishes his story to your stunned silence.
You stay silent for a moment before apologizing. “So, how is Mason handling all of this?” Your voice is soft and a little hesitant. San makes a face before answering. “He’s handling it well. Even when Anora was around, it was still pretty much the two of us. I stayed with her, hoping I could get her to fully accept Mason, but that was useless.”
You apologize again and San tells you that it’s ok. “Honestly, I feel like we're better off.” You nod in agreement. “I think can agree with that. I said it before, but you’re doing an amazing job at being a dad. Mason is a very lucky kid.” San smiles, looking down at his hands resting on the table. “Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciates that.”
“You're welcome,” you reply and without thinking, you reach across the table to give his hand a squeeze. There’s a beat of silence before you take your hand back and San clears his throat and nods his head toward your phone.
“So, do I get to be the first person to get your new number?” You laugh and nod, taking his phone to type your number into his phone. After you exchange numbers, San pockets his device and looks up.
“I should probably get back to Mason, even though I haven’t heard a peep from the baby monitor.” You walk him to the door, thanking him for helping with the boxes.
“Really,” he starts. “It's no trouble. We're neighbors after all. And isn't that are neighbors for?” he adds with a wink.
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Over the next month or so, San helps you get what's needed for the remodel, at a discount even though yourefused, and on weekends thetwo of get to work in the kitchen while Mason plays around with your mother. Mason's presence in your lives seems to brighten her mother's days and you have become very fond of the boy yourself.
San is a complicated story. You’re also very fond of him, perhaps too fond you think sometimes, and he seems to be equally fond of you. When you aren't talking in person, you’re texting. You’ve spent every weekend for a month working on the kitchen, often times working close together.
San teaches you the basics, even though you already know them but he doesn't need to know that. He's even taught you about how to get the grooves you want in the wood on the side of the arch way of the alcove. The fact that he stood behind you, chest to you back, to show you flustered you a bit. (But we don’t really need to talk about that. Nope. No need to talk about how you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back. Not at all.)
By the time the kitchen is finished, it's the middle December with Christmas just around the corner. You stand in the entrance of the kitchen with San, looking around at the space the two of you have created. You’re absolutely in love with it.
“San I love it. Thank you so much!” You wrap your arms around his neck in a hug, surprising him. He just stands there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you in return, giving you a squeeze. He slightly buries his face in your neck. “There’s no need to thank me. I really enjoyed doing this with you.” His breath on you neck makes a shiver run down your spine, but you try your best not to let it show.
You separate, slowly, and look at each other for a moment before a squeal interrupts your moment. Mason comes running into the kitchen, crashing into you and hugging your legs. You laugh as you stumble a bit and bend down to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
You don’t see the way San's eyes shine as he watches you with his son, happy you’ve clicked so well. Mason directs his attention to San “Daddy did you ask her yet?” . San shakes his head, a slight blush on his cheeks as you quirks an eyebrow up. “So the Christmas festival is next Saturday. Would you like to come with us?” You eagerly nod your head, gaining a smile from San and a giddy squeal from his son.
Your week is filled with emails for work. Joshua still sends you emails, but you rarely open them, more often than not, completely ignoring their existence. Not because you’re still hurt, you’ve moved on, but because you genuinely do not care to know what he has to say.
Though, a particular subject line draws your attention.
An email sent the day before. “See you soon” and you quickly click the email, reading it in a slight panic. Joshua goes on about he misses you and he just wants you to talk to him and that he’ll be coming to see you that upcoming weekend, the same weekend as a date you'd set up with San.
Your first thought is to go to the diner to talk to Lou.
You quickly put your shoes on, opting to drive to get there faster. You pull in to the diner parking, rushing to get inside.
“Lou!” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be, but you don’t pay any mind to it. You notice how they diners enjoying their food look at you, but at this moment you really don’t care. Lou comes out of the kitchen, looking a little annoyed at someone yelling in the diner. His face changes as soon as he sees you and the panicked look on your face. He quickly discards his apron, yelling into the kitchen that he'll be back soon and ushers you to your booth in the back.
He asks you what's wrong, trying to keep the worry in his voice unnoticeable. “I got an email from Joshua,” you rush to explain. “It said that he was coming here this weekend. Before you even ask, I’m not worried I’m going to go back to him. I’m over that part of my life and I have moved on from him, it's just...” You pause and Lou takes the opportunity to finish for you.
“You really like San and don’t want Joshua to ruin anything before it can really start.” You nod, knowing that coming to Lou was the right choice. “I’m going to the festival with San and Mason on Saturday.” You know that you’re wearing a massive smile, but you have no embarrassment about it. Lou smiles back and you.
“Have you told him about Joshua yet?” His question throw you off a little, even though you should have known he’d ask. “I’ve told him that Joshua is my ex and how things ended between.” Lou nods for a moment.
“And the email?”
You shake your head. “I saw the email and came straight to you.” He smiles widely and you can tell that your confession has made him happy. “Peanut, you’re a smart woman. You know what you need to do.” You nod, knowing that he’s right. He usually is, it’s why you come to him. You thank him with a hug and leave, deciding to walk to the hardware store to talk to San.
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The bell dings as you walk in, and Mason yells your name and runs up to you. You smile down at him, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek before asking where his dad is. He wraps one arm around your neck and points with the other, telling you that San is on the paint aisle.
You thank him with another kiss on the cheek as you set him down. You make your way to San, feeling a little nervous as you watch him look through paint swatches. “San.” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but you aren’t sure you succeed.
He turns to face you, his face breaking out in a wide smile. “I was looking at swatches, trying to decide what color would go best with the kitchen.” You can feel yourself smile, despite the anxiety flowing through your body.
“We need to talk,” you start, internally cursing yourself as you see a flash of panic cross San's face. “It's not like that!” you continue quickly. “But it is important.” San nods, searching your face, no doubt noticing how serious you look. “Okay,” he nods slowly as he leads you to his office while he calls out to Mason to tell him to go into the break room and play so he knows where he is.
“You can sit there if you want.” He points to the chair in front of his desk as he moves behind the desk, grabbing the chair there and bringing it to sit beside you, facing you. “What’s wrong?”
You take a deep breathe before speaking, trying to calm your nerves. “I was looking at my email today and when I noticed an email from Joshua.” You can see his jaw tense, but he says nothing, letting you continue. “He’s coming here this weekend.” Your voice drops in volume, almost sounding small.
San is quiet for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, matching the feel of your small voice. “Do you still love him? Are you planning to leave and go back with him?”
You feel sad that the thought even crosses his mind. You obviously haven’t been as clear showing your feelings as you thought you were. “No. I really like you, San and I don’t plan to leave. There was a time in my life when I wanted to escape this town, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”
You can see him visibly relax as he breathes put a sigh of relief and telling you that he feels the same and that you can deal with Joshua’s visit together if you wants or he can let you handle it. You don’t say anything, only thanking him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you should head back home.
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The closer it gets to Christmas, the stronger the urge to go into your father’s study gets. You talk to San about it as you text and he tells you that it's ok to still need time, but it's also ok to want to go into your father’s favorite place. He once again offers his help, telling you can be there for moral support if you needs and though you don’t tell him, you think that San is a great man and thank him.
Saturday comes quick and even though you’re anxious about Joshua’s arrival, you’re also excited about spending the evening with San and Mason. By dusk, Joshua still hasn't arrived and you hope that maybe he has changed his mind. You gets ready for the festival, deciding to wear jeans and a sweater.
A knock on the door has you almost sprinting down the stairs your thoughts swirling. You feel like a teenager waiting for her prom date. Opening the door to find San and Mason both giving you big smiles, you smile back and give them both hugs, unintentionally hugging San a little harder. “You ready?” San’s voice is light and cheerful and it makes your heart flutter. You give a nod and call out to your mother, letting her know that you’re leaving.
The festival is simple, a few decorations and booths with games and food trucks. Of course Lou has a stand with all of his best dishes and hot cocoa and coffee. The three of you stop by and you give Lou a hug, thanking him again in a whisper. He squeezes you in return, his way of telling you that you don’t need to thank him.
You grab a cup of coffee as San grabs both him and Mason a cup of cocoa each. As you reach into your wallet, preparing to pay, you notice San moving quickly to hand Lou money. Lou scoffs and tells him that there’s no way he’s letting them pay. You both try to argue, but Lou shuts you both down with his trademark eyebrow raise.
After getting your drinks, you walk around the festival a bit, stopping to play games when Mason finds one he wants to try out. By try out, he means that San has to play and try to win the toy Mason wants.
You hear your phone going off and you’re quick to grab it in case your mother needs you. You do find a text from you mom.
Mama: Honey, Joshua just came by looking for you. I didn't tell him where you were but just be on the lookout for him
Your breath catches, drawing San’s attention and you show him the message instead of speaking, not wanting to clue Mason in that there is a problem. All San does is grab your hand and gives it a tight squeeze before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a kiss on the top of your head.
You walk around a bit more, stopping to get Mason a corn dog when you hear your name being called. You stiffen. You knew that voice and would recognize it anywhere.
You're brought back to reality by San giving your shoulder a squeeze, silently letting you know that he’s there if you need him. The two of you turn around while Mason is preoccupied with his food and find Joshua standing and glaring at San.
San looks unfazed, other than the tightness in his jaw. Joshua steps forward, eye San before turning to look at you.
"Y/N, can we talk?” You notice how his eyes flicker over to San once more. "In private?” he adds.
You lean further into San's side, taking a deep breath and filling your nostrils with the scent of San’s cologne, which calms you a little.
“Whatever it is, you can say it say right here.”
Joshua narrows his eyes, heaving out a sigh before speaking.
“Fine,” he says softly. “You left me no choice. Since you refuse to answer my messages, I came here to see you.” You say nothing, letting him get it all out.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ll say it a million times if that’s what you want. I miss you so much. You’re all I can think about. Please let me make it up to you. I know I can do it if you’ll just let me.”
You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything. “No.” He looks taken aback and you take the opportunity to continue. “I don’t love you. I don’t hate you either. I don’t really feel anything for you. I’m happy where I am. I’m happy having San by my side.” San acknowledges you statement with a long kiss to you temple.
Joshua goes to take a step forward, only to be cut off by Lou. “I think the lady has said what she needs to say. It’s time for you to leave.” Joshua looks at you one more time, searching your face for any change of your mind before he begrudgingly leaves.
After the confrontation with Joshua, San decides that it's time for you to leave and he gathers Mason, who throws a tiny tantrum before listening to his father and taking his hand. You walk in silence for a moment, hands intertwined until San breaks the silence. “You ok?” You smile and squeezes his hand, looking into his eyes. “I’m great.”
When you get back to your house, you’ve accepted it as your home now and you’re proud to call it that, you ask San if he can help you with one more thing and he immediately agrees. You all enter the house, Mason immediately calling out to your mother.
“Nana! Where are you?” Both you and San freeze, eyes wide. This is the first time Mason has called your mother that. Your mother steps out of the kitchen, equally surprised, but she quickly schools her expression and opens her arms catching Mason in her arms as he jumps to her. You look at San, tying to gauge his reaction, only to find a soft smile on his face and he watches your mother with his son. You squeeze his hand and tilt you head toward the staircase and he follows you up the stairs.
You walk to the end of the hall, standing in front of the door of you father’s study. San kisses your temple before speaking. “Take your time, love. There’s no rush.” With one last deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door and you step inside while San waits in the opening of the door.
The room looks the same as it always has. Books are tucked neatly on the bookcase, your father’s large desk in the center of the room. You walks over to the desk, running your fingers over the top of the desk slowly.
There’s a thin layer of dust and it’s the first time you have every seen dust on the desk. Your father always kept his study perfectly clean. You look around at all of the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of your parents on their wedding day. A picture of your dad with his parents.
You notice a single frame on the desk and you carefully pick it up. It's a picture from the day you were born, your father holding you with a bright smile and tears in his eyes. Your own eyes start to teat up and you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, San moving to prop his chin on her shoulder.
“It’s ok to cry if that’s what you need to do. I’m so proud of you for coming in here. That took a lot of strength. My strong girl.” Your stomach flips at him calling you his and you turn to kiss his check, San turning to face you at the same time and your lips meet The kiss is sweet and gentle, just barely there.
