#as soon as I start on them everything I ever learned about art flys out the window | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emillow · 2 years

Text

Author's Note: This story includes family drama, mysteries, slight homophobia, and GAY ROMANCE!! If you don't like it. Don't Read It. Based on my headcanon for the ending of QB Book, 2 cause PB sucks. Didn't have time to edit...too much school work...

"It's Now or Never"

After I got home. I was surprised to see my parents waiting for me outside the gate mansion, with smiles on their faces.

I haven't seen them this happy since we left Farmville.

"Bea, Anak. I'm so proud of you." My mom came rushing to me giving me a crushing hug. While my dad followed after.

"I heard from Sebastien, that you graduated as Summa Cum Laude. Congratulations! Sweetie. I'm proud of you." Am I hearing things or is this some kind of dream? My father whom I haven't spoken to in nearly two years came to congratulate me on the day of my graduation.

When my dear Aunt Bella passed away. Dad was devastated about losing his only twin sister. They were inseparable, even when he got married. Their relationship as siblings remained stronger than ever. Now that she was gone. My Dad immediately took over my aunt's company, with the help of my mom to continue her legacy.

Both of my parents graduated with a business degree in the same institution in Europe where they met and fell in love. When I was born they decided to migrate to the U.S and start a new life. Soon, my aunt followed to expand her business and help my family with the farm.

Growing up my aunt was pretty much involved with my life. She would frequently visit us whenever she wanted. She never got married nor have any kids. Instead, she spends her time showering me with lavish gifts on my birthday, telling me tales about her and dad as kids, and strangely hires a very strict private tutor to teach me about proper etiquette and manners for young ladies. I was even taught how to do martial arts, just in case, I got in a bad situation. Naturally, I passed with flying colors, even if I hated taking those lessons I did it for my aunt. After everything she's done to help me and my family, it's the least I could do.

Besides it's not like taking those lessons were in vain. It made me learn how to adapt and be smart around my surroundings, especially when I entered Belvoire University. Dealing with snobby, mean rich kids was a total pain in the ass. I had to fight and defend myself just so I could be on top. Once I was declared the new Queen B of Belvoire (More like the new student body president). I made sure to be fair with everyone, including the nerds and social outcasts.

Yeesh! That didn't sound right. I was once like them too. Maybe hanging out with the rich kids has been rubbing me off lately.

I only had one year to change things at Belvoir, since a certain she-devil made everyone grovel at her feet like some kind of goddess and messed up their lives if they dare to oppose her. And here I thought after dethroning Poppy from her position things would get easier for me, but nope another plastic poser...I mean new enemy has popped up out of nowhere to seek revenge against Poppy and take the throne for herself.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

X/Selene Mont- something,a.k.a Persephone Dalton.

The fake-ginger butchered her face with plastic surgery and faked her whole identity to destroy Poppy and unexpectedly me for her so called-revenge. I'll admit she's good at what she does but I was better. I played her own game against her by exposing her minions, her schemes, and turning her hacker into my ally. In the end, Persy's family opted to put her in therapy after her psychotic outburst at the Oculus Ball. Since then, her therapist and psychiatrist have deemed her "unstable" for the time being.

I kind of feel sorry for her.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My celebration was held at home. Nothing too fancy, just a simple family dinner with my parents. We've talked for hours, trying to make up for lost time. I discovered that my aunt's manufacturing company was thriving throughout the agribusiness community. In turn, I told them about the majority of my time at Belvoire, excluding all of my troubles and late-night rendezvous.

"Is that all?" My father looked me straight in the eye. I gulped looking sideways.

"Yes, sir no trouble or anything." I lied. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Bea, I know we haven't been the best parents lately, but we've always kept tabs on you"

My jaw dropped. What? But How? He must have seen my reaction.

"I have my ways, sweetie. Don't look so shocked." I felt heavier when my mom puts her hand around my shoulder.

"Beatrice Gomez Hughes." She called my full name with her sweet Filipino accent, indicating I'd done something wrong. My heart was beating fast and my head was beading with sweat. This woman was scarier than my father.

"I've heard you slept with one of your professors, not to mention hooking up with your other schoolmates; what if you got STD? And What is the T? Some kind of internet thing you used for clouts in social media?" Okay, she wasn't wrong there, her mother's instincts are spot on.

My mother breathe deeply, she looked guilty for some reason while giving me a stern look.

She wasn't done talking yet.

"And what's with you getting into fights with other people? You almost got expelled. If I'd known earlier I would've pulled you out of that school and transferred you to another university." I stayed silent as I nodded to all my mother's nagging.

"Relax mom, I made sure to use protection. For The T thing, it's simply a blog site for students to stay updated on the latest news and drama around campus. As for the fighting, I only did it to defend myself from bullies, they got what they deserved."Talking about my sex life with my parents was weird enough. Now opening up my past in Belvoir makes me want to sit up and leave the dining table. My father saw my discomfort and tried to console my mother.

"Stella, I think she's had enough. I, myself am dissatisfied with some of her recent activities, but she did well for herself. Remember where here to celebrate our daughter's graduation. She graduated Suma Cum Laude in her batch. Isn't that something to be proud of?"

My father gently massaged my mother's shoulder to ease her up. She sighed and breathe deeply.

"That's the problem with you Beau, you're too lenient with her." I gave my father a smile thanking him for rescuing me from mom's never-ending nagging.

"Don't think you're off the hook yet young lady. As punishment, you're prohibited to use the internet for a month." My jaw dropped.

Punishment? What am I four? And no internet for a month!? Hell no! How will I contact Poppy at this point that girl must be losing her marbles right now.

"Mom! One month is too much. I need a new phone and the internet to talk to a girl. It's an emergency."

"Not my problem. What happened to your phone?"

"I dropped it along the way, that's why I need a new one. Please this is important"

"That's perfect.No phone and internet for the whole month."

"Mom, you don't get it this is important to me." She eyed me with a questioning look on her face.

"How so?"

"Look I confessed and kissed a girl in front of everyone, and when you guys called I packed my things and leave immediately without saying goodbye to her," I explained, hoping she would reconsider my punishment.

"Alright, I'll lessen your sentence for only two weeks. Take it or leave it."

"Two weeks, but Mo--------" My mother glared at me.

"Fine two weeks then" I slumped down the chair in defeat.

"Now back to our topic. I believe this is the time to tell her Beau. She's old enough to know what's going on."

The atmosphere suddenly got heavier and serious than before.

"Bea, sweetie. There's something you need to know...about our family.

Sebastien was right. This was the biggest surprise that would change my life forever.

_____________________________________________________________

2 weeks later...

"Yes, Daddy I'm all set...Yes, everything is in check...Don't worry too much I've got everything under control...I promise I won't let you down...Okay... Bye, I love you." Poppy said as she hung her phone and tossed it in her queen-size bed, ever since graduation. She decided to move out of her parent's mansion and lived in a high-end apartment near her parent's working place.

Just about months ago, her father's company was on the verge of bankruptcy, her family struggled to pay their debts and Poppy feared she would no longer live the life she was used to, what she feared most was losing her main goal and that is to prove to her family, especially her father (more like step-father) that she was worthy of living up to the Min-Sinclair name.

She did everything she could to be perfect, to be everything she was expected to be as the heiress of both her family's company.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flashback

When she was young she heard her parents fighting in the dining room, her mother solemnly cried while her father was shouting furiously at her, showing her a piece of paper.

"She's not mine, is she?"

"Piers, I can explain please calm down. Poppy will wake up."

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ANNA GIVE ME ONE REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T KICK YOU OUT RIGHT NOW!!" Her "father" slammed his hand on the table, gnashing in anger. Little Poppy never heard her father scream like that before. Usually, he would smile, bring her gifts, and act as the doting father he was.

"For Pete's sake Piers you're sterile. We've been trying to get pregnant for years. The doctors told me I wasn't the one with fertility issues, it's you." Hearing this enraged Piers, he grabbed the wine glass he was drinking and smashed it against the wall.

"HOW DARE YOU? AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILY! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH A FUCKING NOBODY!"

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT ART LIKE THAT! AND DON'T YOU DARE YELL AT ME LIKE YOU DID NOTHING WRONG! I SAW YOU SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN PIERS, A MAN! YOU'VE BEEN GAY THIS WHOLE TIME SINCE THE START OF OUR MARRIAGE! HOW WILL YOUR FAMILY REACT WHEN THEY LEARNED THAT THE GREAT PIERS SINCLAIR IS HOMOSEXUAL?"

This made Piers shut up.

Little Poppy gasped, as she listen to her parent's dispute.

".... POPPY NEEDS HER REAL FATHER, NOT YOU!" It broke Poppy's heart to know that Piers wasn't her real dad. She closed her eyes, desperately praying that this was all a nightmare, but it wasn't. She slowly opened her eyes and saw her "father" raise his hand ready to hit her mother, and that was when Poppy had, had enough.

".....You little-" Piers was about to slap Anna when-

"DADDY STOP IT!" When Piers noticed Poppy in front of him, he stopped.

"Please, Daddy stop. I don't want to see you and Mommy fight anymore." She said as she tried to wipe her tears away. Piers look ashamed and guilty for letting his anger get the best of him, he assumed Poppy heard everything and kneeled to her level.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, honey, whatever you heard from me and your mother means nothing. You're still my daughter. You're still a Min-Sinclair." He reassured her as he hugged her tightly and gently stroked his little girl's hair.

Anna silently cried. She felt ashamed for letting her daughter see them like this. She went to her family's side and apologized.

Since that day the family of three went into counseling and therapy to fix their relationship, and it worked for the most part. Piers and Anna reconciled and act as if nothing happened, and Poppy was relieved to have her family back. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned as Poppy hoped they would.

Years later, Piers rose to become one of America's most prominent businessmen. He prioritized his work over his family. He constantly pushes Poppy to do well in school, never associate with commoners, unless necessary, always be at top of the social hierarchy, and, most importantly, never tarnish the Min-Sinclair name.

Poppy took this by heart and followed her father's orders to be the 'perfect' daughter she was. Eventually, it took a toll on her mental health. She felt drained from her father's demands and expectations. He was more concerned with his reputation and social status rather than her well-being.

She decided to find her biological father since Piers wasn't acting like the father he was years ago. All the counseling and therapies they went through were wasted. She tried to convince Piers to return to counseling but he dismissed her, thinking it was a waste of time and money.

She sneaked into her father's office to get all the information she needs, regarding her biological father, when she finally did. She planned a trip to New Jersey to meet him, it didn't take too long before her parents believed her lies. So, she set on her journey to meet Art Nakumara.

When she arrived at her location, she was filled with apprehension and dread. She would meet the man she had wanted to see for years. So, why was she hesitating? After all the work she'd been through just to get here.

Poppy breathe deeply and was determined to introduce herself, she wanted to see his reaction if she wanted her or even think about her, she needed answers.

A handsome Japanese man in his late thirties stumbled upon a young girl who claims to be his daughter. He was confused at first, but he let the girl explain by showing him pictures, and documents to prove she was his. Once he was convinced he welcomed his daughter into his life.

Poppy was happy coming to New Jersey. She had a great time spending and getting to know her real father. He was more open-minded, kinder, and gentle than Piers. The next few days came to a blur when she had to go home, but before she left Piers gave her all his contact information, just in case something happens, and a necklace to remember him by. The father-daughter had a tearful goodbye and promise to stay in touch.

Once Poppy got home, her parents were waiting for her outside their home with disappointment and anger in their eyes, especially Piers. They found out that Poppy had lied to them and went to see her biological father in New Jersey. How did they know? Before Poppy would leave home, Piers hired a secret bodyguard to look after her. And of course, the bodyguard told Piers what Poppy was up to.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The family of three had a heated argument about this, Piers scolding Poppy and threatening to disown her if she ever sees him again, and Anna stayed silent, disappointed at Poppy for not telling them.

Haven't they fixed this problem years ago? Piers thought but he was unaware of Poppy's feelings. Poppy cried and promised her parents to never do something like that again. As punishment Poppy was grounded for months and wasn't allowed to be alone, without someone supervising her.

-------------------------------

Poppy's punishment was lifted, and she was free to roam around New York. However, she was still restricted from leaving the city without her parent's consent, just to ensure she doesn't pull another stunt as she did months ago, but that didn't stop her from writing to her biological father, via email and letters. Thank God, her parents were horrible at technology.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present

It had only been a week since Poppy started working under her parent's tutelage, her parents showed her how things were done in their company. Mostly, it was how to deal with employees, wealthy business partners, clients, and possible investors. In just days she was accustomed to working at her parent's company, she did an incredible job managing the place. However, that wasn't the biggest challenge she had to face. Piers assigned her to take the lead in presenting their company to partner with one of the best directors in Hollywood for an upcoming film.

The meeting was a big success Poppy did her presentation flawlessly and convinced the director to work with them. She felt guilty all of a sudden, Piers doesn't have a clue that Poppy is contacting her biological father.

Piers was giving her the chance to show what she was capable of, and she exceeded beyond expectations. He was finally proud of her, she waited for this moment to come, and that's all she ever wanted, but the guilt is weighing her down.

Poppy flopped down in her queen-size bed, groaning in frustration, during these times she would text a certain brunette to come over to her dorm, for some important "matters". And in no time a tall girl would climb to her back window to make her feel better.

