#i love him to death he's like a rose. painful cheesy and something i love despite seeing so often

[void-selfships-archive]

How would Karamatsu describe your relationship to others? :0

Oh god- okay so. Kara is very. He's...well. The way he explains anything to anyone is kind of painful. And I love it! Obviously otherwise I wouldn't be married to the guy fhehfhdh but sometimes.

I think he'd describe our relationship as...a beautiful spring flower. Something that feels so new and is so beautiful everytime we interact- something he longs for during harsh winters [when I am working] but something he appreciates so much during spring and summer [when I am home]

#that hurt me physically. FJEBXHSVD #something corny like that. hes a real sucker for bad poetry #dont tell him i think his poetry is bad. most of it really isnt but sometimes he just...hm. #i love him to death he's like a rose. painful cheesy and something i love despite seeing so often #our 2 year anniversary is coming up yknow? next month? im excited #☆ask #♡: painfully romantic

[chiiyozakki]

-- unforgettable, unbearable --

💧 neuvillette x reader

(2/2)

n: i feel like it's too long lol, mb

  

[angst ahead! please have tissues, just in case]

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a grave sin.

that's how he describes the thought of forgetting you.

it sounds cheesy, yet it's also endearing, knowing how much he values you and the memories and smallest things that he could remember you by.

for the longest time, he had difficulty understanding the nature of human emotion. for him, it's complex and unpredictable. but in his five hundred years of walking amongst them, it was only when you came into his life that he fully understood humans.

because of you, he learned what it feels like to be in love and to be loved. and because of you, he learned that there's something beautiful in being "fragile", the "cracks" and imperfections brought about by the troubles of a cruel, unforgiving world showing how resilient one could possibly be, even when all odds are against you.

he admired that about you -- even though it felt like life will never be kind to you, you always kept your head up with a smile on your face. even when you let your guard down and cry, you'd always bounce back, stronger than ever.

you taught him so many things. and despite mingling with humans for half a millennium, he always felt like he could never understand people.

you were not only his lover, but also a teacher, a mentor of his who gave him a lifelong lesson.

so, when you took your last breath as you were in his arms, it felt like all hell was brought down upon him.

it rained for a whole week and the people of fontaine were worried to death, but he couldn't care less.

how could he not shed tears, after losing the greatest love of his life?

after that day, his life lost all color, going back to the grayscale view he used to have.

everyday he'd wait for you to walk in his office in the afternoon, but then he'd remind himself that you're no longer there.

he'd also catch himself expecting a bundle of rainbow roses tied together by a blue ribbon sitting on his desk every week, but who's going to do that for him?

after that day, he would never be seen without a hint of sadness in his eyes; perhaps grief is overwhelming, even for him.

yes, you're unforgettable, but so too is the pain of losing you.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #angst #im sorry #holy shit

[carnivorousyandeere]

Ok since we're feeling poly and non-smut so reader giving EXTRA TRIPLE love and affection for the babies - Erik and Thorn on V day?

I love you anon 😭🫶 thank you for being patient with me and the lack of good smut lately (/p /gen)

Together:

The Prof’s not the most romantic person in the world, and honestly, Thorn isn’t either. Erik would rather go for one of his usual dates (staying at home while drinking wine, going to an opera, ballet, or classical play) than plan something special for Valentine’s. Thorn would also rather go for one of her usual dates (roller skating, mall crawling, hanging out at the arcade, smoking weed together). They absolutely hate each other’s date ideas. The only thing they’d have in common is you, so they’d begrudgingly form a truce to plan something everybody can tolerate. They end up deciding to take you out to eat.

It’d be a miracle if they didn’t start fighting during the date, but if they make it through, the night could end with the three of you falling asleep cuddling (you in the middle because they both get the ick at the thought of touching each other affectionately), or it could actually end up in a threesome (with Thorn and Erik still fighting over you).

It’s like trying to get two very angry cats to learn how to live together. The fact that you’re so sweet, giving them so much love and attention equally really helps. The more verbally and physically affectionate you are with them the whole day, the better behaved they end up being.

Thorn:

Decks herself out in a bunch of candy necklaces and bracelets, and puts some on you, too. Grabs your hand and takes you away from whatever your original plans were for the day (preparing a surprise date for her 💀). “Today’s the day!” Her eyes shine with determination. “I’m gonna fuckin win you that giant teddy bear from the arcade!” It was not the day. You go home without a teddy bear, and Thorn pouts the whole way home. She pauses at all the half-finished decorations at your place. “W-what’s all this?”

You feel your face grow warm with embarrassment. “It was for you… but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it…”

You barely get the chance to finish the sentence before Thorn launches herself at you, wrapping you in a hug so tight you think your ribs might crack. “For me?!” She shakes you back and forth, overwhelmed with excitement. She stills eventually, burying her head in your shoulder with a sigh. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Erik:

Would’ve forgotten it was Valentine’s if it weren’t for their students getting on their nerves asking if they can cancel class for the holiday, or at least get less homework.

They scoff at the idea and try to avoid thinking about Valentine’s Day, and to think about you with it. Sitting at their desk, chin in their hand, grumbling to themself. Surely you don’t need some cheesy date and gaudy gifts to feel secure with him…? But he feels increasingly agitated the more he thinks about it.

Erik buys you a single rose on their way home.

They’re surprised to see a table set for two complete with rose petals, candles, and champagne flutes. A swell of emotion rises in Erik’s chest, and they can’t tell if it’s painful or not. The thorns of the rose they’d bought for you dig into their palm.

Erik rounds the corner to the kitchenette, met with you in an apron, preparing a meal for the both of you. His throat is dry, too dry to greet you, and you’re frightened half to death when you turn to see him.

“E-Erik! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s heard all day. If he were honest, they’d admit it was the best sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Now, go, go! You’re spoiling the surprise!”

You try to usher Erik out of the kitchen, only to spot his scratched-up hand. “W-what happened?”

Erik offers you the rose, and watches in a daze as you take the rose and put it aside, grasping his hand and fussing over him instead. You’re gently washing the wounds and placing band-aids over them when the smoke alarm goes off. “Oh, fuck, the dessert!”

Tag list: @hana-no-seiiki

#finally finished the last V-day ask I got! hope you like it :D #mail 📬 #my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere cw #oc Thorn #oc Erik #yandere professor #Yandere valentines

[sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins]

honorhearted asked : For Lydia: willow, sunflower For Hewlett: tulip, violet For Rogers: snapdragon, southernwood

Botanical Headcanons. / @honorhearted​​ -- accepting

Lydia: willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

       I think I may have talked about this before but no such post is coming up for this topic? Okay, so, Lydia doesn’t entirely put herself into a new project right away, but that’s the end goal most of the time. She sits with it, talks it out, and it sometimes depends on what is making her sad that’ll direct her actions, and then she does something about it. She doesn’t like to be stationary with her sadness, she doesn’t like to think about it or experience it, to listen to pity, and to be reminded of it. She doesn’t ignore it but she tries to keep it at bay. 

       I think that was one of the most influential reasons why she decided to get herself involved in the spy ring. She thought she was going to be a simple camp follower, and she sorta is anyway when intelligence isn’t coming in, but she instead got pulled into the spy ring. She wanted to do something about her sadness and she knew Laurence wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life being sad over his death, so she wanted to make him proud. Eventually, her drive and motivation to participate in the Patriot effort shifts a bit as she makes friends, enemies, connections, y’know all of the canon t.urn events that come into play, but it will always have a connection to Laurence in some way. 

       So, basically, she will usually speak with her mother about it for comfort and then to her dad for extra support but also some more guidance, but in camp, I think she would keep a journal and write about it. She may have a few friends in the camp that she would speak to about it, but she doesn’t wish to add any stress to anyone else, so she takes it into her own hands. It’s her sadness, it’s her duty to do something with it, and she instead uses it for “fuel” in a way for her next action. Whatever that action is, it depends, but usually, it’s for distraction and progress.

Lydia: sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ? 

       It’s so cheesy and cliche but Lydia is already wanting me to write love, just in the general sense. Not only just a partner, a family member, or a friend, but to have that wholesome presence. With the war, it’s easy to focus on pain, so the little moments of love and hope give her the most joy. But other than that, I would say projects that she sees through. When she completes a goal. That can get her motivation up than dwell on the negativity. 

Hewlett: tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ? 

       For this, I’m going to have to speak about two different parts in the t.urn timeline because s1 & s2 Hewlett sees people differently from later s3 Hewlett & s4.

       Hewlett is gullible, we can see it with all of the events that go on in the first season alone. Hewlett sees the British Army as the “good” guys and views them with rose-tinted glasses. He doesn’t expect any ill will from his peers and believes most of them are honorable people, or the people under his command are and he holds high expectations for them, maybe too high of an expectation over anyone. He sees them as having a similar, or exact, moral code as he does and from the get-go, expects that they all are good-natured in a gullible way. He doesn’t see how any of his men would wish to manipulate him and the “troubled” ones can be talked into shape. He thinks he can shape the men under his command. He sees the townspeople of Setauket that are Patriotic like little kids who need to learn a lesson, to put it simply. He thinks they can be easily dealt with and they are just toying with childish notions and a misunderstanding of their circumstances. Can’t they see why a country under British rule is good?