San turns to to face you completely, his hand coming up to cup you check before giving you another slow kiss as your arms wrap around him. The kiss only last a moment, Mason’s footsteps coming up the stairs making you pull apart.
He stops at the door of the study, quickly asking San if he can stay the night with Nana and San looks at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “If it’s ok with your Nana, I don’t mind.” The sound of San calling your mother Mason’s nana makes your heart skip a beat.
You follow Mason down the stairs, listening as he asks if he can stay the night. Your mother doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course you can, my little monster.” Mason laughs and hugs her legs with a squeal. She turns to you and San, immediately noticing your intertwined hands. She smiles at the two you and gives you a slight nod of her head.
San tugs on your hand gently, looking at you with both lust and care as he leads you out of the door and across the lawn to his front door. He quickly unlocks it, letting you go in first. As soon as he steps through the door, his lips are on yours and his arms are around you.
You fist his shirt, pulling him as close as you can get him. It feels like the two of you are kissing forever, like the only oxygen you need is each other’s breath. San’s hands slide down to your hips, pulling your further against him, moaning slightly when you bump into his already hardening cock.
He pulls away, eyes flickering between yours. “Do you want to go to my room?” You aren’t sure you’ve ever nodding so fast as you take his hand and follow him.
You're able to take a brief look around San’s room before his lips are back on yours. His kisses are soft, gentle as his hands slowly find your waist. He tugs you closer to him, it's obvious he can't seem to get you close enough. His hands slide down, firmly kneading your ass.
You moan against his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He takes the chance he's been given, immediately deepening the kiss. His wet muscle dances with yours, slow and passionate. He steps forward, softly pushing you backwards until the backs of you legs hit his mattress, pushing you further back to lie flat.
He separates from you long enough for you to scoot until you're fully on his bed, him immediately climbing on top of you and connecting your lips again. One hand rests on your hip as his other cups your face. He pulls back, just far enough to speak against your lips.
“You're so pretty.” His voice is a whisper, but you still manage to hear him, and you give him a smile and peck his nose. “So are you.” He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours as his hands fall to the hem of your sweater.
“Can I?” You murder a soft ‘yes’ and he doesn't hesitate to lift it over your head. He stares at you in silence and you feel like you should be self conscious, but you aren't. You just let him admire you.
“Gorgeous.”
You aren't sure he meant for you to hear his words, so you don't say anything in return, just let out a whine, prompting him to snap out of his daze. He brings his hands up to cup your breasts over your bra, his touch firm but still soft. He looks up to your face, quirking an eyebrow up and you nod and sit up, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp what's between him and your bare skin.
He flings the fabric over his shoulder, not even bothering to see where it lands. His hands come back to your chest, gripping you once more. San gives your nipples attention, pinching them in between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to arch your back with a soft moan. The sound of your pleasure makes him let out a moan himself, obviously enjoying that you're enjoying his actions.
Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your perked buds, his tongue immediately making its presence known with a flick. His hand continues to massage your other breast.
After a moment, he switches sides. “San. Please. Need you.” Your voice is in a quiet whine, as much as you enjoy what he's doing, your core throbs with need. He pulls back, releasing your nipple with a pop. His eyes are blown out with last, but his gaze is still soft and caring.
He slides his hands down your body, finding the button of your pants and flicking it open. He backs off the bed, immediately falling to his knees as he grabs your pants by the hem, slowly pulling them down.
The tension in the air is thick and you can tell that he's enjoying the teasing nature in which he undresses you. Your pants find the floor like your sweater and bra. His lips are on your ankle before you realize what is happening, slowly kissing up your leg.
He places a barely there kiss on your clothed core before kissing down your other leg, only to stick the tip of his tongue to your skin and lick his way back up to your hip. The unexpected action causes you to shiver with want, and you look down at San only to find him staring back at you with a smirk.
He grabs at your panties, continuing his slow pace in pulling them down. Part of you wishes he would hurry, but the greater part is enjoying the build up. Once your panties are off, he once again takes a moment to just look at you.
Slowly, he brings a finger to your core, sliding it from your hole up to your clit. You let out a soft moan, his groan coming not long after. “Look at that, baby. You're soaking. I've barely done anything, love. Is this all for me?” His words shoot a jolt through your body, causing your core to throb even harder.
“All for you, San. All yours.” Your words seem to spur him into action as he leans forward, his tongue making the same movement his finger had. Your moan is louder this time, his own moan right against your pussy has you bucking up into his face.
His hands find your thighs, wrapping around them to speak you open for him. He brings the tip of his tongue to circle your throbbing bud while your hand finds its way into his hair. He hums against you, his way of telling you that he approves of what you're doing and you give a slight tug. You can see his hips buck against the mattress, prompting you to give one more tug.
He dives into you, sliding his tongue up and down your pussy a few times before coming back to your clip for a brief moment before repeating. Your moans echo throughout the room as brings his finger to your entrance, sliding on in slowly. Your hips buck on their own as he pulls back out, a second finger joining as he slides back in.
His mouth is working hard against you and his fingers search for a moment before they find what he's looking for. A loud moan rips from your throat as he pushes against the spongy part inside of you. “Right there, baby?” You only manage a nod and he goes back to eating your can't, doubling his efforts as his fingers speed up. Your mind is swirling as your orgasm builds. No one has ever been able to work you up this quickly.
You're babbling now, vaguely aware of what you're saying. “Feels s'good. Please. Please.” He pulls back just enough to mumble against your core. “Come on, angel. Let go. Cum for me.” The vibrations against you coupled with his already fucked out voice causes the dam inside you to burst as you coat his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, fingers slowing down as your high fades. You look down to find him staring at you in awe. You mumble for him to climb back onto the bed and he immediately grants your wish.
Your hands move with purpose as you pull him to you, grabbing his shirt and ripping it from his body. Your breath catches as you look at the ridges and planes of his chest. He's well built, looking like a man cut from marble. “Fuck.” The words come out breathy and as you look back to his face, you can see a slight blush.
You place a soft kiss on his lips as you push him gently to lie on his back. He offers no resistance, letting you move him as you please. You spread his legs enough for you to fit in between his thighs as you bend down to kiss down his throat. He lets out a soft whine when your lips find his chest and you take the opportunity to give him a slight bite and his hips buck upwards. You can feel his hardened length against you and your core gushes with a fresh wave of wetness.
Your hands find his jeans, making quick work of getting them off of him, pulling his underdogs down with them. His cock hits his stomach and for a moment you're in awe. He's above average, but not huge. Long and thick, but you can't help but think that's it's the prettiest dick you've ever seen. His voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Baby. Please do something. I'm dying here.” You give him a slight chuckle, cupping his election with a gentle squeeze. His moan is load and oh so beautiful.
You scoot yourself down until your face meets his cock, your tongue peeking out to give his tip a kitten lick. This time he whines, obviously not able to take the slow treatment he had given you. You lick from his balls to his tip slowly, circling your tongue around the mushroom head of his cock.
Without missing a beat, your mouth engulfs his length, sliding down as far as you can take. Your hand wraps around what your mouth can't fit and you slowly start to bob your head. Just as yours had done, his hand finds your hair, giving a slight pull and you moan around him.
His hips buck again, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat and you hold back a gag. You let him slowly buck into your mouth as words tumble from his mouth. “Oh god. Fuck. So warm. Feels so good.” You pull off of his length as his thrusts get faster and he whines at the loss of contact.
You sit back up on your heels, watching the way his chest rises and falls heavily. You make eye contact as you speak, wanting to see his every reaction to your words.
“Condom?” He scrambles to his knees, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and pull out a foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, moving to place the rubber around himself. You stop him before he can, taking it from him and sliding it slowly down his length yourself. His groan comes from the back of his throat.
Once the condom is snug around his cock, you push him back down, climbing on top of him. You slide his cock up and down your pussy, getting him slick with your juices. On the slide back down, you push his tip into you.
Your moans come simultaneously, making a beautiful song of pleasure. His hands find your hips as you rotate them, letting your walls adjust. “Wait. Baby, give me a minute.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he pants. After a moment, he gives your hips a squeeze, letting you know that you can move.
Lifting your hips, you rise and fall back down slowly, enjoying the way he feels inside of you. You keep your pace slow, wanting to savor every moment of pleasure. The more you move the more San whines. His hands are clawing at your hips, his nails leaving little marks on your skin. He's babbling again and you clench around him.
“So fucking good. Fit me perfectly. Like you were made for me.” You lean forward, placing your lips on his as your pace increases slightly. At this angle, the tip of his cock nudges the place you need. It isn't long before your hurling towards your second orgasm, San's name repeatedly falling from your lips. With one thrust from San, your falling over the edge with a moan.
San makes quick work of flipping you over, his length never leaving your core. His pace is faster than you had expected, but his strokes hit deep. You've had no time to recover from your orgasm, but the sensitivity you're feeling only improves the way you feel. San is letting out of string of grunts as his balls hit against your ass. Your nails are digging into his back as you hold on to him.
“You're so perfect. So glad I get to have you like this. Wanted this for a while. Dreamt about it.” It's like he can't stop talking and you can't say that it bothers you. His hips start to stutter as the tension builds in your belly.
“San. I'm gonna come again. Cum with me. Please, baby. Please.”
Your words seems to have the desired effect as he delivers one last hard thrust, your name leaving his mouth in a groan as he fills the condom. Your high hits you at the perfect time, syncing with his. He falls on your body for a moment, panting heavily as you both come down.
He slowly pulls out of you with a wince, looking down to see your cunt still slightly pulsing. He gives a sweet kiss to your clit, giggling and apologizing as you whine and try to back away from him. You watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean you up. He takes great care to get you well cleaned. “You want to take a shower?” You nod and make grabby hands at him and he lets a loud laugh and connects your hands to pull you up gently.
The shower is filled with soft touches and even softer kisses as you clean yourselves. Once the water is turned off and you've dried yourselves off, San offers you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, which you eagerly accept.
You crawl into bed, finding yourself in his arms immediately. It's quiet, but comfortable. “So. You're mine now, right?” The fact that he even has to asks makes you giggle a little. Tilting your head up to face him, you place a kiss to his jaw.
“Yeah. I'm yours.”
Christmas the next morning is spent in your mother’s house, the four of you enjoying dinner and opening presents. And finally in your life, everything feels right.
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[ONE YEAR LATER]
A year flies by, bringing new challenges and experiences and you're beyond happy. You watch as Mason plays on the floor by the tree with your mother, who's helping him unwrap his presents.
“Mommy, look!”
Your heart soars at the boy calling you mom. You can feel San smiling as he stands behind you, arms around your waist. As you talk to Mason about his new toy, you don't notice the look your mother gives your boyfriend. Behind you, he smiles, slowly reaching into his pocket, trying not to draw your attention. Your mother smiles wide as she watches San pull the ring box out of his pocket slightly.
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laroserie · 8 months
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— character : yandere!omega oc
— content : x beta gender neutral reader , bullets point , yandere , unhealthy / toxic behavior , omegaverse , yandere!omega oc is a he / him pronouns && he is described as feminine , reader is 'you' and is kinda obvious
— authors note : this is more like small headcanons mixed with a bit of story. i had a shit ton of daydreams about it but urgh i hate it but i haven't posted in a while so
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⦁ you and yandere!omega have been friends since childhood ! you both lived close, went to the same primary school so it was not surprise that you both became friends. up until high school you both had a pretty regular friendship, yes you were close but not too close.
⦁ at least it's how you saw it, to him you were his precious dear friend. he used to get bullied a lot because of his 'feminine' body and face but you were always here for him, to support him, telling him 'Asper, you are so handsome, they tell you that kind of stuff because they are jealous of you !'. he started loving you from that time onwards. he kept his feelings for himself wanting to keep being friends, just being at your side was enough for him
⦁ in middle school you both learned more in depth about 'secondary gender' and ... Asper had this fantasy of you both becoming a pair, he honestly didn't care either he'd be the alpha or omega, he just wanted you to be his counterpart so you could form a bond together and be linked together for ever.
⦁ and it was during your first year of high school that you got tested to know your secondary gender. Asper was ... ecstatic to say the least when he got his result - sure, being a omega may mean facing a bit of discrimination but he was a omega ! which mean he could be your mate ! he was so sure you were an alpha, he was so ready to confess his love to you and ask you to bite and claim him, for him to be your and for you to his.