Whenever she was around Poppy always complained about her problems, she was always there to listen and sympathize with her, after they were done talking, they would end up in bed, clothes off, touching and kissing, fighting for dominance, due to her small stature she was always the bottom of their unique relationship, and surprisingly she didn't complain.

It became a routine for them, outside campus they were at each other's throats, inside her dorm they were enemies with benefits. That's how things were between them, nothing more than a fling, but deep down Poppy knew she wanted more.

Unfortunately, she was in denial of her feelings. Besides, Farmsville has reputation for being the school's idol/player, she's loved by students and faculties alike, and to be honest, who could blame them.

She was beautiful inside and out. She's the school's savior from her reign of tyranny, and she was always there helping people without expecting anything in return. She was selfless, kind, patient, diligent, and intelligent, she was like that to most people. However, she can be two-faced, depending on the situation she's in, and she's not afraid to play dirty if it meant protecting those she cared about.

For the past two years, she made her life a living hell to the point where she stoop so low to ruin her, despite her many attempts to bring Farmsville down she would always fight back and win in the end. However, she wasn't as cruel as her, when Farmsville learned her family's dirty secret she kept her mouth shut for her sake,

When she betrayed her, and hurt her, she would get revenge sure, but she wasn't evil. She was a goody-two-shoes saint who was the hero of the underdogs, and people love her.

Truth be told, she felt bad and remorseful, they were times she wanted to apologize to the younger girl, but she was too prideful. Farmsville was too forgiving, even if she was the cruelest person in the world, she believes that all people even the bad ones have good inside of them.

Any sane person would despise her by now, but she was different and it " infuriated" her.

Out of all the people she "dated" Farmsville was the only one who can handle her, and satisfy her. For some reason, Farmsvile can read her like an open book, and it feels like she's the only person who knows her and sees her for who she is: A vulnerable, lonely girl who wants to be appreciated.

She knows she wasn't the only person she slept with: There's Zoey, Veronica, Chloe, Luis, heck even her ex- Carter, Professor Kingsley, Plastic Fake Persy, and many more. She heard rumors that she was a "Sex Goddess" in bed.

A theory proved to be true by yours truly.

She felt jealous and angry that she wasn't the only one, wait why would she feel jealous? They weren't dating in the first place, her feelings were nothing to her, she only used her as one of her amusements, she was only a toy to be played with. After she was done with her she would find someone else to be her plaything.

She tried to convince herself many time that that's how she felt about Farmsville, but she knew better, she was confused with her feelings, and she didn't know what to do; it only got worse when Farmsville confessed in their graduation ceremony that "she was the one", Poppy being Poppy, turned red and denied everything, to prove Farmsville point she went down to the podium and kissed Poppy in front of the entire campus and whispered.

"Come on Poptart, we know this is what you want." She winked and went back to the stage to finish her speech. That was the last time she ever saw her, and speak to her.

Time went like a blur. After their graduation party, she suddenly left without saying a word to her. She called and texted her many times but there was no reply.

She went to Thomas and asked where Bea was, and he told her that her parents were calling her.

She asked Veronica, Chloe, and Carter, but they didn't know the full details of her so-called "emergency".

Next, she asked Zoey, she didn't know either.

Two weeks have passed and still no sign of Bea.

Veronica, Chloe, and especially Zoey have tried contacting her through social media, and her number, even they can't reach her. It's like she disappeared.

In just a short amount of time, things were changing too fast for Poppy. After graduation, she left Belvoire to start working for her parent's company. With the help of some secret business partners, her parent's company was saved from bankruptcy. Whoever they were Poppy's family was grateful to them.

For the past two weeks, Bea never left Poppy's mind. What did she mean by what she said back in their graduation ceremony? Was it a confession? Did she mean it? Even, after all, she put her through, did Farm Girl still want to be with her? She didn't know.

Poppy scrolled her phone digging through her Bea's Snapchat, Pictagram, and Tiktok. There was something about her social media account that made her feel a lot of things:

Jealous for seeing her flirt and make out with girls and boys in random places, well she is a player, but still, people keep coming back to her for more.

Awe and Attraction for seeing her pose like a professional model in one of Octavia Olivier's fashion show, she looked naturally beautiful (and handsome when she cross-dresses as a guy). Her figure was perfect not too skinny, nor fat. She was slender yet toned, and you can see her slightly defined abs when she worked out. She was tall about 5'8ft tall or slightly taller, the way she threads her short wavy brown hair, and the way she looks at the camera with her hazel eyes. God! her eyes were too mesmerizing and hypnotic.

And Sadness, loneliness, anger, and bitterness, were piled up in a bucket of emotions.

That's all she knew about Bea, but Bea knows more about her than her own self. To Poppy, Bea was still a mystery to her. She only knew the Bea from Belvoire. What was she like before and after she came to New York? She wanted to know.

It was already evening when Poppy realized she'd been thinking about Bea again.

"Shit! It's past eight, I better get the papers done before Daddy sends me another one tomorrow." She went out of her bed to get ready for work when all of a sudden her phone rang.

"Who would call me at this hour?". She went to her bed and picked up her phone. It was a random number.

"What the-? What is this some kind of prank?" Poppy had no time for jokes. She answered her phone with an annoying voice.

"Whoever the hell you are I don't have time for any of your-" Her heart dropped when she heard that familiar voice with a slight Midwestern accent.

"Hey! Pops you need to work on your anger and here I thought I was going to give you a surprise call."

Seriously!? After contacting her for two weeks and leaving her behind, she has the nerve to suddenly call her out of blue? Didn't Farm Girl know she sobbed her eyes out every night thinking she deserted her?

Poppy inhaled and exhaled to calm herself, it was only two weeks, yet it felt like forever. It was now or ever, Farm Girl will hear a lot from and she means "a lot" so her ears would bleed.

Author's Note: Sorry it took a while, chapter 3 and 4 are on the way.

#choices #pixelberry #bea hughes #poppy min sinclair #poppy x bea #poppy x mc #queen b choices #poppy weekend

28 notes · View notes

robmillistw2 · 1 year

Text

55 years young: the true masterpiece of psychedelia

When I was 14 or 15 and had decided that the late 60s (at the time about twenty years previously) was the thing, but had exhausted all my Dad’s Stones & Cream albums and bought a few of my own from the same acts (and a couple of Hendrix LPs), I set out to discover more from the era. I can honestly say I wouldn’t be here writing this now if it wasn’t for a very, very cheap double LP compilation called ‘Back On The Road’ which I bought. It was a glorious sampler masterclass in almost everything: it had softer, folksy moments from Fairport, Roy Harper and Nick Drake. It had the heft of Sabbath, Deep Purple and Free. It had the familiarity of Cream and Hendrix. It was my first taste of Traffic & Spooky Tooth. But it was also ocean-spanning: it had the Velvet Underground, the Quicksilver Messenger Service - and Jefferson Airplane.

Despite my first taste of ‘Paranoid’ and ‘Black Night’, ‘White Rabbit’ transcended them both in terms of sheer power. I loved it: it was a bolero, reimagined by the acid rock generation. And so it was I set off to find out more about ‘the Airplane’ (as we will call them henceforth) and really began a love affair with the late sixties Bay Area arts and culture that, circa 32 years later, still rages on in my heart.

It didn’t start well. The liner notes to ‘Back On The Road’ made it clear that this band was at the very top of the family tree of what led to (then relatively recent) unavoidable atrocities ‘We Built This City’ and ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’. For a while, ‘White Rabbit’ was ruined - it was unmistakably that same, powerhouse voice: nobody sounds like Grace Slick. But I soon shrugged it off as nonsense and blamed the times, concluding that I couldn’t let ‘Valerie’ and ‘Higher Love’ put me off ‘Paper Sun’ either.

Sadly, it didn’t improve immediately: Jefferson Airplane actually reformed for one album in 1989 just as I set out to discover them for myself. It was of course this album that all the shops stocked, and I bought it. Aside from a couple of moments, it sounded way too much like Starship and not enough like 1960s San Francisco. I later learned that the couple of moments were basically Hot Tuna and the rest of it was a deluxe big-budget Starship-type operation. Jorma Kaukonen summed the reunion up almost word-for-word as I felt the album to be at age 15 in his excellent auto-bio ‘Been So Long’. Buy a copy.

I went to a better record shop the following week where - joy of joys - they actually had a Jefferson Airplane section. Kid in a toy shop moment: I held in my hands and gazed in wonder at copies of ‘Volunteers’, ‘Surrealistic Pillow’, ‘Crown of Creation’…marvelled at the flying toasters on ‘Thirty Seconds Over Winterland’….and then caught sight of ‘After Bathing At Baxters’ for the very first time.

youtube

All the others just vanished into the background. This was it: the iconic American stars and stripes bordering that great image: the old biplane made out of a typical wooden clad Victorian Haight-area house, soaring over a consumer-satire landscape. Now, this was 1989 and vinyl albums from the sixties had largely been robbed of their original gatefold sleeves - or in some cases only ever got them in their home country - and it would be another ten years before I got my hands on a USA original. In fact, it turns out that the (probably Dutch or German) pressing that I got brand new was better than the UK original sleeve which lacked the red, white and blue borders and was distinctly drab.

A brief history lesson: ‘After Bathing At Baxters’ was the third album by the Airplane, and the second with Grace Slick on vocals. The previous release ‘Surrealistic Pillow’ was the breakthrough, with the two bona-fide hits ‘White Rabbit’ and ‘Somebody To Love’ which set them apart from the rest of the freewheeling, often uncommercial (or rather, ‘unconcerned with being deliberately commercial’) San Francisco scene.

youtube

The rock and roll history books will tell you that ‘Pillow’ was a huge leap forward from the debut ‘Jefferson Airplane Takes Off’. Well, yes - the sound had a harder edge and not just in the vocals; it also had hits and was a true breakthrough for the band - but it was still an album of short, structured songs with a nominally folk-rock sound. For my money, the difference between ‘Pillow’ and ‘Baxters’ is immeasurably greater and possibly the most significant audible development of any one band from one album to the next that there has ever been. Even ‘Rubber Soul’ to ‘Sgt Pepper’ was a neatly calibrated climb (and that’s assuming you don’t believe ‘Revolver’ was the truly impressive one of the three; I do).

Hits. That’s what happened - and so Jefferson Airplane were given virtual carte blanche by paymasters RCA Victor to make their next record. It took most of 1967 and I’m not sure that RCA were ever ready for the results!

I’m not going to go through it track-by-track; I want you to do that for yourself if you have a mind and thus won’t pepper this missive with spoilers. Let’s just say it is one of the most successful attempts to capture the psychedelic experience on vinyl (which was always a challenge for the artists who were playing freewheeling, stream-of-consciousness improvised concerts by the seat of their pants, then faced the auspices of the studio).

Look out for Jorma Kaukonen ‘inventing Sonic Youth’ in the fuzzed and multitracked guitar solo of his own ‘Last Wall Of The Castle’. Feel the mood as Paul Kantner’s Rickenbacker XII sets up an eastern-influenced mini raga to usher in ‘Wild Tyme’, which then explodes into a mass of joyous harmonies celebrating the times. Be spellbound at Grace’s icy wit and ‘take no prisoners’ attitudes on ‘Two Heads’ and ‘Rejoice’. But above all, don’t drop your bacon sandwich during ‘Spare Chaynge’ - a wild, improvised jam between Kaukonen, the greatest bass player on the planet Jack Casady and drummer Spencer Dryden.

youtube

No man is an island - he is a peninsular.

Happy 55th Birthday to my absolute favourite long-playing record; the one that made me want to be a musician and not just a record collector. Thanks for everything.

#Youtube

3 notes · View notes

321spongebolt · 2 years

Photo

In a year from today, my OC, Ozzie Karate will be 20 years old. Here’s his bio down below. More images of him will be coming soon.

NAME

Ozzie Karate (奥兹空手道 - Ào zī kōngshǒudào)

FRANCHISE

Nickelodeon’s “My Life as a Teenage Robot”

BIO

Ozzie was born and raised in China where he learned the ways of Martial Arts, and through destiny was gifted with an ancient ring that would transform him into a half-human half-machine black belt. His heroic acts I assumed would’ve impressed the emperor around the time before Ozzie met Jenny. The emperor even made arrangements for Ozzie to marry her daughter, who was to become empress as soon as her father stepped down from the throne. But before the two could kiss, a terrorist attack happened on that same day as the wedding. And Ozzie was forced to leave China with the remaining survivors to North America in some kind of a giant ship.

The ship boarded at Tremorton City, and Ozzie was depressed. Not only was his home under attack, and likely destroyed, but he was really looking forward to marrying the princess. All that Ozzie could do was start life over now that he still had his ring. Some time after doing his heroic deeds for the folks living in Tremorton by fighting crime, Brad and Tuck would eventually befriend Ozzie. And Ozzie in turn could help train the two brothers one-on-one. Soon, the three meet Jenny “XJ9�� Wakeman for the firs time. With Ozzie seeing Jenny rescue Brad from falling out the window after her arm popped off, Ozzie’s impressed. Soon, Ozzie transforms into Ozzie Karate and he and Jenny fly off into space and they both destroy the asteroids. After saving Tremorton, Jenny is impressed with Ozzie, and Ozzie in turn is just as impressed with Jenny as earlier, hinting that their feelings could be more than just friendship.