       In s3 & s4, Hewlett sees the nasty underbelly of his own group. His whole capture, Simcoe’s whole “Speedrun on how to make everyone in Setauket hate me” in s3, and Andre’s whole dismissal of Hewlett and undermining of him. All of this shows him that the world isn’t black and white. He believes in his cause, but he doesn’t like the corruption within it, he can see both sides of the war as bad, so that’s where it sort of leads him to work with Abe in those seasons (other than their mutual hatred of Simcoe anyway). He still doesn’t believe in the Patriot cause and as the British side is losing, he’s sort of like “Let them have the colonies, I need to figure out what I want” and doesn’t care so much about “reprimanding” people as he does in the earlier seasons. He’s tried to change people and it hasn’t worked out for him. His expectations are lower in s4 (and almost to a comedic sense of “Well I’ve seen people do worse than that”). I think in some regard he still holds high expectations but tbh for t.urn characters, I think the writers did a better job with Hewlett’s development. It felt realistic and interesting, but then, too, I’m not sure how much Burn had a say in it or if it was all up to the writers. They also had an almost fresh slate with Hewlett’s character with some historical influences of the real-life figure and a combination of some other historical figures, so it was easier for his development.

Hewlett: violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

       We can kinda see this with the whole failed marriage between Anna & Hewlett, but generally, he doesn’t take it well. It will be worse if it’s someone he trusts, but any act of betrayal is taken personally. I think Hewlett puts almost too much of himself into his authority, it molds him, he doesn’t see it so much as a job and a duty but as something personal he has to do. Probably a lot of it has to do with his motivation to join the British Army and the war because of his parent’s financial downfall and how he wishes to do good for his own parents.

       So, Hewlett may be in disbelief at first, but not long after he will be mad and really observe his past memories with whoever betrayed him. This only adds to his anger. He will be angry at himself for not seeing it earlier (again, his high expectations) and for the other person to stoop so low to result in betrayal. This is more s1 & s2, a little bit of s3 as well, but by s4 he is sadly more used to it by that point. He will be annoyed that he didn’t see it, but he will be less angry overall and more of an “Oh well, that’s another one for the pile.” It’ll just serve his more negative view of people. He still holds onto hope, but I think the Hewlett we see in s1 & in s4 are very different in terms of their mindset. Weirdly in a way, his negative mindset motivates him to be the good in the world.

Rogers: snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

       I want to say no, but he is merciful in a way. Rogers has the least amount of moral code within my muses, but he does hold a moral code (even if it’s slim). He won’t harm children, and while he will usually be less violent with women than he is with men, he will attack or kill a woman if need be. But children? No, he couldn’t. Generally, I don’t think he could and after being around Thomas, even if he didn’t talk to him much, it stuck in his mind and in his moral code. I can’t think of why specifically, but it’s probably because of the whole innocence of children and children usually have fewer ill intentions than adults do. He hasn’t experienced a child that wanted to betray, belittle, or harm him, so they are off his list. I think a lot of his moral code is built by experience. He has seen violence in men and women, adults, but never in children so far.

Rogers: southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ? 

       I think I answered something similar to this? It seems familiar yet I can’t find anything in my posts about it, but he much prefers jokes and banter. He doesn’t mind deep, serious, even philosophical, conversation, but too much of that can become boring. 

       I think Rogers takes himself seriously to some degree. He has an ego and he hates to hear any semblance of an insult towards him, but he will make fun of himself. It’s a rare moment, he doesn’t like introspection so much (as he likes to do that with other people), but he will admit to a flaw. Sort of like the scene where Rogers was going into all the people that wronged him and his purpose for working with Abe, and when Abe asks him what he was talking about, he doesn’t seem annoyed that Abe wasn’t listening and laughs. (Probably because it’s better if Abe doesn’t know anyway). That sort of thing and admitting something that isn’t that big of a deal to him is easier. He’ll admit that he has anger problems and a drinking problem, but he won’t admit that he’s getting old and that his loyalty is only to himself because it doesn’t suit his ego. It’s a very hypocritical answer, but I think it’s also a complex one.

       So both I guess? It depends who it is with, but usually, I would say he likes jokes and banter more.

#asks #honorhearted #( thanks for sending this in ! ) #// long post #long post tw #long post #( 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒏 ; headcanon (( Lydia )) #( 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 ; headcanon (( Hewlett )) #( 𝑰'𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ; headcanon (( Rogers )) #( decided not to do small text for this because usually I don't use small text with my headcanon posts )

[ghostie-my-beloved]

c!karlnapity headcanons

Synopsis: you’re part of the polyamory relationship between Sapnap, Quackity and Karl. Let’s see how life is like with these three chaotic boys

Pairing: c!Karlnapity x GN!reader (they/them)

A/N: YAY MY FAVORITE SHIP IN THE DSMP WOOOO!! I’m sorry but these guys are lacking content so I’m here to serve you karlnapity fans <3 stans come get your juice (art credits go to @/kaiishou_ on Twitter)

TW: swearing, slight NSFW joke, mentions of fist fights, mentions of divorces, possessiveness, explosions, gore, yelling, panic attacks and crying (it’s all fluffy in the end though dw)

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You’re a lucky son of a bitch and you know it

The festive bundle of a time-traveler, a demon and a duck is something to enjoy

These three boys are all so affectionate and handsy, but they all show their affection towards you in different ways

Karl is more physical, always snuggling his face into your neck or hugging you from behind. He also pecks your cheek a lot too

Sapnap prefers to show affection through words and nicknames, always complimenting you and saying how much he loves you

Quackity does it via teasing you. Whether it’s jokingly insulting you or poking fun at you, but he always gives you kisses on the foreheads too

I also like to believe that Quackity is the romantic one— his entire demeanor screams cheesy and fruity

He likes to give you roses or any type of flower while Karl and Sapnap just watch in the background, laughing at his antics

Sapnap: HEY WHERE’S MY ROSE

A N Y W A Y S

A lot of chaos adventures around the server, whether it’s in a new country or in the forest, it’s always chaos

Those are basically considered your dates lol, a lot happens during those trips

It could simply just be Karl needing to gather resources, and it turns into all four of you getting lost in a cave and having to camp out for a few nights

You set up the sleeping bags inside there warm and cozy cave as Sapnap lights a campfire using the tiny flames emitting from his fingers, the four of you sitting in comfortable silence.

“…. Remind me to never anger a mob of spiders ever again.” Quackity spoke up awkwardly, making the other two laugh while you punched his shoulder playfully, making the duck whine at the pain.

I feel like Karl is the type of person to just randomly give you little trinkets as gifts

Like he’d come back from a trip with bracelets, rings etc. and he’d just hand them to you with the most adorable smile

You find the gesture sweet so you just happily accept the gifts from him

Quackity’s wings are also a plus in the relationship too

You like to snuggle into them when you’re cold, and you find it adorable when the duck boy’s wings fluff up in shock

It’s endearing though, so he just leaves you be

Offer to preen his wings! He loves the feeling of your fingers working through his feathers, it makes him feel at ease

Don’t be surprised when a moan slips from his mouth though

Sapnap also gets jealous easily

Not even joking, like— VERY easily

Someone could be waving at you and that person would disintegrate from Sapnap’s death glare

Most likely got into a petty fight with someone before too

“Sapnap, why did you sock the guy in the face?” You asked him while tending his wounds that he got from a fist fight with a random guy

“He looked at you weirdly.” “BUT YOU STILL SHOULDN’T GET IN A FIST FIGHT WITH RANDOM PEOPLE—“

When all of you collectively are going on dates, they usually vary

You all have a little thing where one person from the poly relationship chooses what they want to do for the day

Karl likes to have his dates out in nature, whether they’re picnics, walks in the woods or just stargazing!

Quackity prefers fancy dates, like in restaurants, or just stay at home dates, he likes having the quiet and calm atmosphere around him (surprising for a guy like himself too)

Sapnap likes the fun and energetic types, like in theme parks, fairs or somewhere with a lot of fun and partying happening!

Don’t be surprised if he someday drags you into a bar and he gets a nasty hangover that all of you have to treat, whilst explaining what happened

“Soooooo— what happened?” The Blaze hybrid asked, whilst taking medicine to help with his hangover. “You started flirting with Y/N, and called us whorebags.” Quackity stated, making both you and Karl giggle in the background while Sapnap tries to process what the hell he just heard.

Okay now getting on the more serious topics, the whole Las Nevadas/Divorce arc was something that mentally damaged you all greatly

Due to the fact that that Karl lost too much memory when time-traveling, he forgot most of his memories with Quackity, and ended up building Kinoko Kingdom without him

Sapnap didn’t think much of it and thought he was informed, however you were a bit concerned when time passed on

When you tried to talk to Quackity about what happened, it was too late, as he was aware of everything that has already happened

Upon seeing you again, you saw that he was talking to Foolish about something… and that his attire was different too

Quackity just grabbed you by the wrist and offered you to stay with him within the new country he was building, called Las Nevadas

At first you hesitated, but this was your fiancé! You couldn’t just leave him… right?