⦁ after reading his result he directly turned to you - you were seated in the seat behind him, and he showed you the paper with the result, smiling at you.
"Look ~ I told you I was either a omega or an alpha right ! Soo what are you ?" He asked you, expecting for you to answer 'alpha'
"I'm a beta, I mean it was to expect so I'm not disappointed or extremely happy" You answered, showing him
⦁ it's at this moment that his world shattered. the future we prepared for the both of you got ruined. he wasn't expecting ... this outcome - in his mind it could be impossible for you, his beloved friend, to be a beta, he didn't have anythings against them but ! you both were made for each others, you both needed to form a bond, needed to be a pair !
⦁ it changed his behaviour toward you - he was being a little bit more on edge when you were talking to others people. he know that forming a bond could be impossible and so he needed to protect you ! from everyone, mainly others betas but also alphas and omegas !
⦁ to ensure that you could not get snatched away by anyone else, he could rub his scent all over you and yours clothes and of course get your scent all over him too.
⦁ anytime an alpha could start talking to you, Asper could get in between you two and start flirting with the alpha, it disgusted him and he felt so ... dirty doing that but he didn't know how to have them give up on approaching you others than making them put all of their attention on him - he thought that he may as well use being an omega to his advantage
⦁ he also used being an omega to manipulate others into leaving you alone or talk about how you and Asper are made for each others and that your secondary genders shouldn't matter
⦁ he showed you stories about omega and beta being together to send you 'hints' - he even directly told you,
"Honestly ... I think I could prefer dating a beta more than an alpha ~ They are such big pricks that think they are sooo much better because of their secondary genders. Betas are so much softer and kind ~"
And was quite distraught when you told him that you hoped 'he could find a good beta partner then !'
⦁ on the topic of you being obvious to him 'clearly' giving you hints, Asper steal your clothes and make a nest with it, and he doesn't hid it from you, directly asking you for your t-shirt or hoodie even if you are currently wearing them.
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months
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the pained peace treaty
fused with the foe, chapter one
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a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.
summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”
warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury
word count: 4813
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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”
“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”
A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”
Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”
“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”
“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”
Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”
“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 
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Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 
Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 
As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 
You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 
A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 
“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 
Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”
Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”
“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”
When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”
“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”
“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”
“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”
“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”
You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”
Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”
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“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 
Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”
“Yes, your highness?”
“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”
“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”
As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 
Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 
Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 
Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 
“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.
“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 
“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”
“What did you expect?”
Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 
Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 
The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 
Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”
“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.
“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”
Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”
He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 
Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 
Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 
Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 
“Hey, Barnes?”
Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”
“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”
“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”
“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”
“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 
Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”
Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”
Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 
“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 
“Of course, your highness.” 
“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”
Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”
“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”
“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”
“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.
Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”
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With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 
A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 
You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 
The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 
The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 
Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 
“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 
Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 
And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.
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The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 
As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 
When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 
“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 
Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 
“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”
A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”
It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 
Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 
The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 
But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 
The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 
“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 
“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 
Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 
“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 
When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.
First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”
Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 
His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 
“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”
“Oh…” was all he breathed. 
“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”
“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 
“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”
“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 
A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”
Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”
Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 
Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?
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henrioo · 3 months
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°•*⁀➷ BEACH DAY: CROCODILE
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Crocodile is a king, and kings don't fulfill anyone's wishes, unless that someone is you. The small, young and only son of one of the most feared pirates, a child who would never have his desires denied by his father.
꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Platonic! Crocodile, IT'S NOT A ROMANTIC STORY, Dad! Crocodile, Child! Reader, Male! Child! Reader, difficult childhood due your Dad's business, mentions a lonely childhood, mean children
꒰ WC ꒱ : 995
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Trying to back in my schedule of posting and writing, I'm passing through some bad time with a lot of personal problems so my mind is kinda off for everything, but at least I gonna try to post what I already had (I always say that and never do) anyway enjoy :p
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Firstly, your father would be extremely offended if his precious son asked to go to the beach. Dear, your father is the king of the desert and is literally made of sand, why on earth would you want to go to a beach full of stupid people with dirty sand?
Of course, just as Crocodile is unable to refuse your requests every time, what can he do? He spoiled his little boy a little… so soon he's planning a trip to the beach while putting up with you talking about it every day since you as a little child couldn't contain your excitement.
Initially he thought about going to a private beach, he could rent an entire island just to avoid other people, but when you looked at him with those huge puppy eyes saying “but then there won't be other children for me to play with?” He gave up and was at your feet again, bless you, your perfect son who had him wrapped around your finger.
He agreed to go to a public beach, but that doesn't change that he didn't want many people, so he planned to go to a less inhabited island and during a period when there would be fewer people, of course, he made sure the beach was very beautiful and big enough so you can have the most fun. He wasn't ruining her experience for his own selfish limits.
Father of sunscreen, Crocodile doesn't want to see you turning into a pepper, so he makes sure you're completely white from all the sunscreen. It's a little difficult to do this with just one hand, but you were always a patient child and helped your father without any problems, soon you were ready, with your crocodile themed children's swimwear, your colorful floaties and animation for a lifetime.
Crocodile wasn't very excited about swimwear either, so he just wore an open shirt and longer shorts. The problem was that everyone on the beach was staring at the seductive man, was it his fault for being so handsome? Of course, having Daz Bones next to him staring deathly at everyone ensured that no one bothered him, which was perfect for the pirate.
Swimming too deep is a big no, Crocodile can't swim and that means he can't rescue you if you start to sink, not only that, but most of his employees are also Devil Fruit users, which just makes it difficult for him to be sure you will be fine in the water. Now if he goes with you to the beach with a non-user, like Mihawk for example, he may be more comfortable with you going to the deeper parts, accompanied of course.
Crocodile is also very careful about keeping you well hydrated. He knows that children are more sensitive, so he is constantly calling you to drink water, juices or any other liquid. Luckily, you are very obedient and don't waste the chance to drink something delicious, so it was easy to keep it under control. Crocodile also didn't trust just any restaurant or food vendor, so he hired a chef to prepare everything you could want to eat on the beach, whether it was fried fish or ice cream, you had everything at your disposal, prepared by someone you trusted, so Crocodile knew you I wasn't taking any risks.
He gets a little apprehensive when you get close to other children, Crocodile is extremely protective of you. After all, you are his greatest treasure, he would kill and die to prevent you from getting hurt in any way, but when he sees you smiling while playing with the children, he feels his heart relax, in the end, you are still a child, and he doesn't want to in no way to deprive you of having a normal childhood. He already knows how terrible it must be for you to be the son of a pirate, to live on a ship without ever settling on an island for long, the lack of children for you to live with, you can't even go to school, and instead you study with him, his life is not normal like most children and any opportunity he has to give you some moments of a normal childhood he is definitely doing it. He just wants you to grow up happy, regardless of everything.
Now, that doesn't mean he won't be a protective father. All he has to do is see you building your beautiful sandcastle, which he may have helped to stand with his powers without you realizing, when another older child approaches. He is reluctant but doesn't want to act immediately, it's only when the child kicks his castle that he gets angry, then a wave of sand covers the child, knocking him to the ground, the boy has probably swallowed enough sand to never but forget the taste. As soon as the boy runs away crying to his parents, Crocodile rebuilds his entire sandcastle before you can even miss him or cry about it. Your bright smile along with a “thank you daddy” makes it all worth it.
Although he enjoyed the beach day, which basically consisted of him sitting around watching you being a normal kid and having fun and the occasional discussion about business with Daz, the best part for Crocodile is when it starts to get dark, and you're already too tired. He carries you in his arms, using his powers to clean all the sand from your body, you are completely exhausted and sleep like a rock, with the only detail of holding your father's shirt with your small hand.
Crocodile just puts pajamas on you, preferring that you take a shower when you're awake, then he puts you in his bed and covers you. You have a huge smile on your face and are probably having sweet dreams, he watches you for a few moments before leaving to finish some things and then going to sleep.
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cobaltperun · 6 months
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Lost (3) - Stay
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Tara Carpenter x female Reader
Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.
Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics
Word count: 6k
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-I've never been the best at letting go, I don't wanna spend the night alone-
Sam was… afraid, frightened even. She never wanted to go back to Woodsboro, to go back to the place that reminded her of all the things she ruined, of all the things that ruined her. And now those things threatened her baby sister, her Tara, the only good in her life she had left, no matter the distance between them. More than the ghosts and memories though, Sam was afraid of Tara’s reaction, she was afraid, yet accepting of rejection. If anyone had the right to hold her accountable, it was Tara. She was the only one who could be her judge, and Sam would accept it. She would accept it because it was the only right reaction, after all Sam wasn’t the first family member that abandoned Tara, and given how their mother was, well, that only made Sam’s choice worse. She didn’t just leave Tara behind, she left her with their mother.
Her reason didn’t matter, her regrets, pain, how much she missed Tara every single moment, none of it mattered. She left. She left Tara to protect her, but she left nonetheless, cutting contact and leaving Tara, almost certainly, with trauma and doubt.
How she wished she could reunite with Tara in a different place, in different circumstances, ones that didn’t involve Tara hurt. How she wished she could take those wounds and pain away from Tara and go through what Tara did instead. She lost count a long time ago, of all the dreams that had Tara and her reuniting, as unrealistic as they were. Tara, the same as she was when Sam left, when she was merely thirteen years old, with her shy smile and hiding her eyes behind her bangs.
“You’re worried about your sister,” Richie interrupted her thoughts and she was thankful for that, she was already worried as it was, and thinking about Tara’s reaction wasn’t helping her.
So, she nodded, sighing and looking out the window. It’s been a while since they saw a building of any kind, all they could see were trees, the forest surrounding the road. They were getting closer to Woodsboro. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Hey, isn’t that MMA fighter you like watching from Woodsboro as well?” he suddenly asked.
Sam smiled a bit, despite circumstances, as she did, indeed, watch the last couple of your matches. She saw an edit of your fight, of you weaving and dodging the attacks and countering your opponent with ease. And she immediately recognized you, even before she read your name in the description. So, ever since then, she silently followed your fights, happy that you were accomplishing your dream, and, though she never admitted it to anyone but herself, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tara in the crowd.
“Mhm, Y/N. She’s Tara’s childhood friend,” she replied without a hint of doubt.
“Is? I thought you said you didn’t talk to your sister in years. How do you know they’re still friends?” Richie’s question was valid, and Sam really didn’t know if you and Tara were still friends.
But…
“You don’t know them. Nothing could break the bond Tara and Y/N have,” you were Tara’s best friend, and Tara was the one that made you the happiest. Sure, years could have made the two of you grow distant, but she couldn’t imagine it, she found it inconceivable. Tara not having you by her side? Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine what went wrong for that to happen.
Amber may have given you the Guard Dog nickname, but Sam always preferred to think of you as Tara’s protector, as Tara’s unbreakable shield, even if she figured the guard dog was appropriate as well.
~X~
If you weren’t so focused on Tara you probably would have thought Amber was right for once. You really looked like a guard dog at the moment. Standing to Tara’s left, leaning against the wall with your arms folded over your chest and a scowl on your face as you listened to Tara speaking with her mother.
“No, nothing was taken,” you froze when you heard the defeated tone of Tara’s voice. Once, just this once you thought her damn mother wouldn’t be a contender for the worst parent you had ever met, but here you were. “That wasn’t what they were after,” the exhaustion in Tara’s voice, the way it cracked just a bit, not nearly enough for Christina fucking Carpenter to notice, it made you sit down next to Tara and put an arm around her shoulders. Tara leaned into your touch right away, she hid her face in the crook of your neck, not even complaining when you took her phone.
The sudden wetness on your neck, the realization that it was Tara’s tear, nearly made you lose composure. “Tara needs to rest, please call her later,” you spoke as calmly as you could, hoping that you could soothe Tara by holding her close.
“Huh? What?” Christina sounded drunk even now, knowing her, she was drunk. You didn’t want to wait for the woman to figure out what was going on, you just hung up. She wouldn’t call back anyway.
“You’ll get through this,” you ran your fingers through Tara’s hair, gently calming her down before her asthma could make her condition even worse.
Tara managed a weak nod, her right hand reaching up and gripping your shoulder as if you being there was the only thing keeping her grounded. All things considered, maybe you were. “He told me mom was proud of me,” Tara whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear. “I really wished that was true, Y/N,” she cried, tears falling from her eyes as you just held her like that.