Ozzie would also befriend Nora Wakeman, Jenny’s human mother, and the inventor of Jenny. Upon learning a bit of Ozzie’s origins, and how he feels about Jenny, Nora allows Ozzie to be her trainer, and gives him her blessing to be Jenny’s boyfriend. Later, Ozzie and Jenny would befriend Sheldon. Despite Sheldon being jealous of Ozzie getting Jenny, Ozzie would sometimes be selfless enough to let Sheldon date her, but Ozzie will still keep an eye on them for Jenny’s sake.

ABILITIES

[NORMAL OZZIE]

Karate-based attacks

Transform into his karate form with his ring

[OZZIE KARATE]

Transform back into normal Ozzie with his ring

Flight (With his jetpack)

Invisibility (Ozzie can say “Go go gadget cloaking device/stealth” to turn himself invisible, allowing him to sneak attack enemies without them noticing.)

Super Speed (Works while flying and running after saying “Go go gadget hyper speed”)

Popping weapons out of his body through voice command (”Go go gadget [insert gadget/weapon/mode]”)

Karate-based attacks

Supernatural Martial Arts-based attacks

Slow down time around him (Basically, the world slows down around him, and Ozzie can fight at normal speed while everything is in slow motion.)

Summon his ancestors (Ozzie’s ancestors are spiritual Chinese dragons based on various dragon elements like fire, ice, plant, lightning, and a bunch of others.)

Bullet Dodge (Paying tribute to “The Matrix”)

Quick Reflexes

Sword-based attacks (Pulls out his two swords from behind his jetpack)

PERSONALITY

Ozzie can be described as philosophical, honest, wise, caring, and protective for the ones he loves.

Whatever you do, do not give Jenny a hard time or abuse her, or Ozzie will strike as either himself or in his black belt form. Jenny would do the same for Ozzie.

LOVE CONNECTION WITH JENNY

Jenny enjoys fighting alongside Ozzie. Ozzie even helps Jenny learn new moves she didn’t even know she could do. Jenny and Ozzie will usually hold hands as implication of their love status. In fact, not once do Ozzie and Jenny ever get into a fight at all.

Some running gags include Jenny and Ozzie holding hands without noticing until they do, or Jenny and Ozzie about to kiss each other’s lips until something interrupts them or they stop and shy way. Other times, Jenny and Ozzie can be a little clumsy to each other, either bumping into each other’s heads or other things. This is so they can hide their love for each other when they’re in public. This can also imply that they’re shy to admit they love each other.

DEATH

In 2016, I thought about the idea of perhaps Ozzie dying to give Jenny more motivation to work alone. I was thinking that a proper way Ozzie could die would be in “Escape from Cluster Prime”, where Ozzie would sacrifice himself during the final battle. Ozzie would die from the ship’s explosion. As soon as everyone got to hug Jenny, maybe Sheldon or someone else would point out Ozzie’s unconscious body. And in alarm, Jenny would rush to Ozzie to wake him up and tell him they won. However, Ozzie’s eyes slowly close, and Ozzie would be dead. Not only does this break Jenny’s heart and make her cry, it also breaks everyone else’s hearts.

A funeral would be held for Ozzie, and his body would be buried. As soon as everyone sadly leaves, Jenny starts to follow along too, but a voice stops her, and she sees Ozzie’s spiritual form to reassure her that he'll always be there for her. Ozzie and Jenny would sing “If I Never Knew You”, and Jenny gets the encouragement she needed to continue being the hero she's always been, even without Ozzie. Jenny says she won’t let him down, and Ozzie nods while vanishing into the spirit realm.

Despite his death, Ozzie’s ring is still kept at the hands of Jenny, who can still use the ring to summon Ozzie’s spirit form to talk to him about stuff.

INSPIRATION

The inspiration for making this character came from the fact that in real life, I have a huge crush on Jenny, and it clearly shows if you’ve paid attention. It’s kinda like imagining myself with Jenny, and fighting alongside her. Even going as far as telling her my love for her. I based my character off of Inspector Gadget and Buzz Lightyear. Inspector Gadget because the live action movies were guilty pleasures to me, as was the basis for how I would use Ozzie in action. Like Inspector Gadget, Ozzie also says “Go go gadget”. For Buzz Lightyear, I based Ozzie’s personality off of Buzz as he was depicted in “Toy Story 1-2” and “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command: The Adventure Begins”.

DEVELOPMENT

Originally, the character was suppose to be from Egypt, but after deciding that my character is a Martial Artist, I changed his nationality to Chinese. Thus, the character’s origin began in China, and then later moved to Tremorton City.

Ozzie Karate © 321SPONGEBOLT (Me) for "My Life as a Teenage Robot"

#my life as a teenage robot #my love for Jenny Wakeman #Ozzie Karate #my oc #self insert #colored pencil art #pencil art #my art

1 note · View note

literaila · 3 years

Note

hi i have a fic request: the reader and spencer were dating and instead of emily dying the reader “died”. and during the time that the reader was presumed “dead”, spencer met maeve and they started dated and everything and when the reader came back there was a ton of tension and awkwardness. and after maeve dies the reader comforts spencer and like they grow closer and get together? ty ily<3

the art of knowing

spencer reid x gn! reader

warnings: criminal minds themes, angst, fluff, death. all that fun stuff.

a/n: its four am. i take no credit for any of this. thank you for the request, my love.

he couldn't let go of that tiny piece of paper.

vaguely, he thought it might smell like you, still.

through the ceremony, through the tears, the stains on the vinyl flooring that everyone was walking on, the fresh grass, and the silence that followed when everyone had said goodbye-- he just couldn't let it go.

it was just a small piece of paper. a hastily scrawled-out letter to him, from you, that was on something only slightly bigger than a sticky note. he knew the words by heart, and even if he didn't, he could’ve guessed what it said.

he knew as soon as he saw it on his desk, as soon as he noticed the lone flower, the organization of the flies he’d left sprawled out. he knew that you’d been there, and he knew that you were gone. how could he not have known?

he couldn't get the question out of his head, and he couldn't get this paper out of his hand.

“goodbye, spencer” was quite possibly the last thing he would ever hear from you.

no, it was. he knew that.

god, he was sitting at your funeral, watching other people cry over you. he’d been asked to say something and he’d refused because you wouldn't want him crying on some podium in front of everyone else. because he wanted to save that for when he got home. he knew all of these things, and yet he still didn’t understand.

he had to face the truth, teach himself the reality.

he was still clutching the paper when derek came over, when he offered spencer a hand on the shoulder, his never-ending support.

spencer was trying to wipe away any hint of water that might be left on his face even though he knew that it would only irritate his eyes more. that he would cry some more today anyway.

“i’m sorry,” derek said instead of asking him what everyone else had asked him today. as if there was a difference in the responses they might get.

“you didn't do anything,” spencer said instead of telling him that he’d already said that. that he already knew. that he was sorry too.

“i didn't do enough,”

“there wasn't anything else you could do.” spencer didn't know why he was reassuring him, but, at least it distracted from the flowers everyone was laying on the ground.

“reid…”

spencer stood up, he clutched the paper in his hand harder, willing himself not to think of those last words again. he didn't look at derek, but he didn't walk away. his body was numb, his fingers felt like nothing. withdrawal, he could have told you. this is what heartbreak was. withdrawal from chemicals he’d grown dependent on.

but somehow, the science wasn't enough.

“i feel like i should have known,” he whispered, letting his eyes sting again. he didn't have the energy it would take to blink the tears away.

“known what?”

the scoff that followed the question was anything but kind. “two years. two years spent with y/n and i didn't even get the chance to know-” he could feel the words leaking out of his chest, flowing like blood, like there wasn't enough pressure. “a whole different life i didn't even know about.”

he was mad. he was so angry. he felt so guilty, but he couldn't feel anything but mad at the little piece of paper in his hands. the goodbye you had known he would need.

“we all have secrets,” derek said, another reassurance that just made spencer want to scream.

“yeah, and i’m supposed to know everything.”

it was just a tiny piece of paper. it wasn't you, it wasn't anything like the person he had known. you had died, you were dead, and you had died someone that spencer had never even known.

really, how couldn't he have known?

he’d known about addiction long before that day. long before he could ever properly understand what it was-- that you could be addicted to a person, too.

but, he also knew, he learned, that you could stop it. that you could put addiction in a drawer far away and move on with your life-- that you would take it out sometimes, just to look at it, and still it would be okay. that you could have more than just a second chance.

he knew that, now, then, before all of this, even.

spencer was a genius, and he knew now how grief worked. he knew how the passing of time could really heal a person.

he knew that he was falling in love with a voice.

that there were multiple stages to addiction.

and one of those was leaving you behind.

he… he didn't know who this person was.

he didn't, he just didn't understand who was standing in front of him, who was there, why you were standing there right in front of him.

awkwardly smiling.

you didn't exist anymore. not to him-- not to anyone. you were dead, you were sitting in the ground somewhere, you were a ghost flying above his head, telling him it was okay to move on.

you were there, standing in front of him.

he didn't know you. he didn't know those eyes, and he didn't know that smile, and he didn't know who he was when you were here. he didn't know how you were here.

so he asked.

“how?” he swallowed, tried to get that dried feeling out of his mouth.

“y/l/n’s identity was strictly ‘need to know’ and Paris was a safe place to be reassigned until their security was assured.”

apparently, it was now because you were standing in front of him.

you were standing in front of him, and he wasn't addicted to you anymore. he didn't care, and he couldn't feel anything, even when he willed himself to. he felt like the corpse, like he was the one who was burried in the ground-- like you were supposed to be.

but, no. no, because you were alive and he felt nothing.

and when you spoke, his heart didn't race. when he looked at your eyes, he didnt even classify them as familiar. they were something else, you were something else.

he knew beause he had your last words memorized, and these certainly weren't them.

and god, he certainly didn't know you.

it didn't take long to understand. not for you, who had known spencer better than you’d known anything before. not for you, who used to study his face, watch his expressions until you got bored-- just for fun.

it didn't take long to understand that something had changed, to see the difference in the air between the two of you. to feel it.

there was something different in his eyes, and, something had changed. even from the first moment he looked at you, that first pass of his eyes, even then. you knew.

how couldn’t you know?

they were different-- the brown, the swirl of colors, the familiarity. it was different. it was strange and terrifying, the change.

those eyes weren't looking at you the same, he wasn't looking at you like he used to.

and you knew that, you could feel it. so half an hour later when you were all walking out of the room, you had to chase him down. no after how determined he was to get away.

“spence-” you followed him, focused on nothing else. “spencer, hey-”

he turned around. you were shocked, by his eyes, by his frown. you took a step back, and you felt more than you possibly could in a hallway at the bureau.

“what?” he asked, and you weren't sure. what else was there to say? what were you supposed to know? how were you supposed to guess what had changed?

“i…” you willed your eyes not to sting, willed yourself not to be affected by this certain feeling in your chest. “i missed you?”

and maybe it was the wrong thing to say, maybe it was. but the scoff from spencer, the scoff hurt.

“i missed you too, when i thought you were dead.”

you stepped back, hurt, concerned, anything but the happiness you’d hoped to feel when you finally saw him again. his words were unfamiliar, his eyes were unfamiliar, and you still didn't know what to say.

how were you supposed to fix this?

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking down. you felt small now. you didn't understand, no matter how much you thought you might.

you’d died, you knew. you were gone for months, but you’d missed him. you’d spent every day, every single one of them, hoping, dreaming, wanting to go back to him. you wanted to touch him, to hear his voice, to listen to him even if it was over a cellphone. you wanted to be alive to him, to be his still. you just wanted him back.

you’d spent every day wanting him back.

but now, now all you wanted to do was to feel bigger. you wanted to see him smile, to know what had changed. you wanted the truth and nothing short of it.

“y/n, i…”

and this. this wasn't anger. his voice, quiet as it always was, beautiful as it always had been, desperate like you’d never heard before-- his voice was full of guilt, of shame you couldn't recognize.

“i’m glad you aren't dead.”

“ha,” you deadpanned, angry now at the sound of his voice. angry now at the feeling building in your chest. you weren't used to him anymore, you didn't know him the same anymore. but still, you knew too much.

“really, really glad, but i’ve,” his voice cracked, his eyes fell, his body was slouching. you knew how to read this, you would’ve known even if it wasn't him.

you didn't want to hear the next words, but you had to, and you did.

“i met someone- i-”

and maybe it was grief, maybe it was anger, maybe it was desperation, but you smiled. maybe it was an effort to be enough.

“it's okay, spencer.”

those words were such lies, but you had to believe them, you had to feel like you believed them. you owed him that.

