#i have lots of silly ideas that’ll appear later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uni-seahorse-572 · 1 year

Text

keeper aro week qpr (part 1!!)

local tumblrina starts fic ri knows full well is going to be in the 4-10K range and then proceeds to act shocked when they can't finish it in less than a week, more at seven

notes: I wanted to get part of this out while the week is still technically on, so here we are! it's still technically a one-shot, so I'll post the whole thing on ao3 when it's fully finished (... whenever that ends up being). anyway i love keefe's pov he's such a sad, silly little guy. what we have here is a soulmate au with some childhood friends and a dash of angst thrown into the mix. much thanks to @xanadaus and @gay-otlc for hosting :)

The first time someone tells Keefe about soulmates, he nods as if he understands and turns back to assessing how to sample the platters of absurdly decorated sweets when he still can’t reach the tops of the white-clothed tables. It isn’t one of his parents, just some family friend who fancies themself good with children.

It would have been hard to entirely avoid the idea thus far—his parents flaunt their status tastefully, the only sign being the careful designs on each of their ring fingers, intricate enough to emphasize that a tattoo could never fake such a bond. Stray marks have appeared on his own skin from time to time. He can never be sure whether they’re his or not, as they’re the same clumsy evidence of a kid experimenting with colors, shaky-handed and wandering.

But it’s the first real explanation he’s ever gotten. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s disappointing.

The woman continues. She should be able to tell she’s unwanted. “It means you’re meant to be with someone,” she explains. “It means you’re going to be in love forever. It’s destiny. And it’s what tells us that any children the union produces will be absolutely perfect.”

Keefe’s pretty sure she’s wrong. He knows he’s seen couples who couldn’t possibly have kids with the same colors splayed across their bodies, but maybe they really are just tattoos like his father always claims. That seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a lot of nothing. He doesn’t think he’ll ever love even his soulmate, so why pretend to have that with anybody? But then again, maybe it’s impossible to love anyone else. Maybe that’s why people delude themselves.

He squints across the room. The area around one of the dessert tables has vacated, and it’s right by the stairs up into the rest of his house. That’ll work well enough. “I’m not feeling so well,” he says, and makes as if to leave. The woman follows him, because of course she does.

By the time he reaches the other side of the suffocating party, he’s pretty sure he’s done a good enough job of holding his breath to make his face pale. He sways in place, carefully timing his dizziness so he can pretend to go down when someone jostles him and grip onto that stupid white tablecloth. His weight brings the dishes crashing down.

A hundred-odd gazes land directly on him. With one hand, he stuffs as many sweets as he can find into his pockets and puts on a show of tired confusion. The annoying woman rushes to his side. At least she’ll probably help head off his parents.

The treats, he finds later, are more decoration than food with their cloying tastes against his tongue.

Though there has always been a house next door, with two children Keefe will see very occasionally in their yard, mostly he’s alone in the towering five stories of his home. It’s especially silent in the afternoons, when he’s been dropped off from school.

His father works, and while his mother doesn’t she still manages to be gone more often than not. He’d ask them for a sibling if he was under the delusion that they liked children. He knows better.

No matter how much noise he makes, Keefe can’t break the quiet. He certainly tries. He runs through the hallways and slides down the banisters, banging makeshift pot and pan cymbals. There isn’t much to do in his house. Nothing in it is built for children. He draws, of course, but he isn’t built for being still and there’s only so long most acceptable activities can keep his attention.

So when the weather permits, and often when it doesn’t, he whiles away his days outside. His pride and joy is the treehouse tucked back in the yard so it can’t be seen from the street. It isn’t like the treehouses he sees on TV, with a slide or swings, or even like the ones some of his friends boast, achingly home-made with their messy wood planks. His is carefully built with sturdy slats of oak. It’s all polished. He takes his markers out to draw on the walls. On the days when he falls asleep out there, wrapped in a woolen blanket, his parents say nothing. It suits him fine.

Then one day there’s a boy in the treehouse. He sits primly, back straight, the way Keefe’s father always tells him to. He doesn’t startle or even look ashamed at Keefe’s entrance. There’s a game of solitaire laid out in front of him.

Keefe doesn’t take the time to think through what he’s going to say. “What are you doing here?”

“If my parents can’t find me, they’ll leave without me,” the boy answers as he moves a king of spades into an empty column. “And they won’t look here.”

“What do you need to get out of that badly?” Most of the time, Keefe jumps at the chance to leave the house. He rarely goes anywhere interesting, but it’s nice, to leave the same stale air behind. He picks up the stack of cards and shuffles three of them out—he thinks that’s how you’re supposed to do it, anyway.

“Do you mind?” the boy snaps.

Keefe shrugs. “It’s my treehouse.”

“And my deck.” The boy takes his cards back, scowl affixed firmly in place. If he’s trying to be intimidating, he’s failing badly. “It’s some kind of play, I think. I kept almost falling asleep at the last one they dragged me to but my mother just kept elbowing me in the side. Plus I’d have to wear my itchiest suit.”

“I think that’s just how suits are. I’m Keefe Sencen.” First and last name, like his father taught him, even though nobody in his first grade class gives both.

“Tam.” He flicks through the draw pile until at last he finds the one he needs, slotting it carefully into place.

Keefe frowns. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

“Who cares? It’s a made-up game anyway. You lose half the time no matter what you do—that doesn’t make sense. Usually my sister plays with me.”

“Oh. Do you know any good games?”

Tam rolls his eyes, sweeping the solitaire spread back into a deck. “Of course. We can play war. You only need two people.”

“I don��t really have anybody else at home,” Keefe admits.

Usually, the people at his school react weirdly when he says stuff like that, but Tam takes it completely in stride. “That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

Keefe agrees, easily, and the treehouse morphs from being his spot to their spot. Often, when he enters Tam will already be sitting there, or else he’ll clamber up after he arrives. They start to leave notes taped to the walls—are you busy today? I won’t be here tomorrow, my father’s making me try out for soccer. Someone at school gave me a bag of gummy worms and we can share them later.

They hoard candy in one corner, behind a propped-up pillow. The treehouse railing becomes the bow of a pirate ship or a palace balcony or the top of a beanstalk. All the lands beneath them are subject kingdoms, or occasionally enemy territory. And though Keefe has never had a best friend before, he takes to it quickly.

Unlike the kids at school, Tam doesn’t laugh at him when he falls or messes up simple math problems—at least not much, anyway. He likes to think about things more than any other kid Keefe’s met, tilting his head to one side to contemplate what superpower he’d most want and whether he’d rather have toads for ears or spaghetti noodles for feet. And he explains things much, much better than anyone else.

Like soulmates.

“Everyone in my class is obsessed with finding theirs,” Tam complains. “Ever since Mrs. Albright read that book last week, with the people communicating through art. I can’t stand it. If soulmates actually meant anything, my parents wouldn’t snipe at each other every chance they get.”

Keefe nods in solemn understanding. They’re both splayed out on their backs, a blanket thick and warm beneath them and curling around their legs, trying to see the stars. It isn’t that dark out yet, merely enough so that the trek back to his house is a treacherous mission, and the sky is cloudy dull with pollution. “So what do you think soulmates really are?”

“An accident,” Tam says.

“That doesn’t make sense, either,” Keefe points out. “No one at school really cares. Except the kids who like to tease that I’m soulmates with Alice.”

Tam’s nose wrinkles.

“She’s blond like me and once she kissed me on the cheek on the playground because she was playing Marie Antoinette.” Keefe stumbles over the name, trying to sound it out like Alice said it. She’s nice. But if soulmates end up like his parents, he wouldn’t want that with anyone, no matter how nice they are.

“See, that’s silly. I bet really some people are born with too much skin and some people get too little, so they take some people’s skin to give it to others, and that’s where the connection really comes from.”

“Ew.” Keefe rolls over to look at Tam directly, pinching his own arm and making a face. “What if this isn’t really mine?”

In the night, Tam’s dark eyes are big and mischievous. “You wouldn’t know. You never do, until you get older and finally all the adults let you in on the secret. And that’s why soulmates all get married, because they want to be close to the rest of their skin.”

Keefe nods seriously. “I do want it back. If I had extra, I could have webbed fingers, or maybe I could flap it and fly.”

“That’s smart,” Tam says, breaking off to yawn. He’s missing one of his teeth. He pulls the blanket tighter around himself, eyelashes fluttering as he seemingly fights to stay awake. Both of them need to head back home, but they won’t yet, not if it means leaving their bubble of warmth and stars. Nothing can touch them in their treehouse. So long as they stay here, safe, they’ll be friends for forever.

Not many people are allowed to watch Keefe when he draws. Out of the entire third grade, he’s by far the best, with his artwork nearly always hanging up in the hallways. He doesn’t like it when his parents look as he sketches or when his classmates crowd around to see in art class. Some of it’s private, just for him, and some of it just shouldn’t be seen until it’s exactly how he wants it.

Tam is a rare exception. Maybe the only exception.

As Keefe paints onto the treehouse walls, layering a new image over faded markers, Tam clambers up behind him. There’s the sound of a body plopping into a beanbag and then attentive silence. Keefe smiles and keeps working. He’s been trying to redo parts of the original decorations, as he hadn’t been this good when he’d done them. Sometimes he can’t help but laugh at his past self when he’s in here.

He’s never exactly been a neat painter. He has a tendency to dip his elbows in the paint, to streak it over his eyebrow or on the back of one shoulder. His workspace always ends up splattered with color no matter how hard he tries to keep from flicking his brush. There’s no cause for concern when he smears a healthy blob of green across most of his thumb. He just kneels to grab his paper towel, and then he notices Tam just staring at him, eyes too wide for his face.

Suddenly self-conscious, Keefe asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Your hand.” Tam fidgets in place with nervous energy. He lifts one arm up, splaying his fingers out to display the shades splattered across them. “I’ve—I’ve been watching them appear for a while today. I knew they weren’t from me, you know?”

“Oh.” Frowning, Keefe presses the brush to his forearm, scrawling out every curse word he knows and laughing at the consternated expression on Tam’s face. “What? I’m testing it.”

“Dude,” Tam complains, “my parents are going to flip if they see that.”

Keefe snickers. “You can’t call me dude. I’m your soulmate.”

Tam sobers, still-round face going solemn. “What now? Does anything really change?”

“No,” Keefe says decisively. “I haven’t changed my mind on soulmates. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’d be best friends with or without it.”

“Good.” Tam lets the silence sit for all of half a minute before asking if he wants to play Nintendo. Keefe could almost forget the conversation happened at all, if not for how their skin quickly becomes a rapid form of communication. Throughout boring school days, they trade doodles and jokes back and forth, though when they get home the treehouse remains their sanctuary. They keep writing the notes and tucking them under rocks for the really important things. Nothing changes, but everything should, Keefe figures.

It doesn’t matter. He likes their friendship as is just fine.

Well, more than fine.

The first year they’re in the same class at school, it’s fifth grade, and Keefe’s father has just transferred him to the same fancy private institution that Tam has always attended. The rules are strict and the academics prestigious. And while at public school Keefe had grown into a sort of ringleader of children with sheer confidence and natural charisma, here he finds most of the kids irritating.

At recess, where the playground is more of a yard than anything else—a vast space of green without any true play structures to be found, Keefe takes to climbing the tall trees. He likes it up high. He likes that there’s a place where his teachers don’t know to look for him, and sometimes when they call everyone inside he’ll stay silent and still, evading notice so long as no one thinks to look up. They never do.

Except Tam. He cranes his neck up to look at where Keefe rests on the broadest limb, one leg dangling precariously in the air. “How’d you get up there?”

“Flew,” Keefe shoots back.

Tam rolls his eyes. He’s unfairly good at that. Keefe can’t stop his eyelids from fluttering when he tries.

When Tam starts up, he’s tentative, testing every handhold before daring to transfer his weight. He stops before he gets to the first true branches, frowning down at the ground and tightening his grip around the trunk.

“Don’t look down,” Keefe advises. “Well, not more than you already have, anyway. There’s a knot to your right, it’s pretty sturdy. Once you’re up on it, the rest of the way’s a lot easier.”

It takes more shouted instructions and some curses muttered under Tam’s breath, the ones he’d taught Keefe a while ago after his dad lost his temper on a waiter, but eventually Tam clambers up and settles beside him. “Scooch over.”

Keefe shifts a couple of inches. “Why do you get to sit closer to the trunk?”

“Because I’m not about to fall.” Tam rests his head against the bark, keeping his arm loosely wrapped around the tree.

“I don’t think that would help you if the branch did break.”

Tam shrugs. “Who said I was worried about the branch breaking? Maybe I just don’t trust you to shove me off.”

“No matter how much you try to strangle the tree, I could still shove you off if I really wanted to.” Keefe bumps his shoulder against Tam’s just to see his unimpressed glare. Both of them have black pen scribbled up and down their forearms from a particularly boring math class earlier. Keefe’s intricate little doodles sit beside Tam’s messy sketches, the mocking caricatures he likes to make of Keefe with his hair all wild like the blue jay’s nest near their treehouse. It had descended into an argument over whether Squirrel girl or Bugs Bunny would win in a fight.

“Not worth it. If you killed me, you’d never get rid of my ghost,” Tam says. “Face it. You’re stuck with me.”

Keefe sighs dramatically, barely remembering not to flop backwards in time. “I suppose so. You let someone into your treehouse one time and all of a sudden it’s a hostage situation.”

Tam laughs, opening his mouth to say something else, but then there’s a shout from below.

“Hey, lovebirds! What are you doing up there?” Below them stands Bryce, by far the worst bully in their grade with his tired taunts. “Tam and Keefe, sitting in a tree, K-I—”

Before he can finish the rest of the juvenile chant, Tam snaps a thin twig off the branch and pelts him with it. “Leave us alone!” he calls down.

Keefe joins in readily, and while none of their missiles hit Bryce gives up the game when the whistle blows for them all to head back inside.

Tam starts to shimmy down, glancing up when he’s halfway to the ground. “You coming?”

“After you,” Keefe says, waving one hand dismissively. He doesn’t know why his stomach’s dropped to his toes. He’s not scared of heights, and he’s definitely not afraid of Bryce. But Tam is his best friend. Always has been. Why should it be weird between them now? Keefe’s skin is crawling, and when he looks at his forearms again he wants to claw the ink off. He wants to forget why it stains his skin. He wants to yank a jacket on so no one else can see and make assumptions, so he doesn’t have to hear the same stories again, so he can pretend he doesn’t know what it means. Pretend it means nothing at all.

Because people care here. People care so much. They dream about the day that they finally meet their soulmate, and here Keefe is, close with his already. It doesn’t make sense. He has time. Maybe that’s all it is, all he needs, time to get there on his own terms.

But he doesn’t want to get there. He wants to want it. Can that be enough? Can he be whole if he pretends hard enough?

Tam’s standing on the grass, looking up expectantly. Keefe follows him down, the way he always will, and when they trade grins after Tam dares him to race back to the school doors that messed up thing in Keefe settles into place again. Because they’re best friends. Because today, after school, he’ll go back to the treehouse that this oak at school isn’t a true substitute for and it’ll all be okay again. Okay away from the rest of the world.

The worst happens. The worst is worse than Keefe could ever have predicted, and he’s a pessimist who masquerades as an optimist, so he can predict a whole lot. There’s no warning. No closure.

Because after a weekend away with his parents, spent with his frustrating extended family—who all say things he doesn’t like but doesn’t know how to argue with, the last pf the moving trucks is pulled into the neighbor’s driveway. The tasteful Song mansion has clearly been cleared out. Even the carefully tended orchids have been dug out from the soil, transplanted into pots and leaving the garden gouged and tattered.

Keefe is already running when he sees it. He can’t make sense of it.

He doesn’t know what he’s looking for until it’s not there. The letters are where they put everything important, hold it down with paperweights and reply when they can, translating messy elementary school handwriting into words. There’s no letter. Tam has left nothing behind. His blanket is gone, the one with the silly Lilo and Stitch pattern he’s had since he was five. All that remains is a single forgotten plush cat, lying discarded in one corner and half-hidden by an old and empty pizza box. Tam’s favorite. Keefe had helped him name it—Artemis, for Sailor Moon, and now it’s here but Tam isn’t.

Tam’s gone.

The treehouse is empty. Quiet.

Keefe isn’t used to the quiet anymore. For so long, the treehouse has been an escape from his hollow, hollow house. It rings with laughter and light. It’s the kind of closeness a younger version of himself would never have dreamed of. As much as the treehouse had began as his own space, his one refuge, it doesn’t mean anything anymore when he’s relegated to this loneliness.

The swell of hurt builds and builds in his chest. He can’t be here anymore. He can’t look at these four wooden walls and wait, wait like Tam will come up the ladder any moment, because he won’t. He never will again.

How dare he? How dare he leave like that? In a fit of anger, Keefe kicks over the empty water bottles and overturns their careful collection of colorful erasers, letting them spill across the floor and fall onto the dirt below. He rages until there’s nothing else to take his anger out on and hurls Artemis against the wall. Again and again and again.

He grabs a black marker, thick-tipped, and writes I HATE YOU on his arm until it crowds out all the empty space. He writes it, and doesn’t stop, teeth clenched and anger boiling out his blood. It feels like absolution. It feels like victory, because maybe he wasn’t the first to leave but he will be the first to get over it. He writes those three words until he believes them. Until the feeling subsides.

And then he picks up Artemis again, and pretends that, when he clutches her close to his chest, the wetness he hides into her soft surface isn’t tears.

#kotlc #keefe sencen #tam song #ari can words #ari writes #keeper aromantic week 2023

8 notes · View notes

bibiinitiative · 2 years

Text

So, some thoughts. I’ve just gotten to the scene where this shot from the trailers is from, so spoilers up to there. I’ve only done that one route so far.

First of all, I am LOVING the mystery. I adore how everything feels so wide and yet so interconnecting. The ideas of the simulation theory are really interesting, and showing not only how Jin Furue’s body appeared but also other aspects of the other murders are really cool. I’m SO curious about how the simulation theory will work into things, AND ESPECIALLY how Tokiko straight up asks the player questions. I definitely thought there would be fourth wall breaking, and I’m so glad to be proven right.

It makes me so insane to learn more about Naix and about what the fuck is going on with them, and Tokiko’s somnium was genuinely amazing, even if I had to set it to an easier difficulty in order to finish it without redoing the whole thing (lol)

I LOVEEEE how they show what the characters are thinking via their somniums, how their dreams are a mirror of their reality, and how the keys lead you through it. I love love love it.

On the other hand, while I love the mystery and the structure of the story, I’d somehow say the characters are weaker so far than the first game. While I of course love the returning characters (except you, Ota and Moma), I’d say that a lot of my continued attachment to Mizuki is through knowing her already. I don’t think the beginning of AINI is a good introduction to her as a character, and I don’t even DISLIKE how she’s been!!! I love her!! She says so many funny things, and I love how she has friendships with Kizuna as well as the returning characters, how she helps Ryuki even when she’s younger... the continued connections with Ryuki and the HB case are SUPER cool!!!

That being said... I’m a bit disappointed on how MUCH of young Mizuki’s scenes are surrounding Kizuna. Don’t get me wrong!!! I like Kizuna a lot so far, I love how she talks all formal, but I HATE how much they brush off Lien’s harassment of her, and how Kizuna seems fairly... flat? Like I’m sure she’ll get more later, but I just DO NOT CARE about her relationship with Lien. I’d rather see her interact more directly with Mizuki, Iris, and Amame, and talk about her backstory and the girl she apparently grew up with ??? I have faith that they’ll bring her together in a better way in the future, but Kizuna really could be better if they removed Lien. She almost feels like she’s there to be cute, and don’t get me wrong, I LOVE cute characters, but I was hoping for more of her and Iris and Amame!!! It’s not fair that those three are so separate.

I do LOVE what they’ve done with Amame, though. Showing her true colors, and how she lied to Renju, that’s a fun way to retcon her age!!! I like her friendship with Gen, how she’s a lot sadder than she acts, and how she has so many interests and SECRETS!!! Amame is a really well done reoccuring character, I just wish we saw her and the other besties :’)

I ALSO LOVE LOVE RYUKI SO MUCH. He and Tama’s dynamic is so much fun, and I love how she’s so silly and he’s more serious... but also how fucking messed up he is. He’s so fucked, I love him. I also love knowing he’s going to get worse when he’s already doing so badly, that he keeps glitching out and hallucinating, that something is WRONG WITH RYUKI. It makes me really invested in him and figuring him out, but also even without that he’s just a plain likeable guy!!! He’s so different from Date but doesn’t lose any of that protagonist charm. I also really like how his backstory gives him a reason to be so determined. Let’s gooo I’m sure that’ll be relevant to him eventually.

AND DATE. OH MY GOD DATE. DATE SHOWED UP ONSCREEN AND I WAS LIKE SCREAMINGGGG HE JUST PULLED OUT PORN AND HE CAME TO SAVE RYUKI AND IT WAS SO FUNNYYYYYY I LOVE DATE SO MUCH. I really missed seeing his stupid fucking face. His face which they brushed aside the spoilery parts of. I fucking love this game. Date is the best ever.

As for all the other characters...!! I think they fulfill their story roles in the mystery well!!! I like Shoma, and I like the Bats490 / QR video / Nirvana Trial mystery relating to him, and I like what they did with Komeji a lot!! Tokiko is fascinating, I think Chinpei getting manipulated by Tearer was a cool plot point, and just... yeah!! It’s nice so far!!! I really hope it hits hard near the end, but they’re building up some super cool mysteries and themes that I’m sure will only become thicker by the time we go back to Mizuki’s POV.

#aini spoilers

5 notes · View notes

nanastea · 3 years

Text

for the sake of it

order: HI! I absolutely adore your blog and writing, and was hoping to get a small taro milk tea with mango jelly (add-ons egg pudding, this is my favorite irl too btw!) for my sweet boy megumi? And I'd like to request a fake dating au where it initially started out as a prank but it turned into something more? – @dumrus

pairing: fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

word count: 1,732

tags: fake dating au! idiots in love, little angst for a short while but gets a happy ending!

date: apr. 17, 2021

nana’s note: ahhh thank you so much @dumrus for being my first order!! i was so happy when i received this order and got super excited about writing it that i kind of got carried away and wrote a too long of an imagine (*꒦ິ³꒦ີ) and i'm not sure if i got the prank part correctly ヽ( T–T)ノi’m sorry about that! but i do hope you will enjoy this~ constructive feedback is appreciated!

previous order: notes for you

you’ve always been with megumi for as long as you can remember. you two met at jujutsu high when gojo had introduced the young megumi to you. the spikey dark haired boy had no interest in you nor did you in him. you both were young and had no idea what curses or cursed energy was so it was mostly training and training.

but due to the low attendance of students enrolled in the academy, there was only you and megumi so ultimately you guys had to rely on each other. but with the news of new first years coming to the academy, you and megumi hadn’t been expecting to build new relationships. nobara kugisaki and itadori yuuji were the new first years and students that you two had to work with.

they were a handful, especially yuuji who became the vessel of the king of curses, ryomen sukuna. the first few weeks of getting to know the new students, it was quite awkward and naturally you and megumi stuck together. that isn’t unnoticed by kugisaki nor yuuji.