What could you even tell her when her mother wouldn’t even take the time to properly call and ask Tara how she was. How could she believe her mother was proud of her when that same mother didn’t care enough to drop everything and come back to her daughter that nearly got killed.
You remained in that position when Chad, Mindy, Wes and Amber came, with Amber, as the girlfriend, coming in first. The relief on the faces of the first three at the sight of Tara awake and as fine as she could be overpowered everything else, Mindy’s need to tease the two of you, Chad’s need to cheer for you and Tara, and Wes’ jealousy. It didn’t overpower Amber’s jealousy though. You weren't sure what to make of it, but the first thing Amber did was glare at you. Checking on Tara? Her girlfriend? Nope, glaring first, checking on her injured girlfriend who almost got killed later.
Chad, Mindy and Wes remained near the bottom of Tara’s bed, while Amber took her place on Tara’s right side, and while Tara turned to look at them, she kept her hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting up. “I’m not going anywhere,” you muttered, and only then did she let go of your shoulder and allow you to help her move so that she was leaning back against you.
“Sorry, mom just called,” she apologized, her eyes focusing on Amber for a few moments, though the apology was meant for all four of her friends.
Mindy nodded. “We figured, T,” she admitted, her eyes filled with compassion for Tara.
Amber leaned down, kissing Tara on the lips before you could properly look aside. And each and every person in the room could feel how uncomfortable the room just got. Amber kissed Tara, while Tara was leaning back on you. And nothing about what she did was accidental, she saw an opportunity and took it, probably believing she was staking her claim on Tara.
You didn’t react though, just looked away, you refused to give Amber that satisfaction or to make things even more uncomfortable for Tara. That is, until you heard Tara’s muffled groan.
“Be gentler,” you snarled, pushing Amber back when you saw she put some pressure on Tara’s right thigh, hurting Tara in the process.
Amber glared for just a moment, before turning her attention back to Tara. "I'm so sorry Baby, I was so worried and-" Amber apologized and you felt the urge to keep her away from Tara. It had to be the jealousy you sometimes felt, right? Surely there was no other reason you would want to push Amber further away from Tara. Amber wouldn't hurt Tara. Right?
"It's okay, I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here with everyone," Tara assured her softly, though she did back away a bit, leaning more toward you, and even as subtle as it was no one missed it.
"Of course, I'm here. Where else would I be but here with you?" the nerve, the audacity, another glare she sent your way. "I'm actually surprised Y/N showed up. You managed to act like a friend for once.”
You felt Tara go stiff at that, the tension, the disapproval radiating from her, you feared she would argue back, and this wasn’t the time for that.
"Where would my life be without your approval, Amber?" self-control be damned, preventing the argument between the two of them was more important, release the snark, target Amber. Tara stifling the tiniest laugh made it even better.
"Okay, okay, let's calm down," Wes, as usual, tried to defuse the situation before it escalated.
"Nah, let them go at it, we just need some popcorn," Chad looked around as if he was actually looking for popcorn. "My money's on Y/N, for obvious reasons."
"Yeah, it's not like we came here for Tara," Mindy deadpanned, which thankfully lowered the tension in the room.
You glanced down at Tara, surprised to see she glanced up at you instead of anyone else. There was something in her gaze you couldn't quite decipher. You saw it from time to time; when you first told her you were no longer speaking with your parents, the first and only time she asked you to stay by her side and quit MMA after you came back victorious but beaten and bruised from your first fight, when she told you she was dating Amber, and now. Somehow the only common factor in all those moments, aside from the undecipherable gaze, was the fact that you, in one way or another, always left. Not today, you promised silently as her attention shifted to the rest of her friends.
A brief conversation with her friends and girlfriend later you could see Tara progressively getting tired. Before you could react to that the doors opened again, and you immediately recognized the woman that entered the room. Sam, even after five years you knew it was her, and for a moment you weren't sure what to expect, but the concern on Sam's face when she saw Tara made you lower your guard.
Sam immediately knelt down next to Tara, her hands shakily reaching out for her younger sister. "How are you feeling?" you didn't remember ever hearing Sam's voice that shaky and uncertain.
"You came?" Tara's question, as filled with disbelief as it was, broke something in you and you focused on the heart rate monitor beeping to ground yourself as Sam introduced her boyfriend, Richie, or something, and then went to hug Chad, Mindy, and Wes. She didn't hug Amber and you noticed Amber didn't seem to mind that one bit. After a brief exchange with Wes, Sam returned to the left side of Tara’s bed and raised an eyebrow at you. You shrugged, motioning with your head at Tara who was still leaning back on you, silently telling the older Carpenter sister you weren’t moving any time soon. From the corner of your eye you saw Tara blushing and looking to the side.
Sam just smiled and patted you on the shoulder. “Thanks, Y/N,” frankly, despite everything that happened, or perhaps because of everything that happened, having Sam around was much appreciated.
“Don’t mention it,” you smiled back.
Satisfied, Sam turned back to her boyfriend. "These are Chad and Mindy, the twins, and Wes. I used to babysit them all," she introduced the three of them.
"Which is always how I want to be introduced," Wes joked, lighting up the mood in the room.
"That's Y/N, I didn't babysit her," Sam continued the introduction.
"A very important detail, please remember," you motioned to the trio. "Needed a babysitter," then you pointed at yourself. "Didn't need a babysitter."
"You are like a year older than me, though," Tara teased you.
You did recently turn twenty, while Tara was around three months away from turning nineteen. "Meh, insignificant details," you jokingly rolled your eyes, but grinned when she nudged you lightly with her elbow.
"And Amber, hey," Sam finally greeted Amber, Amber greeted her back, Richie introduced himself properly and then Sam pointed out the elephant in the room. "Where's mom?" the shift in Tara's demeanor was instantaneous and you reached down under the covers to hold her right hand. She relaxed a bit, but you still felt the tension in her body.
"She's stuck at a conference in London. She called me earlier," Tara clarified and it technically was true. Her mother did call, if that could be considered a call. You were willing to bet all of your savings that the drunk woman wouldn't even remember half of the conversation she had with Tara.
"How considerate of her," let it never be said that you always disagreed with Amber, because for once you agreed with her anger wholeheartedly. "Look guys, Tara is really tired, we should let her rest," twice in a row, maybe you should get worried. Her words got the other three to move as well.
You didn't move though. You didn't come with them, you wouldn't leave with them. If you left it would be brief and you'd stay right outside the doors.
"You as well, Y/N," Amber was daring you to disobey her, and well, who were you to disappoint her of all people.
"No," you wondered if Sam was noticing the tension between you and Amber, because, if Mindy was to be believed, it took exactly ten seconds to figure out that Tara was the cause of that tension.
"Y/N is staying, you as well Sam," Tara ended the discussion.
Sam smiled slightly. "If it's okay with you, I could sleep here tonight?" it was a question as much as it was an offer.
"I'd really like that," Tara was smiling, happy to see Sam would stay by her side, at least for some time..
"You got everything you need? Do you have an extra inhaler?" Amber once again shifted Tara's attention back to her.
Tara nodded at that. "Yeah."
Amber leaned down and kissed her again. "Call me if you need anything."
If Sam had any reaction to the revelation that Tara and Amber were together, or the unusual situation Tara found herself in, with you and Amber, she didn't show or voice it in any way.
"Honey, I'll be outside," Richie, likely to give Tara and Sam some privacy, spoke to Sam and then turned toward you. "Uh, could you take me to the break room or something?"
You glanced at Tara, and seeing no issues with it nodded. You slowly separated from Tara, making sure she was comfortable, and stepped outside. Richie only needed a glass of water so it didn't seem like you'd be away from Tara for long. Besides, you wanted to give Tara some alone time with Sam.
"So, an MMA fighter?" Richie's question took you by surprise. "I, uh, recognized the name, I watched a few of your fights," somehow it sounded like he was making it up on the spot.
"Is that so?" maybe the guy was just timid, he was Sam's boyfriend, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and figured he was just uncomfortable about the whole situation, about meeting Tara in these circumstances, but still choosing to come here to support Sam. "Well, then you know why I didn't need a babysitter."
~X~
You were sitting on the bed next to Tara’s for once, she was sleeping and Sam was next to her until about fifteen minutes ago, so you chose to give them some space. Keeping Tara safe was more important. Though, it spooked Sam’s boyfriend, as he went off to watch Netflix or something in another room.
Tara hummed, waking up from her slumber and turning to look at you. “Hey,” she whispered, reaching out for you.
Moving on instinct you moved to sit on her bed and took her hand. “Sam went to freshen up a bit, she’ll be back soon,” you told her.
Tara nodded, content at the moment.
And then the doors burst open and you jumped to your feet, ready to fight. Sam came in, her eyes filled with panic as she looked at Tara. And then, seeing as Tara was fine, she just slumped back against the wall.
“Sam? What happened?” despite pain Tara sat up, watching, concerned and afraid as Sam dropped to the wall. You both noticed her legs were shaking, unable to hold her up.
“Ghostface was in the hospital,” Sam’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it felt like a bomb exploding right next to you. The monster was here. The one responsible for Tara’s pain was here!
“Are you okay?!” Tara demanded, just about ready to get up and go to Sam, and seeing the look on Tara’s face Sam willed her body to move, to sit on the chair next to Tara’s bed and smile at her.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Sam assured her. “I think he was just trying to scare me.”
You gritted your teeth, anger clouding your judgment. All you could focus on was the door, Sam’s confused uttering of your name barely registered in your head. It was all anger, wrath, need to hurt the monster that tried to kill Tara. It didn’t matter that the Ghostface probably took the disguise off and that you had no way of recognizing the person underneath it as the attacker, you just wanted to go out and find it. It was someone Tara knew, right? Those were the stupid rules, right?
“Y/N!” while Sam calling your name fell on deaf ears, Tara was an entirely different case and the anger dissipated as you turned around and looked at her, trying to get out of the bed.
Anger vanished and you rushed back to her side. “Wait, Tara, don’t get up,” you said, gently getting her to sit back down. “I’m sorry, I got angry,” you whispered, looking away from her. You allowed your anger to cloud your judgment, the desire for revenge to make you forget for a brief moment of weakness what was more important.
Tara reached up, putting her right arm around your neck and tugging you down, and you gave in, dropping your head onto her shoulder and wrapping an arm around her. Tara took a deep breath, her hand shaking slightly. “I know, but I need you here,” she whispered, tightening her grip on you and getting you to nod. You’d focus on keeping Tara safe, and if that somehow gave you the chance to fight Ghostface, you’d take it, but you wouldn’t go after it while Tara was this vulnerable.
A bit later Judy came by with Amber because not only was Sam attacked, some guy got killed, likely by a Ghostface, meaning either there were two people involved, or the one person involved was moving really quickly.
"The call came from Amber's number," Judy said, prompting Amber to defend herself only for Richie to accuse her of being the killer. You didn’t pay much attention to their words, instead you tried to find the signs that they were lying, in their posture, in the tone of their voice.
But it didn’t really help you, Amber was as assertive as usual, aggressively stating her mind and Richie, well, you didn’t even know him.
"And where were you when this was happening?" Judy asked him and he suddenly got really uncomfortable.
"I was, uh watching Netflix, in another room. I didn't want to wake Tara up," he tried to defend himself, and then he awkwardly pointed at you. “She also kinda scares me,” he admitted sheepishly.
“And where were you, Y/N?” Amber demanded.
“With Tara, right here,” you replied while looking Amber in the eyes, daring her to question you further.
“It’s not Y/N,” Tara declared before anyone else could say anything.
Amber narrowed her eyes, this time directing her anger at Tara. “Really? You defend her, but not me? Unbelievable,” she huffed, throwing her hands up. “You know what, call me when you feel like acting like my girlfriend,” she stormed out, anger evident in her voice.
“Amber, wait!” Tara reached out toward her and bit her lower lip.
You placed your hand on Tara’s shoulder. “I’ll go and talk to her,” you sighed, it was about time you had a nice long chat with Amber.
Tara looked at you incredulously and you just chuckled and gave her a thumbs up.
This wasn’t going to be fun though. “Keep her safe,” you told Sam as you walked past her and went after Amber. You looked around and noticed her, near vending machine in the corridor, still fuming. “Amber! We need to talk!”