“if you’re happy, then it's okay. that's all i’ve wanted, all i could hope for in-” you swallowed, took a breath that was just enough to keep you from falling on the floor, from begging at his feet. “paris,” you smiled wider, you took a step back, but this time just to give him space. “its okay,” you repeated.

and that had to be enough. it had to be enough because you were walking away.

but, really, spencer was the one who was leaving you behind. you should’ve understood sooner-- because how could you not have known?

you didn't bother to look at him.

it had been three weeks. three weeks since you’d broken up-- officially for you since you’d never actually gotten the chance to before, but you supposed you couldn’t actually break up with a corpse. three weeks since you’d smiled and walked away.

it had to be what was best for him. if spencer could find someone who made him happy, if spencer could find someone in the minuscule months you’d been gone, if spencer could move past you, then he deserved to. you couldn't be the one to stop that, and you wouldn't be mad because, honestly, you’d done it to yourself.

and he couldn't be mad because you weren't. because you’d let him go and he had no more reason to be mad. he could even go back to pretending you didn't exist if he wished to.

so you were both content. you both worked with each other, you both avoided eyes. you couldn't bother to look at him or his eyes when all you wanted to do was scream at the feeling in them.

because you’d known that feeling--before. because you’d been on the other end of that feeling before, because your eyes had mirrored his before, and because you knew how that felt.

and you were desperate to get it back. you wanted to pull him back, force him to stay in the cocoon of the two of you. you wanted to claw at him and never allow him to move away.

but that was selfish. you’d already been selfish enough. you’d made him grieve you, and now you had to return the favor.

the difference between the two of you was that you didn't know enough about addiction. you didn't know that despite the time that had passed, your withdrawal had never actually gone away. you didn't know how it worked and so you didn't know that it was still there.

you just saw the look in his eyes. a look you’d used to create. the look of love, of admiration, of hope. love, you used to feel, you think.

when you looked at him all you could see was the feelings he had for someone else.

so no, you didn't bother to look at him.

here was what spencer knew about grief: it passed. it was just withdrawal until it wasn't. love was just another addiction, just some more chemicals in your brain, just an idea that you clung to.

it would pass, he knew.

but how could he have known this would happen again?

it would pass, eventually.

but how was he supposed to live through it twice, but really only once?

because you were still here. because you were alive, and not dead, and you were walking him home. you were making sure he got there safe.

and you weren't dead, but she was.

and how was spencer supposed to cope with that?

how could he grieve, when he really didn't know how?

if this had been a fraction of what it was like when spencer thought you died, if this was anything like that-- you couldn't bear to see it.

it was like repetition, it was like deja vu, like a memory.

you saw his eyes, and you saw his hopelessness, and you saw yourself reflected back in the colors of his face. you saw the grief, the pain, the anger, the loss.

you couldn't bear to watch this, not then, not now. not when you still felt angry, not when you were still angry.

they had all pleaded with you-- go talk to him, they said. talk to him, you’ll understand.

but that wasn't fair because spencer hadn't died for you. you’d left him and spencer had survived. it wasn’t fair because you still hadn't learned how to deal with any of it. you still couldn't let go, move on, as he had.

so then, why were you standing in front of his door, holding a card addressed to spencer from all of your friends?

well, you couldn't bear to stay away. and you almost couldn't bear to face him when he opened the door, but somehow, you did. somehow, you spoke first.

“hi, spencer,” you said, waving at him, moving back a little, just to give him some space.

“what’re you…” he looked around, looking for someone with you, someone else. his voice was rough like he hadn't talked in days. he looked like a skeleton, standing there in front of you. “...doing here?” he looked you up and down, but he wasn't really looking at anything.

you noticed the hand he had on the door, the subconscious way he had begun to close it, the hand he was holding over his chest, blocking you from him.

“the team sent me, they’re really worried,” your voice was shaking, and you had no idea why. “i brought a card from them, and- and i wanted to see how you were doing.”

his brows furrowed, like what you’d said didn't make any sense. you copied him, concerned with your own sanity. wondering again, why you were here?

“no offense,” he started, standing up taller, looking and sounding anything like spencer, anything but pleasant. “but we aren't really friends, are we?”

there was some irritation rolling up your spine at his words, but his face was innocent. he wasn't being malicious, he wasn't trying to make you feel ridiculous, and he wasn't trying to hurt you anymore. he was too kind for that, you knew.

you took a breath in, tried to smile. “i guess not,” you sighed, looking down at the ground with unmistakable shame, but then you looked back up. “but, i care about you. i want to be here for you. i- i want to be.. here.”

and no matter how closed off he looked, no matter how strange his face looked, no matter how much you knew he didn't want to, he opened the door and let you in.

and that was how it started. your friendship with spencer.

really, who could’ve known?

"i like your apartment," you said while the two of you walked through it. while spencer led you through whatever this strange place was.

"yeah, well, i couldn't keep the apartment after..." he trailed off, no remorse, no feeling in his voice.

you went to sit on his couch, strange and different, but he stayed standing. he paced around the floor, mumbling things under his breath you couldn't understand.

the tightlipped smile you had on your face was doing nothing to conceal your emotions.

"after i died."

he looked up at that, shocked by your crudeness. you rolled your eyes, pulling off your jacket.

"that's a shame, i really liked that kitchen."

spencer bit his lip, continued his pacing, muttered "i know" under his breath. his irritation would've made you laugh if he wasn't looking so insane.

you saw the bottles on the table, the mugs laying around, the papers and books thrown across the floor-- all the things you didn't want to see, you saw them. and you almost couldn't bear it, almost tried to pretend you still hadn't noticed them. but, you were familiar with this.

he did this before when he was still in love with you. when he was stressed.

despite how hard you might try, you couldn't just forget everything about him.

"do i need to ask spencer?" your voice was softer now, quieter. you knew him, and he knew what you were asking.

"do you really want the answer, y/n?" he retorted, rolling his eyes.

maybe sometime, you'd tell him that his defense mechanism was sarcasm. maybe sometime, you'd let him know how annoying it could be.

"it's not going to be what i want, but, neither is anything else." it was a subtle remark about the situation, you hoped spencer hadn't heard those last couple of words. "i don't want this for you, spencer, but i'm here to listen, and so i will."

he stopped pacing, stopped stepping over books and around paperwork. he stopped moving, and it reminded you of that night.

it reminded you of him collapsing in on himself, it reminded you of the anger you knew you didn't deserve to feel, the relief you knew you would never get.

it reminded you of further back when all you could do was smile and let him go.

you'd known him for so long, but you'd never seen him broken like this.

your thoughts distracted you from spencer, who was sitting next to you now, running an agitated hand through his hair, turning himself away from you.

"do you know what grief does to the body?" he asked.

yes, you could have answered. yes, im feeling it right now.

but instead, you said "no," and waited for him to continue.

he did, begrudgingly, a few moments later. "the shock factor causes a spike of adrenaline in your system-- a lot like someone gets in a bad accident --and then when the adrenaline wears off, your body has no choice but to succumb to the pain."

and you, well, you could have told him that, but you let him continue.

"a lot of people have documented actual inflammation which attributes to health issues after a loved one has..." he stopped there. he paused, and his eyes were gone. his feeling was gone, his words were gone.

you could practically see him disappearing on the couch, right next to you.

you could see him slipping away, the reality sinking in further than it could before, and so, you started talking.

you had to say something, and this would have to be enough. your remorse for him would have to be enough to get you through this.

because otherwise, how could you stand it?

"do you ever get that moment in the morning, when you've temporarily forgotten everything bad and it just feels... peaceful?" the words were a shock to both of you. the sound of your voice.

you weren't looking at him, but the wall, willing yourself not to feel that reminder. not to think of any of it. "do you ever get that?" you repeated, eyes off.

spencer nodded, small, hard for you to see when you were actively trying not to look at him-- but enough to continue.

"it's like our conscious and subconscious make a pact, to give us that split second of peace." you laughed, bittersweet, and looked at him. you turned towards him, making sure he was looking at you.

making sure he couldn't tell what you were thinking about, that this was about anything but him.

"when that relief happens, spencer, you have to grab hold of it-- just hold onto it."

he stared at you, brows furrowed.

"you reach, and you grab it, and you keep it." you nodded along with your words, feeling that sick crawling up your chest, feeling that grief along with all the guilt.

this wasn't fair to him, you knew that, but if this could help-- even a little bit --you had to try.

"why...?" spencer tried to start, clearing his throat to keep his word from breaking.

"that's how you get past it." you motioned to him, to the floor, to the things all around his home, and finally, to yourself. "passed all the shock, and adrenaline, and all the sick."

spencer was looking down, not at you anymore, not at anything.

you used to know those eyes, you were sure. you used to understand every thought that ran through his head, you used to remember the person you had been with him. you used to be able to think of him without cringing, without that sick feeling in your stomach, wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

you used to understand, and now you didn't. but this had to be enough. this had to be enough for you, to be here with him.

"okay?" you asked, softer, gently. "okay?" you repeated.

and he nodded.

you went over once a week. just for the first couple of months. you went over to spencer's, you watched movies, you held his hand and squeezed his shoulder.

you managed not to tear yourself into pieces, managed to actually smile when you were around him. you managed to do it all, managed to do enough to keep the nightmares away, to keep those circles from under his eyes.

and that's all you wanted, really. that's all you needed. as long as spencer was okay, okay as he could be, as long as he was coping, moving on, doing everything a normal human being should. as long as he was doing all of that, you didn't need anything else.

and, and if there was a tiny piece of you, locked away in all the dark parts you tried to keep secret-- if there was a piece of you that was hopeful, that was holding onto something other than just tiny moments, if there was a piece of you that thought maybe he would just-

if there was any piece of you that thought differently, well, you would ignore it.

you went over once a week, just to make sure he was okay.

and really, where was the harm in that?

"'the shining' tonight?" he asked, walking alongside you, carrying the coffee you had just bought for him.

"why do you insist on watching that at least once a month-"

"this is actually only the third time,"

"it was enough the first two." he smiled at you, and you couldn't keep the grin from slipping back.

"sounds good," he concluded, walking along.

and if you followed him, well, you were just being a good friend.

"do you think i should get a haircut?" you asked, walking around his desk, prancing more like. prancing like he was your prey and you were about to eat him.

the thought made you giggle.

"your hair looks fine," he answered, not really paying attention. instead, he was marking something off of a page, flipping to the next one in barely a second.

"real nice, spence. as long as you think it's fine-"

"did you know that the average person gets around 150 haircuts in their lifetime?"

"yeah, spencer, and all those people have dead ends," you groaned and he hummed.

and if you liked the way the light was reflecting off of his face, hiding the shadows you knew were there, well, you were just bored.

"spencer-" he was running away from you, running away from whatever ghost was following him.

you had to stop chasing him, but somehow, you knew you wouldn't be able to even if you tried.

"spencer, will you just-" you tried again, running far enough ahead so that you could stand in his way.

you couldn't bear to see the blank look in his eyes, the emotionless void you would never get used to.

"yes?" he asked, like you were a child like you were a little kid and you needed him to fix something.

it was condescending and rude and you just wanted to yell at him-- to yell at yourself for being irritated.

"are you okay?" you asked instead. you hated the words, but you hated this feeling more.

"i'm fine." and then he attempted to get past you.

"spencer, those girls, they were all-"

"all what, y/n? all shot? all murdered?"

"that's not what i mean-"

"that's the job, y/l/n. you should know that."

he was gone after that. disappearing, like you both had before.

and, if you wanted to scream, to bang your fists against the wall until it broke, to beg him to just listen to you, to sleep in his bed and watch him while he slept, well. you were going to ignore it. grief wasn't an object, and it wouldn't go away.

you would know.

some nights, particularly on the ones when spencer was busy, when there was a case and you weren't supposed to be sneaking into each other's hotel room, on those nights you felt colder than you ever had before.

you felt that feeling again-- the one spencer had taught you about.

the sick that almost made your insides collapse. the sick that was going to fill you to the brim until it couldn't anymore, numb you to the very edge. the sick that had been there for over a year, a long year full of death. full of life and nothing but destruction. the infection that should've been gone ages ago.

on those nights, you tried to hold onto reality, tried to remind yourself of what had actually happened.

it was all a chain of events, really. and it was truly all of your fault.

you couldn't be angry because if you wanted to be angry at someone, it had to be yourself.

it couldn't be spencer, or maeve, or hotch, or the universe.

just you.

and the sick would pass, you knew. the next day when spencer would hand you your coffee mug, when he would say something-- anything --and you would listen. it would all go away.

and if those feelings, if that reality that you kept trying to avoid, if that wouldn't go away, well. you were going to have to let it go because you couldn't keep going like this. pretending.

honestly, how couldn't you know?

recently, the effort you'd put into keeping at least a three-foot distance between you and spencer was tireless.

to give him space, obviously. to avoid bumping into him when you were walking, to keep yourself from tripping into him.

it was just convenient, you told yourself. nothing else to it.

except, on this night, after a long day at work, after spencer had sat down right next to you with a book in hand, so much closer than you wanted. well, you couldn't just simply move away.

there was no space on this couch anyway.

technically, you were supposed to be watching a movie. technically, spencer had picked this one out-- something about the discovery of water, you thought --and you had no interest in it. technically, he was completely ignoring it.

before, two years ago-- almost, that was. almost two years without him. before, two years ago, you would've bickered with him about it until he gave in. until he put down the book, clicked a button on the remote you'd misplaced, and lean in so close to you that you could barely breathe. it was a routine, you were sure, and back then you wondered if he brought the book out just so you would tease him about. like it was an excuse to kiss you if he needed one.

not that you were thinking about that. not that he was doing it again. not that it mattered, honestly.

just a memory that hit you, is all, as you stared at the screen, pretended to listen to the words when all you wanted to do was put some distance between the two of you.

it was getting hard not to feel that pull, not to let that feeling trap you.

"spencer," you whispered, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

he hummed instead of answering, didn't look up from the page.

"you're cold,"

he quirked an eyebrow at you, turning towards you only slightly. he was only a little bit closer now, but it only proved you were lying some more.

he was desperately hot.

"do you need a blanket?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

at least one of you was.