Turns out things went downhill sooner than expected

Sapnap and Karl soon noticed your absence a few days after, and during that timespan Las Nevadas was already starting to flourish

So the two boys came by to visit and see if they could find you there

They did but… they also found Quackity in the process

“What. The hell are you two doing here?” Quackity spoke to his “fiancé’s”, his tone filled with nothing but hatred as you hid behind him, seeking for some form of comfort within his wings. Karl still not remembering anything was left dumbfounded, but Sapnap was panicking and trying to explain everything.

“N-No wait sweetie you don’t understand—“ “NO! YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL ME THAT!! Not after what you two did to me! Leaving me to rot while you both built a kingdom WITHOUT ME!!!” You squeaked as you bolted away slightly from Quackity, startled by the yelling. Sapnap noticed this and reached out to get you, but his hand was slapped away.

“No you’re- you’re not taking them away from me.” Quackity sneered, his expression not showing any form of mercy. “I won’t let you take them away from me.” Sapnap started to get a bit agitated by this, and fired back immediately. “ARE YOU FORGETTING THAT THEY’RE OUR FIANCÉ TOO!? YOU’RE JUST SHELTERING THEM AWAY FROM US!!” The Blaze hybrid yelled back, making the duck hybrid yell even louder. “AND FOR A GOOD FUCKING REASON TOO!!!”

Karl. Who was previously confused and baffled, was now having a form of his memories flood back. He started to feel anxious, and that anxiety turned into fear and dread. He left him. He left Quackity when he never even meant for it. But it was already too late, as the brunette reached out to speak, something cold and hard hit his forehead. He looked down to see a ring sitting between his feet.

Quackity threw his engagement ring at him. And everyone in the situation knew exactly what this meant. The engagement was called off. Quackity scoffed and slammed the door in their faces before they could even speak another word to him or you.

After the fight, you started crying and having a panic attack. The love between all of your lovers was now shattered, and you couldn’t do jack shit about it

It made you feel weak

Quackity, despite still being filled with rage and anger from the fight earlier, gave you a look of sympathy and walked over towards you

He pulled you into a comforting hug with his wings, the same one he’d always do when you’re sad

He consoled you and calmed you down, letting you know that he still loves you, and how much you meant to him

You were so touched by this, that you let out all of your emotions into his loving arms, slowly learning to accept this new life you’re gonna have to get used to

The duck hybrid was still pretty possessive of you, it took quite a bit of convincing to let him have you go outside of his country

He’s not a creep or anything! He just wants to keep you safe

You got used to the life of a casino town pretty quickly. You were really good friends with Fundy, Purpled and Foolish. You’d occasionally see a now revived Wilbur and Tommy talking to your lover about some matters you never bothered to listen in on them

But you still couldn’t help but miss the warmth of Karl and Sapnap

The way they looked at you one last time, the look was filled with nothing but heartbreak, it destroyed you

They knew it wasn’t your fault, but it still made you feel sick to the stomach

So one day, you went out on a walk to clear your head. Trying to figure out what to do

You had accidentally wandered too far off; away from safety, as you were drowning in your own thoughts, trying to calm yourself

But unfortunately, you got attacked by a hoard of mobs

Skeletons were shooting from left and right, spiders jumping from the air, and zombies appearing out of nowhere

You didn’t bring any form of weapons with you, so you were just— running for dear life, praying you wouldn’t die as you bleed out

You managed to get away from most of them, but a creeper exploded you off a cliff and you took a lot of damage from there

Coughing up blood as you took shelter under the hollow shaft of a tree, trying to keep yourself awake. Your phone wasn’t on you. You just had to hope and pray

Fortunately, Quackity happened to hear the ruckus and came over to check out what’s as going on

He saw your body laying weak under there tree and he panicked, gently caressing your body as he looked in his inventory for food or potions, but he found nothing, and he was too far from Las Nevadas

Cursing to himself, he picked you up and took you to the only other place he knew

Karl was trying to take care of his fiancé’, after the whole events with their former lover, they have been trying their best to move on but— simply couldn’t.

Both boys were about to go to bed when they heard vigorous knocking on the door. Sighing in agitation, Sapnap got up from his bed and walked up to the door, only to be horrified by the sight.

You laid in Quackity’s safe arms as he shielded your bloodied and bruised body with his wings, as said duck hybrid tries to stay calm, but can’t help himself and let the tears run down his face. “Please…. Please help them…”

Despite being confused and terrified, Sapnap let him in without hesitation and immediately told Karl about it too

The time traveler gave you a potion and medicine while Sapnap healed your wounds with the medkit he had in the living room, whilst feeding you too

They both let you rest up on your couch, as you were our like a light

When you woke up, you groaned as three bodies engulfed you into a hug

“I— I was so worried about you!! Please don’t scare me like that again!!!” Quackity sobbed into your chest while you just hugged him back, letting a tear or two shed. “It’s okay… I’m fine now.”

Upon waking up you explained everything that has happened and what you’ve been feeling/what you’ve been doing

Turns out, the relationship was all just a form of miscommunication, both sides didn’t hear enough from the other

Everyone made up from there, Sapnap, Quackity and Karl all apologized to each other

Karl also promised to talk more about his time travel thing so you three could understand things that happen in the future more easily

This family might take some healing before it’s complete, but right now, you were happy with this moment, just when the four of you were on big happy family

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#fluff #angst #karl x y/n #karl x reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #karlnapity #karlnapity fluff #karlnapity angst #dsmp fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp #mcyt #minecraft streamers #minecraft #karlnapity x reader #sapnap #quacktiy #karl jacobs #dream smp #x reader #reader insert

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

#this took way longer than ryu anticipated #ryu is nervous and hopes you enjoy ㅠㅠ #part of this was just ryu being a self-indulgent english nerd too #also-new format! #tumblr's new update whoo #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids soft #stray kids boyfriend #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids minho #lee minho #lee know #stray kids angst #lee know boyfriend #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #seo changbin #han jisung #skz as high school lovers

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter IV

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut.

A/N: SORRRRRRYYYYY!!!!

You were more confused than ever. 

When Jungkook had promised you a loveless marriage, you knew where you stood at least.

And now… Now what? 

He had kissed you and touched you - like no man ever had before - and now…. You were hungry for him. 

You’d always loved him of course.  Always longed for him.

But not like this.

Your mind kept replaying the other evening��s activities again and again.  Butterflies soared in your stomach just at the sight of Jungkook’s back. 

It was like you had unlocked a second part to your love - this one deeper, more visceral. 

It pained you to be close to him.  It pained you to be away from him.

And your husband…. 

Your husband acted like nothing was different.

In the weeks since that night, Jungkook went back to treating you as a friend.  He took you in his arms as soon as the lights went off - but apart from that, he didn’t touch you. 

You wondered if you’d done something wrong.  Had you offended him somehow? 

Was it because you hadn’t fulfilled your duty as you should? You wracked your brain again and again and again… But just came up empty handed. 

That night had been perfect.  Jungkook had been gentle and playful.  He treated you as though you were something precious to him.

Your heart swelled once again as you thought of the boyish grin he shot you… His fingers on your skin… His lips on your lips. 

God. 

You were like a woman obsessed. 

“Y/N?” 

You were pulled out of your reverie by your husband’s voice.  He was sat across the dining room table from you, his eyes scanning your appearance carefully. 

It seemed he had caught you out yet again on one of your day dreams…

It happened often these days.  Too caught up in remembering your husband’s touch, that you barely even noticed him when he was right in front of you.

“You seem distracted,” His smile was small, “Is everything ok?” 

You nodded and tried to smile back, “I’m fine.  Just uh… Tired.” 

He raised a brow but decided to say nothing, turning back to the sirloin steak he’d just been eating.

You speared a tomato onto your fork as you watched your husband eat, eyes following the planes of his handsome face and heart fluttering around your chest like a hummingbird.

Everything he did seemed to send you into a frenzy, and as his teeth closed around the piece of meat and you watched him swallow it down, your temperature sky-rocketed through the roof. 

Suddenly it was too hot.  You were seeing stars.  You felt like you might explode.

What on earth was wrong with you? 

You stood up quickly, chair scraping back loudly against the wooden floor, and Jungkook stopped what he was doing.

He dropped his fork and cocked his head to the side, “Everything alright?” 

You cleared your throat loudly, tucking your hair behind your ears and pressing your hands against your thighs. 

“Yes.”  You bit your bottom lip, “Yes.  Everything’s fine.  I just.  I’m not hungry.”

His eyes moved to your empty plate, “You’ve barely eaten anything.”

You laughed - the sound empty and hollow - and shrugged, feeling the nerves climbing up your spine.

Could he sense just how anxious you were? 