“are you and y/n dating?” yuuji had asked one day. the four of you had been training when the two boys had gone to get drinks from the vending machines. megumi glanced at the pink haired boy as he pressed a button on the machine.

“no.” he simply replied. “are you interested in her?”

“no, no.” the former waved his hands. “i just thought so because you guys are always together.”

“we aren’t dating.” you two had said. on the other hand, kugisaki had asked you the same question.

“hah?” she drew out in disbelief. “there is no way. you guys are always together! you don’t even have a speck of feelings for him?” you pick at the edges of your sweater and shrug. did you even think of megumi that way? well, he may appear cold, but he has his ways of concern. like when he catches you before you fell down those stairs one day, or when he brings you your favorite snacks when you’re not well, or taking care of you when you’re ill…

the next thing you knew, your face had flushed and burned red.

“you do!” kugisaki pointed out and laughed out loud. you could die. you hid your head in the palms of your hands and cringed. this can’t be.

“what’s so funny, kugisaki?” yuuji’s voice says. the voice suddenly made you shoot your head up knowing if the pink haired boy was there, then an all too familiar spikey haired boy would be back too. your eyes effortlessly fall onto megumi’s who looks back in concern.

“you’re red. are you alright?” he asked. if your face could feel any hotter, it could.

“she’s fine! she just overdid training!” kugisaki lied through her teeth whilst attempting to hold back her laughter and patting your back.

“well, you can sit this one out until you feel better.” megumi offers and you nod dumbly. you just dug your own grave. with your feelings now surfaced, you can’t do anything except keep your newfound feelings locked tightly in your heart. megumi doesn’t need to know about them. however, that’s beginning to get difficult when you’ve gotten yourself in situations where megumi was always there to catch you before you fell.

“you’ve really been out of it, y/n. are you sure you’re okay?” he had asked. you had just bumped your head against the wall when you found megumi walking down the opposite side of the hall and you had abruptly turned around to avoid him, but ended up hitting your head on the wall.

“i’m fine.” you shake your head, holding the cool ice pack against your head.

“i don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a lot lately and i’m worried about you.” the words fall so effortlessly from his lips and you clench your eyes closed, feeling how your heart begins to race erratically.

“i’m fine, megumi. really.” you assured, looking up at him and giving him your best grin. megumi does not believe you, but he lets you be and withdraws back in the chair.

“what about you? how are you holding up on training with kugisaki?” you ask this time to settle your nerves. a small groan leaves the other’s lips and you can’t help but chuckle.

“that bad huh?”

“it’s not that.” megumi starts. “she always tries to find a way to ask if you and i are dating. clearly, we’re not but she’s persistent. it’s worse because itadori is also asking.” your heart clenches a little at his words, but you swallow it down to the pit of your stomach. is it really that bad?

“i mean we can just say that we are dating, but we actually aren’t. like you know, fake dating. kind of?” the boy looks at you with a small tilt of his head.

“why?” you begin to get anxious and clear your throat, looking behind him to prepare what to say next.

“w-well it’s going to get awkward between us if they keep asking, right? i mean they’ll probably stop pestering us?” you reason hopefully. megumi is silent and you’re beginning to regret your offer.

“i-i mean it’s only a thought, it’s not that we have to follow–”

“no. i think that’ll be a good idea. they’ll definitely stop asking.” he nods. “let’s do it.”

“y-yeah.” and when you guys told kugisaki and yuuji that you two were ‘dating,’ they had sighed in relief claiming that they ‘knew it’ and you two were ‘just hiding it.’ you chuckled awkwardly and nodded along.

fortunately, the plan did work and kugisaki and yuuji had stopped bothering you guys about your relationship. on the other hand, you can’t help but notice the tense awkwardness between you and megumi whenever you two were alone together. maybe it wasn’t a good idea after all.

you’re in kugisaki’s room for another of your group to get together to down all kinds of junk food and watch corny horror movies. after getting tired of movies, you’re all on the bed and chatting away–more like kugisaki and yuuji are chatting your ears off. and you’re not sure how the conversation was directed at you and megumi’s relationship. if you even want to call it that.

“what do you mean?” you looked at the orange head skeptically.

“kiss! i meant kiss! have you guys even kissed yet?” the question hangs in the air and you can feel the spiked boy behind you tense, shuffling his legs. you avoid the prying eyes and clear your throat. what the hell were you guys going to respond to that? the silent response makes nobara and itadori’s jaws drop.

“no way!” they both exclaim, gasping and covering their mouths ever so dramatically.

“you guys dated this long and you haven’t even kissed once?” itadori inquired, brows raised in shock. you utter something that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“what was that, y/n?”

“we weren’t even dating in the first place.” silence consumes the room before it erupts into sounds of gasps and an uproar of shouts.

“what?!”

“no way! why did you lie?!” kugisaki voiced offensively.

“you guys were so insistent that we were dating, but we really weren’t. so, we just pretended to date so you guys would stop asking.” you say. kugisaki and yuuji don’t say anything and their eyes glance at megumi who seems to find a strange liking in picking at the edges of his sweatpants. the two glance at each other and settle back onto the bed.

“we didn’t mean to have forced anything on you two.” kugisaki said, gentle and a little guilty because it seemed like the two of you were on the brink of something that she did not want to happen. you weren’t able to respond when you feel megumi shuffle behind you and off the bed.

“i’m tired. i’m just. gonna go sleep.” megumi muttered, hand rubbing his neck and eyes refusing to meet anyone’s. he cleared his throat and shuffled out of the room. the room is silent again. two pairs of eyes fall on your slumped frame and when itadori opens his mouth to say something, he’s cut off with yours.

“i’m tired too. i’ll see you guys tomorrow.” and you, too, leave the room without another word. the following days have been the hardest for you. you were foolishly hooked up on your feelings for the spiky haired boy which caused you to fall countless times while training with kugisaki. she knew what got you so up in the clouds and felt guilty for what she put you two through.

“i think you should try confessing just to get it off your chest.” she told you. “trust me, it’ll be awkward at first, but you guys will forget it later. probably even look back and laugh about it.” you take her words into consideration and nod defeatedly.

“yeah, i guess.” was everything going to go back to normal once you do confess? would you guys really look back and laugh about it as part of your silly adolescent life? a heavy sigh leaves your lips.

“speak of the devil.” she grinned and nodded her head to which you followed and looked behind you. it’s megumi. he has a hand in his pocket and the other is rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes are looking to the side.

“may i speak to you, y/n?��

“o-oh. yeah, sure.” you two leave the area and head to the vending machines where you two get your respective drinks for you and your friends. that is until megumi stands to his full height and faces you, making you look at him confused.

“megumi?” you hear him clear his throat and breath out.

“i, uh, i’ve really thought about it over the time we have been apart, and,” he swallows. “i really like you, y/n. i know it’s still awkward between us because of what happened, but i needed to tell you this.” you’re stunned, shocked at what you heard. you couldn’t even process what he said when he started to doubt his words and begin to take them back.

“n-no!” you abruptly say, shaking your head. you swallow whatever was left of you and say those four words of reciprocation, albeit stumbled over them.

“i like you too, megumi.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs are welcomed! ෆ(´ . .̫ . `)ෆ what can i get for you?

special patrons! @lovelytarou @urpoesia | join my special patron list here! |

#nana.orders #n.taro milk tea #n.small drinks #n.fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

167 notes · View notes

hideawayintheimaginationworld · 3 years

Note

I've gotten a bit into Dark Deception lately too, and I was just intrigued by the idea of one of the Lucky the Rabbit Joy Joy Gang clones being a Nice defect of all the others with no homicidal tendencies whatsoever who hides away in the maze to avoid being bullied by the others. A similar idea for a Nice Trigger Teddy scared of people and warning them because he doesn't want to blow anybody up. It's another shameless 'these evil characters are cute, i want a Nice One to make into a woobie' situation, which I am guilty of doing a LOT.

I hope you don't mind but I wrote a short story about this concept—

Lefty picked up his feet, hearing the maniacal laughter getting louder and the loud thumping behind him. It wasn’t easy, but he had to outrun them if he wanted to survive.

He skidded around the corner, jumping slightly when he heard the wall break behind him which meant only one thing: Hangry was now pursuing him also.

“Get back here! You will join the Joy Joy Gang! Joy! Joy! Joy!”

All that did was prompt Lefty to push harder to run, he was terrified of being captured and reprogrammed, knowing they would likely completely wipe his memory, meaning he'd forget everything— his family, his children, his friends, and his love.

He saw a door ahead and ran towards it, almost jumping towards it as he felt pain shot up from his leg where Hangry had grabbed him before and bit him, luckily he managed to escape but his ability to run was kind of hindered.

He grabbed the door knob, pushing it open and immediately slamming it behind him, he quickly looked around the room to survey the location and spotting items such as a desk, chairs, and lockers, which he could use to barricade the door.

He limped over quickly, pushing the desk forward towards the door and turning it down so the top part of the desk was facing directly foward. He heard the familiar “Joy! Joy! Joy!” taunting chant which prompted him to hurriedly pushed the desk against the door.

As soon as he did that, he was startled to see the door handle rattle violently.

“Hey! You're cheating!!” Lefty heard Lucky scream, “Open this door!!”

He backed away slowly, half expecting Hangry to break down the door as he had seen the pig break down countless walls while chasing him, which that was scary to Lefty, as he couldn’t tell where the pig would come from, he could be sneaking away from Lucky and Penny but running straight towards Hangry, who would be waiting around the next corner, ready to smash down the walls to get him.

For some reason, Hangry appeared angry that Lefty was “inedible” as he described, which Lefty guessed it meant that Hangry would probably eat people and he was terrified for a moment that the pig had killed his kids but he remembered that Hangry commented that he hadn’t eaten anything for “so long” and Lefty breathed in relief, realizing that Alec and Hazel were still alive.

They weren’t here, but they were still alive somewhere else.

“You can't delay the inevitable!! This isn’t the end and I won't lose to someone like you!!”

Lucky viewed this as a game, Lefty shivered, he pressed himself against the wall, raising his injured leg, trying to think of what he could do to fix it immediately so he could continue to search for an exit.

He didn’t know how he came here, only recalling that he was walking downstairs with Fetch by his side to make breakfast, then he woke up, face down on the concrete at the entrance of this twisted amusement park. He didn’t care at this point how he got here, he just wanted to leave immediately, he had a sick feeling this was a trap, a trap designed to separate him from his family and friends so they were defenceless.

He hoped that Alec and Hazel were okay, he knew in the past that he had instructed them as well as Matt and Stanley that if he was unable to protect them, they had to, they had to run to protect themselves and hopefully Lefty would find them later. He didn’t care about being rescued, he did care about what they might do to Alec and Hazel, as well as his other friends.

So far it didn’t appear that these awful machines had Alec and Hazel, Lefty was sure if they did, they would have mentioned it as a means to get him to cooperate. It could mean however that Alec and Hazel were held by someone else, as he had heard Lucky mention an entity named “Malak”, which that completely disapproved Lefty's initial suspicions that Nightmare was behind this, with yet another plan to bring harm to Alec and Hazel.

All he wanted was to get back to them as soon as possible.

His heart leapt when he heard something behind him, he immediately turned his head around to the source of the noise. He saw a locker door had pulled itself backwards.

His suspicion level rose, he slowly marched over, walking to the side of the locker that he saw had opened.

And he roughly pushed it to the side.

The locker easily tumbled down with a loud bang and Lefty heard an audible “OUCH!” from inside it

“I know you're watching me!” Lefty exclaimed, “Come out! I'm sick of you horrible Joy Joy gang members tormenting me!!” He kicked the side with his good leg, hearing another “OUCH!” from inside.

He stood still, prepared to attack, watching the locker door rattle before it swung open.

Lefty backed away, seeing a large gloved hand reach out.

A Lucky robot pulled itself out of the locker, laying on the floor for a moment before standing up straight.

Lefty immediately curled his fingers and delivered a swift punch to his face.

“OUCH!” Lucky exclaimed, holding his nose, “You're hurting me!”

“That's the idea dipshit!” Lefty snarled, “Now let me leave! Call off your gang and all your doppelgängers, let me walk out of here!”

It shook its head, “I'm not doing it!!”

“I don’t care if you’re the leader or the underling! I will keep fighting despite being injured! So it's better if you just stop!!” Lefty grabbed his ears, pulling him down.

“BUT I'M NOT HURTING YOU!!”

“Are you playing reverse psychology?”

“LOOK AT ME!! DO I LOOK LIKE ONE OF THEM??”

Lefty froze, looking over this particular Lucky model. He did notice it didn’t look “show ready” as he would describe it, as it had several missing suit parts, particularly on one arm, from the lower arm to the finger tips, it was just an exposed robot arm. The suit also looked dirty, with obvious mud caked on the feet, dried up black oil around its eyes, the fur at some parts looked matted, like he hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.

“I'm hiding also,” The rabbit explained, “I'm hiding from them.”

“What are you? An unfinished prototype?” Lefty let go off his ears.

“Malak said I'm a defect!”

“A defect...?” Lefty said skeptically, he knew that “defect” could mean anything, it didn’t necessarily mean this one was good, it could mean that it was missing some important programming. He was also a little confused about the tone in which he had said “defect”, like he didn’t understand what it meant.

“I don’t like them... they're mean... so I've been hiding anywhere I could basically!” Lucky exclaimed, “The concept of killing people doesn’t appeal to me.”

“How do I know you're not lying through your teeth right now?” Lefty frowned.

“I know why you wouldn’t believe me... I know you aren’t one of them... one of the Joy Joy Gang, I mean.”

“Indeed,” Lefty answered, “I just want to go home, to my family... I don’t know where the exit is though and I’ve been chased around in circles by those three,” Lefty exhaled, overwhelmed.

“Maybe... Maybe I can help you to escape! I have a map of this place installed in my memory!”

“As if I'll blindly follow you,” Lefty knew he couldn’t just blindly trust anyone in a strange place.

“How can I...? Oh! I know! Your leg!” Lucky pointed at it, “Looks like you've caused some damage to the main connection on the knee joint... you need a replacement if you want to run as fast as you can... I don’t have a replacement part on me right now, but rubber bands can help hold the joint steady temporarily so it won’t break further! Hopefully long enough for you to escape and get back to your family!”

Lefty tilted his head, “Why would you help me?”

“I want to... I've seen too many people being killed... and hearing you have a family... I know they'd be devastated if you died!” Lucky shook his head.

“I... I don’t know if I can trust you...” Lefty admitted.

“How about I tell you what you need to do with the Joy Joy Gang? You just need to electrify them!” Lucky replied, “That'll stun them long enough for you to have a chance to escape!”

“Is there anything I can do about Hangry? He's a real big problem for me right now.”

“Hangry... you can try roaring at him... he doesn’t like animals like lions or bears...”

Lefty frowned, that seemed too simple and he knew there was likely a catch, “Suppose I could... Alright... so...”

“Lucky.”

“For personal reasons, I'd rather not call you Lucky, I've had a bad experience with someone named Lucky and what's going on right now isn’t helping... can I give you a nickname instead?” Lefty suggested

“Okay!” He seemed happy at the suggestion, “What do you wanna call me?”

Lefty thought for a minute, he didn’t want something too silly, or something too unusual, but he wanted it to be distinctive.

“How about... Jai?” Lefty asked.

He saw his eyes lit up, “Ooooo Jai! That sounds so interesting!”

“It means victory.”

“Wow! I finally have a name, maybe I can stop associating myself with... that other guy...” He frowned.

“Well...” Lefty extended out his arm, “My name is Lefty.”

“Hello Lefty! I'm Jai!” He proudly introduced himself, shaking Lefty's arm, “Wow! That felt amazing! Just to introduce myself like that, as someone separate from the Joy Joy Gang!”

“I apologize also for attacking you,” Lefty shook his head.

“Oh I understand and it's forgiven... now how about I find those rubber bands and you can tell me more about yourself in the meantime, I wanna know about your family! If that's okay of course...”

Lefty chuckled, smiling at Jai.

#Ask #I was inspired #Darkest Frights #Dark Deception #Fazbear Frights #Lefty the Bear #Joy Joy Gang #unclekoopus #Writing Drabble

33 notes · View notes

dirty-urie · 3 years

Text

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

#why did i write this?#brendon urie fanfiction #Brendon x Reader #my own work #brendon urie #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fluff

36 notes · View notes

alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 16

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: fluff, me feeling sad because THIS IS THE EEEEND

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: there will be an epilogue coming out on Friday, (FROM CHRISTINA’S POV!!) however other than that, this is the end of Lost & Found everyone! I just wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you that have been so involved with this story. I feel like I’ve gotten to see so much of you guys interacting with this story and loving it just as much as I do. I’ve loved your theories and seeing your reactions (lol, some of them were hilarious). This story is...I don’t even know how to explain it. I put a little bit of myself into every story I write, but this is one of those that really made me do some digging. It still is. It was hard to write most of the time. But it was so, so worth it.

I would LOVE (as always) to hear from you about your thoughts. Who your fav characters were, favorite parts, thoughts on the ending, thoughts on side ships (lol Christina and Tae!) and of course, I’m more than happy to answer any questions! Thank you again for reading, and enjoy!

Chapter 16. I’m Proud of You

series masterlist

The sound of rain battering on the roof of the shop creates a false sense of security. The ambience created by the repeated sound against the tin out in the alleyway lulls me into a dreamlike state.

Jimin appears to be in a similar mindset, leaning against the worktable and watching with glazed eyes as I knead the dough to a rhythm I pick out in the rainfall.

“What’s the next question?”

Jimin inhales deeply, eyes drifting to the appear hanging loosely in his hands. “Um…how do you plan on coping with a life in the spotlight?”

Jimin and I have been at the sweet-bread shop for the past couple of hours, trying to make up for all the days I missed from work. Yuri allowed for us to come in today much later than normal due to Jimin’s schedule in the morning.

Last night I’d glanced through the lengthy list of questions with Jimin and Chung-hei. I’d nearly cried from relief when I found out that she would also be joining in on the interview. Apparently Bighit thought that selling the idea of two close friends at the soulmates for two of their idols might prove to be comforting for the fans.

“I plan on baking a lot of bread,” I respond with a smirk, spreading the dough in a pan and heading toward the large oven on the far side of the room. On the way I prop the back door open just a crack, allowing a bit of air in now that the back will be heating up with baking bread. The sound of rain grows louder, the strong smell flooding the kitchen.

Jimin chuckles, nodding along. “And texting your friend Jaemin?”

“Obviously.” Once everything looks good to go, I set a timer and check the time. It’s pushing eight in the evening, and the rain has yet to let up at all. “Ok, that’ll bake for thirty minutes.” I go to join Jimin beside the worktable, beginning to wipe it down.

“Next…something that’s surprised you so far?”

The thread now extends nearly twenty feet, which the soulmate specialist we met with last night predicted would happen. “At this rate,” he’d said, “Everything should be back to normal within five days or so.”

Normal.

What does that even mean anymore?

“You.” I keep my eyes on the table, trying to scoop up as much flour as I can. “You’ve been the biggest surprise so far.”

Jimin lowers the paper, watching my movements as I dispose of the flour before spraying some disinfectant and continuing to clean.

“Explain that, please.” Jimin effortlessly assumes the role of interviewer. I chew on my cheek, grinning when Jimin takes up a spot on the opposite side of the table and motions for the cloth.

I slide it toward him, watching as he begins to clean the other side. “Well… I think we’re becoming friends. Good friends.” My absentminded smile grows as I recall the events of last night.

By the time we’d finished the meeting with Bang PD, we’d barely had enough time to breathe before launching ourselves into another flurry of meetings. All designed to prepare me for the possible pitfalls of this sudden interview.

When we’d finally made it back to the house, Elle was cranky at not seeing either of us all day and I was bordering on a mental breakdown.

In the quiet of the living room, Jimin had sat on the edge of my couch-turned-bed and tucked me in.

“Take your pick,” he’d whispered, unfolding the blanket. “Burrito or lasagna.”

My startled laugh sounded loud in the quiet house. “What’s the difference?”

With some sort of reverenced adoration, I listened to my soulmate explain the lasagna method (piling several layers of blankets on top of the victim/person), versus the burrito method (one blanket, snugly tucked in).

Laid there on the couch, gazing up at Jimin, I understood why I hadn’t fought against the interview.

I cared. It was a devastatingly simple and perhaps a little lackluster revelation, but I cared about him.

Jimin looks up at me now from the opposite end of the worktable with a crooked smile. “Are you friend-zoning me?”

My eyes fall to that smile, wondering what it might feel like to reach out and trace the little divots it creates in his cheeks.

“…no.”

After his marvelous explanation of the difference in the lasagna and burrito methods, I’d chosen burrito.

Jimin had leapt up off the couch and draped the blanket over my body. I laughed when it covered my face, and Jimin chuckled nervously when he pulled it down.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “This is a hazardous line of work at times.”

Beginning at my toes and working his way up, Jimin had meticulously tucked me in. I’d stifled a laugh when he brushed up against my sides, a knowing smile gracing his lips before he quietly instructed, “Arms up.”

Rather than finishing the job quickly, Jimin took his time. Gently straightening the hem of the blanket and taking my hands in his before guiding them to rest atop the blanket.

He took a moment to study me, the only source of light coming from the kitchen. A little light had been left on above the stove, but I didn’t mind; not when it illuminated the way he was looking at me.

Resting on the edge of the couch, Jimin looked like an ordinary man.

His black t-shirt looked a little wrinkled, and his eyes were tired. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at the other couch.

“I’m proud of you.”

Despite the utter silence in the room, I wondered if I heard him correctly. “Hm?”

His lips turned down in a frown of concentration as Jimin swam in his thoughts. “I think you deserve to hear it.”

I stared at him like he had suddenly transformed into a werewolf. “I…I don’t think…”

At my tone of doubt, Jimin returned his focus on me, surprised to see that I didn’t believe him.

Maybe you aren’t proud of yourself,” he whispered quietly, as though sharing a secret. “But for now, I hope that this is enough.” He reached out to wipe a stray tear from my cheek, quickly followed by another. “You’ve been so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”

For unknown minutes after, all was silent. Jimin stayed, fingers caressing my cheeks as the tears continued to flow. I had clung to his wrist, unable to verbally convey what was caught in my throat as he continued to look at me with so much pride.

I don’t deserve you.

But I will do my best to love you in the way you deserve.

✂

The rain lets up not long after the bread comes out of the oven, although Jimin is nowhere near the end of the questions. He continues asking them as he and Jolie head out to the car waiting for them, Sunmi greeting them with a cheery wave.