"no, just maybe a little more space. don't want to get hypothermia," you coughed, an attempted laugh maybe, and tried to move away.

"you're not showing any of the symptoms of hypothermia-- are you fatigued, or is your heart racing?"

you would've laughed if he wasn't moving his face closer to yours, trying to check your pupils discreetly.

"um, no, spencer. i was kidding, i'm just going to--" you moved, an inch, and then another, smiling at him.

it wasn't too suspicious. and the movie was halfway over.

"okay,"

and you looked back at the screen...

only to feel his eyes on you a moment later. you turned your head slightly. he hadn't picked his book back up, hadn't moved an inch from before.

"aren't you going to read your book again so you can keep bothering me, reid?"

you didn't need to look to see the smile. "is it bothering you?"

you threw your head back, turning so he could see you roll your eyes. his brown ones, impossibly bright, impossibly beautiful were staring back at you, mischievous. you bit the inside of your cheek and then laughed.

"no, of course not, spencer." you turned towards the tv again. "i am very interested and equally involved in the discovery of water," you waved your hand for him to continue.

"that's not actually what..." he trailed off, freezing at something.

"are you okay?" this time, you didn't hesitate to move closer to him, to place a hand on his shoulder and get him to look at you.

his heat was excruciating and addicting. a dangerous combination.

but your concern beat your stupid feelings, and so, you didn't move away.

"deja vu..." he said, head-turning, eyes looking down on you.

"what?"

"we've done this before," was all he said, continuing to stare like he didn't know what was happening. staring at you with strange eyes, strange wide eyes.

it was only scaring you a little bit. you didn't understand.

"we've never watched this movie before," you reassured as if he was worried about that. as if that was the problem.

"no," he said, moving a foot closer, breaking the boundary you had put between the two of you. "no, but we've done this before."

he was too close, now.

"spencer... what?" you looked from the screen to him, nervously, trying not to feel intimidated, small. he hadn't been this close in so long.

"just-" and then he was leaning in. he was leaning close enough for his breath to trail across your skin, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his cheek, that you could barely see his eyes anymore.

close enough to kiss you.

but, you couldnt breathe like that.

and so, with all the grace you had, you moved back. so far back, and put your knees up as a barrier between the two of you. anything to keep him away.

"um, spencer i don't know if you forgot-" he tried to interrupt, but you weren't paying attention. "i died, remember? and then- and then, um, you moved on and, we haven't done that in a long time and-"

“y/n-"

"-we're just friends, right? and friends don't really get that close- we shouldn't get-" but he was, he was getting that close, and your stuttering was slowing because you couldn't focus on anything but him.

"i remember," spencer whispered, but his eyes weren't on yours anymore. no, they were on your lips, staring down at the place he hadn't bothered to look at in two years. at your face, which he hadn't seen until now.

"we cant-"

"can i kiss you?" he asked, instead of paying attention, instead of remembering, instead of understanding that this was going to tear you from the inside out.

"i don't think that's a good idea, spencer, i really don't..." you trailed off because he was moving back.

"i'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to," he promised, looking so beautiful, speaking so plainly.

and those words, they made your heart start beating again. because who was he to assume?

"no! it's just- we haven't kissed. we don't kiss, anymore."

it was a painful reality, and you almost felt bad for saying it when you saw the wince on spencer's face, but, it was the truth. you couldn't deny either of you from the truth.

"i know it's familiar, and maybe comforting, but i don't think it's a good idea." you breathed in once, wanted to scream at yourself for saying those words. wanted to scream because you'd wanted to kiss spencer since the moment you'd stopped.

"no, that's not why i want to kiss you," his voice broke on the word kiss, and you attempted to scramble yourself on the couch, to move so that he wouldn't have the opportunity to convince you.

it wouldn't take much.

"it'll just hurt us both more, spencer." your voice was monotone because you weren't sure if you could get this out any other way. the stinging around your eyes had to be fake because you weren't crying.

honestly, you didn't care.

and then, spencer got up, walked away.

and you had to care. you had to care because, despite the fact that he'd left you, that you'd been grieving for him for the last two years, that you missed him more than it was possible to miss another person-- despite all of that, he was your best friend.

he'd become your best friend, had been that since you'd first met, and you couldn't let that go now.

so you followed, you followed again, and called his name again, and begged him to come back, for the first time out loud.

but when he came back out of his bedroom, all you heard was the crinkling of paper.

you just saw spencer's never-ending serious face, but, mixed was the tiniest him of embarrassment. the pink splattered across his cheek, the hesitation to look at you.

he was holding something.

"what's that?" you asked, distracted from the issue, momentarily focused on just him and not the past.

except, when he held it up, you could see that it was the opposite.

"it's the letter you wrote me when-" he swallowed, smiling a sad smile at you and then looking down again. "when you left."

you'd left it on his desk, so he'd find it first. so that he would be the first one to know.

"oh," you breathed out, shocked, sick.

"i kept it because it was the last piece i had of you," he folded it into tiny pieces, then unfolded it along the creases. it looked like a practiced motion "i used to keep it in my shirt pocket, but when i met maeve, i put it in my bedside drawer."

goodbye, spencer. you'd wrote. you'd cried while writing it, cried while you drove away, cried when you woke up in the hospital, cried every night after you came back.

it was excruciating to leave without spencer, but you'd learned it was worse to have him leave you when you were still there.

you'd have traded that feeling for anything else.

you breathed in, shakily. you didn't like these memories, you didn't like that he was digging them back up, but you had to listen. you wouldn't leave, now.

"i put it in my bedside drawer because it's important to keep mementos-- its actually a method of coping, and some people believe it strengthens relationships, and you were gone, but i thought that-" he stopped. took a deep breath in, closed his eyes and counted to three. you could tell, you knew him that well.

you smiled, despite the stinging in your eyes, the pricks on your skin, the crawling up your stomach.

"i kept it because it was the last words i got from you, and i couldn't let that go. i still cant, y/n."

you couldn't process these words, you couldn't process this feeling. it was detrimental, and you had noting you could say.

"i don't know if you can ever stop loving someone, i mean," he snorted, looked right at you like he didn't know what he was saying. "i know you can learn to love someone else, but, i don't know if you can ever get rid of that feeling... of that-" and he was still looking at you, but he wasn't talking anymore.

and you weren't breathing because this was a dream, because you would not allow yourself to wake up from this, and you would not start crying in front of him.

you were selfish selfish selfish.

"i don't know how i couldn't have known i was still in love with you, but i didn't, and now," his eyes, his voice, his entire demeanor softened. he was molding, changing right in front of you. it had to be impossible. "i do. i know."

spencer had never spoken this much, he didn't confess, he didn't not know things, so this had to be fake. it had to be.

"spencer," you gasped out, shocked by the sound of your own voice. shocked to find out that you still couldn't breathe.

shocked to watch him move forward, smile the same smile you thought you might've fallen in love with.

"you know now, so, can i kiss you?"

you couldn't remember the last time the two of you had kissed. you thought that it might've been right before bed that night, that you might've kissed him on his forehead while he was sitting on his desk, that he might've kissed up your neck while you cuddled each other to sleep.

but you couldn't remember.

and so, it was painful to even utter the word "yes".

it was painful to feel that again. that lovely, lovely feeling.

his lips against yours, softer than you could remember, slower than you'd ever imagined possible. so much better than you could've thought another persons lips could be.

and you wanted to gasp, to breathe, but you didn't dare move away from him.

this was too good, this was too waited for, this was too painful to move back.

and so you didn't and neither did he. neither of you could.

you grabbed at each other, threaded your hands through his hair, held onto his face like you would never let go, and you kissed him like you loved him.

because you did.

and then, when you did break, when you were sure, you moved back and couldn't stop the slip of "spencer" that came from your lips.

your puffy, recently kissed lips.

and when you finally got the courage to open your eyes, the most beautiful smile you could've seen was there. waiting for you.

"you're my moment." spencer said, he whispered as if it was a realization.

"what?" you asked, still breathless, still addicted to a kiss you hadn't allowed yourself to think of, really, in two years.

"that moment in the morning, the moment of peace when everything is still good... you're my moment."

your heart stopped again. stopped, because this was you, these were your words coming from his lips.

"do you remember?" he asked, thinking of those words from those months ago, those words you'd told him in an effort to comfort yourself. to remind yourself that he was still there.

you nodded and spencer smiled.

"you're my peace and my relief, y/n," he pulled your face closer to his, leaned in, and it was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

his smile, his lips, his words.

this was a strange feeling.

"i'm holding onto you, now. i don't think i can let go,"

these weren't his words, but they were enough.

you were smiling, you realized. even with the tear stains down your face, even with the puffy lips, even with the heartache and the addiction, even with the years between the two of you.

you were smiling.

"i love you, spencer."

and so was he.

because really, how couldn't you have known?

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fan #spencer reid sad #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Reid #fanfic

342 notes · View notes

harfanfare · 3 years

Note

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

#i wonder too #malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #anonymous

775 notes · View notes

ballorawan740 · 3 years

Text

SCP Scenarios: SCP 1678 (Unlondon) x Reader (REQUESTED)

Source: Photo

Requested by: @lilithisfurry

Ok, so I've done it!!! 😃

Before any of you say a thing, I know that there are 2 humanoid 1678s which are 1678-A (Bobbies/Policeman) and 1678-C (Wretch) and an avian type one (1678-B)

The one I'll be using is 1678-A (Policeman) because it takes too much time to write 3 versions of this SCP (But I might consider writing the other 2, but it's highly unlikely)

First Encounter

When you first met this humanoid, you were sent into SCP 1678 for some test

The police humanoid emitted a loud whistle as the speakers screamed ‘‘Police! Halt, criminal!’’

A couple of others who were with you attempted to shoot them with their guns but were quickly shown to be resistant

Luckily for them, they managed to plant some explosives which caused damage

The other 1678-As went in and attacked them which wasn't unusual because of their hostile nature

However, for you, one of them managed to capture you and ran

For some reason, it showed some interest towards you and warded off the other SCP 1678-As off from you

They seemed to understand that you were "marked" and left you alone

That particular 1678-A managed to get you out from harm and back to your foundation

The foundation staff did wonder what had happened and you told them everything with proof since you were wearing a bodycam

They've soon noticed that this particular policeman was softer towards you as you bandaged up its broken arm

Your feelings for him

After the incident, you were sent back down into 1678 for further research and you bumped back into the sane 1678-A

You only remembered that it was him because of its gesture and its unusual markings which distinguished him from the others

Somehow, you both were able to communicate with each other

The researchers realised that they seemed to understand human speech, mainly English, however, they seemed to understand other forms of European languages as well

Moreover, this particular Bobby also understood sign language and used it to his advantage to communicate with you, displaying some fondness for you

The researchers were reluctant to let you carry on with this test as they've noticed that you've reciprocated the same gesture

Let's just say that the researchers and the other Bobbies agreed to the fact that it was strange for you and that special policeman to be dating

His Confession

Over time, as you both became closer, he worked up the courage to sign to you that he cares a lot about you

And you've found that rather cute and returned the gesture

Which then made you both a rather unique type of couple

The other 1678-As were concerned and curious about this new relationship and so was the Foundation

The researchers had decided to borrow your newfound partner and took him to his new room (No, you've basically kidnapped him)

Needless to say, the other Bobbies were somewhat furious while others were glad that he's gone since he betrayed them for not killing you

Your new partner was somewhat homesick, so you've decided to paint some victorian style art for his cell

Date

From time to time, you both were shoved back into 1678 which just so happens to be the main place for you both to date

Some of his friends were relieved to see him and some would even offer you a hug

You obviously returned the gesture for being so flattering and because your man could finally get laid (NGL yall still be touch starved to the point you'd even date strange beings and objects)

Dates with this Bobby would be rather interesting

Like, he'd hold hands, but probably wouldn't start it during the beginning of the relationship because he's just shy (Just like everybody else here)

Since his face is all bandaged up, you wouldn't really be having many kisses

But he'll make it up with hugs instead

His fellow friends would probably enjoy bothering the both of you while you're there and would pull pranks on you both

If you both were in the foundation, you'd be chilling in his cell and talking bout your experiences in life (Not like you'd have much to say, get back to studying/work)

The researchers may poke fun of you both but would generally leave you both alone

When he gets jealous

Now, depending on who he's jealous of, he would react differently

If it was another fellow 1678-A, he would be slightly hostile and assert his dominance over the others

However, if it was a member of the foundation or anyone else that's not 1678-A for that matter, he'd be even more aggressive and would probably try and kill them

Unless you manage to stop him then it's fine

This Bobby would be slightly possessive because you're the only other person who genuinely cares about him other than his 1678 friends/family

If he sees you having a friendly chat with another person/SCP, he would wrap an arm around you just so the other person knows you're taken

I think over time he learns some boundaries so even if he is aggressive, he wouldn't just automatically send the dude you're with to hell

Unless that person is a crappy person then good for them

Yandere!1678-A

This yandere right here would literally kidnap you and take you back into 1678

He'd make sure that you would never find a way back into the foundation which does concern the researchers, so they send a group of D-classes and MTFs to find you

If he was feeling nice, he would let you wander around 1678 but he would most likely be next to or near you at all times

If he was having a bad day, he would tie you up in a random building and made sure that nobody can get in or out

Would most likely be even more hostile to everybody else around you

If you haven't behaved, he'd probs use something sharp to inflict pain on you

If you managed to behave, then he loosens the ropes around your arms, legs and neck

Probs would feed you tiny doses of 1678-D but only a bit because he's aware of how that affects the bodies of ordinary humans

Their younger sister

You and the other 1678-As would literally be families at this point or friends with the ones who are lurking away from the main area of 1678

And since you were rather new, you were treated as the younger one (That's also because you're the youngest one)

Would probably protect you from everything

You would be spoilt to death and wouldn't have to hurt a fly

One of the policemen would get you a 1678-B as your personal pet

And it's rather fond of you so it basically follows you around

Would most likely intimidate your dates if you have one

Even more so if they're a human/SCP from the Foundation

If it was another member of 1678 then they're more chill

However, if you were dating 1678-C, they'd be quite reluctant for you to be in a relationship with her but would let you anyways

When their kids say their name for the first time

Would 100% be crying internally and shocked

Like, it happened out of the blue since you both were just relaxing

Word would spread across the whole of 1678 because of this

And not because you both were a unique pairing in the first place

1678-A would try to teach your child some sign language in contrast to you who would teach them to communicate verbally

Most likely try and teach the kid to defend themselves and probably attack others

But you wouldn't let him because they were too young (Just like you lot!!! Shouldn't y'all be studying in primary or high/secondary schools?)