She squeezed the bottle of water she got so hard you thought it would burst and then she turned to glare at you as you approached and eventually leaned against the wall near her. You’d wait for her to come to you, and she did.
"You're behind this, aren't you?!" she demanded rather forcefully as she closed the distance, the water bottle tossed aside. She stopped right in front of you, arms folded over her chest and furious glare present in her eyes. She was so angry you wouldn’t be surprised if smoke began coming out of her.
You could feel your blood pressure rising as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Look, you already decided that it's me, so there's really no point in that conversation. Tara nearly got killed, set your jealousy aside until she recovers."
But Amber just snorted, as if she couldn’t believe what you were saying. "Stay away from my girlfriend, you hear me? My girlfriend, not yours. Go home, Y/N," did she actually think this would work? That she could demand something and you'd comply?
"That's what this is about? Really? You think I'm behind all of this yet your reason for wanting me to leave is because you're jealous?" flabbergasted didn't even begin to explain how you felt. You really, really, didn't feel like entertaining Amber's jealous outbursts, but you had to try and get her to cool her head so that Tara could rest peacefully.
Amber threw her hands up in the air and stepped back to point her finger at you. "Jealous? Of course, I'm jealous!" okay, you had to admit that one took you by surprise. "Do you have any idea how it felt to watch Tara on the verge of an asthma attack every time you had a fight and Chad didn't call her quickly enough? How many times have I had to be there for her because you won't stop fighting and it frightens her? Do you even know that she constantly worries that something will go wrong and that you won't come back?"
You were genuinely stunned as you took in what Amber was saying, you hated to admit it, but you would probably feel just as frustrated as she was.
"She likes me, she is my girlfriend. Y/N, Tara is mine, but," she approached you, looked you straight in the eyes, and whispered, "She loves you, and no matter how hard I try I can't cut you out of her life or her heart."
She took a few steps back and with a nearly maniacal grin on her face she asked. "So, tell me. If you aren't the killer, what will you do if whoever it is comes to kill her?"
At least that was simple. "Fight. It'll have to kill me before it gets to her. Our issues aside, I think we can agree Tara's safety is what's most important."
The maniacal grin widened. "With pleasure," it was a strange choice of words, but you figured she agreed.
~X~
Tara could barely breathe, too focused on everything Sam just told her. She finally knew why her dad left, she finally knew why Sam was distant and why Sam left her behind. Once upon a time, she thought that knowing why she was abandoned and left with an alcoholic mother that was never there for her would bring her closure, that it would bring her some semblance of peace. It didn't. It changed nothing.
And then you came in and her uncontrollable emotions found a new target.
"Amber should calm down a bit, I think, oh and they'll be ready to move you in an hour or so," you didn't do anything wrong, you were the one person that kept her calm, grounded and feeling safe and protected, it was the future that she was worried about.
"When will you abandon me, Y/N? Before or after I recover?" the question that plagued her mind just slipped out and the confused look on your face stung more than her wounds. At least the pain from her wounds was dulled by the painkillers.
"I'm not going to abandon you," you didn't get angry. You never got angry with her no matter what was going on. It would usually calm her down enough to rationalize whatever she was angry about. Amber would argue back and eventually guilt her into backing down. Wes would get defensive, and Chad would try to back down while Mindy would usually go for sarcasm. You just, in your own words, took it easy, because it was easier to solve whatever issue the two of you had when you weren't fighting. It didn't calm her down this time.
"Don't lie to me! You abandoned your parents just like how Sam abandoned me," and Amber kept telling her you'd abandon her, telling her that it was a matter of time. It wasn't just Amber, almost anyone who knew you would say the same story. While you slept with your arm around her one of the nurses came by.
'That girl wouldn't come to the hospital when her father got sick, and now she won't leave,' that's what the nurse said and it only made Tara believe you abandoned your parents even more. She remembered it clearly, turning sixteen and shortly afterward realizing she was in love with you. For months she struggled with that feeling, afraid of what it could do to your friendship, secretly hoping that you'd be the one to initiate something. When you didn't do anything, she decided she'd confess on your eighteenth birthday, only to be met with a new address and a casual confession that you cut contact with your parents. Instantly she was thirteen years old, and she had just been abandoned by Sam and the fear of you doing the same kept her mouth shut.
And then you chose MMA, despite how beaten up you were after your first fight, despite the fact that she all but begged you not to and it sealed the deal for her.
You sighed and sat down on her bed. "I didn't. It was a mutual agreement, I wanted to leave, and they wanted me gone. No one was abandoned," the world stopped. "I'd never abandon you, Tara."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" she choked out. Why would you keep it from her? That your own parents didn't want you to stay with them? Why wouldn’t they?
You sighed as you reached down and began gently rubbing circles into her right palm. "How about this? I'll tell you why and then we'll leave the rest of the conversation for after you recover, or at least for after this whole thing ends?"
Tara nodded. She waited over two years, she could wait for a few more days.
"It just wasn't fresh in my mind, I guess. By the time I turned eighteen that deal had long since been made, so when it happened it felt more like going to an appointment rather than something significant. I never thought it would cause you to question how I feel about you, or to doubt that I'd stay with you," her breath hitched at that, and you were immediately reaching for her bag to get her inhaler. It wasn't asthma that caused her reaction. It was the way your voice switched from neutral, almost frighteningly cold while talking about your family to warmth and gentleness you reserved only for her the moment she became the focal point of your words.
"Y/N, I'm fine, I don't need it," those words were enough for you to stop and look at her. "Hold me?" you were awkward the first time she asked you to hold her, shortly after Sam abandoned her, but that awkwardness vanished as time went on. This time was different though. She could see uncertainty in your eyes, the worry caused by her injuries. "I can move that much," she assured you. She needed you as close to her as possible, she needed you to hold her to feel safe, the moment you let go of her to go with Richie she felt vulnerable. She felt even more vulnerable, when, after Ghostface attacked Sam, you went after Amber.
That need was what made her less considerate of Amber’s feeling on the matter. Besides, this, you holding her, it was part of how the two of you were even before she fell in love with you. Even if it wasn’t enough of an excuse, it didn’t change the fact that she needed you.
"You'll tell me the moment you get uncomfortable or if anything at all starts hurting," yeah, there was no arguing with you and honestly, she was fine with that in this case.
"I promise I will; now get down here," you complied with her request. It wasn't much different from how you slept before, only this time she was slightly on her side, with both of your arms around her body. In addition to that she was resting her head on your chest, with your heart just below her ear. That brought a smile to her face. The steady beating of your heart and the heart rate monitor beeping created a rhythm only she had the pleasure to hear.
The way you held her, and the care you put into making sure she was completely comfortable stood in juxtaposition to the way Amber kissed her when she came to see her. Amber didn't intend to hurt her, but she didn't take extra care not to hurt her either.
Why did you have to make things so difficult for her? She was doubting her decisions, especially the ones concerning her relationship with you and, due to those thoughts, her relationship with Amber. The promise of the conversation and the conviction behind your words took away almost all of her reasons for keeping her feelings for you under lock and key. And the other reason, you fighting? A part of her hoped you’d give it up now, a selfish part of her hoped that nearly losing her would make you reconsider it. Another, louder part of her, told her she could compromise on that much, that she could do her best to accept and deal with it.
The guilt in her heart suddenly took over. It was several months too late now. At least until she found it in her to break up with Amber. To very likely do to Amber what she feared you'd do to her, what Sam and her dad did to her. To abandon Amber because she doubted Amber could settle for being just friends again. It wasn't your fault, but she was still going to complain to you about it. "You're the worst, you know," she pouted and settled for snuggling as close to you as her injuries would allow.
"Mhm, I know," you easily agreed, knowing better than anyone when her complaints were fake.
"Jerk."
"You know me."
"Let me sleep," she closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, am I supposed to sing you a lullaby?" you really didn't have to tease her right now.
"Please, don't sing," Tara did not need to be tortured like that. Hearing you chuckle, on the other hand, yeah, she could handle hearing that.
When they brought the two of you to her new room an hour later you effortlessly and carefully picked her up and placed her on the bed. You stood by her side as the nurses handled the rest, hooking her up to machines and whatnot. And then she got to melt into your touch once again as you lay down next to her, and with that same gentleness from before pulled her into your embrace.
As she once again fell asleep in your arms a voice in the back of her head berated her for ever allowing Amber to make her doubt you.
~X~
The sight in front of her really should have angered her. It would be a reasonable reaction, to find her girlfriend sleeping with someone else, and to remain calm would be bizarre. That is, if she actually cared. No, Amber didn't care about how close Tara and you were. Once upon a time, she did feel genuine envy toward you, she envied the way you made Tara laugh, she envied how peaceful Tara would look while sleeping in your arms. Despite what she did to Tara you, somehow, managed to make Tara feel safe.
So, as far as Amber was concerned Tara should have used this opportunity to fuck you, since, well, you'd be dead within the next couple of minutes. Then Tara would never again feel safe. By the time she wakes up she'll be covered in your blood, Amber would make sure of that.
It was fun, honestly, playing with Tara's doubts, downplaying her emotions for you, while simultaneously making her doubt your dedication to her. It wasn't Amber's fault Tara had abandonment issues that were easy to exploit. Granted, it wasn't her or Richie's intention to torment Tara like that, they just wanted you gone. Tara's torment was more of a bonus for Amber. It would make molding Tara into her perfect pet much easier if she was broken by this experience, because, as far as Amber was concerned, her and Richie would execute their plan flawlessly, and Amber would get to keep Tara all to herself.
Regardless, you were a threat, a trained fighter that might be able to stop them. Tara needed to survive the first attack so that Samantha would come back. Tara surviving also meant you'd act like a fucking guard dog. Predictable. She didn't think this would happen, though.
To think that you'd leave yourself this open and vulnerable. To think that all it took was a jealous girlfriend act to get you to talk to Tara and drop your guard. She didn't tell you a single lie, she didn't even exaggerate and Tara being this clingy only proved her words to be correct. You made a mistake, you fell asleep with your arms wrapped around the wounded girl. Even if you woke up right now you wouldn't have time to react, you likely wouldn't even realize what was going on.
If she could tell you one thing she'd would tell you that she was about to carve you up with the same knife she used on your beloved Tara. Poetic, isn't it?
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starsstuddedsky · 1 year
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Tangled in Love
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vernon x reader
summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think
genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au
warnings: none!
wc: 3.8k
a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol
tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol
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Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 
He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 
“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 
“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 
“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 
“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 
“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 
You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 
So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 
That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 
“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 
“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 
“And why am I here?” 
“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 
“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 
“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 
You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 
“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 
“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 
“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 
“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 
“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 
“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 
“No comment.” 
“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 
“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 
You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 
When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 
You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 
“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 
He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 
The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 
Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 
After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 
Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 
“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 
“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 
You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 
“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 
You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 
The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 
“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 
You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 
He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 
“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 
“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 
Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 
“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 
“I have self-control.” 
“Wanna bet?” 
Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 
You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 
“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 
He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 
“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 
“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 
The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 
“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 
You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 
“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 
“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 
“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 
You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.
Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 
Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 
You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 
When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 
He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 
“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 
One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 
Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 
“Of what?” 
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 
Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 
“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”
“Vernon.” 
He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 
“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 
You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 
Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 
“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 
“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 
“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 
Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 
“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 
Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 
“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”
“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 
You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 
His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 
A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 
“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 
“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 
Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 
It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 
Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 
“Always.” 
The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 
“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 
His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 
“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 
“I'll stay strong.” 
“What if I want a kitten?” 
Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 
“Sucker.” 
“Only for you.” 
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thank you for reading <3
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elicathebunny · 1 month
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HOW TO REDUCE MALADAPTIVE DREAMING.
(suggestion post)
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I have actually experienced this since the age of around 9 or 10 years and only managed to reduce and basically almost get rid of it after 5 or 6 years. I am no doctor or professional, so all of this is just by experience mixed with online research.
WHAT IS MALADAPTIVE DAYDREAMING?
Maladaptive daydreaming is a mental health issue that causes a person to lose themselves in complex daydreams. These daydreams are usually a coping mechanism for other mental health conditions or circumstances. It's common — but not required — for people who have this to have a history of childhood trauma or abuse.