He watches with a forgotten smile as his soulmate interacts with her friend. Jolie laughs at something Sunmi says, her eyes alight with some sort bittersweet emotion. Jimin is beginning to understand what that look means.

Last night, he’d seen the way she was doubting herself. If he was honest, he’d been doubting himself, as well. This interview was going to be high pressure. He didn’t want to admit it, but this interview would largely decide how people viewed his soulmate.

Yet, Jolie didn’t complain. She didn’t say a single thing expressing her doubt or worry. Instead, he watched on with amazement and admiration as she powered through the meetings. Steeling herself against the worst.

There had been a moment, as Jimin tucked his soulmate in after explaining the different methods (he’d come up with the lasagna method on the spot, but she didn’t need to know that), that he realized why he’d been feeling so odd all day. Like something about Jolie was so familiar, allowing him to fall into an easy rhythm with someone who should have been one of the last he would trust so readily.

She reminded him of, well…himself.

Jolie was cut from the same cloth that he was. That younger Jimin of the trainee days, trying so hard to be brave but still quick to make rash decisions that he later came to regret with his whole being. Quick to doubt, quick to love.

Somehow, that’s who Jimin saw as he sat perched on the edge of the couch. And after a moment of reflection, he felt like he knew what he had needed to hear back in those early days. What Jolie needed to hear as she embarked on this new adventure.

“I’m proud of you.”

It was true. It still is, less than a day later as Jolie sits beside Jimin in the backseat and chatters freely with Sunmi. Explaining some of the silly answers she came up with to the possible interview questions, making a bet on some random phrase that Chung-hei will probably say at some point.

That pride bubbles up until it has Jimin reaching across the seat to grab Jolie’s hand in his, lovingly running his thumb over her knuckles. He grins at the way she stumbles mid-sentence, eyes flashing to him.

He sees the way she looks doubtful for a moment, and he knows that she’s internally rejecting the notion that he cares as deeply for her as his actions say he does. He just squeezes her hand a little tighter and silently promises to prove it to her.

Again and again, if need be.

“You’ll do great,” Sunmi is reassuring as she pulls into a familiar neighborhood. They’ve arrived back to the apartment at last. “I’ll be watching.”

“That sounds a little creepy,” Jolie teases, glancing over at Jimin as she opens up the door and slides out. “Thanks, Sunmi.”

Sunmi nods, smiling in the rear view. “I’ll see you guys in the morning!”

Once they’ve said their goodbyes, Jimin and Jolie head up to the apartment. They can already hear some of the people inside, and Jolie can’t hide her smile as she hears Christina’s voice.

“Kim Seokjin, I already told you that I’m in charge of the zucchini, now leave it alone.”

Jolie wiggles her eyebrows at Jimin. “Don’t tell me she’s moved on to Jin.”

“Oh, no. Her and Tae and are pining over each other every chance they get,” he quietly confirms. The way Jolie snorts has him smiling at her fondly. “She’s probably just trying to make him jealous by hanging out with Jin.”

The two of them head inside, stepping into a warzone. People are scattered everywhere, jumping to and fro in an effort to prepare a suitable dinner for all those present. It’s a rare sight to see in the house, it’s not often that they cook at home. Due to their busy schedules, they either cook for themselves or eat out.

“What’s going on?” Jolie asks with a hint of amusement as she glances at Taehyung. He’s the only stationary being in the entire house, leaning up against the doorway to the kitchen and staring at Christina with furrowed brows. Almost like he’s confused, but he doesn’t quite understand why.

Jimin comes up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”

Taehyung shrugs, a little lost in thought. “Oh, fine. Fine.”

Winking at Jolie, Jimin attempts to sidle into the kitchen. “Anybody need help in here?” There’s a round of applause from Jin, who begs Jimin to come and help him with something. Taking up a station beside his oldest hyung, Jimin gets to work to prepare family dinner.

✂

“So,” I drawl, posting up on the opposite end of the doorframe from Taehyung. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Taehyung’s frown deepens, his eyes flitting over to mine before sloping back to where Christina chops vegetables at the counter. “Dinner.”

“Mhmm.”

Again, his eyes flash over to me, an accusing look on his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrug, enjoying the role reversal. To think, it wasn’t that long ago before I was quaking before Taehyung at work. “You just look a little distracted, that’s all.”

Taehyung chews on his bottom lip, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flit back and forth between Christina, her severed thread, and his own thread which leads out the door and beyond. Connecting him to his soulmate, wherever they may be.

“I feel a little…strange.” He admits quietly enough for no one else to hear.

“In a good way, or…?”

He shrugs, watching as Christina picks her way across the kitchen to where Seokjin clears a space for her to slip the cut vegetables into a steaming pot. “Sometimes good, sometimes bad.”

“And do you…plan to do anything about these strange feelings?”

Christina steps out of the room, and the second she disappears from sight it’s like Taehyung woke up from a long dream. He blinks, looking around for a second before looking back at me. “I think it’s more of a question of if I should do something about it. If that’s even plausible.” Again, his eyes drift to his thread, and I mull over this odd situation.

In the end, it only leads to heartbreak. It just depends on who it will be that gets their heart broken.

Before I can respond, Yoongi is calling everyone to come to dinner. It takes a few minutes for us to all gather around, and I can’t help but notice the way that Taehyung doesn’t even think twice before settling down next to Christina. The moment he notices what he’s done, however, that same tormented expression from earlier reappears. I offer him a bolstering smile from down the table, which he hastily returns.

We all dig into the food, everyone expressing appreciation for different dishes and sharing all around. Jimin blows on his bulgogi before extending it to me with a grin, which I quickly take.

Toward the end of the meal, Hoseok holds up a glass and a hush falls over the table. “I’d like to propose a toast!”

Jungkook whispers something to Jin, who tries and fails to hide his laughter. A glare from Hobi has the two shutting up in an instant.

“To more family dinners like this,” he says with a smile. “And to all our new additions.” He pauses, thinking for a moment longer. “Some of you arrived in more…unconventional ways than others. But I will say this: you make my friends happy, and that’s all I want for them. Please continue to make them smile as often as you can.”

I can toast to that.

✂

These lights are making me sweat, but then again, that could also be from the way the interviewer is staring me down with a hawk-like glare.

There’s no studio audience, no this is something to be broadcasted in about a month from now. For now, I sit beside Chung-hei and try not to fidget in my seat.

At first, there were plenty of generic questions. A few directed toward Chung-hei or I that were easy enough to tackle; questions like: “What’s your line of work?” or “How does it feel to be in an interview?”

Now, though, we’re reaching the end and the interviewer seems to sense this. They begin to lean into the more difficult questions. Anything to keep ratings going, I suppose.

“Jolie, I have one final question for you,” they grab their card before crossing their legs and smiling at me. There’s no kindness in that smile, but I try to pretend like there is. “If you could go back in time to before you met Jimin, what would you tell yourself?”

I blink. Everyone looks to me expectantly, and I find that I’m suddenly sweating much more than before.

This wasn’t in the list of questions.

Refraining from chewing on my lip, I glance at Chung-hei. My friend smiles encouragingly at me, and I allow myself to go back to a previous time I saw that same smile.

I’m standing beside Chung-hei, grinning wide enough that my cheeks hurt as the intro music begins to play.

“They’re about to come out!” Hei screams despite standing right by me. I laugh at her excitement, even though I know I look just as crazed as she does.

The entire arena floods with music, the bass making my very bones vibrate. All around me people lift up their army bombs and cheer. Smoke floods the stage, creating a mysterious aura before the lights drop and everything is plunged into darkness.

And then, light. Two huge spotlights illuminate seven figures who seemingly appeared from thin air in the middle of the stage. Less than a second later, the already deafening arena picks up in sound.

In a burst of energy, the seven boys begin their routine. I find that I am absolutely mesmerized as my eyes fall on one person in particular.

Park Jimin glides across the stage as though he owns it; which, with some quick negotiating and a bit of cash, he probably could. His flowy white shirt makes me understand why he’s so often referred to as an angel. However, it’s when he smiles that I find myself adopting the nickname to use for future reference.

For a moment, I am blissfully ignorant to all that awaits me. To all that awaits us, as I still have yet to notice the way my thread shifts whenever Jimin moves across the stage.

What would I tell myself in that moment?

The answer comes surprisingly quickly. “If I could go back…I think I’d just tell her that I’m proud of her.” I smile softly at the interviewer, who listens to my every word as though waiting for some sort of slip up to cling to. “For all that she’s gone through, I’m proud. And that there’s light up ahead.”

Right on cue, the producer signals to wrap it up from behind the camera. I spy Jimin’s smile, making me smile in return.

The interview is wrapped up within the next couple of minutes, and before I know it we’re being herded backstage before slipping into our different cars to head to the Bighit building.

Jimin and I sit in the back seat as Sunmi drives, listening to her rant about how well we did. I just shrug, explaining that it’s too soon to congratulate us. The real challenge will come when the broadcast airs.

“You did well,” Jimin quietly affirms. He takes my hand in his like he did yesterday, and it’s a feeling that I can certainly tell I’ll be more than happy with for the rest of my life. “How are you feeling?”

I shrug. “Alright, I think. Just nervous for what comes next.”

Once we make it to the Bighit building, Jimin pulls me aside before entering the doors. Once he’s ascertained that there isn’t anyone eavesdropping, he pulls me in close to his embrace.

I nearly melt in his arms, instantly relaxing as I take in the citrusy scent of his shampoo. It’s the same that I’ve been using over the past couple of days.

“Let me tell you what comes next,” he whispers before pulling back to see my face. “First off, you quit trying to friend-zone me.”

I laugh, trying to shove him away but failing as he keeps a tight grip around me. “I’m not! You’re just being overdramatic!”

He feigns offense, gasping loudly. “I can’t believe you’d attack me like this. It hurts, jagiya. It really does.”

“Yah, just get on with it.”

“Ok, ok. You’re so impatient.” His easy smile proves that he doesn’t mean me any harm. “ Secondly, I have a question for you.”

“And what’s that?”

Releasing his grip around my waist just long enough to push some of his hair back, he raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to date me?”

I blink, unsure of whether to laugh or question his health. “I- yeah. Of course I do.”

“Ah, so you want to date me.” Jimin smirks, and suddenly I realize that I may have just gotten myself into a lot of trouble. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it. But I do have some conditions for you if you want to be my girlfriend.”

I scoff. “Woah, technically you’re the one that asked-”

“And you answered that yes, you want to date me. Will you hear out my conditions?” I nod impatiently. “Good. First, you must allow me to tuck you in burrito style whenever you sleep over.” I chuckle, nodding along vigorously while trying to memorize the way he’s looking at me right now. “Second, you quit texting that Jaemin guy. I’m the jealous type, and he seems sketchy.”

Now I can’t hold back my shoulder-shaking laughter. “You realize how contradictory that is, right?”

Completely ignoring my call on his judgement, Jimin continues. “You let me send you chocolates without complaining about getting fat. I get joint custody of Elle. You teach me how to bake bread, your mother’s recipe.”

His soft tone makes me smile softly. “And?”

He holds up his left hand, the red thread shining in the afternoon sun. “When this thing starts working properly again, you don’t run away from me. Let me- let me be your best friend.”

There’s a lump in my throat now as Jimin’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “And?” I whisper.

“And when the rest of the world is pressing in on you, let me remind you how much you are loved.”

His grip tightens just a cinch as I let out a shaky breath before mumbling out, “How do you plan to do that?”

Jimin’s eyes slowly drop to my lips, head tilting to the side as he smiles softly. “I have something of an idea.”

The sound of the gate opening to let another car in – surely one of the other boys – alerts me to our ending privacy. Before Jimin can change his mind, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in close.

The first clash of our lips is a bit sloppy, but soon Jimin is leaning in impossibly closer to better capture my lips. It’s unknown and hurried, and full of promise for the future. The only thing on my mind is the feeling of Jimin’s hands digging into my waist before finding themselves at the small of my back, making me stumble forward a step. He catches me, lips parting in a crooked grin a single second before a black SUV pulls up.

Jimin’s cheeks are dusted light pink in the afternoon sun, but soon I’m going cross eyed as he leans in and delivers Eskimo kisses. “I knew it was a good idea.”

“Oi! Don’t tell me you two were just making out in broad daylight,” Jin groans as he exits the SUV followed by a disgusted looking Namjoon.

“I- no, we were…uh, I…” Jimin sputters, looking to me for help. I laugh, saying nothing as I head for the doors.

“Namjoon, you can’t even act like you’re disgusted!” Jimin protests, hurrying after me to avoid a collision with the door like he has in previous experiences. “Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen you and Chung-hei making out like teenagers on the couch-”

All three boys trail after me as I stride down the hallway toward the elevator. They don’t stop their bickering as we enter the elevator and Jin pushes the fifth floor button, red in the face as he scolds the other two for their behavior.

Leaning up against the wall, I close my eyes and smile, listening to the accusations flying around the small elevator.

It’s good to be home.

Previous - Epilogue

main masterlist || Help support me? ko-fi

taglist: @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou@protontippens @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton@thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader@heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie@hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @onewoneman@preciouschimine @missseoulite@somewhereinthestarss@chubsjmin @daydreamerwestwood @010op10 @4evahevah@mawwnsterr @hikka-light @biasnation@eusticenatalie@betysotelo18 @fangirl125reader @coolestcat123456789 @channiespup @loudnecktrashrascal@bluehairedotakugem

#bts fluff #jimin fluff #bts scenarios #jimin fanfiction #bts angst #bts sfw #jimin sfw #jimin angst #jimin x soulmate #bts x soulmate #bts x oc #jimin x oc #idol!bts #idol!jimin #idol!jimin x soulmate #bts soulmate au #jimin soulmate au #armywriterssupport

105 notes · View notes

dallonm-archive · 3 years

Photo

TABBY | SHORT STORY UPDATES #4

In Tabby, a reclusive man who’d rather exist as a phantom than a human notices the neighbours aren’t feeding their cat, and is sucked into a world that breaks the stillness of his own.

Genre: literary fiction, “soft” noir (??)

POV: 1st person present, very observational and detached for most of the narrative

Setting: late 1940s/early 1950s, unnamed US city but implied to be Los Angeles

Atmosphere: a summer that’s sickly, orange juice, the smell of paint, shaky hands, peach skies, sunflowers, blood splatter, a cats purr, the gut feeling that something is very, very wrong

Literal Logline: this cat is my friend and he doesn’t judge me over silly little things like the murder i just committed (also i think he might be god??)

Hi I wrote a story about a cat and got way too into it and accidentally made it about murder and now it might be my favourite thing I’ve written! Lets talk about it! cw for murder and blood imagery!

general taglist ; @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @melpomeny @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @writingamongthecoloredroses @harehearts @zemnian @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @notphilosopherstudentblog @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @feverdreamwritings @oasis-of-you

This entire story sparked from this photo, which I couldn’t find a specific source for, but is cute and a Mood nonetheless!

My thought process was essentially “man sits on bench with cat...........and also.......murder?” I don’t know why my brain is like this!!!

I imagine this story being set in the late 40s/early 50s, but haven’t pinpointed exactly, in a suburb of Los Angeles (but this also isn’t clear in the story as of now). This used to be my go to setting when I was really into noir, and it was fun to return to that in a non-noir piece! This started out as purely literary, but now I do see some noir elements here. They’re just very subtle - nor was I intentionally trying to capture any - and the story misses some of the fundamental conventions. To me it’s almost like...soft noir? Noir lite?? I feel like it’s inherently noir and inherently not noir at the same time but I love the vibes of it a lot. There’s this “glow” to the story that I can’t exactly put into words, like a very subtle golden hour that is very tranquil and strangely undisturbed by the general chaos going on in the actual story

I took this setting, the vibes, and the idea of a character with an innate connection to this cat, plus a murder chucked somewhere in the middle and ran with it.

I wrote this over the course of a couple days, and it came very naturally! The prose is a little more sparse than my usual writing which made the process much quicker, and I’m really into this style at the moment. A lot of it is also internal thought, which y’all know is right up my alley. I really, really love the voice in this. It starts very unremarkable, but there is an unsettling undercurrent that grows and grows and it’s been very fun to blend the mundane and the creepy. This story really reignited my drive for short fiction because the trend lately has been coming up with an idea I love that just doesn’t translate on paper, but this one despite needing a good deal of work was very smooth!

I’d say this is my first successful attempt at a nameless/faceless character and it’s one of the most interesting experiences of character development I’ve had in a long time?? The only other time I’ve done this is in my story Rinse Cycle, but the narrator never really felt much like a character (which is very unusual for me), whereas the narrator in Tabby feels as fleshed out and nuanced as any of my characters with names or faces. I rarely focus on appearances for short story characters anyway, but I’ve never struggled with finding a name for a character and this narrator just Does Not want to be named. But I think that really fits him! He likes to be invisible and drift through life unnoticed, where he is merely an observer rather than a participant; so when he does get chucked into the middle of a very messy, very chaotic situation he essentially shuts down. I really like the tonal shift this creates where we go from a very detached narrative to very in the moment, very vivid and intense, like we go from 0 to 100 real quick. I don’t want to share a lot of plot details (which makes writing this a little frustrating sigh), but it ends with him committing a murder that, whilst intentional in the moment, is entirely impulsive and practically out of his control. He is not a natural killer and goes from barely being an emotional participant in his life to fully immersed in the moment and absolutely terrified by that. I’m really looking forward to digging deeper into his psychological state as I work on this draft because Boy We Don’t Have Time To Unpack All This. A quick summary of him would be though

people watcher, picks up more than he realises

living in a house he inherited from his dead father

made eye contact with a stranger and it was physically painful

quietly unhinged

doesn’t feel like he’s a person

oh no, now i have to face the consequences of my actions!

I’m trying to limit the amount of excerpts I post when it comes to short stories [because I am always basing the value of my content on prose I share which is! not healthy!], so the only writing I’m going to share is this little description that’s not very plot relevant, but is a good demonstration of this narrator’s funky little voice:

Every morning, at seven sharp, I routinely sit on the swinging bench behind my house to eat over easy eggs and burnt sausages. I still don’t understand how to cook meat. Behind me, cars murmur and sputter into the city, housewives chatter from their separate square gardens and I do not exist in the same reality as them. I am boxed in by off-white picket fence. The fence dividing my neighbours and I – a saffron coloured house with sunflowers bordering the perimeter – is painted pinkish red like an infected tongue. Every morning, I routinely think, that I do not know what’s stranger: how the red jolts the sun house’s otherwise harmonious existence, or the way the job was never finished. It’s not as if the painter died, because if the painter died there would be a corpse; perhaps blood spatter would darken against red wood, perhaps paint would pool out of the dropped can and mimic the presence of an exit wound.

Y’all might be wondering, where does the cat fit in all of this? And the answer is it’s complicated! In terms of form, we bounce between observations/interactions of the cats behaviour and the “main plot” of the story - which is to do with the rather unhinged new neighbours disrupting our neighbours unremarkable life. Thematically, the cat definitely symbolises a lot of things and opens up a lot of conversations that I still haven’t polished because well, we’re on draft one and I was focused on some funky Cat Descriptions. Some fun ideas include the distinction between human and animal, how capitalism is impeding on our chances to live a fulfilled life, and the idea that all humans do is overcomplicate everything. It’s presence also acts as a grounding technique for the narrator, since he so easily detaches himself from the rest of the world. The writing started with a scene of the act killing a mouse and how clean and simple it all is that I’m lowkey obsessed with, and is definitely some non-subtle foreshadowing for what comes later.

I like to joke that the cat is God because sometimes the narrator says some weird shit like, how the Earth stops orbiting the sun when the cat goes to sleep and how the cat doesn’t need to worry about predators because it hasn’t invented any. So the cat is not officially “God” but like,...,,It Might Be

Quickly adding this to the end but! Your girl finally has a (working title) for her collection! I’m not ready to share it yet because I’m still not 100% on it, I feel it matches the stories thematically but not always tonally, however it captures the core idea that I’ve been following so it’s good enough for me. This was a really important step because as much as I tried I could Not Visualise a collection at all without a title, which is v annoying because titling a collection is the worst!!! I was fine just writing short stories and letting them exist but I really wanted to build them as a cohesive collection as I went, and now I really like where it’s going - it’s definitely got a long way to go but I feel like I’ve finally managed to take control of it and steer it into a direction that reflects what I enjoy to write. I spent a lot of months clinging onto the collection I started in late 2018 before The Great Writing Hiatus Of 2019, even though it really didn’t resonate with me anymore, so I’m very happy to feel like I’m now on the right path and I feel the collection really shows my growth as a writer this year! This is definitely not set in stone, but I have a lot of fun imagining the potential order of the stories and right now it looks like:

[Some of these are stories unfinished, and some of them are finished and I just haven’t talked about them because I am the Worst at remembering to write short story updates, but tbh I’m thinking of just talking about them all briefly in a big post about the collection when I write a proper intro for it in the future]

We love to see it! I’m hoping to put a lot of time into this collection in 2021 and get some submissions rolling too (I had the goal of submitting at least one story by the end of this year and I! Don’t know if that’ll happen but January definitely). I’m likely going to be taking most of the year out of uni due to the whole global and mental turmoil rn [also I’d have to apply for writing masters atm and that is NOT happening lmfao], so I’m v v excited to have some extra writing time and see where this all goes!

#atlastracking #am writing #short stories #writeblr #i am once again posting at an odd time when my dash is ~dead~#also playing around w how i format these posts as always

121 notes · View notes

riversofmars · 3 years

Note

Well whenever ya get to it.. maybe a fic where 13 comes across River in a bad mood because River and 12 had a fight? Lol, I suppose it could be the same fight that led to 12 sulking with otters and at the end 13 drops River off with 12 so they can make up.

Thank you! I really hope you like what I did with it! <3

Word count: 2600

Rating: G

Read on AO3 or below

A Stolen Moment

“Step away from the bars!“

Yaz remained seated in the poison cell, she wasn’t stupid enough to get in the guard’s way as they slid open the iron bars.

“You know you’re really going to regret this. I was going to let you live once I get out of here but now, I’ll make sure I kill you first.“ A woman was shoved into the cell who regarded the guard with a threatening glance. The guard, however, just laughed at her threat and locked the door again. “Mark my words!“ She called after him but didn’t get a response. “Well, that’s just rude.“ The woman huffed and had a look around the cell. It was pretty cramped, twelve prisoners last time Yaz had counted. “You lot seem like a whole lot of fun.“ The new arrival stated as everyone carried on waiting in silence. When she didn’t get a response, she turned back to examine the lock. Yaz watched with mild interest, though she couldn’t make out much, the woman’s impressive curls were blocking her view.

“We’ve all tried, it’s really not that easy…“ Yaz spoke up at last, drawing her attention.