“I ate a big lunch.”  Your tummy coiled tightly, “I think I’ll just… Go.  To bed.” 

The word bed sent another rush of heat through you, and your cheeks flushed bright pink.  Jungkook’s face was a mask of neutrality.  He never gave a single thing away.

Why couldn’t you be the same?

Hadn’t you both been raised in the mob?

“Okay.”  He licked his bottom lip and your legs trembled at the sight, your hands reaching out to the edge of the table, to steady yourself, “I’ll come join you after I finish.”

You nodded tightly, moving away from him as quickly as possible. 

You felt his eyes following you, even as you left the room, but you refused to meet his gaze. 

That would mean things were truly over. 

Jungkook’s gaze could cut through you like a beam of light, almost.

It should’ve been embarrassing how he affected you.  And yet… You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You reached your bedroom and entered quickly, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool surface of it’s wood.  You took deep breaths in, calming yourself down, and steadying your pulse now that you were alone.

Your husband was going to be the death of you. 

Jungkook seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you.

And you couldn’t blame him for not knowing.

You were being absolutely ridiculous. 

Weak at the knees from the sight of him eating? 

How old were you?

What was wrong with you? That wasn’t how a woman of your age acted.  It was ridiculous.

And yet… You couldn’t hate yourself for it.

Something about this newfound lust for your husband seemed to send the blood in your veins fizzing.  You felt like a new woman.  Like a lioness had been set free inside of you.

It was cheesy - completely absurd even - but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted your husband to ravage you.

You giggled at your own thoughts, moving towards the ensuite bathroom and running the warm water.  Maybe a bath would help you relax.

It felt like you’d spent the entire evening tense in your husband’s presence - waiting for him to do something that would set you off again - and now your muscles were paying for it.  

You dropped some lavender into the bath, and ran a bubble bar under the tap, watching as foam formed across the steaming water.  This was exactly what you needed. 

The water was heaven against your skin as you sank into the tub, closing your eyes and ridding your mind of your husband’s handsome face.  You could think about him later, couldn’t you?  

Except his long, slender neck kept materialising in your mind's eyes.  You watched again and again as he swallowed the steak, and then slowly it was you he was swallowing.  Your thighs rubbed against one another in some attempt to quell the heat you felt in your core.

But it was just the same as it had been the last few weeks. 

Soon you couldn’t keep yourself occupied anymore, and your hand started to slide towards the apex between your legs.  You imagined it was Jungkook’s fingers dancing across your skin, moving against you - lips covering as much as they could.

It wasn’t the same of course but it would do.

Your fingers finally reached their destination, and you arched your back, wishing it was your husband’s tongue on you.

“Jungkookie,” You breathed, giggling at the nickname you knew he hated, “Oh God.”

A throat cleared itself from behind you. 

You sat up - ramrod straight - and whipped your head around to find your husband himself standing in the open doorway, arms crossed.

“What was that you called me?”  His eyes were dark with lust, “Jungkookie?”

“Oh.”  The word slipped out of  your mouth without your permission, “What are you doing here?” “I came to check up on you.”  He hadn’t moved from his position at the doorway, “I was worried about you.  You were acting so strange at dinner.”  A smile that was somewhere between kind and cruel played on his lips, “Now I know why.”

Your heart was slamming against your chest, as you remembered exactly where you were.

Naked.  In a bathtub.

Your husband didn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t stop on my account,” He rose a brow, “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You felt yourself trembling.  He was enjoying this. 

This… Game.

He was enjoying the way you burned for him.

“I - oh… God.”  You were mortified - but somewhere beneath the shame was something brighter… Harder, “I’m sorry.”

He licked his lips and finally, finally took a step towards you.

“What for?”  He shook his head and came towards the bathtub, kneeling down so his face was level with yours, “I’m flattered my wife masturbates to the thought of me.  You only needed to ask if you wanted my help.”

Your cheeks were blazing, but the look in Jungkook’s eyes was dampening your embarrassment.  

“I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure.”  You licked your bottom lip and his gaze snapped down to your mouth, “I wasn’t sure you wanted me like that.  Again.”

His eyes lifted to your own once more, and this time it was like they were on fire.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night Angel.”  His words were rough, coarse, “Believe me.  I want you like that again.  As many times as you want, actually.”

Your heart felt like it might rip itself out of your chest. 

His hand reached up to your face, and he stroked a finger down your cheek. 

You thought he might kiss you - you wanted him to kiss you so badly - but he pulled away after a moment, and his eyes disappeared down to your legs.  He couldn’t see you properly, not with the bubbles in the way, but he seemed to want to devour you.

“Can you touch yourself again for me?”  He asked after a moment, eyes sliding back up to your face, “I’ve never seen anything sexier.” 

You were sure you were about to hyperventilate. 

He had not just said that. 

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t, right?

Jungkook had been with some many more women before you - older, more worldly… Well seasoned.

And yet, his eyes were looking at you with absolute conviction.

You nodded after another long pause and he smiled - that smile that you loved - eyes crinkling into two crescent moons. 

He didn’t stand, as you thought he might, instead moving onto his knees and resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub.  

He nudged your hand and you started to move it down the length of your body, watching as Jungkook’s gaze stayed stuck on your fingers. 

“God.”  He whispered, as though to himself, “So fucking hot, Angel.”

Your hands disappeared under the water, and you felt yourself shiver as your fingers touched your most intimate place.  Your eyes closed then, focusing on your pleasure, and after a moment you felt your husband’s lips on your naked shoulder.  

You opened your eyes and watched as Jungkook licked his way up your neck to the shell of your ear - biting playfully on it.  You groaned at his ministrations, and almost moved your hand away from your centre, when his own fingers enveloped yours. 

“Jungkook - your shirt -” 

“Don’t care,” He groaned, moving his fingers against your own - soaking his probably very expensive clothes, “Jesus.  So hot.” 

You arched into his touch and tried to slip your hand away from under his but he wouldn’t let you.

“No, no Angel,” He whispered against your ear, alternating between kisses and licks, “This is a team effort, okay?” You nodded then, desperate to finish - desperate to make him happy.

Desperate that he was touching you again.

His nose nuzzled into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and that was what did it for you.  That act of intimacy - the way he seemed to be enjoying every inch of your skin - tightened the coil in your core until it snapped, and you fell apart into a million tiny pieces.

Jungkook encouraged you through it, landing kisses wherever he could and petting your core carefully, wanting you to enjoy every second of it. 

After a moment, when you relaxed, he pulled away and you whined a little eyes still closed. 

“C’mon,”  He said softly, and you opened your eyes to meet with his, “This isn’t exactly comfortable, is it?” 

You shook your head and giggled a little at the look on his face.

So open - so inviting. 

His hand was reaching out to yours and you took it, no longer caring that you were naked, and standing up yourself.

His eyes scanned you hotly, and something akin to a blush covered your whole body.  When he looked at you again you shivered at the appreciation in his gaze. 

“Beautiful.”  He murmured as you stepped out of the bathtub, arms tightening around your waist and lifting you up effortlessly.

You laughed again at this, “I’m getting you all wet.” “Don’t care,” He answered honestly, lips meeting your own finally as he kissed you with all the fierce passion of somebody in love.

You tried to tuck your feelings for him away - to enjoy the moment as it came - but you couldn’t help it.  Your heart was swelling to nearly double the size, you loved him so much.

Jungkook carried you over to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed carefully and climbing on top of you.  His arms caged around you, but you felt safer than you ever had.

You knew he’d never hurt you - never force you to do something you didn’t want to.

“Take this off,” You whispered after a moment, tugging on the collar of his shirt, “I want to see.” 

He smirked then, in that way that was so quintessential Jungkook. 

“Alright Angel.  So needy.” 

You didn’t even deny it, nodding furiously as you watched the shirt slide off his shoulders.  You gasped when his chest was revealed, not even attempting to hide your astonishment.

He was so… Beautiful.

He groaned at the look on your face, cupping your cheeks and pressing a hot kiss against your mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that.”  He whispered against your lips, “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I could say the same for you,” You answered back, voice hoarse with desire, “Your pants, Jungkookie.” He pulled away and rose a brow at the nickname.  You bit your bottom lip and smiled.

“Please?” The word slipped out of you - sweet as honey.  He laughed.

“Alright,” He pressing a hand to your forehead and then started working on his belt buckle, “But only because you said please.” 

You watched as your husband stepped out of his trousers - heart hammering against your chest as he stood glorious as ever, in a pair of tight, black boxers.

You knew what tonight might end with.  You knew what you were offering up to him.

But the truth was… He’d had your heart… Your body… Your soul, since a long time ago. 

So you weren’t scared.  Quite the opposite in fact.

You were ready for this.

You were ready for him.

He kissed you again - fervently - and you felt the blood rise to the very tips of your ears.  God.  You loved him so much, it felt like you might burst. 

He tugged his boxers down, and you felt him pressed up against your thigh.  It might have made you anxious, were it anyone else, but with Jungkook it just felt… Right.