SYMPTOMS:
Extensive, sometimes compulsive, absorption in fantasy for several hours a day
Inability to stop daydreaming
Having very detailed fantasies, including plot lines and characters
Having real-life reactions to fantasies, like facial expressions, body movements, or verbalizations
Difficulty concentrating or focusing on other things
Sleep problems (especially falling asleep)
Replacing human interaction
The urge to continue fantasizing when interrupted
In some cases, maladaptive daydreaming can also be characterized by the need for additional stimulation, which can be expressed through extensive book-reading, watching films, or gaming.
TRIGGERS:
some of the triggers may include listening to music on headphones, watching movies, and hearing specific conversation topics.
In addition to processing trauma, other causes of maladaptive daydreaming include:
Wish fulfillment
Entertainment (regulating boredom or isolation)
Regulating distress
MY EXPERIENCE: I would spend hours upon hours with storylines that I have had for years. Those stories gave me comfort and I would get lost in the experience of daydreaming. I would even put on music to put myself deeper in my thoughts and would get irritated if someone ruined my thought process by speaking to me. I realised it was a problem when I began to randomly fall into my daydreams without much control. Simple thinking turned into detailed storylines and I would constantly seem lost in thought and lose track of time. This obviously isn't helpful when you have important things to do when you need to focus. I would try to stop daydreaming but would always catch myself doing it because it become normal to me. All the characters and scenarios in my head represented me parts of me that I wish I was in real life, or even things I wanted to happen in my life. Sometimes the dreams happened so frequently that I couldn't differentiate between my memories and dreams. Before I acknowledged it as a problem I never actually wanted to get rid of it, such a big part of me would be lost. I had been daydreaming for such a long time that I became emotionally attached to the characters I had made.
WHAT HELPED ME:
Doing things that take up a lot of brain power and time: e.g. Doing a workout, Dancing, or Solving a difficult equation.
This gives you 0 time to even think about anything, let alone daydream. Go out with your friends, and force yourself into situations that require you to use your full attention. Because I never really went out much or did anything frequent enough to take up my day, I had too much time to myself and became stuck in my own head. Doing things and picking up extracurriculars, ANYTHING will help.
Because I am no longer at home as much as I used to and interact/learn new skills much more than I did before. I simply do not have time to be in my own head, I forced myself to learn to get out of my head and achieve the things I would daydream about.
I am now engaging in improving myself instead of dreaming about the version of myself/life I wanted so badly. Those dreams and characters were just glamorised versions of deep-rooted emotions I had left without facing them. Uncovering the true meaning of why I daydream and the details of the things I was daydreaming about will help you get out of the daze.
NOTES I'VE FOUND ON QUORA:
ONE:
Open up. Speak about it to others. Express yourself. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You need not share your daydreams, just share that you daydream. It's okay.
Write your daydreams down, or type them out… whatever. Get them out of you to have a better look. They are trying to tell you something about yourself. Have you ever noticed that you can't completely control your daydreams? And when you do try to change something critical in your plot it just doesn't “feel right”?
Boil them down to mere feelings. Strip away all the illusory layers of good looks, grand mansions, heroic acts and so on. The truth lies in key moments where the characters feel something deeply for each other. Find those feelings, and question the difference between you and your characters. Ask what is blocking you from experiencing them for yourself.
Realize that you are the reality, not your characters. If you imagine a nobleman or a beautiful girl, it is your nobility and beauty that you impart to those. All your characters are merely objects animated by the light of your imagination and feelings.
Understand that all your daydreams have nothing to do with others, and everything to do with you, and your relationship with yourself. When you realize this, you stop comparing them with your real-world relationships and start relating them to various aspects of yourself.
Know that when you successfully come out of this, you will actually not lose the ability to daydream or run out of feelings to pour into your imagination. It is just that their purpose will have been served, and you will not resort to daydreaming again out of lack or compulsion. You may at any point daydream again and even use it as a tool to know what your Soul is trying to tell you. Yet, you will realize that a moment of self-awareness is more rewarding than a lifetime of daydreams.
TWO:
Here are some serious tips to avoid them:
First of all, make sure you really want to get rid of this, because a lot of MDers get emotionally attached to their imaginary characters.
Disable /avoid the triggers. Block YouTube if you have to. Those websites you visit. The images saved on your computer - delete them. Plenty of apps for that.
This might be rude, but start avoiding the topics or the friends who keep discussing these topics.
Get busy doing something else - take up a hobby, meet new people. Try to stay in public places or with other people. Plenty to do in life other than dreaming.
Avoid that one music/ song that acts as a trigger.
DO I STILL MD? Yea sometimes, but now It is an okay amount. It doesn't consume my life anymore.
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kingdoms-and-empires · 7 months
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Kingdoms and Empires Wiki Drop!
Sup guys, im releasing what i have done in the wiki today! In this post im only going to talk about the Wiki because I dont want to create an even more massive wall of text here than it already is. Please see the entire post on the forums thread!!! I solidified the lore (which means no more massive changes), set the foundations to the story (so i dont end up writing a shit ton and having to fucking rewrite everything anymore), and pretty much rewrote the canon lore until i reached a point where i literally cannot share it because itd be spoilers without the future rewrite (regarding the worldbuilding, all introduced characters and such are still the same, some just had minor tweeks, so nothing crazy like changing our old bodyguard Mary:
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and turning her into our childhood friend lmao So the plan now is current wiki drop. A good amount of it will be hidden since alot of it is spoilers, so you get 39,174 thousand words of unlocked content out of about 50k words in the wiki. And that's without me transferring 90% of the Codex ingame to the wiki, so its ALL (okay like 85%) new words of content and lore! Dont worry, im dropping literally all extra work and focusing purely on playable updates now until i regain your guy's trust in me after being so radio silent.
I also know and recognize that this has gotta be annoying asf since what you guys really want is updates but after what happened with the Total War franchise (my beloved) and their lightning fast content pipeline and lack of upgrading their engine ended up destroying the health of the company and ruining fans trust in em, id rather invest on the long term than short term unlike them (meaning id rather have a set story, narrative line complete, and research resources so that i can use that to run wild in writing).
I made a history of the world as known to them, so much of it is subject to embellishment, lies, and "the victor writes history" trope.
Historia Mundis
If you'd rather just have the list of articles that can be found within the timeline though, here it is: The Great Disturbances, Wars of Unification, and the Longwei Empire
Reign of the Daishu Dynasty
Ecumenical Dominion and the Flight of the Belthean People.
Belthean Migrations
Reign of Emperor Garland
Reign of Emperor Daerin I
Reign of Emperor Valerion
Reign of Emperor Elric I
Reign of Emperor Cenric
Reign of Emperor Saldwin
Reign of Emperor Elric II
Reign of Emperor Daerin II
The Interactive Outdated Map Yeahhh almost as soon as i published the map for the patreons it became outdated lmaoooo Nareth is much bigger than originally imagined, Argent is surrounded by mountain and forest tribes (think Hispania’s Lusitanian Wars or the Germanic Tribes type of vibe). The empire (being Imperial Chinese and Persian Empire inspired) also is surrounded by the these tribes, and the Imperial Province of Lymark is now the “Protectorate of the Western Regions” which basically means theyre the watchdogs of Western Nareth. Its funny because theyre also across the St. Hytera River, which is much like the Danube River, and will inevitably face the same issues Rome did with Dacia when they had a presence that extended the natural borders.
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Master List of Articles
The Evolution of Belthean Civilization
Veldora Duchy I may have gone too far here. I regret nothing and learning about agriculture and stuff was awesome.
Silverhill Duchy Mining is alot more complicated than I thought, though Engineering MC is gonna have equally alot to improve!
Imperial Ranks The ranks will have importance. I know that sounds weird, but I did not spend an afternoon writing this just for the lulz.
Emperor/Empress
Imperial Crown Heir
Imperial Prince and Princess
Imperial Duke/Duchess
Imperial Count/Countess
The Imperial Landed Knight
The Belthean Empire The biggest entry from the ingame Codex that I transferred over and polished. This should give you a hint of how ill do the other kingdoms in the future for their article.
Kin of Arava I experimented here and instead of making an actual article, made it a class lecture of a series of days focusing on the Kin with a racist professor lmao
Zera Arava So i had to do this in intervals as I was writing and plotting out his side stories. Honestly hope i did the homie justice, he's a fav of mine, though i think each of the ROs will be favs as I write more and more about them.
Sacred Dance I assure you the Sacred Dance isnt what you think it is.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Patreons, you guys already read the below list. However ive cleaned the articles up and polished them! The Genesis of the Belthean Empire: From Invasion to Unification
Voryn Resdayn I wanted to see how i could make a character entry. It looks awesome, but holy fuck do they take time to create lmaooo, ill make the rest of them in the future.
Kin of Arava
Eastern Kin The descendants of Kin and Beltheans who mixed, that are settled within the empire.
House Resdayn Wanted to see how I could do the houses, still unsure (okay i dont like it) of how it came out. Hence why I started with a minor house that one of the RO's belonged to.
The Astute Emperor and the Imperial Provincial Rule: A Revolutionary Shift in Governance
Master-Scholars of Jelaytha The Jelaythan organization of scholars that Master Feren is from.
Post-Unification Transformations in the Belthean Empire: Trade, Economy, Industry, and Immigration in the Wake of Conquest
Imperial Historians Obviously the imperial faction that wants to get their hands on tutoring you lmao.
Universitas Magistrorum et Scholarium The Jelaythan/Imperial organization at the forefront of the intellectual international community.
Tripartite Alliance Read what the empire is teaching their citizens about how they conquered the alliance.
The Satrap System and Imperial Provincial Rule
The Great Racist of the Academy: Imperial Historian Acillus Cinna
The Sword Saint
Master-Scholar Kaleb
The Gleaming Horizon: Silverhill's Maritime Supremacy The book of a writer who we'll meet ingame. Youll decide whether or not to bully him as a 12 year old lmao.
Baniel Worthton The author of above said book. He even wrote about himself. Yes, it's supposed to be an ick.
The Ulrich Cothon The second book of his that'll feature in the game.
So…I guess in basketball or futbol terms… rebuilding phase is over, and i got all the players i need for a championship run!
It was an almost year long rebuilding phase, true, but omg it was so needed.
Plus I also learned alot of fucking coding at the same time lmao. Basically a lot of tweaking around with Choicescript and knowing how to code some actions. Also there's CoG implementing a new checkpoint system so thank fuck for that because this game's gonna be huge and id hate to play it without a save system.
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luminumfoil · 7 months
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WHB!Gabriel x Reader
A lie that revolves around you that led you through misery, yet who would've thought that it would be created by an angel just because he wanted you all to himself?
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Many believed that you were the Descendant of Solomon. The devils did, including their kings. It was weird. Weird on how it all started when you were just in your childhood friend's room till all of this happened, because you were a descendant of Solomon. Or so you thought.
It was technically supposed to be an ordinary day for you, till it was interrupted by an angel – a seraphim; Gabriel. The sweet-ish look of fear plastered onto your face was what he was just after for. Gabriel had fallen in love with your soul, wishing to take it away and to make you stay with him.. In heaven.
If he took interest in you, there's no doubt the relationships you've had with other people would go unseen by him. He needed your attention as well as your soul. If he wants that, that's what he'll get; by all means, he's gonna have to kill the person that meant so much to you — your childhood friend: Minhyeok.
He loved the way your eyes widened, the way your chest rose up and down out of fear, the sweats dripping down your skin, especially the way you laid your eyes on him. Which had to get ruined by a devil – Satan who rescued you from the scene.
Up until now, you're still thinking about everything that could've happened in your life on earth. What if you weren't the Descendant of Solomon? What could've possibly happened? Many thoughts had fogged your mind and you wished to just lay down and rest your mind, but you couldn't.
Gabriel stared at you from above. The way you were so clueless.. Could you not see that he's doing this all for you and him? All he could do is just laugh from the heavens above on how dumb the devils are to think that you were the Descendant of Solomon.. You weren't. And he knows.
Gabriel wanted two things: it was to have you and to bring chaos in Hell. And you made it possible for him to acquire those two. The moment you disappeared on earth, that was when war started – a war to end and bring unconditional chaos onto hell. A distraction is what he'd call it.
Everyone was busy and distracted on the battlefield.. He raised his scythe as he looked at you with undying desires; but was soon stopped as Satan jumped on him along with his.. servant, Sitri.