“Well, you could say I have some experience with being locked up. A prison has not been invented that can hold me for any length of time.“ The woman gave Yaz a confident wink. “Now, if only I had my trowel…“

“You want to dig your way out of here?“ Yaz frowned confused. The cell was solid rock all the way around.

“It does more than just dig.“ The woman replied in an off-hand sort of way.

“Well, I’m waiting for a friend of mine who will break me out very soon, if you just hang tight, I’m sure she will be here in no time.“ Yaz revealed as she watched her continue to fiddle with the lock. If she carried on, the guards might come back and make things more difficult for the Doctor once she got here, so she thought it best to stop her.

“Is that so?“ The woman looked around, raising her eyebrows at her.

“Yes and if you try and break out now, you’ll end up drawing attention to us and that’ll probably make it harder for her, so…“ Yaz decided it was best to be honest. They had the shared interest of getting out of here, she she figured honesty would be the best policy.

“Fair enough. I guess I can hang on.“ The woman decided after brief consideration. She turned away from the metal bars and made her way over to Yaz who was wedged in between two aliens that she hadn’t encountered before. The mystery woman, however, despite her human appearance, seemed to know her way around aliens. She barked some orders in a completely foreign language at the alien to Yaz’s right who surprisingly budged over to make room for her. “Professor River Song.“ The curly haired woman introduced herself as she sat next to Yaz. It was a tight squeeze so she elbowed the alien to scoot up further. “When did your friend say this rescue mission would take place?“

“She didn’t.“ Yaz admitted. Her and the Doctor had been split up a while ago but she knew she would come for her eventually. “But she’s very reliable at this sort of thing. I’m Yasmine Kahn, Yaz is fine though.“

“Well, Yaz, if your friend doesn’t turn up in an hour, I’ll get us out of here myself, how’s that for a compromise?“ River said and Yaz chuckled:

“Sounds good.“

“What are you in for? You’re not from around here. I know a 21st century Earth jacket when I see one.“ River carried on, looking her up and down.

“How do you…“ Yaz’s face fell. In all her travels with the Doctor, no-one had realised they were time travellers, at least not this quickly and not on their own accord.

“I have an eye for these things.“ River smirked. “So you are a time traveller then, time agent perhaps? How did you get stuck in here?“

“Well, my friend and I we’e trying to solve the mystery of who assassinated the crown prince and now, they think it was us.“ Yaz sighed. This was always the way, things were never just straightforward, were they?

“Classic mistake, never interfere with the monarchy.“ River chuckled.

“What are you in for?“ Yaz asked curiously.

“Ah, you know, the usual…“ River gave a wave with her hand. “Had a fight with my husband, so I naturally came to a planet known for it’s exquisite jewellery to treat myself. Found this lovely pair of earrings, fifteen thousand credits but worth it and the charlatan of a seller exchanges it for a fake as he's wrapping them up for me. Thinking I wouldn’t notice.“ River rolled her eyes. “If you want to trick me you have to try a bit harder than a simple slide of hand. Obviously I called him out on it and perhaps the argument got a little out of hand…“ She sighed thinking back to the unfortunate incident. “But I wasn’t going to waste fifteen thousand credits of my husband’s money that he doesn’t even know he owns. He has no concept of money, I have no idea who he thinks is paying for our suit on Darillium, so I set it all up for him, another thing that ridiculous man has no concept of… Anyway, the argument got out of hand when I pulled a gun on him, apparently that’s not something they do on this planet even if you’re the wronged party in a jewellery deal.“ She sighed concluding her story.

“Right…“ Yaz wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I did steal the jewels mind. Wasn’t going to get cheated twice.“ River winked and pulled out a pair of beautiful crystal earrings.

“Wow they’re…“ Yaz was in awe and some of the prisoners looked around, taking an interest, but River was quick to return them to her pocket and shoot threatening glances all round.

“Beautiful, I know.“ She smiled, returning her attention to Yaz.

“So uh… your husband, will he come looking for you?“ The girl ask, amused by River’s description of her spouse, he sounded like a bit of a handful.

“Probably not. He went off to sulk as well…“ River shrugged.

“Maybe he's gone shopping, too?“ Yaz suggested and River chuckled:

“No, I believe he said he was going to live with otters for a while.“

“Must have been a big fight…“ Yaz wasn’t sure whether she was being serious or not but in the far reaches of space, anything was possible.

“It was honestly not even a big deal. I was just telling him about this expedition I wanted to go on and he got all funny about it. He got all like We’re time travellers, River, you don’t have to do this expedition now, you can do it later, it’ll always be there, waiting.“ River mimicked in a heavy Scottish accent, rolling her eyes.

“You’re a time traveller too?“ Yaz asked in surprise. It certainly explained why she had been so quick to catch on.

“Hence the keen eye for period clothing.“ River confirmed with a smile. “And yes, obviously, he’s right. I can go whenever I please but I was getting excited about it. I’ve always wanted to go to the Library, it’s so big, it doesn’t even have a name, you know, just a great big THE. But no, he insisted I at least stay till the end of the night and I don’t like being told what to do. And he doesn’t like to be told what to do either. And yes, it was a silly thing to argue about but I don’t take kindly to criticism and he’s such a manchild! Honestly, that’s the word we should get from him, not Doctor, wise man my arse…“ River went off on a bit of a rant, it seemed she still wasn’t quite over the argument just yet.

“Doctor…“ Yaz echoed, a little confused.

“My husband, the Doctor…“ River nodded.

Oh right, you said you were a professor, are you both academics?“ Yaz asked.

“Not quite. Doctor is what everyone calls him, I’m afraid his real name is a bit of a secret that I can’t reveal.“ River explained slightly amused. “But if you’re a time traveller… if you’re with the time agency, you must know about the Doctor.“ She realised. “And about me“

“I uh…“ Yaz didn’t know what to say, her head was spinning. Where they really talking about the same Doctor? “The Doctor, a time traveller…“

“Blue box, ridiculous clothes?“ River prompted her.

“Yes, of course I know the Doctor…“ Yaz tried her best to hide her shock at the revelation. “I just didn’t know about you…“ The Doctor had never mentioned a Professor River Song before. And River seemed to think the Doctor was a man. So she had to be from her past. The Doctor had mentioned many times about how she had been a man before so it made sense. She had neglected to mention she had been married though.

“Well, that’s either a very rude oversight by your agency or incredibly flattering that my existence is classified.“ River chuckled.

“I uh… I’m not with any sort of agency…“ Yaz decided it was probably best to come clean.

“Then how are you travelling through time?“ River frowned but Yaz didn’t get a chance to respond, suddenly, an explosion up the corridor shock the building.

“Sorry, that was a bit more obvious than I had planned!“ The Doctor sprinted up to the bars and worked the lock. “Sorry to keep you waiting Yaz!“

“Doctor?“ Yaz looked up in shock, she hadn’t expected her to turn up out of the blue. River’s head whipped around to Yaz and then she looked to the blonde who was just sliding the bars open.

“River?“ The Doctor looked back at River in shock. There was a moment of stunned confusion and the other prisoners took advantage of it. They jumped up from their seats and rushed out of the cell, nearly knocking the Doctor over. Yaz looked in between the two woman back and fore, not knowing what to say. This confirmed that they were clearly talking about the same Doctor and the way the Doctor’s face lit up for seeing River, Yaz could only conclude that she had been telling the truth about their relationship.

“Did you really wait to regenerate again before looking for me? Only you would sulk an entire lifetime!“ River jabbed her finger at the Doctor who was about to throw herself into her arms..

“I… what?“ The Doctor’s face fell.

“Our fight on Darillium about the Library! How long have you been sulking for? Did it kill you?“ River huffed crossing her arms in front of her chest, refusing the hug the Doctor was clearly craving.

“That… this is where you came after that fight?“ The Doctor exclaimed as the penny dropped.

“Yes! Buy myself some nice earrings. Well, when I said buy, I mean steal… where did you go?!“ River shot back, deflecting before she could scold her for stealing.

“I told you, to go see my otter friends!“ The Doctor retorted and Yaz just shook her head to herself. This conversation was getting more ridiculous by the second.

“You actually did that?“

“They’re good listeners!“ The Doctor replied defensively. “Didn’t even stay that long… just until you came and apologised.“

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do.“ River shook head.

“Yes, in hindsight, it really doesn’t. I guess this is why… guess it’s cause we meet and I convince you to go back…“ The Doctor gave an awkward smile and River huffed:

“And what is it you’ve got to say that will convince me to apologise to your past self?“

“He’s just scared.“ The Doctor shrugged. “Really really scared. We just found this wonderful life together, this reprieve from the running and the fighting… he’s just not ready to give that up yet… just let him have that night, the whole night, before you go anywhere…“ She held out her hand to her.

“I wasn’t really going to go right that moment…“ River mumbled, trying to gloss over how much of an effect her words had on her. Reluctantly she placed her hand in hers and the Doctor gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I know that now, he didn’t at the time.“ The Doctor smiled apologetically.

“I hate you…“ River huffed refusing to feel the magnitude of it all. This was a future Doctor, one she had never met before, one that knew how the night on Darillum would end and whether it really was the last time she would see them.

“No you don’t.“ The Doctor chuckled and pulled her into her hug. She held her close and closed her eyes the hide the tears pooling in them. River would pick up her past self from the far side of Darillium, where the white-haired scotsman was currently playing with otters, and they would continue their long and last night together. And then she would go to the Library… it was all written, no more time left. This was a stolen moment, nothing more. The Doctor pressed a kiss to the side of her wife’s head and nuzzled into her bouncy curls that were soft and familiar as ever.

“As much as I hate to interrupt… I’m sure someone would have heard that explosion…“ Yaz awkwardly cleared her throat. She didn’t want to intrude on what was clearly a very emotional moment - one that she would have to quiz the Doctor on at a later date - but they probably should get moving.

“How about a spin in the Old Girl, Professor Song?“ The Doctor pulled herself away at last.

“Why not, for old time’s sake.“ River chuckled and nodded. “Are you sure I really apologised to you?“

“I remember it quite clearly.“ The Doctor grinned. “I also remember we ended up swimming in a lake…“

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.“ River raised her eyebrows and the Doctor winked:

“Exactly.“

“That, on the the other hand, very much sounds like something I would do.“ River smirked. “Perhaps you and me can go for a little dip ourselves first… just, you know, make sure I actually can swim…“ She carried on suggestively.

“Okay, enough of the flirting, can we please get out of here?“ Yaz exclaimed wishing she was anywhere but here.

“I think I’m embarrassing your friend here, Sweetie.“ River chuckled, giving Yaz an apologetic smile. “To the TARDIS?“

“Let’s get you back to your husband.“ The Doctor agreed in amusement.

“You are her husband.“ Yaz exclaimed.

“And every time our paths cross, I wonder how I got so lucky.“ The Doctor grinned, trying to make light of the situation and not think about how this probably really was the last time she would see her.

“Look at you being charming.“ River smirked.

“Fine, just kiss already, so we can get a move on.“ Yaz groaned in annoyance and glanced down the corridor to make sure they were alright for the time being. When she looked back, she immediately regretted it. The Doctor had buried her hands in her wife’s impressive curls, River had already pushed the Doctor’s coat off and was pulling her braces down. Neither of them was paying any attention to Yaz or where they were. They were kissing feverishly.

“Right, you guys just carry on, I’m gonna go meet you back at the TARDIS… I can wait… guess the otters can too… you have a time machine after all…“ Yaz knew they really weren’t listening so she quickly turned away and hurried down the corridor in search of the TARDIS.

#doctor who #fanfiction #prompt #space wives #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #yowzah #twelve x river #Yasmine Kahn #femslash #general #fluff

33 notes · View notes

maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

the rainbow in you

Janis can see sounds. Every sound she’s heard since she was a child has sent a rush of color flooding through her vision. She thought it was normal until she was five.

—————

Janis is sitting in her car seat, on a road trip to Ohio to see her family. She’s especially excited to see her cousin, Veronica. They’re best friends, roughly the same age and so similar in appearance that they often get mistaken for twins. Janis has always been confused when they get mixed up for one another, because Veronica is blue, and Janis is green.

“Mama, can you play the pink song?” She pipes up, kicking her little feet back and forth.

“This one?” Her mother asks, turning on a song by the artist.

“No, the pink one, Mama! The one that sounds pink,” She huffs. Silly Mama. That song is orange.

“Sounds pink? How does it go?” Her mom asks, looking at her oddly in the rear view mirror.

“Um, like... do do do do doooo.” Janis sings a bit of the tune that she can remember. She doesn’t know the words yet.

“Beauty and the Beast?” Her mom asks, switching to the Disney CD.

“Yeah, yeah!” Janis says excitedly, picking up another crayon to get back to her coloring book.

“How is this song pink, baby girl?” Her mom asks curiously.

“You don’t hear the colors?” Janis asks shyly, as if she’s made a mistake and is getting in trouble.

“You’re not in trouble, honey, I’m just wondering. Do you see pink when you hear this?” Her mama asks, pulling into a rest stop parking lot and climbing back to sit next to Janis.

“Uhhuh. Like the ‘mingos at the zoo, not my ballet stuff,” Janis answers, unbuckling her belt and crawling onto her mother’s lap. “Mama, am I broken?”

“No, baby girl,” Mama says sadly, cupping Janis’ chin and looking into her eyes. “You’re my perfect, special, beautiful girl. Not everyone can do this. You kind of have a superpower!”

Janis likes that idea. Maybe she’ll grow up to be like Wonder Woman. She’ll have to figure out a way for hearing colors to save lives, first. Maybe once she turns six that’ll come to her.

“So is it only this song that has a color, or does everything you hear have something?” Her mama asks, tickling her belly to make her smile.

“I think everything. You’re yellow,” Janis says, grinning at her with her missing front teeth, recently forcibly removed by her friend Dana in a tap dancing accident.

“Yellow? Hm,” Mama hums, flooding Janis’ vision with shades of lemon. “I’ve always liked yellow.”

At Janis’ six year old checkup, her mama asks her doctor about the colors. This doctor paints the world with brown. Janis doesn’t like him, but she always gets a sticker when she finishes getting poked at.

Mama and the doctor talk for a long time about the colors, Janis reading a Doctor Seuss book on the paper covered table. The way it crinkles makes her see blue.

The doctor doesn’t know what the colors could mean, telling them to talk to Janis’ therapist, Miss Megan about it. The doctor says that since it’s in her brain, Miss Megan might know more about it than he could.

Janis likes Miss Megan. Mama started taking her to see Miss Megan after her daddy died. All she has to do is answer questions and talk about her feelings. It’s easy stuff.

Miss Megan asks a lot of the same questions her mama did. That’s not quite so easy.

Does every sound have a color, are the colors different for every sound, boring grownup questions like that. Janis finds it much more interesting when Miss Megan asks about specific sounds. Janis tells her that she is purple, Mama is yellow, her best friend Regina is pink, and her other best friend Dana is blue.

Miss Megan tells them that they have to go see another special kind of doctor to take pictures of Janis’ brain. Miss Megan thinks she has something called chromesthesia (Mama spent a long time teaching her to say it), and the special doctor will make sure.

Janis takes her mama’s hand as the go to the car, balancing on the curb like a beam. “Mama, I don’t want to go to the special doctor, I want my brain to stay in.”

Mama laughs at that, confusing Janis. “Oh, baby girl, you crack me up. They’re not going to take your brain out, honey. They have a special machine that can see through your head and take pictures of your brain that way. It’s called an MRI.” She explains.

“Oh. Will the IRM hurt?” Janis asks, buckling herself into her new booster seat.

“No, baby girl. It might be a little scary, but nothing will hurt.” Mama says definitively.

Janis is comforted by this. She can do scary stuff, but she doesn’t like when things hurt.

A few weeks later, Janis goes to the special doctor, which her mama said is called a neurologist. The hospital where the neurologist lives is big and scary, but Mama let her bring her stuffed horse along and he makes it all better.

A kind lady leads them to where they need to go, introducing them to a nice doctor man. He asks about Janis’ horsey, and explains what’s going to happen to her while she’s there. This doctor is green too, like Janis. She likes him. Nice doctor man leads them into a room with a big tube shaped thing, explaining that it’s the machine they use to take photos of brains.

They head back to the main room, and take Janis’ height and weight before the doctor takes a funny thing and waves it around Janis, it beeping at her t-shirt. Mama explains that it’s a metal detector, and that the sequins on her shirt set it off. She has to change into a sweatshirt they have on hand so she doesn’t get hurt in the machine, but the only ones they have are adult sizes and go way down past her knees. It reminds her of when she plays dress up with Regina.

Mama can’t go in the room with the machine, only Janis. Since her horsey doesn’t have any metal, the doctor lets Janis take him too and picks her up to get her onto the special bed. As she lies down, the doctor hands her a button and some earplugs to put in, as well as a blindfold. He tells her the button will take her out of the machine in case she gets too scared to stay in, but nothing scary should happen.

Janis puts the earplugs in her little ears, one almost falling out until she squishes it in further. Then she pulls the blindfold on, resting it on her forehead until she has to go into the machine so she can still see. The doctor puts headphones on over the earplugs, the headset almost sliding off her small head until they get sized to fit.

The doctor goes after that, to another room next door with windows to see Janis in the machine. Her mama is next to him, waving as Janis peeks her head up to see where everyone went.

The doctor can talk to Janis in her headphones, telling her to put her blindfold on and lie back down. She does, and a scary grey noise starts happening as she moves backwards into the tube. Janis is a little afraid, but remembers to be brave and just holds her horsey a little tighter.

Once she’s in, the doctor tells her she has to hold super duper still so nothing gets messed up. Rebelliously, Janis wiggles her toes, but nothing happens. Maybe that’s okay. Once she promises to hold still, the doctor explains that he’s going to play some sounds into her headphones, and all she has to do is tell them what color she sees.

He plays a song. Orange. He plays the sound of a bumblebee buzzing. Red. Mama talks into his microphone. Yellow. Another song. Purple.

After several rounds of noises, Janis finally gets pulled out of the machine and is allowed to take her blindfold and headphones and earplugs off. Mama comes in once it’s safe and picks her up, carrying her to the room with the windows.

The doctor gives her a fist bump when Mama sits down with Janis on her lap, telling her she did very well. He pulls up a video, explaining that it’s the inside of Janis’ brain. Janis thinks that’s a little weird, but also thinks it’s cool and asks several questions.

The doctor explains everything to Mama with some big words Janis doesn’t quite understand, saying that the visual center of her brain was lighting up whenever they played a sound, even if she couldn’t see anything with her eyes. She had chromesthesia after all.

Janis gets a lollipop and a sticker after she changes back into her own clothes and gets to go home. She really likes the neurologist.

————-

As Janis grows, she gets used to the colors. Her mother marries again later that year, and her stepfather is the first person to ever make her see grey. She finds that interesting. Her baby sister is born nine months after that, and immediately has Janis wrapped around her little finger. Juliana is blue. Every coo and squeal she makes is like looking up at the sky. When Janis takes up art therapy at thirteen, her colors allow her to create beautiful portraits and paintings like no one else can make.

She learns more descriptions for her colors, too. Damian switches from a sapphire blue to an indigo as he undergoes his transition. Regina goes from a comforting baby pink to a roaring hot pink after eighth grade. She describes Gretchen as a watermelon pink, and Karen as a bubblegum pink. It’s much easier than having all three of them just be pink.

Every noise she hears from them prompts a slightly different shade of their respective color, but she’s never met a multicolored person.

Until she meets Cady Heron.

Ten years after the label of chromesthesia was officially adopted as the explanation for her colors, she meets the only rainbow she’s ever known. Every moment she spends with Cady is a wondrous kaleidoscope in her mind. She wonders if this means Cady might be her soulmate, like in the sappy fanfictions Damian reads to her sometimes.

————-

Cady’s laughter is violet. Janis decides purple is her favorite color.

When Cady gives her sweetest giggle, the world goes an orchid purple. When she chuckles, lilac floods Janis’ vision. But Janis’ favorite is when Cady laughs, truly laughs, a hearty sound from deep in her diaphragm.

That floods the world with amethyst. Janis has never seen anything more beautiful.

“Damian, we never introduced Caddy to Vine!” Janis realizes one day.

“What’s Vine? Like in the jungle? They’re not as fun as they sound,” Cady pipes up helpfully. “I got a lotta bruises that way.”

“No, Butterfly, not like in the jungle. Vine was an app where you could post videos as long as they were less than six seconds,” Janis explains.

“Oh. Why is that so important?”

“Because it’s, like, the language of people our age,” Damian says, pulling up a compilation.

At that, Cady settles in on Janis’ lap and looks intently at the screen, as if this video is the most important thing she’s ever going to see.

“Stop! I almost dropped my croissant!”

Cady turns to look at them oddly. “How is a guy almost dropping a pastry so important?”

“We don’t know, but if you don’t know these a lot of being an American teenager will not make sense to you,” Damian says.

“It already doesn’t,” Cady grumbles, leaning back against Janis with a huff. Janis chuckles and kisses her just behind her ear.

“Just watch, Peanut, they’re funny!” She says as Cady gives a pleased shudder at the kisses.

The “Hey, what’s up? You wanna buy an omelet for five dollars?” one does get a chuckle out of Cady.

“Okay, maybe these are good,” She says.

Then, one edit of The Lion King comes on, Cady perking up as she hears Circle of Life. It seems normal until Rafiki holds Simba over the crowd, and suddenly bends his arms back and throws him full force into the animals below as a resounding “YEET!” rings out.

Cady laughs harder than either of them have ever seen, falling off of Janis’ lap and onto the floor. Damian pauses the video as Janis’ eyes cloud over with shades of mauve and lavender. She wants more than anything to paint this moment, but she can’t take photos of what she sees. She’s trying desperately to remember the patterns and shades as they appear.

Cady doesn’t stop laughing for a good five minutes, clutching her stomach towards the end. She’d be amazed if she didn’t have rock solid abs by the end of that. Janis is almost blinded by shades of eggplant.

“I get it now, show me more,” she demands once she’s gotten herself back under control, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and settling back into Janis.

———-

Janis sees shades of blue when Cady sleeps. It’s not a color she sees with her often, so she treasures the ceruleans and the denims while they last.

The quiet snores she lets out when her head is at a strange angle paint the world an arctic blue, the sound of the sheets rustling as Cady instinctively wriggles into her embrace flooding her vision with navy.

The blue moments bring Janis the most peace she’s ever known.

They’re having a sleepover after Cady’s most recent Mathletes competition, Cady having passed out on Janis’ lap after about an hour of fishing in Animal Crossing.

Janis takes the controllers from her gently, saving and quitting the game and shutting off the tv. Then she has to figure out a way to get Cady somewhere she can pick her up from, deciding gently shuffling her to the side is the best way.

Luckily, Cady is the heaviest sleeper Janis knows, so she manages her sneaky shuffle without waking her girl. She scoops Cady up gently and somehow makes it all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. Janis is wearing her usual tights and denim shorts combo, so she leaves Cady to get comfy while she changes into some pajamas.