The other 1678s would literally yeet their way to meet the kid just so they can teach your child to say more words

And to swear of course

When his S/O is angry

Oh dear

If the foundation doesn't know any better, they'd just assume that all the Bobbies were the aggressive ones

And oh boy were they wrong

You were the one who needs a chill pill

Basically, some guy tried to hit on you and wouldn't stop

So you just casually gave him a taste in his own medicine

Which were a punch in the face and a kick in the nuts (Kids, don't do this to a guy unless he really deserves it)

He somehow got back up and carried on harassing you

Your man was just strolling around the park until he saw the commotion

He had to literally hold you back and made the guy run for his life

Which was a shocker since it's usually the other way around

And of course, everybody inside 1678 heard about the news and cheered on for you while others just ran since they didn't wanna have the first-hand experience with your anger issue

When someone tries to steal you away

Oh this man right here would gather all his police friends as well as the birds to hunt down whoever stole you away

He would be furious to the core and rightfully so

The foundation was informed of this and they didn't blame this SCP

And that's because the person who stole you was from the Chaos Insurgency

Both GOIs hated each other's guts so the foundation just kinda let 1678-A hunt down the guy

And he did along with the MTFs

But was met with you standing over the guy's dead body

Then everybody realised that your man taught you how to protect yourself

And you did it so perfectly that even 1678 was intimidated af

Nobody wanted to mess with you and your partner was relieved that he taught you self defence

When his pregnant!S/O gets hurt by accident

This particular 1678-A that just so happens to be your partner, is rather shy and introverted

Nad although he does his 'job' well, he would rather just stay away from any contact

Until he met you and you became pregnant

This 1678-A would be slightly more protective but would let you have some space

And because of this, you managed to give yourself a papercut

Which was met with a furious policeman

But was cooled down when you explained your injury to him

He was giving you a huge lecture about your safety and how not to get hurt because you're carrying his baby

Wouldn't leave you alone ever again

Even if that means he would have to sit by the corner at all times

Would send his mates to come over to check on you if he wasn't there

Meeting a dragon hybrid child fem!reader

Definitely would be curious about you since they mostly interact with Foundation staffs

Probably would try to attack you but instead got burnt

1678-A would definitely notice your strange appearance and that you cry lava

Would feel bad so he'd try and comfort you

This then leads to you both being rather attached to each other

This particular 1678-A would have to bribe the others to keep you

The foundation realising this would happen

Probably would let you stay there for research purposes

They would most likely help level up your telekineses

Treats you like their own child and would be extremely protective

Most likely would have a heart attack every time you show kindness towards foundation members instead of attacking them

Every time you're in danger, the ones attacking you would soon realise that they've screwed up

Because the SCPs can hear you cry which would summon a whole bunch of them

When he accidentally kills you

He was basically chilling with you until some MTF members arrived to take some samples for testing

They were attacked by the other 1678-As and retaliated

This chill guy would lead you to safety before attacking the remaining MTFs

You realising what has happened decided to try and help out

You noticed that one of the MTF members were about to shoot your guy and managed to throw the gun out of his hand

1678-A notices and tries to attack the member but instead killed you

The remaining MTF members flee as he mourns your death

He would be even more vengeful and aggressive to the foundation members

Which does scare off the other Bobbies

Stayed in one of the abandoned houses to cry alone

Yandere!1678 - A x Evil!Reader

I'd say aside from his yandere self and the fact that he's only more aggressive to everyone else aside from you and giving you some scars, he's pretty dense and thicc in the brain

Probably wouldn't notice that you were working on them for a project in the GOC

You were able to get away with a lot of things because of your small stature and innocent appearance

Definitely managed to fool this yandere!1678-A because of your appearance

You could be just as vicious when you want to be

Yandere!1678-A soon realises that you were just using him for some experiment and were angered to the point of no return

Would most likely try and hunt you down

But since you've already got enough information about this SCP, you were able to devise a plan to leave

Manages to catch up to you but you were fortunate enough to know enough self-defence tactics to ward him off

You never came back to him and he was depressed for all of eternity

Trying McDonald's Sprite

You were requested to bring some ordinary food to 1678 as a test

And you've decided that you wanted to bring some Sprite with some Apple pie, mozzarella dippers and pancakes (They're my soul food from Mackies ok? Don't judge)

When you arrived in 1678, that one particular policeman who is attached to you for some odd reason was curious about the food

Of course, he would need to take off the bandage on his head to taste the food but not before some bribery from you

He reminisced about the food since he loved eating them before he turned into 1678-A

Sprite, however, was slightly different

He never tried them and was surprised with how good they tasted

Most likely would ask you to get more for him though

Foundation staff would be rather conflicted but allowed you to reward him with Sprite and some food

Only whenever he behaved well though

When his kid swears at him

You should've seen the look on his face (oh the irony)

You both taught your kid verbal and non-verbal communications with some common sentences people would say

But never have either of you taught your kid how to swear

Kinda just happened and 1678-A was about to go into cardiac arrest (Pun intended)

Would hunt down whoever taught them that depending on the severity

Like if the kid was using a ton of swearing in a sentence and was directing it to either of you, 1678-A would kill the guy

You were more of a chill type of parent

But would recommend the kid to stop swearing sine it's rude

Most likely wound ground the kind for a week tbh

When the reader scares him (Child!Reader)

Well, let's just say you managed to make the policeman play hide and seek with you

And you were the one hiding since you secretly knew that you were a professional at it

So you made 1678-A to find you

And although he's pretty good at catching his victims, he couldn't find you (Cuz y'all be so short)

Like he was literally in front of you and he still couldn't see you and you even giggled

So you've decided to jump on him

And oh boy was he about to scream out for help

But luckily he didn't cuz the others would whoop yo ass

Probably wouldn't give you a lecture but would need a while for his precious heart to not go yeetus the fetus

He would probably yeet you though tbf

When the reader pole dances/aerial silk dance

1678-A probably would have some ideas on what pole dancing is

Maybe not as much with the term aerial silk dancing but would soon understand when he sees you dancing

Probably thinks that you're trying to fondue with him if you're pole dancing

Definitely would be in awe when he sees you dance with the aerial silks

Would have a difficult time mimicking you if he ever wants you to teach him

Has definitely fallen 1000 times while pole dancing and broke his arms while dancing 10 ft off the ground

If the others inside 1678 see you dancing, he'd be in a blushing mess, especially if you were dancing to certain kinds of songs

Would most likely tell you to dance for him privately so there's no peeking

Having a Pregnant!S/O

Would most definitely be on the guard more since you're carrying his child

1678-A would most likely follow you around like a well trained and clingy German Shepard

You'd most likely have to tell him to tone it down because you're pregnant, not some delicate flower

Would most likely do whatever you tell him to do, even if it means hurting himself as long as you're safe and sound

Definitely would make sure that another 1678 would be around you at all times when he's away from you

1678-A would occasionally rub your stomach and sing victorian era songs

Sometimes he would bring you some of your favourite foods

When you try to commit suicide

When he hears the news he was devastated

He literally ran 69 miles just to see you

Would give you a big boi lecture about doing that

Nearly had his heart jump out of his body

Would constantly follow you everywhere after this

He's basically your bodyguard at this point

Would bandage up your wounds

Makes sure that you're fed well and all and would give you random gifts out of the blue

Would most likely ask the other Bobbies to care for you if he's not there and would even give you 1678-B

Asks the Wretches to keep a lookout to make sure nobody hurts you

Having a hopelessly romantic/easily flustered GN!Reader

This particular Bobby would most likely be just as easily flustered and hopelessly romantic as you

I'd imagine him trying to make the first move and you both being in a blushing mess

You both would exchange little gifts every now and again

Everyone else just teases and ships you both

You both loving each other unconditionally and constantly worrying about each other when you're both away from each other

This Bobby would definitely protect you from the MTFs and/or D-classes from attacking you

You would make a deal with the foundation to keep your guy safe and sound

The foundation witnessing how lovey-dovey you both are and just dies of cringe and sweetness overload (but not as sweet as out 999)

#scp #scp scenarios #scp x reader #scp headcanons #scp x reader headcanons #scp x reader scenarios #scp 1678 #scp 1678 headcanon #scp 1678 scenarios #scp 1678 x reader #scp 1678 x reader scenarios #scp 1678 x reader headcanon

169 notes · View notes

asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

Confession prompt from this list

“Just listen, real closely, alright. And stop laughing.”

It’s late.

It’s a fancy neighbourhood. And Gavin doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing there.

The building is taller than any he’s ever visited, let alone lived in. There’s exotic plants in the lobby and jazz music playing in the elevator.

Trust the plastic prick to manage his finances this well.

Gavin gets to the top floor. He pauses to take in the abstract art on the walls.

They can afford to put Manfred paintings in the hallway? Holy shit. I should turn around and go home right now.

He comes to a stop in front of a double-door. The only one on the floor.

Penthouse? Damn, Tincan…

He starts to reach for the door bell, but then pulls back.

This is crazy. What am I doing?

He spends a few minutes floundering and is just about to walk shamefully back to the elevator when a crashing sound resounds from within the apartment.

“Goddamnit!”

Gavin smiles to himself. His clumsiness and colourful language have fully rubbed off on his partner. Cyberlife’s deep learning algorithms were no match for the company of Gavin Reed.

“Janice, you come back here right now!”

Gavin frowns. He’s heard plenty about the feisty cat but never understood why she had a name befitting an old office secretary. He didn’t understand a lot of things about his partner… but he supposed that was part of the appeal.

Another crash. A loud feline yowl. An exasperated groan.

Is he trying to bathe or skin his cat?

Gavin waits it out as the meows and grunts and crashes continue.

He feels a bit like a creep, eavesdropping on his partner through the door, but he honestly doesn’t know what to do next. He’d worked himself up after a few whisky shots with Hank… the old man convinced him to finally go do the deed… and then all his confidence drained as soon as the autonomous taxi rolled up outside the glittering residential complex. His old insecurities came back in full force.

People like me don’t belong within a mile of this postcode…

What was I thinking?

People like me don’t belong within a mile of people like Nines.

The door suddenly swings open violently.

“Jenson, if it’s about the fucking noise again, I swear to RA9! You are two floors down! How the fuck can you-”

Nines breaks off as he registers the identity of the man lurking outside his door. His blue eyes widen in surprise. Gavin stares back in equal surprise.

The android standing slack-jawed in his doorway looks nothing like the stoic, snooty RK900 that Gavin has come to know and love.

His dark hair hangs loose around his face… he’s bare-legged, actually in his boxers… and there’s a long slit ripped into his thin white t-shirt. Gavin is also a cat-owner. He knows the look. But never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined it on Nines.

“Um… hi …”

“Gavin! What are you doing here?”

“I… was in the neighbourhood.”

Nines nods slowly and Gavin kicks himself mentally.

“Just wanted to say hi. And now I have. Bye.”

Cheeks burning, he’s halfway through turning on his heel, when Nines reaches for his arm.

“Hey wait!”

And before either can say anything else, there’s a flash of black fur shooting though the crack in the door.

“Fuck, Janice!”

Gavin drops to his knees instinctively and deftly traps the rambunctious little animal. He stands up with a grimace.

“You sure she’s a cat? Acts and smells like a dog.”

Nines rolls his eyes and takes his pet back.

“She got stuck on top of my kitchen cabinet and fell in the compost box when I tried to get her down.”

“Man, I keep telling you to buy her a treehouse. She likes exploring.”

“It’ll ruin my whole aesthetic.”

“Can’t be worse than the respect Janice shows your decor today. Get one. I’m telling you. Asshole stopped shredding my curtains immediately when he got his.”

Nines shrugs noncommittally but his LED cycles yellow in a manner that tells Gavin he’s ordering a kitty treehouse immediately.

Janice struggles in Nines’ grasp, clawing at his ruined shirt. He glances down and tosses her back into the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him. He looks back at Gavin, arms folded over his chest.

“As much as I need it, I’m guessing you didn’t come here to give me pet advice in the middle of the night.”

“No…”

“Then what’s up, Gavin?”