He pulled away slightly, eyes meeting your own, “Is this… Okay?  Do you want to slow down?”

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up to cup his face.

“No.  I want this.”  You cleared your throat, “I want you Jungkook.  Make me yours.”

Your husband’s eyes softened then, and you saw something deeper than just affection or lust.  You saw something whole and full.  Something you’d felt for him for so many years.

Your heart soared. 

Could your husband learn to love you, too? “Okay,” He whispered against your lips, “It might hurt a little Angel.  I’m sorry if it does.” You shook your head, “I don’t care Jungkook.  As long as it’s with you.” His face seemed to melt then, like butter on a hot day, and his fingers pushed into you - opening you up for what  you knew was coming.

And then he was inside you.  He slid in gently, slowly, and though it hurt - you knew you could handle it.  He stopped and pulled away slightly, hands moving your hair out of your face - eyes roving your features.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, and his lips were so close to your own it was like he was kissing you.

You nodded, “I’m fine.  I promise.  You can move, please.”

He smiled then - soft and caring - and you knew the love you had for him was shining in your eyes, but you didn’t really care.  Not anymore.

When he started moving inside of you, you pressed your hands against his back, pulling him closer, wanting his skin against your own.  He was so precious to you.  So perfect.

And he was yours, wasn’t he?

He had to be.

His lips covered your own and you felt him tightening, tightening, tightening and you knew what was coming.  He pulled back slightly, eyes screwed shut.

“Is it okay if I -” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, “Anything you want Jungkook.  Anything.” His eyes opened then and they were so beautiful - so open and honest and you felt like you might drown in them.

And the words slipped out of you, before you even really knew what was happening.

“I love you,” You whispered just as Jungkook reached the peak of his pleasure.  

His eyes widened as they met yours, and you smiled.

Even if he didn’t love you back… It didn’t matter.  Because he was yours.  

He had to be.

He collapsed on top of you after he was finished, breathing heavily, and you enjoyed his closeness with open arms - running your fingers up and down his naked back.  After a moment he pulled away - a small smile on his face.

“That was…” 

“Amazing?”  You supplied, grinning.

He pressed a hand to your cheek and kissed the side of your mouth, “Yeah.  Amazing.” Your heart swelled. 

Maybe all was not hopeless.

//

Your husband was gone when you woke the next morning.

His side of the bed was cold, and even though he wasn’t there to greet you, you were still warm from his touch.

Everything had changed between you… Hadn’t it?

It couldn’t stay the same. 

Not after the way he’d kissed you.  Not after the way he’d held you. 

You sighed to yourself feeling light and frothy inside.  He hadn’t said he loved you - but the way he’d looked at you last night…

He could learn to love you.  Your marriage didn’t have to be cold and desolate as he’d promised you.  Things were changing. 

You stood slowly, legs sore and aching - and pulled a nightgown around you.  It had been hours since you’d had a drink of water - and you blushed as you thought of how much exercise you’d actually endured since last night.  

You tried to make yourself look as presentable as possible… But secretly, you sort of wanted all of the help to wonder if Jungkook had finally made you yours.

It was silly, maybe, but the thought of others knowing that your husband wanted you in any capacity, brought a glow to your skin. 

You slipped your feet into some slippers and smiled to yourself, stepping out of your bedroom and almost skipping down the hallway.

It felt almost like you were floating on a cloud.

You started making your way towards the kitchen - intending to make yourself a quick breakfast - when you noticed that the door to Jungkook’s study was slightly ajar.  You crept towards it, intending to surprise him with your presence, when you noticed he wasn’t alone.

Your heart swam all the way into your throat as you noticed that Jungkook was standing in front of a woman.  

You couldn’t see her face - only the back of her head - but you knew it was a woman when she spoke. 

“You promised you’d wait for me.” There was a tremble in her voice.

“I couldn’t… There wasn’t anything I could do.  It was decided for me.” 

Jungkook’s eyes were unreadable.  You felt your chest tighten.

“This was why you kept me a secret,” You could hear the tears in her voice, “This was why you kept up the pretense of fucking around.  So you could marry her?” 

Your husband’s eyes widened and he stepped towards her, grabbing her by the arms. 

“Keep your voice down Violetta,” His voice was soothing, “She’ll hear you.”

Her shoulders were shaking and you realised she was crying, “I don’t care Jungkook.  I thought you loved me.  Was I wrong?”

There was a long beat of silence.  Your husband’s eyes softened then, and the mask dissolved. 

“Violetta…” 

And then she reached up and pulled your husband towards her.  And she kissed him.

Your heart cracked right down the middle and you choked back a sob.   Jungkook pulled away from her almost immediately - his eyes darting to meet with yours.

He’d heard you.

“Y/N!” 

He moved away from Violetta and as you turned, your eyes connected with hers. 

She was beautiful.

Your world crumbled like dust around you, and you spun around quickly, running towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut.  You used the locks your husband had assured you were only a precaution, and fell to the ground - leaning against the surface of the portal. 

After a moment, Jungkook’s voice came from the other side.

“Y/N.” You didn’t say anything.  

“Y/N.  Please.  Open the door.”

The sobs started rolling through your body. 

“Y/N… Please.  Y/N please, let me talk to you.”

It was too late.

Too late.

You felt like you were collapsing in on yourself - like a dying star.

Violetta.

Violetta.

That was who he loved.  Not you.

Never you.

//

#jungkook #kpop #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook mafia #mafia au #bts mafia au #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts arranged marriage au #kpop fanfiction

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue, One, Two

WARNINGS ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, gaslighting, nightmares, grief, blood (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: Spoilers (up to episode 9, just to be safe) cheesy sitcom talk, the sixties, Señor scratchy slander, The nickname ‘kiddo’

Leave A Light On

The dream was always the same.

You would be on a beach, whether it was standing or sitting didn’t seem to matter, and the sun would be perfectly overhead. You were sitting this time, the salt in the air touching your lips as you basked in the warmth the sun provided. The waves crashed in perfect rhythm, and you let out a sigh when the water touched your toes, always warm and refreshing.

You were alone, yes, but you felt at ease.

Every worry and memory would wash away; the pain would drown in the never-ending ocean of happiness, and forgotten in the depths of the unknown. You were, to put it simply, in paradise.

But, like every night before, the waves would stop moving. The sun would go down, darkness would swallow the shore, and left in its place would be a field of glass. The warmth of the water would morph into bitter coldness; warping itself around your ankles and pulling you toward it, your skin would slice open the more you struggled against it, the glass under you stained red with your blood.

It was intense and graphic. The memories would come back in flashes, each one more brutal and heartbreaking then the last.

As your body was plummeted down what felt like miles of suffocating water, you tried to cling on to the memory of your father. You tried to picture him diving down after you, his hands trying to claw at you. You tried to imagine what your mother would look like; body and face blurred together as a ghostly hand reached down toward you.

But, you were alone, and no one going to save you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for my final trick,” Vision pointed the plastic wand at you with a smile and you leaned forward in anticipation. “I bring you the ‘Cabinet Of Mysteries.” You clapped your hands in excitement. A moment passed and you watched as he fumbled a bit, putting his head down with a sigh. “Darling, that’s your cue.”

This morning had been rather eventful, to say the least. Wanda had woken you up with excitement; a cape in hand and tall magician hat atop her head as she revealed her plan for the talent show.

“We need a practice audience.” She giggled, your tired groan making her eyes gleam in mischievousness. “C’mon, Kiddo. I’ll let you in on the secrets.” You had groaned once more, hands pulling at the covers in protest.

“I’m tireeeed.”

The fight was shortly won when Wanda sighed, seemingly in defeat, and walked toward the door. You smiled in content but felt your body be pulled down the bed by invisible hands. She laughed.

“See you downstairs, Kiddo.” Your pillow missed her by a hair.

“Did you say ‘Cabinet of Mysteries’ ?” Which is what brought you here, sitting patiently as you waited for Wanda to be introduced to the “stage”.

“I said, ‘The Cabinet of Mysteries.” Vision flicked the wand again and you watched as a large cabinet, presumably of Mysteries, waddle through the small gap of the stairs.

“Oh, that’s my cue.” Wanda let out a small huff as she pushed it over a snag of carpet.

“Holy Toledo!” It was a rather large box. “Darling, do all the other acts in the talent show have such elaborate props?” You could only barley see the top of her head as she popped out from behind it with a small gasp.

“Are you kidding? Fred and Linda are building a Moet and a fully-functioning portcullises and no one knows why.”

“A Moet!” You can’t help yourself from standing in glee, the excitement that flowed through quickly draining as Wanda looked at you with a small betrayed look. “But this-“ You slapped the door of the cabinet with a goofy smile. “This is a million times better.” She gives you a push to the chair once more.

“Let’s keep going.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” You clasp your hands in your lap and watch as Vision gets back into character. “Where was I? Um....” His eyes sparkle with new found playfulness. “Watch closely as I, Illusion, master of enigma, make my captivating assistant,” Wanda leaps into feign shock and awe. “Glamour, disappear.”