Cady always sleeps on her tummy when left to her own devices, and it’s so cute that Janis sometimes just sits to watch her for a while. Not in a creepy way, or so she hopes.

This time she remembers that Cady has fallen asleep with her contacts still in, coming to the unfortunate realization that she has to wake her. Cady hates being woken up no matter how it happens, so Janis decides to at least try to make it fun.

She crawls slowly into bed after her and starts pecking her cheeks and nose gently, kissing every little freckle she can find. Cady’s sleepy groan sends Janis reeling with shades of cobalt, the muffled noise of Cady turning her head away adding in hues of ocean. Janis just crawls over her, stroking her hair out of her face and continues her barrage of kisses, crooning, “Princess, you have to wake up for a second,” into her ear gently.

Cady bats her away, missing several times since she refuses to open her eyes. “Nooooo.” Teal.

“Baby, just take your contacts out and then you can sleep,” Janis hums, pulling her to sit upright.

“You’re so mean to me,” Cady huffs, Janis’ vision flooding a peacock color.

“Yes, not letting you get scars in your eyes is a most cruel and vile act,” Janis teases, pulling her to lie back down once the lenses have been removed. Cady tips her chin up for a goodnight kiss before turning over, pulling Janis flush against her back so Janis is the big spoon. It is her turn, anyway.

“I love you,” Cady mumbles, sounding more like “I luff you,” with the exhaustion. Lapis.

“I love you too, Butterfly. Sweet dreams.”

————-

Janis sees green when Cady sings.

Cady sings a lot, most of the time without realizing it, but Janis never gets tired of the juniper and olive that she sees every time.

Every hum transports Janis to a world of a soft fern. The high notes she hears paint the world a seafoam shade, lower notes brushing in hues of pear.

Janis is in the backseat of Damian’s car, Cady and the man himself in the driver and passenger seats respectively. Their parents all chipped in to send them on a short road trip to Lake Michigan for a graduation present, renting out a little condo on the shore for a weekend.

Janis had been trying to nap while she was in the backseat, but their rule for road trips is passenger picks the music, so various show tunes are constantly blaring from the speakers.

Doubly unfortunate, Cady liked them. She and Damian had their own special get togethers about twice a month where they would watch a new bootleg of some show Damian had found. It’s cute, but by god is Janis tired.

Suddenly, Seymour comes on from Damian’s playlist, he and Cady locking eyes excitedly. Little Shop of Horrorswas one of their most recent watches, and a show they had both loved.

Damian starts singing along to Seymour’s part, and Janis sees a teal shade as she always does when Damian sings. Then Cady chimes in with Audrey, and Janis’ vision is flooded with a vibrant emerald. Maybe soon she’d have Cady sing for her and do a painting of that. She could do a whole gallery just based off what she sees with Cady.

The combination of their voices makes a beautiful sort of watercolor in Janis’ eyes, shamrock and cobalt blending like the ocean meeting land on a map.

They both get so into belting the song at the top of their lungs that Cady almost forgets she’s driving, nearly veering off into the shoulder lane.

“Can y’all not sing us to death before we get there please?” Janis begs from the back, her friends now looking very sheepish. Damian apparently decides he’s had enough music for a while because he just turns his phone off. “Thank youuuu.” Janis takes her blanket and pillow and flops back down, finally allowed to nap as the chartreuse hues clear from her mind.

————-

Cady’s speaking voice is yellow.

Cady’s mumbles are a banana color, her normal voice a canary yellow. Something about the faint touches of an accent Cady has left over from her youth add just a touch of dijon to it. And on the rare occasions that Cady yells, it’s a terrifyingly vibrant fire color.

Janis wonders if it might be some kind of weird Freudian thing that her mother and love interest have the same color associated with the sound of their voices, but the shades she sees with each of them are different enough that she just decides not to worry about it. She loves her yellow.

“Janis?” Cady asks one day during another warm summer, as they’re sitting on the dock and soaking their feet in the lake below.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever think about the future? Like, with us. Where do you see us in a few years?” Cady asks swishing her feet in the water and painting Janis’ view of the water beneath them a gorgeous butter shade.

“Depends how few years, I suppose,” Janis says as a non-answer. She does think about a future with Cady, more than she’d care to admit, so she needs to know specifics to give a good response.

“Say... five years or so?” Cady asks, looking at her. The little lilt of her voice to make it a question adds in a few flecks of butterscotch.

“Five years,” Janis hums. She’s not sure about that. “Well, hopefully by that point we’ll be living in the same state again and won’t have to do long distance anymore. Maybe I’ll work up the lady balls to propose to you by that point, if I’m lucky.”

“You want to marry me?” Cady asks shyly, but excitedly. New brushstrokes of dandelion yellow decorate Janis’ view.

“Someday, yeah I do. I can’t... I can’t imagine a future without you in it, Caddy. We might as well get married for the tax benefits, at least.” Janis jokes, earning her a shove from Cady. “What about you, where do you see this going?”

“Oh, about the same place. But I want to marry you just to marry you, not for tax purposes,” Cady hums.

“But the taxes are a nice bonus, right?”

“Janis! This was supposed to be a serious conversation,” Cady huffs out a chuckle, shoving her again. Honey colored strokes appear.

“Sorry,” Janis says, leaning over for a chaste kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too. You’re lucky I do or you’d be in that lake by now,” Cady says.

“Hey! I just told you all my sappy plans for our future and you wanna push me in the lake?” Janis pouts.

“I’d jump in after you. I don’t wanna be anywhere you’re not with me. I’m so tired of the distance.”

Janis looks at her for a moment in shock, because holy shit that’s the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. She then takes her phone out of her pocket, resting it safely well behind them so it won’t get wet, before she stands and takes a running leap into the water, still in her shorts and t-shirt. Cady’s shriek as she gets splashed paints what little Janis can see under the water a bumblebee color.

“You’re insane,” Cady laughs as Janis finally surfaces for air.

“You’re only learning that now?” Janis asks, swimming over to her and tickling one of her feet under the water. “Come join me. It’s nice in here.” There’s a fair bit of shallow water past the dock, so Janis can stand and have the water only come up to her chest.

Cady takes her phone out and leaves it by Janis’ on the dock, before coming back to her spot and just looking at her. Janis looks back, grinning mischievously before she grabs Cady by the ankle and pulls her into the water. Cady shrieks again as she’s plunged into the lake. Mustard yellow. Janis had half-lied, the water was actually pretty cold, and Cady pouts at her when she pops back up after a second. Her head barely pokes out of the water. She turns around with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest like a cranky toddler.

“Baby, don’t be like that, I’m sorry,” Janis says, going to pull her into a hug. Then, suddenly, she has a face full of water, Cady cackling as she sends a massive tidal wave her way. “Hey! Oh, you’re gonna get it now, Peanut.”

Cady squeals as Janis lunges for her, diving under the water and swimming away. She’s a good swimmer, but Janis can cover more area and catches up with her quickly, picking her up and pouring water over her hair before dunking her under again. Cady splashes her when she bobs back up again, and Janis splashes her back.

After a while of chasing each other around and splashing waves at one another, the sun finally dips fully below the horizon and the water temperature plunges. Cady calls a truce, and Janis comes to scoop her up when she sees her shivering. Cady wraps her legs around Janis’ middle, brushing her wet two-toned hair away from her face as she wraps her arms around her neck and smiles widely at her.

Janis holds her closer so Cady can get what’s left of her body heat, and starts moving them around a bit to get her used to the temperature shift. Cady tucks her face against Janis’ neck, kissing lightly at her pulse point and sighing happily.

“I love you so much, Janis,” She says, sounding almost drunk on her contentment. Daffodil yellow strokes through Janis’ eyes.

“I love you too, Cady,” Janis answers, using the correct pronunciation of her name to show how serious she is. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Damian gives them a suspicious look when they show up at the back door dripping wet, Cady shivering, and the both of them standing particularly close to one another. Janis just says they fell in the lake, but the way Damian looks at her as he goes to fetch some towels tells her he knows it’s not true.

Janis doesn’t care. That moment was for her and Cady alone.

————

Janis sees orange when Cady cries.

She’s always hated orange, and this discovery makes her hate the color all the more. Cady’s whimpers are a vile carrot shade, her sobs a terrible bronze.

Over the years Janis learns there’s still a beauty in orange. Cady’s overjoyed sobs when they finally get engaged show a beautiful apricot hue; her apprehensive but excited tears when she tells Janis that they’re going to have a baby turning her world an exciting shade of cider. Janis learns to appreciate the beauty of it, like when the leaves change in the fall, but still doesn’t like it.

Janis is worried. Cady hasn’t been answering her texts all day, which isn’t like her. Janis obviously doesn’t expect Cady to spend every moment talking to her, they’ve gone days without anything but a good morning message several times before, but if Cady needed some time alone she would’ve answered to tell Janis that.

Janis decides to drive over to her house, climbing the tree outside Cady’s window and knocking lightly on it to get her attention. She doesn’t want to bother Cady’s parents at the door in case it’s something happening with all of them. Cady looks up from where she’s sat on her bed, staring down at what appears to be a framed picture.

Cady comes to pull her window open, revealing her puffy, watery eyes and red tear-stained face to Janis as she clambers inside. “What are you doing here?” She asks with a sniffle that floods Janis’ vision a sort of pumpkin shade. She doesn’t sound bothered that Janis is there, though, which is a relief.

“You didn’t answer my texts, I got worried. Are you okay, Butterfly? I can go if you need to be alone,” Janis offers, gesturing to the window she just came through.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, if you want to leave, you can, but I’m not upset you’re here.” Cady says, sitting on her bed and picking up a necklace and the same picture she was looking at. “I’m not gonna be great to be around today.”

“What’s wrong?” Janis asks sadly, coming to sit next to her girlfriend.

“It’s... Today is the anniversary of the day we found out my brother died,” Cady chokes out, bursting into sobs. Janis hates the shades of amber she sees more than anything.

“Oh, baby,” Janis says, pulling Cady into a tight hug, letting out a few of her own tears as her girlfriend sobs brokenly into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I miss him so much, Janis,” Cady whimpers, flooding Janis’ watery eyes with rust. “He would be twenty-eight, now. I wanna know who he would be. Maybe he would’ve gotten married, had kids. He deserved that.”

Janis doesn’t say anything, just holds her closer and rocks them slightly. Nothing she can say will change anything.

“He was supposed to get his dreams. Supposed to become a doctor like he wanted, supposed to be with us. Supposed to meet you, and Damian and everyone.” Cady continues sobbing. All Janis can see is sandstone hues and the vague silhouettes of Cady’s furniture, blurred by her own tears. “He was supposed to come back, Janis.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. This isn’t fair,” Janis chokes, holding Cady so tightly.

“I don’t have much longer before I’m older than he ever got to be. I’m ten years younger than him, Janis. It’s not supposed to be like this. I never- I never got to say goodbye for real, tell him I love him. I told him before he left, but he always said he’d come back, that it was just a farewell and not a goodbye. He came back in a box.” Cady wails, showing the necklace she’s cradling. Janis can barely see it through the tiger orange specks dotting her vision.

“His ashes are in here, and I can’t even wear it because the chain is too much for my sensory problems,” Cady chokes out. “He was the best, Janis, and I can’t even wear a fucking necklace to keep him with me.” Cady rarely swears, usually only when things are very, very wrong. Janis sees the color of yams.

“Oh, angel, that’s not your fault,” Janis demands gently, cupping her chin and looking into her eyes. “You don’t have any control over that. We can look for a new chain, or maybe we can move the charm to a bracelet or something. He understands, baby.” Cady doesn’t say anything at that; just gives a weak nod and reaches for the photo frame.

There’s actually two pictures in the frame, one of a young teenage boy with dusty blond hair and Cady’s same crystal blue eyes, holding a toddler with chubby cheeks and fiery red curls tied back in pigtails. It’s obvious in the picture that they’re both laughing, and that baby Cady is in the arms of her hero. The second shows the same young man, a few years older, his hair darkened to a chestnut brown and his jawline sharpened. His shoulders show a camouflage uniform decorated with several pins and patches. The eyes are so striking, if Janis focuses solely on them it’s almost frightening how similar they are to Cady’s.

“He’s handsome,” Janis says. “You have the same eyes, Butterfly.” That gets the weakest possible grin from Cady, the corners of her mouth just barely ticking up. She traces his face with her finger, wiping away a few tears that fall onto the glass of the frame.

“I miss his hugs more than anything,” Cady says. “It always felt like... like the world couldn’t get in when he held me. It had to stay away while I was there. He used to be the only way I could calm down when I had a meltdown. And he was so warm, too. I haven’t gotten to feel that in ten years, now. I’ve had to spend more years mourning him than I got with him. It’s not fair.”

Janis just hums sadly, letting Cady lean into her.

“I wish you could have met him, Janis. He would have loved you so much.” Cady says quietly after a long moment. “I wish he was still here.”

“I wish I could have met him too, angel. I think I would have loved him too,” Janis says, pulling Cady closer into her, but at an angle so she doesn’t have to stop looking at the pictures. “But I think he’s still with you.”

“Really?” The hope in her voice gives Janis a few strokes of a pleasing cantaloupe hue.

“Of course. He loved you more than anything, baby. Nothing could ever take that from you. He’s somewhere watching over you, protecting you like he always did. Not even death could break the bond he had with you. He’ll always be with you, always love you. And maybe he’s with my dad, who knows? They could be watching us together.”

Cady throws herself into Janis’ lap at that, sobbing hard into her shoulder once again. Janis can hear several different emotions in them, showing her an odd combination of squash and marmalade.

“Thank you. For being here,” Cady chokes out just before she finally cries herself to sleep, Janis still holding her tightly.

“I’ll always be here for you, baby. I love you so much,” Janis answers, laying them down gently and pulling her into her chest. “I’ll be here when you wake up, get some rest.”

Janis keeps her promise, lying there next to her and stroking her hair as Cady sniffles and continues to cry gently in her sleep. She must be dreaming of him. Just before she wakes again, a butterfly with wings the color of marigolds flies in through the still open window, fluttering over and landing at the foot of the bed. Janis thinks it must be a sign from Rhys, letting her know that it’s her turn to take care of Cady now.

She’ll keep that promise too.

—————

When Cady moans, Janis sees shades of red.

Her groans are a cherry color, her sweet whimpers of pleasure a deep crimson. When she begs and pleads, it’s a wine red, and when Cady climaxes, Janis sees a bright ruby.

Janis loves the red moments. The red moments are just for her and Cady.

Cady is spending the weekend with Janis, keeping her company while Juliana and her mother are at an out of town dance competition.

Currently, she’s straddling Janis’ legs on the couch, being very distracting as Janis tries to watch her movie, grinding her hips against Janis’ and kissing up and down her neck. Janis wasn’t actually paying attention, just pretending to so Cady would continue her efforts.

Eventually she gives in, wrapping her arms around Cady’s waist and kissing her hungrily. Cady’s pleased sigh floods Janis’ eyes with scarlet. “Do you wanna go upstairs?”

Cady nods eagerly, pressing herself closer.

“Okay, you have to get up for a second. My superpower is seeing sounds, not teleportation,” Janis jokes, laughing as Cady eagerly scrambles off her lap to allow her to stand. Janis stretches, the cracking sound of a few of her joints dotting her vision with black specks.

She goes to pick Cady up once she’s all stretched out, Cady wrapping her legs around her and pressing their lips together again, so Janis has to find her way upstairs by muscle memory alone.

Somehow she manages without crashing into anything, tipping forward to rest Cady on her bed and following after her, never separating their lips. Cady tugs at the hem of Janis’ shirt, whining when Janis pulls away to take it and her bra off. Blood red.

“Can I take yours off?” Janis gasps breathlessly, wanting to see her. Cady nods, sitting up and allowing her to pull her soft sweater up and off. “Bra too?” Cady nods again, so Janis twists the clasp off and pulls the straps from her shoulders tenderly, flicking the garment across her room somewhere.

Once that’s handled Janis leans forward again, laying Cady back beneath her as she kisses her again, flicking her tongue at the seam of Cady’s lips. Cady lets her in, groaning happily when their tongues brush together. Rose red.

Janis nips teasingly at her lip just before they have to break apart for breath, and Cady’s gasp floods her vision with garnet. Janis works her way down slowly, kissing and nipping at the skin of Cady’s jaw, her neck, stopping just short of leaving hickeys behind.

When she reaches Cady’s sternum she does start leaving marks, sucking and nibbling at her soft, milky skin. Cady holds her head in place as her breathing hitches, Janis seeing a deep jam color.

They both moan as Janis takes a nipple in her mouth, matching the flicking and tugging motions on the other with her hand. Though her eyes are closed, Janis sees an apple red. She continues her trail of pleasure, kissing and nipping her way over to the other side and sucking gently on Cady’s other breast for a while, before continuing her journey south.

“Janis, please,” Cady begs, Janis reeling at the strawberry hue she sees.

“Please what?” Janis teases, fiddling with the button on Cady’s jeans.

“Jay,” Cady huffs.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Fuck, please, you, I just want you, I need more,” Cady pleads. Candy red.

Janis kisses her again quickly, sucking Cady’s lower lip between her own before letting it go with a pop. “This okay?” She asks as she undoes the button, pausing to wait for a nod before she pulls the jeans and her panties all the way off.

“Yes, Janis, please,” Cady pushes her gently back down where she needs her.

“Okay, easy, baby,” Janis says, pushing Cady back up farther on the bed, settling on her belly between her legs and hooking them over her shoulders. “I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Janis leans in and licks a hot stripe up through Cady’s folds, tasting her wetness and ending with a teasing flick at her clit. Cady chokes out a moan and bucks up into her, Janis pushing her hips back down gently with a soft hand. She repeats the motion a few times, sucking and lapping at her, barely able to see through the floods of currant and sangria that cover her vision. Not that it matters.

As Janis sucks Cady’s clit between her lips, she looks up to see Cady watching her lazily, love practically oozing from her expression. Her eyes look purple, the clear blue blending with the scarlet clouding Janis’ vision. Janis flicks her tongue over her clit a few times, Cady tipping her head back in a moan and running her fingers through Janis’ hair to pull her closer.

Janis brings her other hand up to brush a finger teasingly at Cady’s opening, asking permission without words. Cady grabs the hand still resting on her lower belly, lacing their fingers together and breathing, “God, Jay, please. I need you, I need more, give me more, please, please please.”

Janis presses inside with her index finger, pulling back and adding a second one with the next thrust. Cady’s breathing hitches, the shaky sigh she lets out painting Janis’ vision a rich mahogany.

Janis continues her ministrations with Cady’s clit as she keeps thrusting into her, nipping and sucking as she feels Cady tighten around her, watches her curl in on herself slightly as her pleasure builds.

Janis speeds up her efforts, curling her fingers and sucking harder, never releasing the pressure, until she feels the familiar delicious vice of Cady coming around her fingers. The cry she lets out with her climax floods Janis’ eyes so strongly with a berry shade that she can hardly see Cady beneath her, arching into her as her legs shake with the force of it.

“Jesus,” She puffs once she’s come down from her high, panting. “Come up here, kiss me. I want you closer.”

Janis obliges, pulling out of Cady gently and sucking the taste of her from her fingers. Cady watches her with hooded eyes, reaching to wrap her arms around Janis’ neck and pull her down into a hot mess of a kiss. Janis gets a strange thrill knowing Cady can taste herself off her lips.

Cady returns the favor on her after a few minutes of kissing, making emerald and scarlet stars burst behind Janis’ eyes. Sex with Cady is different than it’s been with anyone else. With her previous hookups it’s just been about getting to orgasm as quickly as possible, all rough touches and no emotion. With Cady it’s slow, passionate. It’s about conveying their love in a physical way, about taking care of one other. Janis much prefers the way it is with Cady.

They go a few more rounds before they get too tired to keep going. Janis gets Cady off the last time with just her fingers, three inside and thumb on her clit, as she purrs, “You’re so precious, my girl, you have no idea what you do to me. Look at you, baby, you’re so good. I love you so much, you’re so beautiful, Princess. Come for me, baby,” into her ear, switching between French and English. Cady’s always had sensitive ears, in every sense, and they discovered she had a thing for languages a while ago. This climax is much more intense than the first few, Janis’ vision going almost totally wine red at the loud cry of “Janis!” Cady gives as she swallows it with a passionate kiss.

Cady pulls her close once she comes down, clinging to her as she tries to recover from the mind-numbing orgasm she just had. “You okay, Butterfly?” Janis asks, nibbling on her ear gently. Cady nods lazily, cuddling closer into her. Once she can feel her legs again she heads to the bathroom, both of them peeing to prevent infection before they decide to take a shower together.

Cady insists on washing Janis’ hair, tenderly rubbing shampoo into her dark roots and rinsing it with the warm water before gently combing conditioner through the blonde ends. Janis has to crouch down a little so Cady doesn’t have to strain her shoulders so much, but she doesn’t mind. It feels incredible.

“Thank you, Butterfly,” Janis says, bending down to kiss her gently. The whole interaction is incredibly tender, especially in comparison to the rocking sex they just had (if she does say so herself).

Janis wraps Cady in their softest towel once they get out, taking the second-best one for herself. She rubs her girl dry gently, Cady’s auburn curls going a bit frizzy as she dries her hair off. Cady gives a content little shudder at the warmth before letting Janis pick her up again to carry her back to her room.

Cady grabs her own socks and Janis’ jacket from the floor once Janis sets her down, deciding those are her pajamas for the night. Cady always wears socks when she’s inside, and they never match. It’s one of Janis’ favorite little quirks she has.

Post-orgasm Cady is kind of like a baby sloth, slow and lethargic but very cuddly and sweet. Further mellowed by the shower, she sinks into Janis’ bed, making grabby hands for her as she blinks at her slowly and lovingly. Janis is content to go to bed naked, lying down on top of Cady and resting her head on her bare chest as she pulls the duvet over them. Is there a better pillow?

Cady starts scratching at the shaved part of her head gently, Janis’ eyes instantly fluttering shut. “I love you, Bluejay,” she murmurs softly, her voice still slightly husky and flooding Janis’ closed eyes with blush red.

“I love you more,” Janis responds, managing to crack one eye open.

“Noooo. That’s not possible,” Cady answers, moving to scratch the back of her head.

“I’m managing to do it pretty well, then, if it’s impossible.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Cady huffs. “Go to sleep, lovey.”

“Fine. G’night, baby.” Janis tucks herself up under Cady’s chin, her dreams filled with what she calls “Caddy colors” once she finally drifts off.

————-

“Janis?” Cady asks one day from where she’s nestled on Janis’ lap.

“Mm?” Janis opens her eyes halfway.

“You know how you said every person you hear has a color? Like Damian is blue and your mom is yellow and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Janis says, wondering where Cady is going with this.

“What color am I?”