He stares at his feet. The alcohol haze that brought him to Nines’ doorstep is clearing. Under the glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above them, Gavin feels very stupid.

“I… it’s nothing. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Gavin, my scans are telling me all kinds of things right now… but I’d rather you tell me yourself.”

“What?”

“Yeah sorry, I forgot to disable my facial analysis… emotion recognition… and um… pheromone detectors…”

There’s a knowing look on Nines’ face and Gavin feels so damn small.

Guess I shouldn’t bother taking the elevator down. I’ll just jump.

“Tell me, Gavin. Before Janice chews through all the cushions on my couch.”

“I… Nines...”

“Gavin.”

There’s silence, even from within the apartment. Nines’ eyes briefly dart to the door, scanning right through it to check on Janice no doubt, and flit back to Gavin. A teasing smile is playing on the corner of his lips.

The whole game is up. He already knows. Just tell him.

Gavin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Should I go wash the compost off my cat first… or are you planning on telling me sometime tonight?”

His eyes fly open to see Nines stifle a giggle.

What a cocky prick!

Several moments pass with Nines’ mirth steadily increasing and Gavin’s shyness transforming into annoyance.

“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

“Why?”

“Goddamnit Nines.”

“You’ve never visited me before. I have no idea why you’re here. The least you could do is give me an explanation for showing up unannounced and interrupting my night.”

“Alright, you prick. Just listen, okay. Just listen, real closely, alright. And stop laughing.”

Nines’ hand actually comes up to cup his mouth as his frame shakes with silent laughter.

“You got a lot of attitude for someone getting their ass kicked by a tiny kitten.”

Nines doubles over and holds up a finger, actual tears streaming down his face.

“Oh my god. You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe I was worried about coming here. Shut up for a second. Shut up.”

Nines props himself up against his door. His chest is heaving and he looks ready to burst into another fit of giggles, but he manages to hold it in valiantly.

Gavin clears his throat. He’s come all the way and he’s going to say his piece, fears and insecurities and everything else be damned.

Just as he opens his mouth… Nines pushes himself off the door and reaches for his face. Then suddenly, somehow, he’s being kissed.

Plush lips cover his own, and his eyelids flutter shut as Nines pulls him in. By the time they part for air, both are panting and intertwined in the entranceway.

Nines bumps his nose against Gavin’s.

“So did I guess right? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

Their eyes lock for a moment and laughter threatens to bubble up once more. Lips trembling, they both manage to quell it. Foreheads touch and each man’s gaze dips back down to the other’s mouth.

They start to lean back in… and then there’s a spectacular shatter of glass from the other side of the door… an accompanying screech… and absolutely no chance of escaping the hilarity that bursts forth once more.

#reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #gavin900 #dbh nines #upgraded connor #dbh rk900 #dbh #gavin x nines #rk900 nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh writing #dbh fanfic #my writing

176 notes · View notes

rmnamjoons · 3 years

Text

Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat. You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

#ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #namjoon smut #bts smut #rm smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #my writing #namjoon fic #*

952 notes · View notes

yakuly · 3 years

Text

Now playing: Fly me to the Moon - cover by: Young K

0:24 ━━●──────────── 1:36

⇆ㅤㅤㅤ◁ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ▷ㅤㅤㅤ↻

ꨄ Kim Hongjoong

↬ A very soft boyfriend;

↬ Treat you like a princess;

↬ Likes to be with you 24 hours a day;

↬ When he needs to start those preparations for the comebacks, he love when you surprise him in the studio;

↬ Pretend he doesn't, but deep down love when you force him to leave the studio, and rest;

↬ Love when you lie down to sleep together, and start talking about your day;

↬ Write songs for you, and especially about you;

↬ Art-loving couple (any type of art);

↬Gives you gifts without a special date, and they are all made by him;

↬ Helps you with anything you need;

↬ Both of you like to learn different languages and do it together;

↬ He makes surprises for you by speaking words at your language randomly;

↬ The first I love you came from him, and in your language;

↬ It didn't take the boys long to find out about the relationship, as Hongjoong kept talking about you;

↬ So when you officially told them, the only reaction they had was "they finally decided to speak" (but of course there were warm congratulations from them);

↬ Likes the friendly relationship you have with the boys, and the way you help them take care of them;

↬ Both of you decided to tell both families on the same day, and because of the distance you've made a video call together, and after everyone got confused, you explained and it was just a party;

↬ He's moderately afraid of your father, but you always assure him that it is bullshit, as he and his mother are very fond of him (and it is really true);

ꨄ Park Seonghwa

↬ Is the most romantic boyfriend you've ever had (or would dream of having);

↬ He is living his first life *, so he lives everything intensely, especially his romance;

↬ Likes to use cute nicknames, but he preferres "Darling" (or "jagi");

↬ Likes to buy you your favorite jewelry, and does it without even thinking about your times;

↬ Even if you complain to him afterwards, all he does is smile sideways, rub your hair and leave a kiss on your head;

↬He praises you from minute to minute and out of nowhere.

↬ Sometimes you show up in a room wearing your comfortable clothes, little tidy and he looks at you as if it were the most beautiful diamond he has ever seen, he pulls you around the waist and tells you while looking you in the eye "you are the most beautiful person of this world ";

↬ Your dates are 50/50, or he takes you to an extremely elegant restaurant, or he cooks for you (and often with you);

↬ He loves taking you out to dinner, and having the expensive clothes he gives you, but he secretly loves even more staying at home, cooking with you, while listening to his favorite playlist of calm songs;

↬ He's always touching you, and doesn't even notice. Sometimes you are doing different activities, and his hand will automatically search for you;

↬ You support him a lot with the group, and always try to help him relax during the comeback season;

↬ When this time comes, he goes straight to your home, where he finds a warm home, with freshly made food, a hot bath and back massages;

↬ He thinks about the future, and know that although the conversation has not yet arrived, they both dream about the wedding;

↬ The first person in the group who told about the relationship it was to Hongjoong, who got scared at first, but soon congratulated them and threatened Seonghwa;

↬ And once, when you hoth were in his room together, believing that there was no one in the dorm, they talked about telling the others, Wooyoung came in without knocking and saw them both. In a matter of seconds he spread it to the entire dorm;

↬ They have been told to families, but not yet to the fans, but he plans to tell someday, and he knows it is soon;

ꨄ Jeon Yunho

↬ An a very excited boyfriend;

↬ He would do anything for you without even thinking twice;

↬ Whenever you guys are together, he has a huge smile and that silly look;

↬ Loves to hug you, due to the height difference;

↬and you don't deny it, because his hugs are always the best;

↬ Likes it when you ask for his help to pick up the things he doesn't reach (and he often hides more things at the top just for you to call him);

↬He likes to be useful to you;

↬ But let's not forget that he is also very energized;

↬ Then your sweet and calm boyfriend, becomes a child, teasing you non-stop;

↬ Loves to hold your hand, no matter where they are, and with whom they are;

↬It's always asking you to play video games with him, doing Aegyo to get what you want;

↬Harry Potter marathons are mandatory, and if you don't like it, it pays off with lots of hugs and kisses, and then your favorite movie;

↬Take you to see him dance, and ask you to accompany him too;

↬ Do special little dances for you;

↬He unintentionally released it to the boys they were dating;

↬He inadvertently told his own parents that he was dating you;

↬He almost inadvertently told the fans that you are dating, but the boys manage to stop him beforehand;

↬When he tolds you about the accidental ads, he thought you were going to be mad, but you started laughing before saying "I was going to tell you that I inadvertently told my parents about us"

ꨄ Kang Yeosang

↬ President of the club of timid boyfriends at the beginning of the relationship;

↬He has that "bad boy" fake mood, but you soon found out that in reality he is just a baby;

↬Love your hugs;

↬Love your smell, He's always glued to you, smelling you (but not in a strange way);

↬ He is very romantic, likes to watch romance movies, even writing down ideas for future meetings;

↬ Likes to match clothes with you - especially if they are black;

↬ Not a big fan of public displays of affection, but he is always around to take care of you;

↬But when you guys are alone, do not give up a kiss session;

↬It seems not, but loves big daddy jokes;

↬It took him to tell the boys, but when he done it, everyone stay shocked;

↬Want to tell the parents before telling the atinys, but want it to be perfect;

↬Want you to be 100% comfortable with all the steps you take together.

ꨄ Choi San

↬ King of affection;

↬ Loves being with you;

↬Not even a little bit ashamed of showing affection. Even if someone tries to tease you ... * Coff * Wooyoung;

↬The most proud boyfriend in the world, lives to praise you;

↬Loves going out with you, whether for planned things or just going out to buy snacks on the corner;

↬Hand in hand + cute kisses on the cheek

↬Lazy days are a must;

↬He knows very well when you are not feeling good, and take care of you as the most precious thing in his life (which is true);

↬ Loves when you take care of him too;

↬ Sings for you 24/7;

↬Also likes to pull you randomly to dance close together;

↬ He buys thousands of teddy bears, and help you choose names. He says that they are god children, while they cannot have "little humans";

↬Hates to stay away when he has to prepare for the comebacks, but always find a way;

↬ Both of you suffer a lot on tours;

↬The boys were the first to know, since they were the ones who helped him ask you for a date;

↬You barely breathed and half the world already knew about the two - minus the atinys, they he would tell later;

↬ He was extremely excited to meet his family, and almost forgot that he would have to face his father;

↬But he won everyone over, and you almost run out of boyfriend.

ꨄ Song Mingi

↬The most baby giant you've ever seen in your life;

↬He is just a teddy full of love to give;

↬Vice president of the club of the best hugs;

↬Whenever one of the two is sad, it is an obligation to be curled up in each other;

↬ Regardless of whether they are talking or not, he always looks at you with the same face ("🥺");

↬It is that type of boyfriend who gives kisses randomly, just to see you smiling;

↬Request to do your makeup from time to time, and you leave;

↬ asks you to do his makeup from time to time;

↬Skincare sessions where you take thousands of photos together;

↬He has one of these photos as a cell phone wallpaper;

↬No matter where you are, he is hugging you;

↬0 shame of physical contact in public;

↬ The boys really like the relationship you have, and they support you a lot;

↬Told the boys and his family, even before the official request;

↬ He conquered his family as his friend before, but now he is afraid of his father;

↬ Once in a while, he misses something about you during the lives, but the boys manage to disguise it well;

ꨄ jung Wooyoung

↬ (It doesn't look like it, but it is) a lifelong member of the shy group at the beginning of the courtship;

↬Because let's see the facts: it is one thing for you to open up to the boys with whom you will share and practice your whole life, while another is to sit aside with the most beautiful and cool person he has ever seen in his life without doing anything stupid;

↬But soon he let go, as you made him comfortable;

↬And then he became king of the hysterical boyfriends group;

↬Teases you always, not always feeling sexual;

↬Hugs you all the time;

↬You can be possessive (in a not crazy dangerous way) from time to time, but when you feel uncomfortable, all you need to do is talk to him and everything will be resolved;

↬ Tickling war, just to hear you laugh;

↬But it doesn't take much, because he just starts laughing, you're already laughing out loud;

↬You can understand each other only with your eyes;

↬Take you to dance practices, since he likes to make you drool and praise him;

↬He gets shy if you talk about his voice;

↬He gets shy if you get attitude and talk about his sexy way;

↬Like it when you play with him, just like he plays with boys;

↬It is very romantic at times, the kind that buys you flowers for no reason;

↬Best hugs ™

↬Talked to Yeosang about you in the beginning, asking for help to win you over, so he was the only one who ever knew;

↬ But as he couldn't hide the way he looks at you, everyone was suspicious;

↬Sometimes Hongjoong loses his mind with him, and you help everyone to calm down;

↬He is preparing a song to announce his date to everyone on Valentine's Day;

↬Ask for tips to get your families hearts, when he finally meet them.

ꨄ Choi Jongho

↬ (As everyone expected), he is the vice president, president and and creator of the club, shy at the beginning of the relationship;

↬But as soon as he felt comfortable with you, he became practically someone else;

↬ Play a lot with you, but always worry if you are comfortable or not;

↬The best hugs in the world !;

↬The best massages too;

↬ Likes to take care of you, because let's say that sometimes he is tired of everyone taking care of him;

↬Always try to cook for you;

↬He buys you your favorite drinks;

↬Sometimes doubt yourself, and close yourself off. But you know exactly how to get it to open again;

↬ Sing all the time to you, and love how his eyes shine when he does that;

↬Livee for showing off his muscles;

↬ Likes to help you opening things, that's why he always closes tighter for that;

↬ Likes to call you, so he can hear your voice;

↬When he is away, or during the preparations for the comeback, he makes video calls, and they look at each other until someone falls asleep;

↬Sends you gifts with cute little notes, but without identification (but you know exactly whose they are);

↬Small surprises;

↬Little notes of cute messages scattered around your home before you leave;

↬Messages you by singing;

↬ Tried to hide the relationship from the boys until the last moment, but one day Mingi saw the two together and gossiped with the others;

↬ Not too long later, you guys decided to tell their family;

↬You both are waiting for the right moment to tell the fans, but he wants it to be on Valentine's Day.

↬The man has everything prepared, he does not play in service.