You lean forward, eyeing the inside of the now open cabinet. It all seemed perfectly ordinary; but you were sure if you squinted hard enough, a crack or something would be found within the edges.

How do they do it

Wanda gives a small wink to you as she steps into the small box, her gaze now on her husband.

“You really are very dashing.”

“Mm, thank you, darling.” He closes one of the doors and turns quickly to the other. “Fear not, Glamour.” He turns to you. “For I, Illusion, vow to bring you back exactly as you are.” Wanda shudders, hands waving and you concentrate on the cabinet’s now closed doors. Vision winks in mischief, wand slapping the door. “Abracadabra!”

The sight of the now empty cabinet makes you giddy, hands clapping as a smile spreads across your face. As the back spins, the smile turns into a cheeky grin as Wanda claps.

“Yes, um... Wanda, you’re not at all worried that the audience might just see through this little charade?”

“Well, that’s the whole point!” Wanda replied, stepping fully out of the cabinet. “In a real magic act, everything is fake.”

“Isn’t that a little contradictory?” She waved you off, closing the doors with a soft push.

“Darling, the talent show fundraiser is the most important event of the season and it’s our neighbourly duty to participate.” You stand from the chair and pat down your pants with a small sigh.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?” Wanda gives a small smile and waves you off again.

“Oh, wait!” You turned to her with curiosity. “Would you be a dear and move this back?” She pushes the edge of the cabinet toward you and you nod.

“Sure.” You say, “I can’t wait to see the show!”

Turns out it was a lot heavier then it looked; you wanted to rip out the carpet every time you hit a bump, a groan leaving your mouth as you pushed harder.

Now I’m really thirsty

You couldn’t help but give one of the wheels a swift kick, a satisfied grin on your face as you grabbed a glass from the kitchen. The window above the sink was open and goosebumps raised on your arms as the breeze settled on your skin. You filled the glass halfway and the sound of the front door closing fluttered into the kitchen.

“Seems like it’s just us now, Kiddo!” Wanda called from the living room. You didn’t bother turning as she entered, gulping down the icy water as she fiddled around. You both fell into a calm silence; her humming a tune as she wiped down the table and you refilling the glass with water three more times before finally feeling satisfied. You must have been really, really, really thirsty.

A loud thud startled you both, the peaceful bubble popping as you glanced at each other with mutual confusion.

“What was that?” Wanda shakes her head, eyes wide as she reached the door.

“I-I don’t know.” Outside was quiet, birds chirping happily as the wind rippled through your clothes. “You see anything?”

The roses

Your feet marched forward, eyes fixated on the burning bright object atop them. It was something you had never seen before; painted in colours you never even knew existed, and as you reached forward, fingertips inches away from it, you had to steady yourself when Wanda snatched your wrist.

“Don’t.” You listened and stepped away as she held it up in confusion.

S.W.O.R.D

“Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes’ voice startles you both, a gasp leaving Wanda’s mouth as the object falls by her feet.

“Agnes.” You both pushed it out of your memory, focusing on the cheery woman before you. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Oh, I brought my pet rabbit.” She held the cage up with a proud smile, said rabbit glances your way. “For you magic act.”

“Yes, of course! Thank you, Agnes.” Wanda hands you the cage and you try to hide the disdain for the fluffy creature inside, it’s eyes too wide for your liking. “We will take good care of him.”

“Señor Scratchy just loves the stage. He played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant.” Her bragging is playful and she gives you a pat on the back as you turn down the walkway, trying to get away from the rabbit as quickly as possible. “Don’t worry, Kiddo. He has a soft spot for the younglings.”

You have to stop yourself from throwing it inside.

———

“So, are you ready to meet Queen Cul de Sac and her Merry Homemakers?” Agnes asked with a smile, you all laughing as you stride down the path. You and Wanda were either side of the brunette, elbows linked as she took the lead.

“Agnes, Dottie can’t be as bad as you say.” Wanda replied making her hum.

“Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death.” You both scoff in response. Agnes was rather dramatic and as she pulled away from you both, a look of seriousness etched across her features, you knew it was something you had to get use to.

“Wanda, can I give you a bit of friendly advice?”

“Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

“Yes, but it’s too late for that.” You were finally not on the bad side of fashion, thank God. “Dottie is the key to everything in this town.” She said. “Country club memberships, parties, school admissions...”

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Your friend replies with a dismissive chuckle.

“You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.” You felt the prickle of a thorn, one of many that surrounded the stem of the rose in your hand. You weren’t really paying much attention to the two women in front of you, tugging one off the bush when Agnes pulled you with them from Wanda’s.

“Or maybe I could just be myself?” Wanda suggested as the rose fell to your feet. “More or less?” Agnes was quick to dismiss her, the laugh making your stomach turn in knots. You rubbed your fingers together, smearing blood between two digits from the small wound.

“Oh, Wanda.” She said. “That’s good.”

Soon enough the ladies wondered out of the house, Dottie leading them down the path as they carried various items for the day behind her. You said nothing as Agnes greeted them, hands waving wildly as they passed. Wanda let out a sigh of nervousness and grabbed on to your arm.

“Here goes nothing, Kiddo.” You made sure to dig your shoe into the fallen petals as you followed.

———

The meeting was - in the nicest way possible - the most boring thing you had ever attended. It was filled with toxicity, gossip and ice tea, and you were miserable. Why on earth did you ever agree to this? You couldn’t remember, but as Dottie droned on about food and dress code and “Mary, I told you not to do this and that”, you imagined soundly sleeping in your bed.

When will this be over

“The Rotary club is finishing the stage set-up as we speak-“ The woman, Beverly, spoke and you were forced back into the moment as Dottie dropped a sugar cube into her tea. “They’ve given the gazebo a fresh coat of paint and will be installing the final decorations all through the town square.” Her enthusiasm was genuine and you couldn’t help but listen, it was simply contagious. “And if you recognise the antique footlights,it’s because they’re from my store.” Unfortunately you had to watch as the sunshine that was Beverly was trampled by the lioness beside her, stirring her tea.

“And the chairs?”

“I’m sorry, Dottie.” She tried not to tremble. “I didn’t ask about the chairs.”

“So you better not ask me if you can chair-“ She leaned forward and you had to dig your nails into your chair to stop from twitching. “-any committees in the future.” The women laughed and Beverly, still trying to be composed took a seat. “The devil’s in the details, Bev.”

“That’s not the only place he is.” You were thankful for the witty distraction, but waved Agnes off regardless.

“As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary-“ You glance over when Agnes nudges you with a twinkle in her eye, dropping warm syrup into your tea on the table from her flask.

“I couldn’t.” You whisper but she was quicker then you, raising your glass to your mouth, even dropping a sugar cube in for good measure.

“Trust me.” She murmured. “It’s sweet.” Agnes always had a way with words, and you were sure it must’ve at least tasted a little better then the cider from before. You took the drink from her and smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you.” Agnes winked and took a bite from one of the many cookies being handed out.

It was extremely sweet, so much in fact that you swore you felt your teeth ache as you swallowed down the tea. You weren’t much of a sweet tooth; more of a salt kind of gal, but the tea was one hell of an exception, and when she wiggled her flask teasingly, you couldn’t help but stick your hand out for more.

The minutes flew by and you were having a ball, eating cookies and clapping when the other did. Dottie had turned into background noise and at one point you even found yourself laughing along with the women at one of her jokes. Soon enough, one by one, the women bid their dues, kissing cheeks and sharing hugs and you were the next to go after Agnes.

“Wanda!” Dottie’s voice echoed through the lounge area and you sighed. “Why don’t you help clean up, hmm?” You knew it wasn’t a question and when Wanda gave you a small pleading look, you started to gather the plates nearest you onto a now empty tray.

Who knew how many cookies a small group of women could eat! You alone picked up ten or so tiny plates off the various tables, and you didn’t even bother counting the glasses. Finally - as Dottie droned on and on with “tips” , you put the last of the plates and cups onto the bench, Wanda letting out a groan of her own as she did the same.

“Golly, you’re a whiz at all the committee stuff, Dottie.” She gushed, two cookie holders in her hand as she smiled. “Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today. I feel so lucky.”

“You are.” Dottie replied. You rolled your eyes, and grabbed one of the cookies, bitting into it to stop from commenting.

“I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie. And I would like to correct that if I can.” You could never understand Wanda’s need to fit in, especially with people like ‘perfectly blonde’ Dottie.

“And how would you do that?” Wanda chuckles nervously, hand patting her hair as you try to look busy. This wasn’t a battle you were too interested to participate in.

“I’ve heard things about you,” She stands, tall and suffocating as her eyes harden. “You and your husband.” She scoffs at the sight of you. “Even your little... friend.” You let the cookie crumble between your fingers.

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve been told.” Wanda edges closer as your round the table, always two steps behind her, it seemed. “But I assure you I don’t mean anyone any harm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Wanda.

You taste the salt on your tongue, waves crushing over the horizon as you try to catch your bearings.