He grunted his teeth, flapping his wings open in annoyance and flying away. He needs you, he may be willing to wait; but he's not stopping the war till he's got what he's wanted.
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This was a request by my friend, so I apologize in advance if it isn't that good, English isn't my first language, so I apologize. With further explanation, this is a fanfic where Solomon isn't our Descendant. I apologize if the story doesn't make sense!!
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AFHMB is a dark fantasy, colonial era WIP IF with some historical inspiration and intended for a ~16+ audience. It is hosted on Itch.io, made with Twine, and will be free start-to-finish. Demo here.
Warnings for general death, very briefly mentioned infant death, war, and disease, amongst others.
The war’s victory was not a joyous affair. There was no celebration when the encroaching forces were routed from the land. No drinking. No parties. No cheering or tearful greetings from spouses who had not seen one another in nearly a decade.
The silence was unmistakable. Loud. Overwhelming.
There was no joy to be found in it.
The removal of enemy soldiers from Herritus was instead met by one of the bleakest seasons to have ever settled over the country’s south. Crops and livestock died of the cold, infants were unable to be roused from their frigid sleep, and chromatia returned from its grave with wretched determination.
The streets are deserted- not a soul travels the worn roads. The homeless freeze to death and community shelters across the nation are wrung dry. Not even a noble such as yourself is safe from the cold’s grip.
It seeps in through the cracked windows, through the gaps under the doors. Your fire cannot douse it. No matter how many lanterns you light, the shudders will not be dispelled. You don a dozen layers; it finds a way through each.
When you are diagnosed with the grey ruin and made to realise you may have only a few months left to live, you must take it upon yourself to remove any remaining loose ends- before the sickness takes you.
And yet...something is wrong in the town of Nērisk. Something impossible is happening. And someway, somehow, it all ties back in to your brother’s murder twenty years prior.
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Reminder that everything here is subject to change. It is a WIP for a reason.
- Customize your MC, including their gender (with options for women, men, and nonbinary MCs, plus enby men and women) and pronouns (supports multiple sets and custom input), appearance, and skills.
- MC’s personality is semi-set.  You can shift the way they develop and how they react to some situations, but some facets of themself will always be set.
- Optionally romance any of 9 options, with 10 poly routes available, including one quad (four person) option.
- Discover that not everything in Nērisk is as it seems, and that you cannot put your past behind you quite so easily...
- You are not the hero of this story. Rediscover old friends, and with them, old vices you thought you’d overcome.
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Florain Vettikar [M/F]: An individual from your past you held dear (ex-best friend or ex-lover), taken from you too soon as karmic retribution. They’re long dead...but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.
Aviri von Jhersten [NB]: Someone you knew long ago. Their hands and yours are stained with the same blood, yet they were the one to claim guilt for the fresh grave. Now, they return, with new money and old vendettas.
Cillian Rittaker [M/NB/F]: You had seen Cillian once in passing as a child, a poor orphan your mother had shooed you away from. Nowadays, ze’s a powerful healer...and Nērisk’s final bastion against the chromatia.
Liel Amorson [M/F]: A childhood friend. You haven’t seen them in the decades since their family was forced to flee Nērisk, but now they return. You’d think they hadn’t changed at all if not for the emptiness in their eyes.
Acrocantus vel Yurius [M]: A son of the king of a distant country, who ran to Nērisk to escape his father and his homeland. He’s completely out of his depth...and is paying you to let him stay in your manor.
Ueryphus el Lirisis [NB]: Vel Yurius’ personal guard. They don’t trust you, and maybe they’re right not to. Still, they manage being unhappily polite, if only due to your extended grace when it comes to housing them.
Niphiles Ivares [F]: A wanderer, constantly coming and going. You’ve seen her around a few times, maybe even had a chat or two. Now, though, she’s trapped here in Nērisk, and growing increasingly paranoid…
Micah Kirrest [NB]: An annoyingly kind and persistent barkeep- and perhaps the only person you can call friend. Recently, you’d been separated, and now ey refuse to leave your side...no matter the circumstances.
Allifair ve Ketimnar [M/F]: As a child, they were forced to train under the same church authority you were, and now, they’re a priest with that same church. They hide their guilt well with jokes and snark. Too well.
[Poly routes are Florain/Aviri, Florain/Liel, Florain/Micah, Aviri/Micah, Cillian/Niphiles, Cillian/Aviri, Cillian/Allifair, Liel/Micah, and Acrocantus/Ueryphus.]
[The four-person poly route is Florain/Liel/Micah.]
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Demo
Tag Directory [TBA]
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angstyantoinette · 11 months
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Yandere alucard please with a fairy darling?
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wrote this while in college and severely sleep deprived :))
to the anon that requested this…very sorry for the delay ^^
Yandere! Alucard x GN Fairy Darling
As a Dhamphir, Alucard has a very confused and conflicted view of his own humanity; how his parent’s’ marriage shaped his life and beliefs, which is evident in his own personal experience in the story.
He is part human, “part monster” (as he puts it), and constantly uses both of his sides to try and compensate for his perceived weaknesses and strengths in order to create a balance.
This obsession with balancing his own personal interests, with the ones that he deems unsafe or safe to everyone else years him apart, and Alucard just doesn’t see the point in continuing his act of doing ‘the right thing’- he has nobody to do it for other than himself and the times that Sypha and Trevor come for a visit.
They keep him grounded, his dear friends and comrades; they help him remember the good times and deeds he has given to the world, to the people who were so close to losing their lives. They help him remember and remain alive in the memories of his sacrifices and pains that he had to overcome to murder his own father- the only one left from his childhood. A time that was idyllic, but secluded, kept away from the world and the rest of the scum that had stolen his mothers life.
Things are getting better, that’s what he thinks, as he sweeps through the rubble of his childhood home, it’s sloping walls and crumbling tapestries serving as a testament to a life long past that he can move on from. Things are getting much more complicated, as he tries to sort though the rubble and the familial ruin.
Alucard tries to move past his hurt and past betrayals, but they somehow always come back to bite at him some more, gnaw at his memories of his childhood and turn them into something beyond his control, beyond his pained comprehension.
It doesn't help much that much of the memorials of his past betrayals lay outside of the castle walls, staring out into the vast woods that surround him; and this isolation is a huge part of precisely why he becomes so attached to his darling.
However you meet each other, whichever way that you sweep into Alucard's life you just may as well be signing yourself away to the devil himself-a fitting analogy given the context of the story.
Alucard himself doesn’t mean to cause harm, not in any sense of the word. Everything that he says, does and thinks is the complete opposite, but while he may not be obviously setting out to cause you harm as a person…it doesn’t mean he realises his actions aren’t always right. He may even be self-aware of that fact, and be greatly pained and paranoid about how he makes you feel.
He doesn’t like the fact that he feels this urge to lock you up in his miserable, spindly castle, keep you and your fairy goodness all to himself. He knows it’s selfish, he knows it disgusting of him and yet he reasons and battle and negotiates with himself to try and justify his feelings and actions towards you.
You can beg, you can plead, you can sob and cry but whatever you do will not save you from this fate. You belong to Alucard, and he loves you so deeply, so dangerously that it makes the both of you feel sick. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make him feel sick enough for him to let you go. Let’s face it, who else will love you like he does?
He doesn’t exactly know how to love you right, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t adore you enough to know that you need to be kept away from the rest of the world. You need to rest, to stay with him whilst he admires your beautiful face, your spectral wings and their incredible patterns and own beauty that can only be described as otherworldly.
His kisses are always so desperate. Like he has never tasted anything like your fear Love before. Alucard knows that you get a bit nervous sometimes, but that’s just because you’re shy, isn’t it? He knows exactly what that’s like, the gut-twisting and the rampant heartbeats that he feels.
He’s probably one of the better yanderes to have, in all likelihood, but Alucard isn’t without his flaws, not in the least. He’s paranoid, deathly. He almost trembles at the idea of you getting out of your room to eat something, as he is insistent in bringing it to you. Just so he can double check those windows again.
And you sit sadly on the bed, in all of your finery and wondrous glory, trying your hardest not to sob as your blonde captor strokes your head and whispers his love for you until the moon is high in the sky and you can hear the birds coo outside. Your pointed ears twitch in tired anticipation, silently begging for the birds to come back, help you out of this nightmare.
The birds keep cooing and each night they get further away. They do not come back to help. You are stuck here, with him, forever.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
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06sunnybunny06 · 2 months
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Part 2 (Aren't we friends?)
♡♡♡♡
The next morning, when the sun was just rising above the horizon. You went on a treasure hunt. Why Child could control you so easily by playing his weird games. He seems to be quite good and looks like a good guy. It's just that Childe is your friend. That's the whole conversation.
The ancient map of Li Yue differs significantly from the modern one. Many buildings, at the moment, have turned into ruins. There may be a whole story behind a broken column. In fact, you are now watching the ghosts of the past. It would be interesting to move back in time and compare "before" and "after".
Come to think of it, you've never traveled outside of Li Yue. Before that, your home was a small village, hidden from prying eyes. The parents weren't bad, they just tried, as if they were hiding from something. The villagers loved to live the old-fashioned way. Thanks to them, you had a good childhood, but one question haunted you all the time.- "Why live in such a wilderness if there is a big city nearby?". No one tried to answer. You were greeted only with meaningful stares, as if you were asking stupid questions. As someone who grew up in the wilderness, far from crowded places, you wanted to see a different life. In the city, everything was different: the houses were tall, the rhythm of life was faster, even the people were completely different. My parents didn't really approve of the decision to move, but there was nothing they could do.
- Okay, we didn't break up on the best note, but so that we wouldn't even send a single letter all the time? And what is that supposed to mean?! Did they just forget about me?!
While unpleasant thoughts were wandering in my head. There was a crunch a few steps away. You were hiding behind the trees nearby without thinking. No matter how beautiful nature and ancient structures are, this world is still dangerous. Any evil spirits can appear from anywhere.
Two figures appeared in the distance, looking like masked soldiers. If one of them is a little taller than you, then the other is quite huge. They also seem to be armed. The first one has a gun sticking out behind his back, and the second one has a gun...what is it? A huge hammer?! Just don't tell me that these are the fatuis that are not pleasant rumors about.
"How long do we have to stay here?" - you flinched when one of them started grumbling.
- Until the harbingers finish their work in Li Yue. Our task is to look for traitors, if you haven't forgotten.
A heavy sigh followed. - "Our work is hard in itself. You can simply be sent to another country and not be brought up to date for a long time. Some stay because they are simply forgotten! Fatuis are not liked by everyone anyway. What should we do then? Wait for the locals to devour?"
The soldier with the hammer turned his head. "Watch your mouth. If anyone finds out, you will be executed on the spot. Submission to the Queen is the law. It's better not to say too much."
- And yet I feel sorry for these people. They lived as if they didn't exist. Oh, I would also like to settle in a quiet village to meet my old age in peace, but that's all.
The second soldier nodded. - "Yes..."
- Considering who our boss is, we're not going to get it. They say he's a real psycho.
Their voices could be heard for some time, until they completely subsided behind the dense foliage. After waiting for some more time, you got out of your hiding place. Everything seems to be calm. They're gone. It was eerily scary to even move. Who knows what they are capable of?
You've looked around the area again. The map shows the way from point A to point B and nothing superfluous. It seems that you are close to your "treasures". Whatever it is.
As the journey continued, the familiar surroundings attracted attention. You've seen this place before. I'm just remembering when it was. "This can't be happening." - The legs walked faster. A familiar sight opened up on the hill. It was your native village. Is this really the destination? You were already suffocating from the strain. Childe couldn't have known about this place…
When you went downstairs, the familiar house of an elderly woman appeared around the corner. She used to look after you when your parents were away on business. Today she has been dead for a long time. Someone had to occupy an empty house. But there wasn't a soul on the street. The wind walked alone between the houses, leaving a void in its wake. Now you're really scared.
You found yourself near your house. It became so quiet that even the creaking of the stairs underfoot seemed like a thunderclap. When the hand reached for the handle, the door opened quietly. The house is not only empty, but also as if no one has lived here for a long time. Mom would never have allowed such a layer of dust, knowing her cleanliness.