Janis sits upright again, adjusting her grip on her girlfriend. “You,” she says, kissing her cheek gently as the sound sends her vision a rosy pink. “Are the rainbow. I see every color with you. Just depends on the situation.”

“Really?” Cady asks.

“Mmhmm. You’re the only one who’s ever done that.”

“Oh. What color am I right now?” Cady looks like Janis has just told her she’s the most special person on Earth. She supposes she kind of did, in a way.

“Yellow. I see yellow most of the time when you speak. Like a butter shade, kind of. ‘S calming.” Janis mumbles, starting to fall asleep again as Cady begins stimming with her hair.

“What does it look like? When the colors come?” This one of her favorite things about Cady. She’s so genuinely curious about everything inherent to Janis.

“When I first hear something it’s sort of like when you stick a paintbrush in water, like the color comes rolling in from my peripheral. But if the sound sticks around then my whole vision just kind of gets tinted that color,” Janis explains.

Cady gives a thoughtful hum at her explanation, trying to imagine what that must be like. “I’m glad I’m multicolored, then. Wouldn’t want you getting bored of me if I was just one color.”

“I could never get bored of you, baby. But I’m glad you’re multicolored too,” Janis says, pulling Cady against her to get back to her nap.

“I love you,” Cady says quietly.

“I love you too, my rainbow. So, so much.”

hi! hope you enjoyed. whether or not this was an au is up to you :) the scenes in italics are all things that i think have happened in the timeline ive been writing in so far, but whether or not janis could see the colors is to be decided by you.

please let me know what you thought, and REQUESTS ARE OPEN! leave them here, on my ao3, or on my wattpad and i will do my best to make them happen. all handles are just maybeimamuppet.

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

22 notes · View notes

arolla-pine · 3 years

Text

The Night - p.2

(2) – A million buttons

A/N: Warning! This chapter contains parts that are restricted for readers 16+. If you are younger, please skip this part and move to the end of the chapter.

* * *

The tension between Marinette and Adrien increased with each passionate kiss. Finally, the girl pushed her boyfriend towards the couch. He – shocked a little – sat down, and pulled her at her hand. She settled down on his lap, straddled.

“So we’re not going to eat dinner at all?”, he asked grinning, knowing that smile affected his girlfriend every single time.

“Oh, shut up!”, she muttered. “Too much planning…”

“That’s been you who always makes plans. I prefer their realisation…”

“Then please, show me what you can…”, She smiled teasingly and moved back a little.

He looked at her dress sceptically. It had a lot of buttons, like a hundred or even more… He guessed that Marinette had chosen it by purpose to tease him.

“Seriously, Purrincess?”, he asked with a wry smile. “That’ll take months!”

“Oh, come on!”, she winked at him. “Such a superhero will deal with that right away!”

To tease him more she moved her hand alongside the row of buttons.

“It’s like a million…”, he sighed and pulled her closer.

“Better hurry up, Kitty… My parents won’t stay at the restaurant for eternity…”

“Temptress…”, he commented, and she laughed in response.

He began unbuttoning her dress, but Marinette had a plan to make it more difficult. She leaned to kiss him, and when he looked at her surprised, she murmured just next to his mouth:

“Let’s check if you can focus…”

Then she started kissing him. He had no chance to have a peek to find the next buttons, and he was hopeless with unbuttoning by touch.

“I think it’ll be better to tear that dress off…”, he muttered, breaking the kiss.

“Maybe next time…”, she giggled. “Be nice. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I’m sure I won’t!”, he grinned meaningfully, and when she rolled her eyes, he managed to undo some more buttons.

“Silly Kitty! It was really expensive!”

“Which was totally pointless! I have no idea why girls think that they have to pay so much for lingerie if that’s… uhm…”, he stopped suddenly when he noticed a lace strap that appeared from under the dress.

“You were saying?”, she murmured with a half-smile but he stayed frozen – just staring at the strap.

He looked so adorable that Marinette wanted kiss him to death. Instead, she took his hand and put it on her shoulder. All the time she kept watching him, but he only stared at his hand traveling to the strap.

“I’m not made of porcelain…”, she whispered and touched his cheek.

She recognised the moment when he woke up from the shock because his thumb moved alongside her strap. She sighed with satisfaction. That was a very good investment…

“Damn buttons…”, Adrien muttered when his hand stopped at the hem of the fabric.

“You’ve managed to undo only a few with a million ahead…”, Marinette giggled.

“Can’t I just tear it off? Please?”, he asked.

“And who do you think will have to collect all those buttons from the floor and repair the dress later?”

“I’ve heard you can sew…”

“I think I should motivate you somehow to work…” She winked at him. “What would you say for a little competition? Just like the old times…”, she suggested.

“You’re running away on Parisian rooftops and I’ll try to catch you?”

“Nope…” She moved her hand over his chest. “Your shirt versus my dress?”

“It’s not fair! I have just a few button!”, he protested, while Marinette touched his cheek then moved to his neck and alongside his collar. Then she began unbuttoning his shirt.

Not only the number of buttons were against Adrien. His competitor was the expert in sewing so she had deft hands while his own were pianists palms – so clumsy with all those buttons. It wasn’t a surprise when Marinette managed to unbutton his shirt in seconds.

“And you’ve just lost!”, she exclaimed with satisfaction and slipped the shirt off his shoulders.

“Not yet…”, he grinned.

“Cuffs buttons don’t count!”, she objected.

“Not that button I meant…”, he replied suggestively that made her blush.

“Dirty mind!”, she commented and tore the shirt out of the trousers.

The last button caught on the belt and came off the fabric. It flew throughout the whole bedroom and landed under Marinette’s desk. The couple on the couch watched that flight then burst out laughing.

“So it looks like some buttons ended up on the floor anyway…”, Adrien noted. “May I now?”, he asked catching the hem of the dress.

“No way! I need that dress to wear it from time to time. Especially for my parents when they come back! Besides, you have to admit that I won!”

“What’s the reward?”

“I’m in charge tonight!”

“You’re always in charge…”, he sighed.

“Fine. If the competition didn’t work, maybe I’ll motivate you by saying that the top and the bottom match?”, she winked at him.

“M-Marinette!”, he moaned but his hand reached the buttons. The other hand, however, moved alongside her thigh which made her run out of breath.

“You-you’re cheat-ing…”, she sighed trying to catch her breath.

“Am I?”, he smiled, pretending to be surprised. “It looks like it works both ways…”, he discovered and began kissing her.

After a moment Adrien felt that he had undone enough buttons. He slipped his hands under the fabric and moved them down, taking off the dress. That was his turn to be run out of breath.

“I think it’s the wrong time…” They heard next to them.

Marinette squealed and pulled the dress on her shoulders, and Adrien hugged her protectively, before they both realised who had appeared in the bedroom.

It was Wayzz – Master Fu’s kwami.

---

The Night - p.1 <- Previous part | Next part -> The Night - p.3

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrinette #adrienette #The Night #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Adult Marinette #Adult Adrien #after reveal #relationship #three years after That Day

18 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 4 years

Text

My Light

Stephen Strange x Reader

Request: “Prompt for whenever you want it: the reader is the legal guardian of their sibling's (who died in an accident) toddler and the reader is trying her best at parenting. One day they find out the child has magic abilities, but everything goes tits up because Mordo shows up and tries to take said powers. Cue our favorite sorcerer saving the day. May we have a progression of him and the reader falling for each other? Thanks in advance and feel free to disregard the ask if it is too silly”

Word Count: 1,773

Genre: Fluff | Little Angst

Warnings: swearing, death of a loved one, attempted murder, Mordo in general

A/N: Very sorry for how long this took me to write! Like I said, writer’s block is a bitch. But it’s here now! And the ask was not silly at all! It was very fresh and fun actually. I hope you enjoy it! I write best for Stephen it seems, so hopefully I lived up to your expectations! Also, I made the child gender neutral because why not, you know?

───────────────────────────────────

“Ori. Put. The paintbrush. Down,” you try your best to sound strict, but Ori the two-year-old has other plans. They just painted an entire… emblem, you guess, on the wall of your apartment. Again. You cannot figure out how they keep getting into the locked painting cabinet butt yet here you both are. You just sigh before bending over and picking them up, only to get a paintbrush to the face. “Okay, Ori, now you’ve done it,” you say, a mischievous glint in your eye. Ori looks at you with confusion before you snatch the paintbrush, setting it to the side and gently toss them on your couch and scream, “You’ve unleashed the… Tickle Monster!” You “attack” them, only to be met with happy shrieks and giggles. You’ve discovered this is an easy way to tire them and distract them from what they were just doing. You’re just now getting the hand at this whole… parenting thing. Ori isn’t your biological child, they’re your sister’s. Sadly, she died in a freak accident, leaving little Ori in your care. The worst part is Ori was there when she died. One day when she was cooking, the oven malfunctioned and exploded, catching the entire house on fire. It’s believed that she was killed instantly in the blast, and even though Ori was playing ouutside when it happened, they were still there for the entire incident. Granted, they didn’t understand it, but still. It’s really sad. And you’re trying your hardest to be the absolute best parent for them as you possibly can be.

They just make it so damn hard sometimes.

After your tickle-tack, Ori was worn out. It was about their nap time anyways, so you take them to their “big kid bed” as they just stopped sleeping in a crib, and tuck them in. Of course, you still have a baby monitor in their room to see and hear when they need anything. You go and sit on your couch, reveling in the moment of silence you have while Ori sleeps. Then suddenly, their crying pulls you out of it. You sigh, getting up to go check on them only to realize that when you get to their room, there’s a man in there. And he’s targeting Ori. Oh hell no.

“Who the fuck are you?!” you scream, immediately picking up one of Ori’s wooden blocks and hurling it at the intruder’s head. Good call, (Y/n). That’ll stop him. He doesn’t even catch it, just waves his hand and it deflect back, hitting you directly between the eyes instead. “Ow…” you mumble, rubbing the spot where the block collided with you. “This is none of your concern,” the man says, beginning to move his one hand in a circular motion while holding the other in place in front of him. You hear something behind you and turn around to see an orange glowing circle leading into what looks like the ocean?! What the fuck?! Suddenly, the man runs toward you, and you scream thinking you’re about to get pushed in when suddenly he is literally thrown against the wall beside him.

“Bad,” you hear Ori squeak, and you turn your attention to them only to see their hand out in front of them and… is that magic coming out of their palm? “You made this complicated, young lady,” the man says, standing up again, and you turn your attention to him once more. “W-what-”

“I didn’t want to kill you, but it appears now I must. This child’s real mother interfered when I tried to take their powers the first time. It appears I’ll have to do what I did last time again,” he says, and your blood runs cold. Did this man just admit to murdering your sister? And did he just say he was going to murder you too? You were frozen in place when he started running at you again. This time, though, another portal looking thing appeared and another man stepped into Ori’s room, and the other guy was suddenly frozen mid-run. Max capacity for this room is you and Ori, by the way, so there was a lot going on in a space that did not hold that much. “You gave me quite the chase, Mordo, but it looks like it’s over,” this new guy says, and you break out of your frozen state to run over to Ori and pick them up.

The man named Mordo follows you with his eyes, and you glare at him. The man who saved you walks toward this Mordo character, but before he can do anything, he suddenly breaks out of the trapped state he’s in and starts swinging his staff at him. The guy who saved you and Ori curses under his breath, and suddenly, you’re pushed into a new location with him following. You look around, noticing that you’re somewhere with what looks like a bunch of antiques. “Sorry about that, I figured the best thing to do was flee here instead of completely destroying your place. Besides, I’m not so sure you would be able to handle the mirror realm, so I definitely wasn’t about to take you there. Now, let me explain everything that just happened.”

You blink and the next thing you know, you’re in a chair while Ori is preoccupied with a giant coloring book and multiple crayons. “Your sister’s child possesses a type of raw magical talent, and I’m afraid the man who broke into your home is going around and stealing magic from others who have it. I believe it would be beneficial for you and the child to live here for a period of time until I either apprehend him or Ori is able to defend themselves if needed.” “Uh… wait okay, hold on, what?”

“Well, I was pretty blunt with my explanation but-”

“No, I understood your explanation I’m just a little shocked over the fact that this little thing is magical, that Mordo dick literally murdered my sister, and now you’re telling me it would be beneficial if I moved into this place when I don’t even know who you are or where this place is and I don’t have any of my belongings and-“

“Calm down, (Y/n). I’ve had all your belongings transferred over to here already. My name is Stephen Strange, and I need to teach Ori about their powers before Mordo takes them from them,” Stephen explains, and you just stare at him. “I promise you this is to protect you and Ori. Mordo won’t stop until every sorcerer and sorceress no longer has magic. I can help.”

And that is how you ended up living in the Sanctum Sanctorum with Stephen Strange with Ori. This place was a lot nicer than your tiny two bedroom apartment, and the best part is you didn’t even have to pay rent. Even if you wanted to go to work, Stephen said it would be too much of a risk with the lunatic magic stealer still running around, so you couldn’t even work anymore. You mainly spent your time playing with Ori or walking around, tidying up and reading. Although you weren’t learning magic or anything. No matter how many times Stephen tried to convince you to.

Oh, speaking of Stephen, the two of you really hit it off. So much so that after about three weeks, Ori started calling him “daddy.” Both of you were taken aback by that and frantically tried to explain to them that, no, Stephen was in fact not their dad, but they weren’t having it. Of course, you found the sorcerer very attractive and didn’t necessarily hate the idea of him being Ori’s “dad,” but honestly, he probably didn’t feel the same and it would be so complicated having two magic users in the family are you kidding.

Nonetheless, Stephen did treat Ori like his child as well, which made you two talk even more than usual. After a while, you two knew each other better than anyone else. It started slow, with him just asking how your day was and how Ori liked their new home and such, but eventually faded into him asking how you were, no how you really were don’t give him that fine bullshit, what your favorite foods were, what you thought of his outfit, what you were doing later, all these things.

Of course, this all progressed after a few years. In fact, Ori was now five years old, and you have never met someone who advocated for you to get a significant other more than this kid. You always told them you didn’t have time, and that you would find one when you wanted to. Ori would then bring up the time that Stephen gave you the biggest room in the Sanctum when you got there, and the time that Stephen got you your favorite food because you had a bad day, and that time that Stephen took you out on the anniversary of your sister’s death to distract you from missing her and how he did that literally every year and, yeah. You get the point. Ori wanted you and Stephen to get together. And the damn kid was too smart and remembered literally everything at age 5 maybe you should just stop telling them stuff.

Then one day, Stephen approached you while Ori was busy practicing magic. “May I sit?” he asks, and you grin up at him, nodding. He sits next to you and clears his throat. “Ori has gotten very good, you know,” he says, and you nod. “Yeah. Their magic is really strong. And pretty. Prettier than yours, anyway,” you tease him, and he grins. “Well, that’s what happens when your magic is light based. It’s always a sight to behold.” “Light based?”

“Yes, their magic is unique, and they certainly have a flair for making someone’s day brighter,” he says, and you laugh. “Yeah. Well, I guess their name fits them.”

“Oh?” “Don’t tell me Mr. Sorcerer Supreme I-Am-An-Actual-Doctor-You-Know doesn’t know what Ori means.”

“Looks like I’m stumped.” “Wow. Okay, well Ori quite literally means ‘my light’ in Hebrew. I guess my sister named them well,” you explain, and Stephen nods. “Well, they certainly brought light to my life,” he says, and you grin. “Good, I’m glad. They brought light to mine as well,” you say, staring at them as they practice. You don’t even notice Stephen looking at you until he speaks, “The light they brought me was you, by the way.”

Needless to say, Ori got their wish of you and Stephen getting together.

#avengers x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #dr strange x reader #marvel x reader #avengers imagine #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange imagine #dr strange imagine #marvel imagine #avengers #doctor strange #stephen strange #dr strange #marvel

215 notes · View notes

ask-jokeboi · 4 years

Photo

The Party

Hope everyone's having a great holiday season so far! This time of year isn't always easy but thankfully friends and a good distraction can make things easier.

I drew these pic’s to pair with a moderately long fic I wrote to follow up the aforementioned party from earlier, it’s below the the cut! Read it if you want! Either way, Happy Holidays! 💜💚💛

Words: 4,142 Relationships: Harlivy /Harley & Joker friendship / Batjokes (mentioned) Universe: Mine / Lego Batman

A/N: sorry for any typos or weird grammatical stuff, I'm good at art, not writing

Summary: Joker’s felt a little down since Batman’s been out of town, will his best friend Harley be able to cheer him up?

Warnings: Alcohol use, implied depression

_____________________

"C'mon Jay it'll be be fun!" Cheered Harley, mustering all the enthusiasm she could in an attempt to persuade Gotham's former clown prince of crime to pull himself together

"I don't care!…. Go bother your girlfriend or something. Leave me alone…" He was currently piled under several layers of blankets, sunk deep into the ball pit he called a bed

"Nuh uh, I'm not haulin' my butt outta this room 'till you haul yours. You can stay in that pit and cry all ya like, but it won't fix nothin', you gott-"

"I don't GOTTA do anything!" Jay snapped. Throwing his blanket aside and revealing his less than kempt appearance, his face twisted into a frustrated glare

Harley, already familiar with Jay's usual harmless outbursts only sighed as she looked her long time friend up and down, taking in his surroundings with a curious eye

It'd been a month or two since Batman left the scene and his absence was definitely beginning to take a toll on the poor clown.

She could tell it'd been a while since he'd done anything to care for himself…. His hair, which was usually swept back into a flawless green pomp, lazily draped his face. The dull forest black of his roots beginning to seep back into the rest of it. Same could be said for the state his room which, due to his erratic nature, was always a bit untidy but had recently fallen into a state of near disrepair. Bags of half eaten junk food and empty bottles of all sorts of things lay strewn across the floor, particularly around his half deflated bed.

Despite the mess, he still seemed a little...thin… more so than usual to be honest… his ribs visible beneath the loose shirt he wore, arms comparable to sticks despite the muscle.

most of all though, he just seemed... tired. Jay always looked tired out of makeup. It was one of the first things she'd managed to take note of when he'd first entered her office years ago…. But right now the purple rings beneath his eyes that never seemed to go away were deepened to a point that made it clear he wasn't getting much sleep or doing much for himself in general...

Seeing her best friend in a state like this was hard to witness… and although her partner, Ivy, didn't have much but mild disdain for Jay, Harley couldn't find it in herself to leave him like this… which is why she thought a party might lift his spirits a little

"C'mooon! You love parties!! It'll just be a small one anyway!" It was actually much bigger than she was implying but Jay liked big and she didn't wanna scare him off too soon…

"Yeah, like that'll make things any better… who did you even invite?? A good half of the rogues don't even like me…"

"Sure they do!"

Jay only looked at her, bereft and unimpressed.

"I mean ok you and Riddler don't always get along and it took a lot a beggin' ta get ya un-banned from the iceberg lounge but still!!"

"Uhg whatever! It doesn't matter! I don't need those bozos seein' me like this anyway..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! I'm just…... I'm not in the right… mood for something like that right now.... You know how this works… they'd see right through me. "

Back when Jay was still her patient they'd end up talking a lot about masks…Batman's would come up more often than not but every now and then he'd end up discussing his own…. Or more specifically, the metaphorical one he'd put on every time he picked up a brush and painted himself a new face…..

"Jay, sweetie… you don't have to pretend to be okay… they won't think you're weak or nothin', you know that right?..."

Jay gave her an incredibly tired look before turning away.

"What happened to the Jay that wasn't afraid to let people know how he's feelin' huh? The one that turned every emotion into a show….?"

He kept his head down, shoulders stiff, before speaking...

"....Cause I'm not just sad this time…. " As he looked up slowly an emotion that was rarely seen on the mans face showed itself, flooding his eyes.

"W- when I'd talked to Robin and Batgirl that last time and asked about Batman they gave each other this look and…. Something's wrong… he's in trouble or something I… I can feel it….. W-what if he doesn't come back and he leaves me here all alone an-"

Harley put a polished nail up to Jay's lips and smiled warmly.

"Shhhh…. You're worryin' too much puds… ur big dumb brain is just an overdramatic liar… don't listen to it okay?"

Jay sniffled, giving her an understanding nod.

"You still got me an' your crew an' Bud and all the other little silly things that make ya days good doncha?"

He smiles halfheartedly. "Y-yeah…. But still… he was..."

"I know… he's special….but do you seriously think anything out there could actually kill Batman? THE Batman? C'mon now…. He's luckier than any bastard out there and you know it…"

"Yeah…. Yeah I guess ur right"

"Of COURSE I'm right!… now come on…" she offers her hand and helps her friend stand up. "Let's get that hair done and those nails shined up so you're brain can take a break from making all those nasty thoughts"

Jay smiled a little wider this time, forever grateful he had a friend as great as Harley around… he really didn't know what he'd do without her sometimes...

"Right…. Also… uh…. Harley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for….uh…. Bein'... around… I guess…" Jay practically mumbled...

Harley smiled knowingly, amused with his poor attempt of gratitude

"No problem, Pud's….." she gave him a peck on the forehead leaving a black smudge behind

"now enough mush...Let's clean this mess and get ya fabbed up"

________________

A few hours later, Jay stood outside the titular iceberg lounge in his best winter fit, a long boa around his shoulders and a pair of unnecessary sunglasses obscuring the mascara he'd only half ruined on the way there….

He truly, honestly, did not feel like socializing with anyone at the moment, but who was he to refuse a doctor's orders?....

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air, Jay stiffened up, smoothed the wrinkles from his vintage memphis style sweater and entered the lounge, heels high and head high as he could manage

____________

When the doors swung open with a swirl of winter snow, Jay was greeted by a surprisingly full and stunningly silent room. Christmas music cut through the tension like a knife as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Joker's fashionably late arrival.

He didn't know if it was because of his natural ability to demand attention or the fact that he hadn't been seen in nearly 3 weeks, but for some reason the room seemed slightly on edge. worried he'd come with another Joker brand surprise perhaps. Thankfully, Harley, who'd left his place a little earlier to get everything ready, noticed who'd finally arrived.

"JJ!! YOU MADE IT!!" she leaped off her stool and came running to grab him, The rest of the room taking it as a cue to un-tense and to go back to their festivities, the lounge lighting up with warm greetings and laughter.

" Hey…" said Jay as Harley put an arm around his shoulder and escorted him to the booth she was sitting at….

"So… is all of this for me or…?"

"No, did she tell you that?" Ivy who was sitting at the booth with his other less than fond acquaintance, Catwoman and someone else he didn't seem to recognize, gave a snide smile, Jay suddenly felt he should probably sit someplace else

"IVY!! SHHH" Harley shushed

"What? He was gonna find out out eventually…. It was supposed to be Penguin's annual winter ball"

"Uh,It still is tho…?" said Kat, mouth full of shrimp

"Well, yah…. Difference is we had to 'finesse' Penguin into letting HIM in" Ivy explained, disdain in her voice

"And you... helped with that?..." asked Jay, surprised. Ivy sighed

"for Harley's sake, yes. not yours"

Jay smiled, amused. "well how charitable of you, here's to hoping you won't regret it"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "As if I don't already" she said, taking a short sip from her drink, Harley sitting down next to her give her thank u peck on the cheek.