Wanda, can you read me, over?

The sand is warmer then usual, almost burning, but you push through it when you see her.

Wanda.

She lets the water slam against her feet, back toward you as she watches the sunset in the distance. Her baby blue towel around her shoulders protecting her from the wind.

“Who is that?”

The wind picks up; you watch as her towel floats away from her, carried into sea and she shivers.

“Who are you?”

She disappears into the waves and you watch as the ocean swallows the sand by your feet, knowing that soon you’d join her.

Wanda? Who’s doing this to you?

The sound of Dottie’s glass smashing makes you jump, eyes wide as shards fall from her palm. Dripping down with it the same colour from before, bright and burning.

“Dottie!” Wanda gasps, having to stop her hands from reaching forward as the woman scoffs. “You..” She moves past you toward the closest table, her hands quickly wrapping the napkin around Dottie’s hand when she returns.

“Pop quiz, Wanda.” The blonde stops her with her undamaged hand and you try to swallow down the dread inside of you. “How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen?” Wanda didn’t know what to say. “By doing it herself.”

———

Morning soon turned into afternoon, the sun beating down as you listened to the piano music playing behind you. After Dottie; Wanda had steered her focus completely onto the talent show, trying desperately to perfect everything down to what stockings to wear.

You weren’t much help.

But when you reached the town square you were thankful for her new friend. Geraldine was everything you had hoped Agnes to be. She was smart, funny, charming, even had amazing style and as Wanda paced back and fourth, trying not to panic about the sudden disappearance of her husband, she proved to be a great distraction.

“Glad I don’t have to follow this guy.” She giggled, eyes gleaming as she watched the dancers on stage.

“Huh, what?” Wanda was overwhelmed to say the least.

“Oh, but you’re going to be great!”

“Yes,” You added with a smile. “No one’s even thought about doing magic.” Wanda shuddered, moving to the corner with heavy breaths. “I mean, you know, cause... it’s just so hard to do!” You weren’t sure how to calm her down, choosing instead to step off the small stage and pace by the stairs.

“What time is it now?”

“Mmm, two minutes after the last time you asked.” You stop pacing, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth when you see the familiar man walk - well stumble - into view.

“I don’t know where he could be.”

“Vision!” You gasp. “Thank heavens, we were worr-“ His body practically fell atop of yours, the railing of the steps being the only thing to keep you up as he slides off you with a grumble.

“Sorry, Kiddo.” He slurred. You didn’t have much time to respond as he fell backward again, your hands reaching up his back to stop him from crushing you. “Sorrryyyy”

“Are you alright, Vision?” You grunted, finally able to push him upright. He said nothing, choosing instead to focus on getting up the stairs with his fingers gripped tightly on each side of the banister. He fortunately made it up without further incident.

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” He gritted, a loud grumbling - loud enough to be heard from your place on the stairs - from his stomach made Wanda panic somehow, even more.

“Vis,” She said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Where have you been?” You slowly made your way back on stage, making sure to stay near the railing in case he fell once more.

“Uh, well, me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses with shoes.” He grinned to himself, body swaying. “No, that’s not it...Shoe Horses! No.” She eyed you from behind him but you were just as confused as she. “Ah! Horse’s shoes.”

“Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.” She beckoned you over as she continued. “Well, something strange happened before that, too. It’s hard to explain. I...”

“I was just playing with his shoes!” You followed his pointing finger and watched as a person in a horse costume walked past, cowboys and cowgirls surrounded them.

How’d I miss that act

“What is going on!?”

“You are!” You all turn to Geraldine, clip board in hand.

“Okay, okay...” Wanda pointed to you. “Kiddo, go find your seat.” You point to the drunk toddler of a man besides you and she sighs. “I’ll handle it.”

You don’t have to be told twice, the fear of being crushed for the third time was greater then any concern you may have had over said man’s wellbeing. So, with a final push from Wanda, you crossed over to the front of the stage and made your way to a familiar brunette.

“Agnes.” She looks up with a grin.

“Hiya, Kiddo.” Agnes pats the chair next to her. “Take a seat.” You nod in gratitude and sit. Dottie says her speech, head to toe styled to perfection as she introduces the couple.

Wanda is the first to go, hands gripping the curtain as she eyes the crowd. She radiates chaos but is quick to put on a show. She smiles, surprisingly bright as she walks down to centre stage, arm stretched as she waits for Vision to enter.

The curtain remains closed a moment too long, long enough for Dottie to roll her eyes and for Agnes to sigh sadly. You guessed it was rather fortunate for him to finally barrel through the curtain, arms wide and a little too confident for a man who only moments ago found it troublesome to stand up straight.

“Hello, Westview! Good afternoon. It’s so lovely to be-“ You cringe as he stumbles to the side, railing digging into him. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” Maybe this was just a false start?

“I’m Glamour and this is my delightful assistant, Illusion.” Maybe not.

“I am Glamour.” Wanda corrects, waving her hands dramatically. “And He’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Vision, always the gentleman. “Today, we will lie to you and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited knowledge of the inner workings of the universe.” You didn’t miss the way her smile dropped, confusion and panic mixing together was never a good idea. “Flourish!”

Wanda whispers something to him but Vision simply scoffs and stumbles away with a dismissive hand behind him.

“And now my wife and I will delight in your dumbstruck little faces. Flourish!” No one had time to be offended, mouths agape as Vision simply started to levitate. You didn’t have to look at her to know that Wanda was just as shocked as the rest of you.

Luckily, for Vision, his wife was rather quick on her feet as it only took a second for a rope to appear behind him, her moving a sign away to real the lever as the audience laughed.

“Wanda, what’s- Oh, no!” Vision kicked around, trying desperately to get back to the floor as Wanda played with the leaver. “Ah! No! Wanda, please! Darling, let me down!”

“Oh.” Agnes breathed beside you, purse clutched in her hand. You could feel the tension of the table, the nervous giggle she made as Vision was finally back on his feet. But you didn’t say anything, afraid you might take away the ‘magic’ of the small respite. So you simply clapped along with the others, ahhing and oohing with the rest as he stumbled once more.

“Oh! Yeah this is... this is gonna be great!” He said as he made his way to the piano’s side, trying to keep the cape away from his arms. “A staggering feat of strength!”

Oh, boy

He lifted with ease, only with one hand just to make it worse and you could feel the tension rise once more in the audience. Vision didn’t seem to notice the shift, of maybe he didn’t care, you couldn’t tell.

“Illusion!” Wanda gasped, the rope forgotten as she tried think. “Illusion, Master of Enigma, allow me.” She took quick strides, hands grabbing the now two dimensional piano from the grumbling magician. She made sure to show off the small handle behind the cardboard, shimmying her shoulders teasingly. “Whoops! You weren’t supposed to see how we did that trick.”

They all clapped again, seemingly too entertained to question things.

“Oh, Sherbert!” Vision called suddenly. “Yeah, this is my old mate, Sherbert.” His top hat is forgotten on the top step, as his body sways down to said friend.

“Stand up, Sherbert.” He slurred. “Say hello to the crowd.”

“It’s Herbert, Herb.” His friend corrects, hands awkwardly at his sides as he tries to play along.

“Pipe down, Sherbie, and pick a card.” Vision lets the cards spread across his hands like a fan. “Any card.” Herb obliged and gingerly took one from the middle. “Yeah, put it back in the deck.”

Again, Herbert played along, putting the card into the deck which was now behind Vision’s back. He turned and shuffled, a smug look on his face as he displayed one proudly for his friend to see.

“Is this your card?”

“Uh, no.” That revelation was the start of a rather bizarre standoff between the two, Vision going through each card, throwing them to the ground to every shake of Herbert’s head while Wanda tried to get him to stop.

“Is this your card?” He asked a final time, the last card of the deck in his hand.

“Oh, it is!” He replied.

“It is what?”

“It’s my card.” Vision was quick to get defensive, for... some reason. You weren’t really sure.

“Well, pardon me, Herb.” He said before pushing the card onto his friends chest. “Have it back.”

“Oh, no. You did the trick right.”

“Well, of course I did the trick right! I’m Illusion!” There seemed to be no right way to calm down the blond toddler in a cape, as he stumbled back to the stage, doing a quick and rather sloppy bow. “Flourish!”

While you knew it was anything but planned, the audience clapped and laughed. It was pretty funny from an outsiders perspective; but knowing how unstable he had become, how unpredictable, you might as well have been trembling next to Wanda on the stage.

“And now, for my next trick....” How long was this going to be? You were left to sigh as Vision scrambled around for his hat, the same one that was directly behind him. “Who stole my hat?” His shouting seemed to have startled the white rabbit - which had been hiding - and you watched as it hopped away from said accessory.“Oh! Oh, stop that Rabbit! I gotta pull a hat out of it.” Wanda ignored his whining, letting the animal rest in her hands.

“Señor Scratchy’s got real star quality.” Agnes pipped up from beside you, a prideful grin on her face. “Don’t you think?” You hummed.