You were trying to find at least some signs of life with your eyes when you noticed a piece of paper lying on the table. It seemed to have been placed in a prominent place on purpose. The piece of paper was quickly in your hands. A message was written in it:
"Hello, my dear. Congratulations to you! You've won our little game! I would like to see your smile, but there were some difficulties, so I couldn't come in person. I'm sorry, and I promise, this is the last time! A gift is waiting for you in your room!
With love, your friend is Childe.
You were in shock. How the hell does he know?! How does he know this place? Where are all the residents, and most importantly, where are your parents?!
The head turned towards the door. A little girl used to grow up behind her. The walls of the room remember a lot of emotions - from loud laughter to bitter tears. There was a small box with a bow on the bed. His hands trembled as he opened it. There was a silver ring inside. It wasn't just a decoration. It belonged to your mother. Fingers gently pulled it out of the box. Something else was born. Tears rolled down your cheeks when you noticed the dried maroon spots. The legs immediately rushed to the exit. Maybe they were running away from something, or it was all a bad dream. In the morning you will wake up in a cold sweat, not thinking about him anymore.
When you ran out of the house, a sharp pain pierced your head. The unconscious body collapsed to the ground. You distinctly heard someone say the word "damn." The tears continued to flow until my mind completely shut down.
You woke up in a dark room. Although there was a lamp on the bedside table, some dark areas were still difficult to see. The pain was sharp in the back of the head. You tried to sit up when a familiar voice rang out. "Are you finally awake?"
Your body is numb. It was Childe. He was waiting for your answer. You could barely squeeze out a couple of sentences in a painful voice. - "Yes. My head hurts terribly."
The guy almost purred when he heard your voice. So you're more than okay. "One of my soldiers underestimated his strength. He hit you on the head, but don't worry. I punished him personally." He sighed, suppressing his anger. Some fool dared to harm you. Tartaglia made it clear that you needed to be caught and disabled, not knocked out with all your might. Fortunately, he is no longer a tenant.
- A soldier? "there are memories behind the transparent veil. How did you come to an empty village, how did you find your mother's ring in the house..."
His right hand rose involuntarily, revealing a silver ornament on his index finger. You've always admired him. The image of the snowflake accurately conveyed the connection with its owner. Your mother, like you, had the vision of a Cryo. There was a midnight jade in the core, which shone with a blue light in the dark. My father gave it to me for their anniversary. This time it was completely clean.
- Why do I have my mother's ring on my finger?
Chade shuddered. He sighed heavily, sitting down next to her on the bed.
- The fact is that... I don't think there's any point in lying to you. Since you're in danger, it's better to find out everything at once.
You looked at him expectantly as he began his story.
"I am the eleventh harbinger of Fatua, and it is my duty to do the Queen's will. She is the ruler of the Snow Kingdom. Each fatui must take an oath of allegiance, entrusting his life to her. If the oath is not fulfilled for one reason or another, the person will die. Those who shirk their duty become traitors and face the same fate. I have nothing against your parents, but they were previously from Fatua, and I think you know how it ended....
You didn't believe his words. More precisely, they didn't reach you. - "No. This is your stupid joke again, isn't it? Are you lying to me as always?" "You didn't even notice yourself when you started crying again. Everything fits together very well. The puzzle is coming together. Their caution was always infuriating. It seemed to you that a free person should be happy and not be afraid of anything. But they were trapped in their fears from the very beginning. The Fatuis were hunting for them. As a result, they are no more. And whose fault is it? "Are they dead? Did you kill them?"
Childe began to shake his head negatively. "I wouldn't dare. You know, I have a family myself..."
You sobbed, burying your face in the blanket. What's going to happen now? How to live with the thought of the death of your family now. You didn't even have time to say goodbye.…
Childe hugged you. His heart hurt more with every tear that fell out of your eyes. If there was an option not to cripple your psyche..
- You know, I helped you with something.
You lifted your head, wiping away the remnants of your tears. - "What are you talking about?"
"You would have suffered the same fate if I hadn't intervened. The authorities wanted to get rid of all the recalcitrants, but you were not in Fatui when they escaped.
You nodded, and the guy smiled with satisfaction. "I have an idea. In order not to attach you to this dangerous organization as another unfortunate soldier. So I decided to marry you.....Ta-da!"
Your eyes widened and stared at him, but Childe continued. "The Queen has approved our marriage. It turns out that you were born in Snezhnaya. This means that it will be right to return you to the embrace of your native land. My family is waiting for my return. They will be glad to meet you."
"Are you saying that our marriage is my salvation?"
The guy nodded. "I personally buried your parents in another place. It seemed to me that it would be better than lying in a mass grave. Your mother's ring will be our bond. It will be difficult to accept their death, but nothing can be done. I'll be there to help you deal with everything."
You were grateful for his help. Although this is not the life you planned, it's still better than serving a dangerous organization.
Your face brightened, and you nodded approvingly. Childe could barely restrain himself from grabbing you and kissing you. He must not spoil this moment. Everything is going too well.
"I'd like to see the graves." I need to say goodbye to them at least like that.
Tartaglia nodded at your wish. -"Of course dear. You need to visit them so they don't worry about you. Then you will definitely be free." - He took you in his arms again. This is the best day of his life, and it will be even better when you get married....
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tanoraqui · 1 year
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[spins the Silm Headcanons Nobody Else Shares (Yet) wheel]
Though Elrond was, inevitably, involved in the politics of building Lindon, he was not only NOT Gil-Galad’s official herald yet at the start of the Second Age, but he was only tangentially involved with the new government. Instead, Elrond spent the first few centuries of the Second Age as an adventuring anthropologist/archeologist.
He traveled around Lindon, and inland and up and down the shore, talking to all variety of refugees and recording the histories and cultures of their people, from ancient myths to recent war stories to how this group of Men (or Elves or Dwarves) cooks their porridge vs how that one does. He dug and sometimes dove into ruins of forts rent by Light and Shadow, often with foul lingering malaise, to retrieve papers and goods warped by flame, sea, and worse.
Because Elrond’s childhood was filled with many refrains of loss, and one was,
“This is how we baked nutcakes in Menegroth!” his mother explained, hands sticky with chestnuts and honey. Under her breath, not meaning her even stickier sons to hear, she added, “I think.”
“Oh yes, there were…” Eärendil’s fingers twitched as he counted in his head. “…eleven different major fountains in Gondolin! One for each Great House, though all were managed by Lord Ecthelion—oh, no, but then that must be ten…?”
“Now, in a proper course of musical education, I would be starting you on basic dancing songs today. But Filúriel is the only one of us left who knows how to dance a good gavotte—”
“Filúriel died three years ago. Orcs on the way back from Sirion.” Maedhros didn’t look up from the daggers he was sharpening. Only his words gave any indication that he was even aware of the lesson taking place across the room.
“—But there is no one left who knows how to dance a good Tirion Gavotte.” Maglor never missed a beat. “So instead I will start you on basic Songs for striking fear into the hearts of your enemies. Have you both done your warm-up exercises today?”
[smash cut to 200 years later]
Elrond: Are you telling me. That there is a chance. That a portion of the Great Library of Thargelion, greatest collection in Beleriand of books and art brought physically from Aman, is still intact?
Random improbably still alive Nargothrond-Fëanorian #6: If the cases were water-proof as well as orc-proof and fire-proof…if they were orc-proof and fire-proof at all…especially dragonfire-proof…or dragon-ice-proof… If they stayed hidden, if we even shut them all properly in the first place, as we evacuated just ahead of the— my lord, where are you going?!
Elrond, sprinting past them down the corridor: Deep-sea diving!
(In the late Third Age, the Library of Rivendell is widely regarded as Arda’s single greatest repository of historical records of life in Middle Earth. This is incorrect—the single greatest such repository is an ever-growing library on Tol Eressëa, to which Elrond spent 3000 years sending copies of everything from Hobbit almanacs to Dwarvish epic poems to account books from three Elvish kingdoms to an Age’s worth of Dúnedain Ranger journals. Anyone Sailing with extra cargo space has been cajoled into taking at least a few tomes. People and places may be lost to time, but part of why he chose an Elvish life is so that they will not be forgotten.)
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orion4ever · 6 months
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hihi!! I really love Ur writings SMSM <33(Srsly they make me giggle n kick my feet)!! And I just wanted to request Qiu and Tamarack with an MC that likes/and is good at singing? (Preferably step 2, but since I rlly don't wanna burden Step 1 would be really lovely as well)
:))
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Author’s Note: *laying on my stomach on top of my bed , writing in a fluffy journal while kicking my legs back and forth and giggling*
Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x Reader and Tamarack Baumann x MC
🗒️🍂
QIU LIN🗒️
They always loved your singing , they find it one of the most satisfying sounds they’ve ever heard.
Will beg you to let them sit and listen in.
If your singing along with a song then they might just get up and start dancing along.(why did that rhyme omg , in my poet era)
You guys would make such a cute dynamic duo though
If there’s ever a talent show , they will begrudgingly hopefully ask if you want to do it together.
They joke that you should make a soundcloud and post your singing there.
You kinda ruin most music for them from how much they love your voice lol
You and your childhood friend, Qiu were hanging out in your living room. It was late, your mom was still at work and Qiu’s parents decided on a spontaneous dinner date and trusted Qiu wouldn’t get into any trouble while they were gone.
Which Qiu thought was stupid, I mean what trouble could they get into so late at night?
They sat on one of the few mismatched couches and messed around with one of your mom’s pillows that had a loose string.
You were sitting on the floor, with an older disk player near you. You had been digging around your room and found it under your bed and decided to play some music.
“Which disk do you wanna listen to? The first or the second one?” You had asked them, holding up the two shiny disks.
“I don’t care, You can pick,” Qiu replied, shrugging while holding the pillow closer to their chest. They didn’t mind what music was played, just as long as they could enjoy your company.
“The second one then” you proposed, popping it into the player and clicking ‘play’.
The both of you were happy with the choice when a soft melody rang throughout the room. It didn’t have any lyrics, it sounded like something Tamarack’s grandparents may have played in the background while entertaining guest in their “drawing room”.
“Nice,” Qiu assured, flopping down onto the couch.
The two of you sat quietly while listening to the music, you swayed a little and started to hum.
Qiu perked up at the sound but didn’t say anything, worried that you might stop out of embarrassment.
They propped up their cheek with their palm and just watched as you turned that hum into a melody with a for once, at peace smile.
They really liked your voice.
TAMARACK BAUMANN🍂
She thinks you out-sing any famous pop star or church choir any day. She honestly thinks your voice is so angelic.
She loves it when you give her mini concerts while you two walk in the woods together.
I BET both my lungs that you and Tamarack have duets 100%
You two make a lot of music together and record it on one of her Opa’s camcorders.
Her Omi asks the both of you if you can try and cover a Frank Sintra song often.
If you do choir or singing lessons either at school or music hall then expect to practice with her nearly every day.
Tamarack can never duet with another singer because they aren’t you, and can never replicate the melody.
It was late afternoon, a few hours after school ended. Tamarack sat by her windowsill, reading a book about what and what not to feed forest critters when she flinched at the sudden pang of a pebble being thrown at her window.
She decided to look out and giggled seeing who it was, she opened the window and called down.
“MC, If you wanted to come in!… You could have just knocked!” Tamarack chuckled behind her hand, it always made her a little giddy when you would stand below her window like some Shakespearean love story.
“Nah! This is quick, just sit up there and listen!” You gave the ginger a thumbs up before pulling out a bulky boombox that may be older than some of the adults you guys knew.
“Pfft, What are you doing?” Tamarack kept laughing.
“I am going to sing something!!!” You yelled up before you pressed played and let the music play out a little.
Tamarack’s laughter quieted down at that, she paused for a moment before asking.
“Are you trying to serenade me?”
You also paused before answering. “Yeah, that's basically it”
You then lowered the volume of the old boombox and began to sing along with the song’s melody. You didn’t lose eye contact while you sang to her, so this moment felt special and intimate.
Tamarack put a hand to her cheek and watched down with an increasingly growing blush on her cheeks.
She listened to you singing to her and thought quietly to herself. ‘She didn’t deserve such an adorable gesture from you. You were way too good for her. You probably were…doing.. this.. to ..be ..n..ice-‘
Her self-deprecating thoughts were slowly drowned out by your singing, It was sweet of you. After all, Tamarack did love your singing.
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