"Hey, why'd you get banned from this dump anyway?" Asked Kat, eyes squinting curiously

"I have no idea…." Jay shrugged

"He put a coke and mento bomb in the fountain!" Harley interrupted

"Oh yeah…." He'd totally forgot

"Ha! Awesome…"

"Right uh, anyway, who the hell are you?" Jays attention suddenly turned to the woman sitting opposite of kat. She had light blue skin, bright white eyes and hair that made her look like a human lighting rod.

"Name's Livewire." She said, voice sharp as her appearance

"She's from Metropolis" explained Ivy. Jay rose a brow.

"Metropolis huh?? How'dya like dealin' with boy scout full time over there?" He quizzed

"Sweet!…" she exclaimed enthusiastically "Big blue aint got a thing on me! 'sides, dweeb's been outta town for months now! metropolis might as well be my personal playground"

The mentioning of Superman's absence made something in Jay's chest twist. He'd known their neighbor hero had been MIA for even longer than Batman, Supergirl taking over the workload just like Batgirl had in Gotham. but still… the reminder was enough to worry him. I mean… if superman was taking so much time up there, what chance did Batman have against whatever it was they were so busy with??

Trying his best to shake off the uneasiness building in his stomach Jay took a breath and snapped back to reality, offering Livewire his hand

"Well, uh... Livewire, i'm this city's head honcho while the bat's gone so welcome to Gotham and try not to wear it out"

Harley and Ivy exchanged looks as Jay smiled slyly and took Livewires hand…

...Only for his usual gesture of hospitality to be met with an equally shocking grip that sent blue sparks flying in every direction.

"DAMN, what the- !! " Jay yanked his hand back and held it in pain, hot needles running up his arm.The new addition to Harley's crew laughed crudely and smiled

"why do you think they call me 'LIVEWIRE' genius?"

Jay stayed silent with defeat as the table went up in hysterics "Yeah fine, okay, I shoulda saw that one coming" he sighed and smoothed out his hair which had sprung up to stand on end, his face ever so slightly red "anyway, you ladies have a nice time… i'll set up shop somewhere else and let you guys… idk… flirt with each other or whatever..." without much fanfare he slunk off to sit someplace else.

After the table had settled down completely though, Harley noticed Jay making his way to the bar looking somewhat dejected.

"Aw Jay…."

The rest curiously turned their attention to the direction of Harley's gaze.

"You're not going after him are you?" Asked Ivy after a beat.

"Well… yeah…?" Harley shrugged.

"Uhm, why?" Asked kat, dipping more shrimp into her cocktail "like if he's not in the mood for a joke that's kinda his problem…?"

"Yeah, but still…. I've never seen 'im like this for so long…. He's usually so funny and animated, it's like somethin' drained all the life out of 'im…." The concern on Harley's face was very apparent. Ivy brushed back a few strands of her hair and tried her best to reassure her.

"Look i'm sure he'll get his second wind when Batman comes back at some point… but ‘til then it's not your job to take care of him…"

Harley sighed silently. "I know but… he's still my best friend… and if I hadn't met him, I wouldn'ta met you!" She squished close to her spouse with a smile, Ivy suddenly unable to hold back a small one herself.

"He helped me outta my slump all those years ago, least I can do is help 'im outta his..."

Ivy gave her a soft look before reluctantly caving "Kindness has always been your best and worst trait, silly bee…" she said with a smirk "fine, go ahead and do your thing, I've got plenty of company over here in the meantime…"

Harley smiled happily and gave her one last kiss before running off to join Jay at the bar.

____________

Jay sat alone at the bar in silence until he was suddenly startled by Harley's arrival.

"What's shakin' grumpy gills?" She asked pulling up a stool.

Jay didn't answer as the bartender slid over a funfetti martini topped with the works, Jay lazily catching it and drinking deeply.

"Those guys didn't get ta ya did they? I know they seem mean bu- "

"Ah… I don't care about them…" said Jay dismissively "we're all villains here right? I'm sure they got their reasons… sides, Livewire's pretty fun even if she did fry my Joy buzzer" He said regretfully…

"So what's up then…?" Asked Harley, head tilted

Jay looked down at the table with a frown, fingers anxiously scraping the side of the glass in his hand….

"What she'd said about metropolis…. And… superman…."

"Oh…" Harley nodded "well…. I'm sure they're together wherever they are…. Right? Him and Batman? And I mean, with Superman around, he's bound to be okay….."

Jay had a hard time matching her enthusiasm but that logic did comfort him some. "Yeah… yeah I guess so"

"C'mon Jay, you gotta get that stuff off your mind for a minute! Go mingle! Go dance!… look at everyone who came this time! Turn-out's never been so big!"

As Jay's looked around the room, Harley did have a point, usually these get-togethers only managed to scrounge up about half the gang, but it looked like almost all the rogues in town had come this time. Even D-listers like Polkadot man, Killer Moth, Crazy Quilt ect. Had managed to show up, plus people he didn't seem to recognize…

For example at the bar sat Scarecrow and a… Oddly scruffy looking man he looked to be sharing a drink with. He'd heard from Riddler over the phone some time ago that crow had found himself a friend and that the two were "in cahoots". whatever that was supposed to mean. He supposed that must've been the "friend" in question…

A few tables down sat another unfamiliar in a polkadot shirt and a pair of cracked thick lensed glasses. He had a peculiar looking puppet sitting on his lap which made J raise a brow, but he didn't judge. Looking at his woefully nervous face he guessed it must it must've been a security thing anyway…

Despite the big crowd though, Jay did notice one person missing of whom he hadn't seen in quite a while...

"Yeah I guess everyone is here... except uh, Lex I guess…?" Jay considered himself friends with metropolises king of corruption, even if the feeling wasn't always mutual. Seeing so many crooks he knew in one place made him realize how rare it was to see the mal hearted mogul at these things.

Unfortunately, Harley could only shrug with defeat. "Ah I tried to get Lex but you know how he is… nobody's seen that shut in for ages".

Jay's eyes narrowed at that "How long is ages…. ?" He pressed

"I dunno… a few months guess??? Livewire said he's been quiet lately, probably off in one of his labs making some over convoluted instrument of destruction I guess"

The growing list of missing big shots was beginning to piece something together in Jay's head… what on earth was Lex up to? Where was superman?? Why did the league need Batman's help? How did it all connect?? After a moment Harley noticed Jay slipping into his thoughts again and shook his shoulder lightly to pull him out of it.

"Hey, don't worry about that egghead. he'd only kill the mood if he were here anyway"

Jay couldn't disagree, the billionaire was kind of notorious for being a giant stick in the mud.

"If you're really worried about what's goin' on with those guys, you can come up with a plan Tomorrow…. right now we got a' open dance floor, unlimited drinks and a Karaoke competition that's about ta kick off in ten"

The word 'Karaoke' was enough to snap Jay back to reality. "Did you say Karaoke?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do they hav-"

"Yes, they have Queen"

Jay nearly looked as if someone had told him the best news of his life. "Oh thank god" maybe Harley was right. Worrying would have to wait.

_____________

The rest of the night went on with few hang ups. Drinks poured, music played and poorly screeched lyrics kept the mood upbeat.

The Karaoke stage hosted performance after performance, some more enthusiastic than others. Some painful, others surprisingly pleasant. Jay's teetered off the edge of both categories, but when "somebody to love" burst through those speakers, he'd sung it with his whole chest. The best performance by a long shot though had to be Ivy's who's affinity for 50's ballads lent to her beautifully rich voice and her's was closely followed by the Dent's who'd decided to attempt a duet with no chorus which everyone found somewhat impressive.

Emotions did flare up once or twice though, as they tend to do when it comes to villain gatherings. Ed and Jay got into a fight about something stupid and unimportant, both obviously enjoying themselves, Bane and Croc engaged in an arm wrestle that woefully ended in a tie, and Jay inevitably got worked up about Batman again, this time with a crowd of eager listeners somewhat entertained by his rambling, giving questionable advice here and there.

At the get-together's height, the dance floor had filled to the point where Penguin was just about ready to call the whole event off until Riddler dragged him on to the floor himself.

After another hour or so the party wound down some more and the night devolved into quiet discussions between friends, everyone either ready to leave or half asleep. Eventually Jay and Two-face of all people were left alone. Once Ed, Crow, Hatter and the rest had gone home.

Jay always liked Harv, for someone known for his temper he seemed to have a lot of patience and Jay found both of his selves uniquely interesting in their own ways. Harvey the "handsome" one was always very nice, easily flustered, and had a sadness in his eyes that was hard to ignore. "Dent", the one famous for all those 2 themed crimes, was a bold individual and one of the most brutally honest people he knew. That night though, even he seemed a little sad. He admitted later that it was because it'd been a while since he'd gotten to talk to his old pal Bruce, someone Jay was mildly familiar with of course, and they spent the rest of the night discussing Batman and wayne and how they seemed so similar until it really was time to head home.

sometime after midnight, long after everyone had either left or found someplace to pass out, Harley broke up with her girl gang again to come get Jay who'd fallen asleep in an empty booth.

"Wake up clown" she said loudly, nudging him a bit. Jay giggled quietly in response, turning over after a moment and opening his eyes.

"Oohh what's up??"

"Time to go."

"Aw…" Jay huffed disappointedly, then did his best to sit up straight, his head slowly spinning as he did so "ah jeeze…"

"Don't worry I called one of your guys, he's waiting outside." She explained "I dragged you here, might as well drag you home"

"You did that for me?" Jay smiled "That's so nice…."

"Mhm" carefully, she took his hand got him to his feet, doing her best to keep him up straight. As they headed out they met up with Ivy at the door

"Taking pennywise home?" She asked

"It'll only take a minute" Harley assured

"Alright… don't take too long…" she turned to leave but before she could, Jay suddenly spoke up.

"H-hey, Wait!"

Ivy turned around, brow raised "You have something to say to me?"

"Uh… yeah? I mean… sort of? I just, uh… wanted to say i'm sorry for… messing up your garden all those times…."

Ivy blinked "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just thought you shud kno…. And that um…. Maybe you'd hate me…. A little less... if I said sorry for once..." the frown on Jays face was absolutely pitiful, Ivy could only roll her eyes.

"I don't hate you… Joker"

"Oh?"

"I just think you're annoying…."

"Oh…." Jay couldn't really tell if that was any better but at the moment he was too drunk to care. "Okay…"

With that ivy turned around to join Kat and Livewire

"Thanks for the apology though I suppose…Take care of yourself…. And, Harley don't take too long… it's only 1:00am we still have plans."

"Don't worry Ive's i'll catch up."

after one last look, Ivy went back on her way and Harley continued walking J to his car.

As they went Jay hummed to himself, swaying slightly, until a certain thought made him go quiet again.

"....Harley….?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, J?"

"Am I a bad friend?" The question just as out of the blue as his apology to Ivy….

Harley looked at him, concerned "Why do ya ask?"

"I just…. Please?" He pleaded. Harley hesitated for a long moment but decided being honest was probably best.

" not exactly but… maybe sometimes"

"Hm…" Jay decided he'd have to work on that

"But I also know ya don't really wanna hurt anybody…. That you try your best everyday ta make people happy and that you've been through just as much any of us…. A few mean comments an' dumb pranks ain't gonna make anybody think you're the devil or somethin'….not me or any of the other guys... "

Jay had to smile at that, Harley always had something smart or nice to say no matter what. still, her answer only made him feel worse about how he'd been earlier when she was just trying to help… he really, honestly, didn't deserve her…. But the least he could do was let her know he was glad to have her...

"Harley…?"

"Yeah, J…"

"Thanks for being really, really great all the time… and… y'know… around… " Harley smiled as she secured his arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks J..."

"also sorry for sucking sometimes..."

She sighed. "It's fine Jay…."

carefully, she hauled his ragdolling body a few more feet and shoved him into the back seat of his car. J grunting as his head hit the leather seat.

"Now go home an' try not to get lost on your way to the door" She said sternly. Jay gave her a lazy wink and a pair of wobbly finger guns.

"Gotcha."

with that,Harley slammed the door shut and the J-Mobile's engine roared to life. One his lackeys sitting in the driver's seat.

"Where to boss? HQ?"

"Yup… ah, sorry t' call ya out so late…"

"S'alright boss…. Don't worry about it"

As the car lurched forward, street lights shining in through the windows as snow fell ever so lightly over Gotham like a dusting of fresh powdered sugar, Jay did inevitably start thinking about Batman again, wondering when he'd come back, desperately wishing he knew anything about where he was right now….

The thoughts were hard to ignore and when he got home he knew he'd be surrounded by the same walls he'd spent the last month trapped with them in…. even so, the world felt a little less washed out than it had before he left, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol swirling in his blood.

He may not have had Batman... But today reminded him he wasn't alone.

He had friends… real friends… In a way he'd always considered them such… but deep down there was always doubt. I mean sure he got along better with some than others, but after knowing people so long he shouldn't have been so dumb to think they hated him as much as he thought they did.

When you're a villain in Gotham sometimes all you have are other weirdos in the same boat as you to help keep you and everyone else afloat. People need people in more ways than one… and as Jay drifted off to sleep in the back of his gaudy getaway vehicle, laying in a position that was just barely comfortable, he pushed his worries aside and made sure that was something he'd never let himself forget.

~ End ~

#batman #dc comics #the joker #harley Quinn #lego batman #christmas #blogged

1K notes · View notes

arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

all for you // iwaizumi hajime x reader

Author’s Note: This is a soulmate AU and I’ve always wanted to work on one~ Why I chose Hajime is because I adore him to death and gah he’s just so perfect for this scenario— Or maybe I don’t see him like everyone else does. Thank you all for being so kind to my other works, you really have no idea how much this motivates me? Please keep letting me know what you think, I think I can turn this quarantine feeling around if you guys help me out! Thanks a bunch, I’m really grateful. :”)

Word count: 3125

Pairing: SOULMATE AU! Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of bullying, ignorant parents

You don’t remember exactly when it started, but you could pin it around your 9th birthday or something.

It was the first time you discovered that your soulmate played volleyball. You never told your parents about it, considering how distant they were about everything. It wasn’t as if they were mean to you, it’s just that they gave you a feeling that they didn’t care, and maybe they didn’t? No one in the world knew you had a volleyball player as a soulmate and you had made the discovery only because your close friend was in the girl’s volleyball team. Seeing her palms red and bruised only led you to pin a similar feeling in your own palms, and there you had it.

You wondered what pain you were giving your soulmate in return. It’s true, you could feel what your soulmate was feeling—injuries more than anything else, but you weren’t an athlete. The most you ever felt with respect to pain were a few paper cuts here and there and they weren’t even painful to you, so you knew your existence didn’t even make a difference to your soulmate.

But damn, your soulmate never missed a day of practice. Eventually, as you grew, the stinging stopped—and you even read about what you can do to ease the numbness in your palms after a game. You bought an assortment of hand-creams and moisturised your skin everyday, hoping that your soulmate would at least notice this effort from your end. However, you’d not know if they noticed unless they told you themselves but you don’t know if that’ll happen anytime soon. It wasn’t as if you’d given up finding them, there were other factors in your life that demanded more attention.

You hiss as you head to the washroom of your school, knowing that your soulmate must be practising again. Heading inside the booth, you sit on the toilet seat and let out a breath. Your hands are shaking now, not only because of the pain, but because of what was to come.

“Check the stalls,” A voice sounded from the bathroom outside and your eyes widened. “She must be here.”

You never knew this was how your high school life would go. You never realized that being bullied could come down to such low levels. Not only did you agree to everything Junko asked you to do, but you never said a word in edgewise. Your eyes teared up, knowing that she was going to find you again, and do something again.

“Ah,” You heard her raspy voice, “This is where you are, (l/n)-chan!”

A second later, you expected the door to fling open and for her to grab you by your collar and shake you with some nasty words. When the door didn’t open, your eyes widened. Looking up to the top of the booth, you quickly shut your eyes for what was to come. Junko had a bucket of water and she turned it around, the water completely soaking you—your uniform and your shoes. Only laughter could be heard after that, your whimpering form forgotten, and the last words you heard Junko say were,

“Just make sure you don’t score more than I do in anything, okay?”

You sat there for a second more before pressing your hands to your face and crying. You knew you didn’t deserve this, and you knew that there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t tell your parents, because not once in their life have they asked you how your day went or even if they loved you. You couldn’t tell your best friend because your school’s team was finally practicing for inter-high.

What you didn’t notice was how suddenly the stinging had stopped. It was as if your soulmate had paused practice because they knew what was happening with you, and through their silence they were saying something you couldn’t understand.

However, you didn’t notice it though.

“Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa blinked as Iwaizumi suddenly rushed to the side of the court, a nasty scowl on his face. The team stopped practice midway, but only Oikawa knew that this expression on Hajime meant that it was related to his soulmate. Hajime rarely spoke about his soulmate, if Oikawa was being honest, but there were some occasions where he’d let some details slip.

Like how sad they were almost all the time, or how Hajime would sometimes forget to moisturize his hands before he went to bed, but would wake up to find fully moisturized hands either way. Oikawa used to tease him about how caring his soulmate was, but seeing a nasty look on Hajime didn’t rest too well.

“Is it them again?”

Hajime nodded, before sighing. He couldn’t understand what it was, but it felt as if someone had poured a bucket of water on you, and you definitely weren’t ready for it. And since it was right after school, he knew only one plausible explanation was possible.

“They’re being bullied.” Hajime’s voice was low, but Oikawa caught what he said.

“That’s...” He didn’t know how to respond.

Hajime sighed before wondering if you were at least in his school. It was wishful thinking, seeing how the chances of that happening are very slim. Shaking his head, he stared into his palm before feeling helplessness rush into his system. How can you miss someone you don’t even know? This whole soulmate system was downright idiotic.

As soon as practice was done, Oikawa and Iwaizumi were ready to leave instantly. They didn’t have a game coming, but the practice that day was particularly intense. Iwaizumi couldn’t stop thinking about the water incident, and only wondered how easy it’d have been if he’d already met you. You could tell him what was happening and he’d at least comfort you. Whoever you were, Hajime was sure that the problem to solve his own helplessness was to offer assistance to you, and seeing how that wasn’t happening was slowly ruining him.

He didn’t realize that he was drowning out Oikawa’s words in the subway that evening. Hajime was staring intensely into nothing, feeling bad for you, not knowing who you were.

“Iwa-chan! Look!”

Iwaizumi blinked before turning around and looking at where Oikawa was pointing. There, in another cabin in the subway, stood you—soaked from top to bottom, clutching your bag in your hand, your (h/c) hair sticking to your head and your eyes staring at nothing. Hajime’s heart raced at the mere sight of how sad you looked, but swallowed your appearance in like you were going to be asked in the exams. Every cell in Hajime’s body was screaming that you were his happily ever after, and there you stood, only a few meters away, separated by an electric door.

“Iwa-chan! You have to speak to her! She might be the—”

The train suddenly stopped, and Hajime’s eyes widened as you rushed to walk out. It wasn’t his stop yet, but he’d seen your uniform, he’d seen the color of your hair and the color of your eyes. He’d even seen the stop you’d get down at, exactly three stops before his own; he was tempted to run after you, but he knew he wasn’t the sort to recklessly jump out like that. Oikawa looked puzzled, but Iwaizumi had his own plans. He turned away, a soft smile on his lips, and thought of the next time he’d see her now that he had a face.

It was safe to say that Iwaizumi was instantly captivated. A hundred questions crowded in his mind. He wanted to know who you were, why you were there, if you liked sugar in your tea, had you climbed trees as a child. The flood of curiosity puzzled him. He usually managed to avoid caring about anyone long enough to ask questions about him. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh at how silly this all sounded in his head—he had heard of the impact soulmates have on each other upon meeting, but he hadn’t met you yet.

“Why’d you let her go?”

He couldn’t really answer Oikawa’s question that evening. He wasn’t sure. Some part of him knew you wanted to be left alone after today, but some part of him also wanted to go up to you and tell you that you’re not alone. Some part of him wanted to tell you of the impression you’ve left on him without even having met each other yet. You honestly had no idea of your impact. You were, safe to say, oblivious. That was the power you had over Hajime. Seeing you made him question what he was doing, what he wanted, what he desired, what he could do. Not just in the moment. But what he had been doing that lead him to this point, why he was there, in a crowded subway train, his hands dirty and sore from practice. Hajime’s whole life, he could not remember anyone’s name right away. Nothing had made a formative impact on him. But right then he thought that might change.

If he knew your name, he would most definitely remember it. That’s what you did, even before he met you—you had changed things. There you were, preoccupied, bent down, oblivious, clutching your bag to your chest, feeling low after a terrible day. He knew you were the one. He was meant for you. He saw you, and right then, his life began.

It wasn’t until you reached home did you feel it.

A weird warmth despite how drenched you were. It was as if someone had wrapped a blanket over you. You paused before entering the shower to find how you weren’t catching a cold, how your hair was frictionless, how the apparent wetness all over you almost never happened.

Strange, you thought as you stared at your palms. They aren’t stinging.

There was no possible way your soulmate knew you were drenched. No one had seen you exit your school, no one who knew you even saw you after that, so there was no way your soulmate knew what had happened. Maybe they were feeling cold? There was no possible way you could answer this. You left it aside thinking it was merely just coincidence, and focused on the bath.

However, that wasn’t the last time. You noticed in the next couple of days that this person, whoever they were, was taking care of themselves a little harder than usual. Skin was perfectly moisturised, the practice sessions continued, but they would take more breaks than usual, and strangely, Mondays were a day off.

Strangely, the bucket incident happened to you on a Monday too.

It couldn’t all be coincidences, right? You wanted to believe it wasn’t. You wanted to believe this person wanted to take care of you, just as you had been taking care of them silently. You gulped when you moisturised your fingers, pausing in between, blushing at random points, just thinking of this person who you haven’t met yet. You wanted to hope, you wanted to ensure that there was nothing wrong in wanting someone because all your life you’ve not had it. You’ve not had someone ask how your day went, you’ve not had someone notice when you wanted to be left alone. You wanted to believe it wasn’t a coincidence because what harm can come from it being one? You haven’t met them yet, and you have time to prepare yourself for the truth till then.

“(y/n)-chan!” Your friend pounced on you as you approached her that morning.

Apparently your school girls’ volleyball team was playing against the girls’ team from Seijoh, and you knew your friend was excited. You’d agreed to go along with her to watch the game, secretly knowing everything there is to know about volleyball because of a certain someone.

“You look pumped up.” You commented on your friend’s hyperactive nature.

“Seijoh’s a strong team. Apparently, the boys’ team is going to watch too! Have you even looked at Oikawa-san? He’s so dreamy~”

You rolled your eyes.