#ateez as your boyfriend #ateez #kim Hongjoong #park Seonghwa #jeon Yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung Wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez react #ateez scenarios

283 notes · View notes

lillywillow · 3 years

Text

For Heart or For Country

Summary: “You’re in line to be the next ruler of your kingdom. But first, you must marry the young ruler of your worst enemy. Would you risk all of your happiness for the sake of stopping a war? Or will you find true love in the town’s pub?”

Word Count: 3089

Pairings: Natasha x gender neutral Reader/ gender neutral Loki X Reader (arranged)

Warnings: Seductive Nat, arranged marriage

Written for @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s writing challenge. Go check out her amazing works!

From the moment you were born, you were destined to take over from your father. You spent countless hours in lessons learning how to be ruler of the kingdom, been taught everything from politics to art, sword fighting to etiquette. Long story short, everything you needed to take the throne and face the challenges that came with wearing the crown.

For years, the kingdom had been at war but recently there was at last a chance for peace but it came with a cost... an arranged marriage. You weren’t so sure about it but if it meant your people being safe, you would sacrifice your own happiness.

Ever since your father had made the announcement of your impending wedding, it had consumed your every thought. You hadn’t even met your betrothed and, yet, you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with them. You had watched the older servants with their spouses and to be honest with yourself it melted your heart. Even your father was a kind and gentle person when it came to your mother. With any luck, the person you were going to marry would be kind to you.

Deciding you needed a distraction; you put on a disguise and managed to sneak out of the palace. Sure you could have gotten drunk in your room but where was the fun in that? You had crept out on a few occasions so you knew that the townsfolk knew how to party compared to those stuffy nobles.

From the moment you stepped inside the tavern named The Nest, the atmosphere was abuzz with excitement. The walls were decorated with purple fabric hangings, crossbows, longbows, arrows and other archery items. A taxidermy hawk was perched above the door, its eyes ever watching. A one eyed dog ran about the patrons, getting pats from some of them and cleaning up pieces of dropped food. People were dancing, singing and drinking, some leaning on each other for support as they swayed. To any other noble, the scene may have looked chaotic but to you, it only looked like fun.

With a grin, you made your way over to the bar and took a seat. Still taking in your surroundings, you barely noticed when the sandy haired bartender stood in front of you.

“What can I get you?”

“Oh! Um...” You tried to think of something that would not give away your identity as a noble. The man raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hey, Clint! Two boilermakers over here,” another patron called.

The man whom you now know as Clint poured them the drinks and turned back to you.

“So?”

“I’ll have... o-one of those,” you said, making a feeble attempt to pound your fist on the counter in an attempt to fit in.

Clint tilted his head and gave you a curious look.

“Alright...”

Clint made the boilermaker and placed it in front of you. Thanking him, you took a swig of the drink and felt instant misgivings about it as the alcohol burned not only your throat but your ears and the very pit of your stomach. Clint laughed as you coughed and spluttered.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“You... might say that,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth.

“You picked the right night to come. Nat’s doing a show.”

“Nat?”

“Wow, you really aren’t from around here if you don’t know Natasha. Just watch,” he advised, nodding his head over to the stage.

The stage was well lit and crowed around the edges by men and women who were eagerly waiting for whoever was about to appear from behind the purple curtains.

Music began and a foot decorated with a silver anklet emerged. The audience cheered loudly as the woman behind her curtain slowly began to reveal herself. She wore a black piece of fabric around her upper body, twisted just a little in the centre of her chest. The bottom of her costume was made up of a red fabric front and back which started out solid but faded to transparent as it went down and held together by delicate chains. Silver cuffs adorned her upper arms and wrists. Her lips were painted sinfully crimson. Sparkly onyx hairpins held her red curls in place. She was absolutely stunning.

The woman slowly began to sway her hips to the music, arms and feet poised. It was almost hypnotic in the way she moved. As the beat picked up, so did her dancing. One of the men near the front of the stage started to get a little carried away and tried to climb up.

Fearing for the safety of the dancer, you tensed and shifted to help her but Clint placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Easy. Nat can handle herself around these drunk idiots.”

You watched as Nat placed her foot on the man’s cheek before kicking him off the stage. The crowd jeered and laughed at the man, some pouring their drinks on him. Despite the interruption, Nat continued her performance.

Her face was calm and collected, never faltering, as the audience got more and more rowdy.

Nat ended her performance by kneeling and giving a graceful bow. The throng of people got even more riled up as she headed back behind the curtain and before you knew it, a fight broke out. You could only sit on your barstool and laugh as the place erupted into bedlam. As a noble, the most you had ever witnessed people scuffle as a heated argument that never went beyond words and even then they never used the language you heard flying around the room. Sure, there was the battlefield but once again that was an entirely different situation.

However, your humour was soon cut short as the royal guards walked in to break up the fight. You felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

“You hiding from those guys?” Clint asked, not even fazed by the mayhem around him.

“S-sorta...”

Clint jumped over the bar and prompted you to follow him. You weren’t entirely sure what made you decide to trust a total stranger nonetheless, you followed his lead. As he walked along, he dodged all fists, tankards and bottles that flew his way. You did your best but still caught the occasional projectile to your body, taking great care not to let any hit your face lest there be questions tomorrow.

He stopped to look around before opening a panel in the back wall, just big enough for you to squeeze out.

“Follow the tunnel until the end. That’ll take you to the backstreets. Be fast. The guards will start patrolling the minute they break things up here. Just make sure you close the exit on the other side.” With that, Clint pushed you through the gap and closed the panel behind you.

Just as he said, you followed the tunnel until the end, closing the door behind you and made your way through the backstreets until you had made it all the way home, fortunately without incident.

As you got ready for bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about Nat. She was just so beautiful... Could this be just a crush? You had to know for certain.

...

The following night, you once again crept out of the palace and back to The Nest and sat at the bar. The place was busy but nowhere near as packed as it was last night.

“I see the guards failed to catch you,” Clint commented, making his way over to you.

“Yeah... um... is Nat dancing again tonight by any chance?”

Clint gave you a sly look.

“She’s not dancing but she is working. Hey, Nat!”

Your heart began to race as the red head walked over to you. Tonight she was wearing a black, off-the-shoulder dress with a red belt around her waist. Even outside of her dancing costume she was beautiful.

“What?”

“This is the one I was telling you about.”

You felt panic seize in your chest. They were talking about you? What in the world could they have possibly been saying? Nat looked you up and down, carefully examining you before glancing over at Clint who gave an approving nod.

“Let’s dance...”

Before you could protest, Nat grabbed your hand and dragged you onto the dance floor. It was no surprise to you that she was just as graceful on her feet as she had been on stage. As you danced with her, you could feel her brushing her hands over your hips and waist. You found yourself surrendering to her touch. At the end of the song, Nat wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed her lips to your ear.

“Tell me... what is a noble doing in a place like this?”

You completely froze.

“Wh-what makes you think...?”

“Everything. From the way you dance, to your posture and your speech. So, answer my question.”

“Is... is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Nat lead you to the backroom after checking the coast was clear.

“Now talk...”

With a sigh, you removed your hood, showing her your face.

“The heir to the throne,” she whispered reverently.

You put your hood back on and looked down.

“You should get out of here. Folks in these parts don’t take kindly to nobles, especially members of the royal family. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I... I wanted to experience as much freedom as I could before I get married...”

“So one last fling before finally settling down. How sweet.” Her voice positively dripped venom as she spoke.

“It’s not like that!”

“Then tell me what it is like...”

With a sigh, you looked out the tiny window on the back wall that let in a sliver of moonlight.

“Ever since I was young, I dreamed of having a perfect wedding with the perfect person I would spend the rest of my life with... but with this war, I’m to marry one of the children of the opposing kingdom as a token of peace... I don’t know what kind of person they are. If they’re good, maybe we could work together to fix some of the broken parts of the city and of course, I would help in their kingdom too but if they’re not a good person, well...”

Nat was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking.

“I really hate it when Clint is right,” she sighed.

You turned to look at her.

“Clint?”

“You see, Clint has this innate sense of finding the good in people and helping them out. He helped me a few years back...”

You held her hand, encouraging her to continue.

“I was in a really bad place... did some really bad things... Clint helped me get out of it. Got me a job, a home... even made me partner. I owe a lot to him...”

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the man even though you knew it was completely irrational.

“So you and he are...?”

Nat shook her head.

“We tried it once but it didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends.”

You couldn’t help but feel a tiny sense of relief.

“I would like to get to know you better... for however I have until my impending marriage. That is if you’ll let me.”

“What about after?”

“I’ll try and see you if I can... and if not; you can be my one who got away.”

“That was... really cheesy,” she laughed.

“I guess it was... but what do you say?”

“On one condition; don’t make any promises you can’t or don’t intend to keep. I’ve been through enough of that in my lifetime.”

“It’s a deal.”

...

Over the next few weeks, you got to know Nat quite well. You knew everything about her and she knew everything about you and not just as future sovereign but as a person. Eventually the time came when the feuding royal family came to your kingdom, bringing with them your spouse to be.

They introduced you to the youngest member of the family named Loki. Loki was about your age and attractive enough but in the short time you spent with Natasha, your heart purely belonged to her. Your respective fathers left you alone to bond, catching daggers in their backs from the glares from both you and Loki as they left.

“They certainly can be civil when they want to be,” Loki sneered.

“You got that right...”

“You don’t really want to be married to me do you?”

You thought carefully about how to answer.

“I don’t even know you... but how else can we stop this war?”

“I have been doing research on my end. If we can pool our resources, perhaps we can find how it began and how we can stop it. Shall we?”

Loki offered a slender hand which you took.

“We shall.”

...

In the time leading up to your wedding, you and Loki spent every minute of the day together. To anyone else, it looked like a couple bonding and getting to know each other before your upcoming nuptials. To you and Loki, it was a mission; one to find out the truth and put an end to the war.

Your nights were spent with Nat, talking about Loki and what else you could do to stop the fighting. There was one night you had crept in after seeing Nat and Loki had caught you and you thought for sure you were done for but instead, Loki covered for you. Loki was fully supportive of your relationship with Natasha and encouraged you to pursue her once this whole thing had blown over.

Eventually it came time when your wedding was fast approaching. The night before the big event, you were of course with Natasha, wanting to spend as long as you could with each other before whatever happened tomorrow.

“I promise you Nat, we will be together...”

Nat teared up and shook her head.

“Remember the deal you made, Y/N. You said you wouldn’t make promises you couldn’t keep...”

“But I intend to keep this one...”

“Just go!”

Nat turned away so you couldn’t see her cry. You gently turned her back to you and kissed her softly. She kissed back, holding you tight as if she didn’t want to let you go. Eventually you had to break for air.

“If... if this really is our last night together... then let’s make a memory that will last a lifetime...”

With that, you kissed her again, this time with all the love and passion you could muster. It may have seemed scandalous to spend the night before your wedding with another but you wouldn’t give Nat away for the world.

...

The following morning, you and Loki had set your plan into motion. The wedding started out like any other with guests arriving and people all taking their places. Your heart was hammering against your ribs and blood roared in your ears as the ceremony began. Loki remained calm and collected, keeping cool until the right moment.

“If anyone has any objections as to why these two should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“We object,” both you and Loki said in unison. The whole room erupted into shock. Instantly, both Odin and your father rounded on the pair of you, absolutely seething.

“Silence!” Loki snarled. The room fell quiet.

“Now, the whole point of this wedding was to stop this ridiculous war. A war that was started over a futile reason...”

Both you and Loki went to where you had hidden two ancient artefacts; one from your history and one from Asgard’s.

“Many years ago, our kingdom was accused of taking this,” you said, holding the item up high.

“But they were wrong. We had our own the whole time,” Loki stated, holding up the other.

“Our two kingdoms went to war when they should have been joining forces as we were once centuries ago...”

The pair of you combined the two items to show they fitted perfectly together.

“We should be united once more. Let us put a stop to the fighting once and for all!”

The gathering all cheered and rejoiced at the prospect of peace. Your fathers sat there sullenly while their wives attempted to gently comfort them. Loki gently turned to you.

“Isn’t there someone you want to see?”

With Loki’s blessing, you ran out of the church.

...

Nat had been drowning her sorrows at The Nest. She had known this day was long coming but it didn’t stop the ache she felt in her heart from losing you to another. Clint did his best to try and comfort her but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t even look up when her name was called but eventually Clint did catch her attention.

“What?!” she hissed. Clint pointed behind her to where you were standing still in your wedding clothes.

“Y/N? What are you-” You cut her off with a kiss.

“Loki and I did it. We were able to restore peace and we didn’t even have to get married. We can be together now...”

“But I’m just a common barmaid. You’re going to take over the throne...”

“And when I do, I can make whatever rule I want and marry whoever I want. I want to marry you one day Natasha... that is if you’ll have me...”

“I...” Nat looked over to Clint who smiled and nodded. “Yes...”

...

Over the next few weeks, you worked in tandem with Nat to fix the rough parts of the city, just as you had told her. There was a lot of gossip surrounding your relationship but neither of you cared. You had also made a point to stay in touch with Loki to find out how things were going in Asgard.

After so many years of war, it was nice to finally see some happiness. Maybe in time, there would be a royal wedding after all. A real one out of love that was formed between two hearts that truly cared for one another.

#cappysforeverchallenge #natasha romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x Reader #loki of asgard #loki x gender neutral reader #arranged marriage fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #ROYAL AU #royal marriage #gender neutral reader #war and peace #true love

104 notes · View notes

sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

381 notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

94 notes · View notes