“What about your soulmate?”

“I don’t know who it is yet, so everyone’s eye candy.”

Your friend was very entertaining indeed.

Seijoh’s volleyball court was huge, and you could see the girls practice from a distance. You had to go stand at the bleachers, waving at your friend as you headed up there alone. You blinked when you noticed a few boys to the other side, wondering if they were the boys team that your friend had mentioned. Suddenly, you thought of your soulmate—who normally would be practicing at this time, but strangely, they weren’t. Your hand wasn’t stinging, and you wondered what they were doing at the time.

When the game began, you felt someone watching you. You turned to the boys’ to your side and noticed that they were all intently watching the game, but there was a rather attractive brown haired individual who kept stealing glances from you. You cocked your eyebrow, wondering if something was on your face, but paid no heed to it.

Suddenly, the ball went up in the air—causing your eyes to widen; the ball was coming closer to where you stood, so you went ahead and grabbed the ball—the impact slightly stinging your palm.

“(y/n)-chan! Nice catch!”

You chuckled before throwing it back to your friend, suddenly feeling eyes on you once again. This time you turned with a curious gaze and found that same brown haired male staring at you with admiration.

“Is... Is something the matter?”

“Iwa-chan! She’s talking to me—”

“Shut up, Trashykawa!”

You blinked at the other individual, whose face seemed aggressive. His eyes met yours, only for a moment, before he turned away and cleared his throat, and this ‘Trashykawa’ giggled like a little girl while standing beside him. You turned to look at the game once more.

Suddenly, your eyes widened when you felt a slight pressure against the palm of your right hand. The palm that grabbed the ball a second ago. Your heart began to beat quickly, and you stared at your palm—almost as if someone was applying pressure to the area to soothe the growing numbness.

No way.

You turned to your left and he was suddenly not there. Trashykawa was, and he eagerly pointed to the exit. You offered him a kind smile before hesitantly following after the brash looking individual, who had been secretly taking care of you so well the past few days.

When you exited the gym and took the stairs down, you noticed this person walking ahead at a rather quick pace.

“Excuse me!” you said, still holding your palm.

The person sighed before stopping at his tracks. He turned around and looked at you, and his heart caught in his throat again. This was certainly not how he was expecting to see you, not to mention how surprised he was to even see you at his school. You went over to him and stood there for a second longer, just a few steps away from him. You wanted to make sure first.

You pinched your hand as hard as you could and saw him wince before snapping, “What the hell was that for?”

“So it is you...”

His eyes widened before he cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say.

“How... You took care of me all this while.” You said, tears filling your eyes.

“You started it.”

“How did you know?”

Iwaizumi knew exactly what you were talking about. He looked into your eyes carefully, not spotting a single bit of sorrow in them now that they were facing you.

“I saw you in the train. Drenched from top to bottom. It... It was hard to see. I knew you were... I knew it was a difficult day for you.”

“Why didn’t you approach me?”

“I thought you needed space.” He said, shrugging.

Your eyes widened a tad bit. It was true. You did need space. You weren’t sure how you would have responded that day, but he had been slowly taking care of you ever since.

“Thank you...”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say. He looked at you, smiling at him, and his heart couldn’t take it. You couldn’t keep from staring at him—so exotic was this creature before you, with chocolate brown eyes and a face you look lick candy off of. It was as if a door had opened and you had walked through it. Everything behind you had fallen into a deep abyss and you could never retrace your steps to that boy, the one with unruly hair and bruised palms. What solitude you had lived in. Your world expanded with this boy, here in Seijoh, and it was all very new looking. Then, realizing your intense staring, you were flooded with a newfound embarrassment and your eyes widened, your heart beating in big thumps.

“My name is Iwaizumi Hajime,” He said, noticing your embarrassment. “And you?”

“(l/n) (y/n).” Your voice was meek and you wanted to slap yourself.

Hajime smiled at you before taking a deep breath.

“If I touch you, there’s no backing out.”

You gulped. You nodded a second later. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You expected him to shake your hand or ruffle your hair. You least expected what came next.

Hajime wrapped one hand around your waist and pressed you to his chest, smelling your hair in the process. He wasn’t sure if you would mind, he wasn’t sure if you would push him away, but something in his heart told him that you needed a hug.

“I’m sorry if I overstep—”

You stopped his apology midway when you wrapped your hands around his waist.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san.”

It was strange; you felt like you knew him really well despite this being the first time you met him. You two had been taking care of each other so well for the past few months that there was no strangeness here.

“I thought it was all a coincidence. That... that you had no—”

“It wasn’t. I was doing it for you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your grip on Hajime tightened. This man was your soulmate. Nothing else mattered.

When Hajime pulled away, he gave you a sweet smile, a smile only meant for you. You returned the smile, not noticing your hand in his, the numbness spread across both your palms.

“Next time anyone pours a bucket of water over your head—”

“I won’t sit around and take it, I promise.” You finished his sentence, almost knowing what he had to say.

Hajime nodded, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Or I’ll personally have to infiltrate your school. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You can’t miss practice.”

He chuckled at your comment.

“Yeah, I can’t miss practice.”

Slowly, you were going to know everything there was to know about Iwaizumi Hajime. And he was going to know everything about you. But, for a start, this wasn’t so bad.

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #oikawa toru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #aobajosei #aobajosei x reader #seijoh x reader #iwaizumi headcanons

342 notes · View notes

masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 15

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Boba gets slapped around (he kinda deserves it tho), light swearing

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 15: Meeting Maz

You turned to point the little orange woman out to Boba, but he was already shaking his head at you with pursed lips.

"Be subtle," he murmured almost imperceptibly above the music, which was now picking back up into a more energetic pace.

He placed a hand in the middle of your back and guided you through the dancers as they continued to twist and turn. When you emerged from the thick of them, Maz was nowhere to be seen, but Boba continued on. His hand fell and he moved in front of you, casually weaving between chairs and posts and trees... You followed him down the road, trusting he knew where to go, and trying to be casual about it yourself. But your mind couldn't help but wander through all the possible reasons Maz Kanata could be here.

About a minute later, Boba suddenly ducked into an alleyway. You skipped forward to keep up with him, just catching the tail end of his arm as he went through a curtained entrance. You pushed aside the fabric and found yourself in a small, dimly lit room, Maz standing on a table in the middle of it.

"Boba," she said, before promptly slapping him across the face.

The bounty hunter rubbed his jaw, more annoyed than in pain. "Maz," he grumbled, "good to see you too."

"I'm glad you finally took that silly helmet off," she said with a lighthearted tone that completely contradicted her rough actions. "Made it much more satisfying."

She turned toward you and jerked her thumb at Boba. "You should try it. Might not get another chance. And don't tell me you haven't wanted to. Everyone in the galaxy wants to hit Boba Fett."

To demonstrate, she slapped his other cheek, making him grunt in annoyance again. You weren't able to form a response, in awe of this woman. Her sass, her confidence... she was even cooler than you'd previously imagined.

And she was right, you had thought about slapping Boba before. Multiple times. As recently as five minutes ago, in fact.

"That's enough hitting for now," Boba said firmly, casting you a look that said don't you dare. That made you want to even more, especially considering he'd been almost gentle just a moment ago, making you flustered and confused.

But Maz had her own bone to pick with the bounty hunter. While he was busy glaring at you, she swung a fist at his shoulder, chewing him out before he had a chance to protest.

"That's enough, you say? Well here's what's not enough, young Fett. Your apology, which at this moment in time is non-existent. I went to great lengths to help you and in return you beat up my guests. Not to mention all the blaster holes you left in my walls. Do you know how much work that'll be to buff out?"

Boba had his arms crossed and was now standing just out of reach of any limbs Maz might try swinging at him again. When her rant seemed about done, he huffed in irritation. "You do realize that slimy old bastard Elon betrayed you."

"Yes and he will hang for it, but that doesn't excuse your choice to engage in a full-on brawl with my guests in the sanctity of my home."

"I wasn't the one who attacked first, Maz. Your guests broke the rule."

"Well what did you expect?" Maz shot back. She didn't sound upset, exactly. It was more like she was a mother who'd caught her child sneaking out for the night. She was reprimanding him. "You bring the galaxy's most valuable bounty with you, rules or no rules, you'll have a fight on your hands. I'm surprised you've been able to keep her with you this long with that kind of carelessness."

Boba huffed again and turned away, gripping the back of a chair with his head hung low. Maz wasted no time dwelling on his silence, turning to speak to you instead.

"Come here, child," she said with an outstretched arm. You hesitantly walked forward and placed your hand in hers. It was small and cold, but she grasped firmly as a friend would.

"You are not what I expected," she said.

You gulped as you remembered Boba sharing the same first impression. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot," you said with a sheepish smile.

Maz let go of your hand and reached for the goggles she wore, pushing them up to rest on her cap. Her eyes were small, nestled in a sunken wring of orange wrinkles. They were kind, but seemed to be reaching past your outer appearance, seeing the parts of you you found difficult to share.

"You must be very special to the one who seeks you."

It was simple enough of a statement, but it pulled at you in a way that made you think you'd been looking at your situation in the wrong way. Before you could really explore that idea, though, Maz spoke again.

"I have a proposition." Her voice was no longer soft and insightful, but back to business. She moved her goggles back over her eyes as well. "I understand you will be collecting the bounty on that scoundrel Hondo Ohnaka?"

She was probably addressing Boba more than you, but you decided to respond anyway. "No, Hondo's helping us get the money a different way."

Maz gave Boba a knowing look. He stubbornly stayed facing the other way. "Curious, the way you treat her. Giving her freedom, dancing with her... but not telling her the truth."

You grew alarmed, looking between Maz and the backside of Boba. "What do you mean? What truth?"

"Boba never lets go of a bounty, my dear," she explained. "He'll let Ohnaka finish his little job, he'll collect the money the pirate promised him, and then he'll turn the poor man over to the Rang Clan and take their money, too."

"What? But... why?" You felt silly, like a little kid who had to have simple things explained to them. "The money from Hondo will be more than enough to refuel. Why waste time getting even more?"

But as you said the words, you knew what the answer would be. The realization hit you hard, leaving a bitter lump in the back of your throat. He was still planning to give you to the Rangs, too, and finish solving the mystery of your buyer on his own. And there was no need for him to rush for it; he had a million-credit advancement from your bounty already. The fuel thing had merely been a ploy to squeeze even more money out of the situation. He could keep chasing other bounties, manipulate other "old friends" with his circumstance, and eventually make his way to your buyer for a final haul.

Boba Fett only cared about money. He didn't, and would never, care about you.

"You said you had a proposition?" you asked Maz, your throat dry and coarse. She regarded you with a sympathetic look.

"I, too, need an alliance with the Rang Clan. Boba got a few slaps for his behavior in my palace, but Crimson Dawn needs a more severe punishment. If I help you bring him in, perhaps the Rangs will consider antagonizing their sworn enemy a little more on my behalf."

Boba finally let go of the chair and turned back to face her. You could tell he was careful not to make eye contact with you too, which brought forth your desire to hit him again. He had his mouth open to speak, but Maz cut him off.

"You want to know what's in it for you. Obviously it'll mostly be your way of apologizing and getting back on my good side. But... I can also help keep an eye on the girl for you. Make sure the Rangs don't get any ideas about selling her for themselves."

His eyes flicked to you, only briefly, as if he didn't mean to and caught himself. He scowled at the floor for a moment to cover, and then returned his gaze back to Maz with a defeated sigh.

"Fine. Meet us at the train station by ten. You can help us get another ship."

Another deal. This time, you couldn't help but wonder if Boba still had his own agenda hidden beneath the surface. It would be difficult to fully trust him again.

Maz chuckled, jumping off the table and heading toward the doorway. "I think I'll just watch. I've never been very good at stealing things."

She lifted the curtain to the side, beginning to step back out into the cold night.

"Maz," Boba said in a subdued voice. "I am sorry."

The little woman waved at him before disappearing. You could see his eyes had softened, just as they had been while looking at you on the dance floor. You wished he had his helmet on; it'd be a lot easier to stay mad at him that way.

#star wars #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba x reader #eventual romance #eventual fluff #mystery #team up #bounty hunting #lots of planets #making deals #trusting pirates #gentle slow burn #emotional constipation #maz kanata #slight angst #conflict

16 notes · View notes

catb-fics · 4 years

Text

So I’ve decided to just make this a short story for now... there’ll be one more part after this but who knows? I might come back to it at a later date and write a longer story to include the other lads... maybe go a bit ‘Twilight’!

Love Bites (Part 2)

Warnings: Not yet but things are def heating up! / Word Count: 2.2k

Read Part 1 here

It's a dull, dreary Monday morning as you make your way to work. November has brought with it all the chill you might expect from a mid-winter's day, and you pull your coat around yourself tightly, wincing slightly as you catch the plaster that's covering the cut on your hand. It still smarts slightly, but the sensation is nothing compared to the embarrassment you feel when you re-play the incident of Van ordering you out of his house in your mind. It's silly really, you'd only just met him and you'd barely got past the introductions, but for some reason you've just not been able to get him out of your head.

You'd toyed with the idea of going to his house the next day and apologising, but Emma had talked you out of it. She was probably right. I mean, did you really want to get mixed up with someone with a temper that volatile?

"Hi Y/N!" Vicky, one of your colleagues, greets you as you walk into the office, a ridiculously huge grin plastered across her face.

You eye her suspiciously. "Why are you so cheerful on a Monday morning?"

"I should be asking you why you're not more cheerful!" Comes her reply, confusing you further.

"Why should I be?"

Now Vicky looks exasperated, shaking her head. "Why didn't you tell me you had a fella?"

"Because I don't..." you begin, but your words are cut off as she reaches down behind her desk, pulling out a beautiful bouquet of red roses.

"Oh well... you definitely have an admirer then!" She grins, thrusting the flowers into your hand. "These arrived first thing... Hold on... you really don't know who they're from do you? Look... there's a note."

You accept the flowers, staring at them dumbstruck. "It must be a mistake..."

But no, there nestled among the petals is a small red envelope with your name clearly printed on the front. You eagerly grasp it, gently placing the roses on your desk, your mind flicking through possible candidates and rejecting each one.

Dan, the boring guy from accounts you'd gone for a curry with two weeks ago? Not likely....

Steve, Emma's older brother who's always flirting with you? But he has a girlfriend...

The new guy from the office downstairs who you were chatting to in the kitchen last week? Impossible... you're not even sure he knows your name!

"Open it!" Vicky's urging, clapping her hands in excitement. "They're beautiful, hand-tied and everything. I think they're from that posh florist in town. You know my sister got her wedding bouquet from there..."

But you aren't listening to Vicky. You're reading the note, a shocked kind of disbelief paralysing you momentarily.

Y/N, please accept my apologies for how I acted on Saturday night. I'd like to make it up to you if you'd let me? Dinner tonight, 7pm, my house. Van x

Fifteen minutes later when you've finally managed to shut Vicky up firing questions at you about your mysterious admirer, you're on the phone to Emma, who's equally shocked at your surprise gift and the offer of dinner.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it! So what are you gonna wear?" She says excitedly.

"Hold on... you're talking like I'm actually going to go."

"Y/N... of course you gotta go! The guy spends 15 minutes with you and he's already sending you flowers!" Her voice is raised.

"But you were saying he was a psycho for reacting how he did..." you protest.

"Well... that was before this! Go on... give him a chance... he's said sorry. Just go and see what he's like."

You pause, feeling torn. Emma speaks again, her tone teasing.

"And he's gorgeous!"

She's not wrong. You think back to the way he looked at you with a certain sort of hunger and flurries of excitement run through you. By the time you've come off the phone Emma's well and truly convinced you, and it's hard to concentrate on your work for the rest of the day. A tiny niggling doubt keeps surfacing as you wonder how the hell he knew you worked here, but you push it away. You've made your mind up.

* * * * *

On Emma's instruction 'not to look desperate' you turn up to Van's house that evening at 7.15pm, but then start profusely apologising for being late as soon as he appears at the door. You decide you're just not cut out for acting cool and aloof like Emma suggests. One glimpse at Van and you're acting like a schoolgirl with a crush again.

"Hey, stop apologising, I'm the one who should be saying sorry, remember?" He smiles as he beckons you inside.

"It's fine, really. And the roses were beautiful. Thank you so much."

He grins. "It's the least I could do... look I'm really sorry if I upset you. I don't know what came over me."

He starts leading you down another dark and winding hallway that's in the opposite direction to where the party took place. It occurs to you that if you didn't have Van leading you then you could easily get lost in this house. It's like a maze.

"Really it's fine Van, I was careless smashing the glass. And my cut's healing up really well..."

You offer your hand for him to look at. You've taken the plaster off, hoping it will heal better in the fresh air. Van suddenly stops dead in his tracks, grasping your hand, his eyes fixed on your injury. It looks red and angry still. He screws his eyes shut and visibly shudders, so you snatch your hand away.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were so squeamish!" You laugh. "My sister's the same. Gets really freaked out if anyone hurts themselves. Can't stand the sight of blood!"

Van glances over at you, smiling, but his eyes look strange again. God, what is it about those eyes? It's like looking into an icy cold pool, and you feel if you look for too long you'll be pulled under the current.

A few more twists and turns down various corridors and Van opens another door to reveal a large room with a heavy wooden table flanked by many ornately carved chairs. It looks like something from a medieval banquet hall. You wonder what on earth Van does to afford such a grand house. He looks like he's no more than mid-20s. Maybe he inherited it.

Van gestures for you to sit at the head of the table, drawing the chair out for you in a gentlemanly manner.

"Oh, I've not taken your jacket yet," you hear him say from behind you and you feel his hands on your shoulders so you shrug out of your jacket.

Wow, this guy does NOT know the boundaries of personal space. No sooner as your jacket's slipped off your shoulders than you feel his head dip down so it's flush next to your neck. You've chosen to wear a pretty lace off the shoulder top and you're stunned when he sweeps your hair to one side, pressing his face against your bare skin and you actually hear him deeply inhale.

The gesture makes you feel both intensely awkward but excited at the same time and you're not sure how to react. You'd pretend not to notice if he wasn't still lingering there.

"It's Chanel again before you ask!" You laugh nervously.

He lets out a noise almost like a little sigh and it sends a spike of heat through you. "Mmm... I've changed my mind. I don't think it's your perfume after all.”

Okay... this is getting weirder by the second. So he's saying you smell nice? You'd be completely freaked out if you weren't so goddamn attracted to him.

Finally he pulls away and you realise you've been holding your breath. He takes the seat to the left hand side of you and looks at you for a long moment.

"Do I make you feel uncomfortable Y/N?"

What are you supposed to say? Come clean and admit that, yes, every little action, every look he gives you sets you on edge?

"No of course not," you hurriedly say, lying through your teeth.

The knowing smile he gives you tells you he knows the exact effect he's having and maybe he's actually enjoying it, and you're not quite sure how you feel about that.

Thankfully the door creaks open at that moment, distracting you both. A short, dark-haired guy with a cheerful smile steps into the room, carrying a bottle of wine and a fancy silver platter which he places on the table in front of you, removing the lid with a flourish. The food looks amazing, restaurant quality and presented beautifully, but you're confused. Van doesn't have any food in front of him.

"Are you not eating?" You ask him.

He leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the wine that's just been poured. "No... let's just say I have... a very... refined palate."

"Oh... errr... okay," you mumble, taking a large gulp of the wine. "I feel a little awkward being the only one eating."

"Please don't... enjoy the food," Van gestures towards your plate. "Besides... I'll be eating later... I hope."

There's something about his statement and the way he says it that makes your belly flip. He's looking at you almost like he wants to devour you, and you glance down at your plate, feeling flustered.

"That'll be all Larry, you can go," Van addresses the young man who brought the food with a wave of his hand and you find yourself smiling as he turns to leave.

"What?" Van says.

"Oh... nothing," you reply. "It's just I'm surprised that you have staff!"

Van outstretches his arms as if to indicate the whole house. "Well I definitely need a hand managing this big, old place. And you know... it can get quite lonely at times. It's so nice to have company."

This surprises you. Van seems so charming despite his little quirks, and you're surprised some lucky lady hasn't come along and snapped him up already.

The food is every bit as delicious as it looks and the wine's amazing too, some posh vintage that Van delights in telling you all about. Despite your earlier uneasiness you find yourself starting to relax. It becomes apparent that Van loves to talk, so there's never an awkward silence. He asks you lots of questions about yourself and seems genuinely interested in all you have to say. You're conscious that your life might seem boring in comparison, but Van seems rapt hearing even the most mundane details. In contrast, he seems evasive about the details of his own life, talking in vague terms or steering the conversation back to you.

Before long, you've finished your meal and Van enquires whether you'd like dessert. You have a real sweet tooth and you're tempted, but the fact that Van won't be joining you makes you decline. He tops up your wine glass instead and leans back in his chair, regarding you with a little smile and his eyes simmering with that same hungry look he had earlier. You feel the tension fall back over the room.

"You know, you should wear your hair up, you have such a pretty, delicate neck," Van says, and the comment catches you off-guard. You're not comfortable receiving compliments at the best of times, and his forwardness makes you feel even more shy.

"Err... thank you..." You find yourself pushing your hair back over your shoulders, allowing Van to admire you all the more.

He leans across the table towards you suddenly, raising a hand, letting his fingers gently trail from below your jawline down your neck to your collarbone. His hands are cool but you feel like his fingertips leave a trail of fire in their wake. You feel a deep flush rise right through your body.

“And your skin... it’s really rather beautiful... so soft.” His voice is smooth like honey.

Your words catch in your throat and you want to look away, but Van’s caught you in his gaze and you find that you’re not able to.

He smiles again. “I’m embarrassing you.”

“A little...” you admit, but you don’t want him to stop. Your pulse is racing and you can’t help but look at his full, pink lips, imagining what they’d feel like on yours.

“I like it,” Van says. “You know when you blush, the blood rises to the surface of the skin. Don’t you think the human body is amazing? You can tell so much just by observing...”

You squirm a little in your seat. Van moves even closer, leaning right in so he’s just inches away. He speaks again.

“Take you now for example. Your pupils have dilated. That tells me you’re feeling attraction... and desire...”

Oh shit, he’s so fucking intense. You just sit there, not daring to speak, your heart pounding, waiting for him to make his move.

“And your heart’s beating fast too. Believe it or not I can actually hear the blood rushing through your veins...”

What? Surely not?

“I doubt that...” you say in a quiet voice.

“Oh... I’m full of surprises Y/N,” he says mysteriously.

“Really? Like what?” You ask, waiting with baited breath.

He doesn’t say a word, just holds you under his enchanting gaze, letting his lips part slightly, just enough so that you can see his perfectly pointed white teeth.

Read Part 3 now...

#anyone else feeling a bit hot?#vampire van #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #fanfic #vanfic #smut

22 notes · View notes