“Well...” You replied. “He did play Jesus.” She smacked your arm playfully in response.

“Maybe we leave the poor bunny out of this one, shall we?” Wanda smiled, giving the pet a quick cuddle before putting it back into its cage.

“Well then.” Vision grumbled as he finally got back on stage, hat in hand. “I will just have to pull this hat... out of myself.” The audience gasped, as did you, but for more of a “Oh no, he’s going to do something” kind of way. Wanda couldn’t reach him in time and she was left to watch in horror as the hat slipped through him easily.

“If only you knew our secret.” She laughed dryly, hand flickering quickly as her husband swayed. Mirrors appeared from the back of the stage, the curtains falling to their respective sides as the audience laughed and clapped yet again.

These were some very easily fooled people, thank the heavens.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale.” Oh, finally! “I bring you, The Magnet of Crysteries!”

“The Cabinet of Mysteries.” Wanda corrected, pushing along the familiar wooden cabinet. From the sigh she made, you knew the feeling was mutual.

Let’s get this over with

“Yeah, yeah, what she said.” Vision turned it to face the audience, the tall doors in view as the couple stood on each side. “I will now make my wife...disappear.” You can hear the whispers of excitement buzz around you like bees. The trick was simple enough, and didn’t even need Vision to do anything but close the doors!

And he did! Only... Wanda didn’t get inside the said cabinet beforehand.

“Are you sure you don’t want an audience volunteer named “My husband Ralph”?” Agnes shouts with her signature snark and grin, the women around her giggled.

Oh, Agnes.

She even made Vision laugh, a look at his wife making him frown.

Right he must’ve thought, the trick

“Abracadabra!” He let the wand smack the side of the cabinet, seemingly forgetting the most important rule of the box. Wanda cleared her throat, a small smile on her face when he let out a small “Oh.”

There needed to be someone in the box first.

“What’s in the box?” A small sing-song question from Herbert soon turned into a loud chant, the tables be thumped by fists as they all sang.

What is in the box? Maybe Wanda, being the quick thinker she always is, transported that obnoxious rabbit into it? You wouldn’t know until the doors opened. Luckily you didn’t have to wonder too much; for rather the first time that afternoon, Wanda and Vision were in sync, both opening their respective sides of the cabinet, and the once empty space was now the holding place of a confused Geraldine, clipboard still in the hand.

She stepped out, knees wobbly as the crowd soared with applause. The couple grabbed her hands and pulled her down to a shared bow. Agnes seemed to be the most pleased.

“That was magnificent.” She said. “Just amazing! Don’t you think, Kiddo?”

“It was... something!” You don’t let her respond, already standing as the trio on stage disappears off stage. “How about I get Señor Scratchy for you?” She nods.

“Why yes, dear. Thank you!”

You ignore Dottie on stage, her speech and the applause being nothing more then loud static as you reach the back of it. He seemed to be sleeping soundly in his cage, the white fur making it seem as though he’s a rather large marshmallow. He even looked a little cute. But when you touched the handle and those large, red eyes stared you down, you remembered why you hated him.

“Time to go home, you little...” You grimaced when he did a small hop. “Rodent.” Agnes met you halfway, hands outstretched for said rodent’s cage.

“Thank you, dear.” You smiled politely.

“No problem.” You watch her leave, not before sending a final wave, and focus your attention on the crowd, trying to see the familiar top hat and cape.

“You two!” Dottie calls, the applause ending as you all train your gaze to where she points. “Stop right there.” They do, Wanda having to drop her hand from the hat atop her head to see the familiar blonde.

“Nothing like what you two just did up here has ever happened in the history of our talent show.” She explains while Vision can’t help but look down in shame.

“Dottie.” Wanda sighs. “We are so -“

“Hilarious.” Dottie scoffs and you can’t help letting in the swell of relief that filters through you. “That was the most hilarious act we’ve ever seen.” She turns to the audience once more. “Wouldn’t you all agree?” They clap - you joining in of course - and you watch as they are beckoned up on stage.

“On behalf of the planing committee, I would like to award you with the inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year.” Wanda giggles, saying thanks as she gingerly takes the small trophy form her hands. Geraldine is given a small push from Vision, grinning all the same and the trio take a another shared bow as the applause fills your ears.

“For the children!” A man shouts and you join in on the chant with glee.

“For the children!”

———

“It was wonderful!” You must have said that the whole walk home, as the two lovebirds just giggled along. “Way better then the moet.” You add as Vision twirls Wanda, the door closing behind you all.

“Well,” You feel the weight of the day suddenly, the bed upstairs calling to you. “I think I’m gonna head up. Goodnight.”

“Kiddo!” Wanda calls and gives you a warm hug when you turn back. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I know I can be a little...”

“Controlling?” You tease and she scoffs playfully. “It’s okay.” She squeezes you one more time.

“Goodnight, Kiddo.”

You bid them both the same, steps slow up the stairs as tiredness fully sets in. Changing is quick and swift, choosing to wear a simple pair of pjs for the night. You stretch one more time, a yawn leaving you as you get comfortable in bed.

In the morning; you will wake to a world filled with bright and burning colour, the same that dripped down Dottie’s hand and the same as the paint on the small toy.

You will dream of the women again, of the crashing waves and warm sun. You will watch her drown once more and you will finally understand why.

But for tonight, and only tonight, you will feel at peace, and sleep will come naturally.

Only for tonight, only for tonight

———

(Tag list, open just ask! You can also leave anytime, just DM)

@y-napotat @white-wolf-buckaroo @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @fruitiseavey @simsiddy @quietly-scrolling-through @mothsnsyrup @i-love-superhero @jdogjdyke @tonystanktheirondad @selluequestrian

A/N

Gasp! Where did lady Jabbagabba go? You may be asking, and well I, cried, slept, ate Taco Bell, cried again, read half of ‘A little life’, sobbeduntil I felt dead inside, tried to find out what kind of cake I would be, slept, had a mental breakdown after eating an entire tray of cookies, and, you guessed it, cried.

#wandavision x you #wandavision imagine #wandavison x reader #teen!reader #marvel x you #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #daughter!reader

[llogllady99]

Au revoir

CHARACTERS |  Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.” 

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

-

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels  adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

-

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

-

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

-

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

-

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

-

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

-

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

-

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

#levi aot #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #erwin x levi #snk levi #erwin smith #erwin fanart #aot moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fanart #aot anime #eruri #eruri smut #levi smut #erwin smut #aot 139 #aot season 4 #snk mikasa #snk fanfiction #snk fanart #snk anime #snk smut #snk season 4 #snk 138 #snk fandom #snk petra #petra ral #hange zöe #hange zoe #nanaba

[petersasteria]

Love Documentary - Harry Holland

Harry || Main || Taglist

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Requested? Nah.

3,470 words

TW; one mention of death, heartbreaking

* * * *

“Hi everyone! I’m Harry Holland and what you’re about to see, are short interviews that I did with people as I ask about what great love really is. Sit back, relax, and enjoy this love-filled journey.”

-

“Are you ready?” Harry asked and the old couple looked at him and nodded with a smile. Harry smiled too and started filming them. “So, how did you two meet?”

“We were childhood best friends.” The old man smiled as he reminisced the early days of his childhood. “I was a hopeless romantic and she wasn’t, but it all worked out in the end.”

“He was really cheesy.” The old man’s wife added with a laugh, causing Harry to laugh too. “He recited lines from movies just to get me to be with him. It was like he knew that we’d end up together.”

“Did the lines work?” Harry asked.

“They didn’t, but look where we are now.” The old lady smiled at her husband.

“We’ve been married for 60 years.” The old man proudly said.

“Are you each other’s greatest love?” Harry asked.

“I’d say we are.” The old man responded as the old lady nodded in agreement.

“We are.”

“So, for you, what is great love?” Harry asked. That was the important question. He needed that to be answered.

“Great love is loving someone unconditionally. No matter what happens between the two of you, you’ll still love them.” The old lady answered. “Right?” She looked at her husband.

“Right.”

-

Harry sits behind the camera as he watches the old man sit comfortably in his seat. The old man nods at Harry, signaling that he’s ready to be interviewed. Harry smiled softly and started recording.

“Please tell me your name, sir.”

“My name is Henry and I’m 82 years old.” Henry, the old man, said. Harry nodded before looking down on his notebook to write Henry’s name and age. After doing so, he read the question that he wrote there earlier.

“Who is your great love?” Harry asked.

“That’s easy; it’s my wife.” Henry answered with a sweet smile. “She’s the loveliest person you’ll ever meet and she makes the most delicious pancakes from scratch.”

“She sounds lovely.” Harry smiled. “How long have you two been married?”

“55 years this year, but this will be the first time I’ll be celebrating without her. She passed away.” Henry shared. The sadness was evident in his eyes and it made Harry sad.

“How did you two meet?”

“We met at a car repair shop. She was the mechanic and I was there getting my car fixed. She was the only girl I’ve ever been with and I have no regrets. Everyday, she loved me like there was no tomorrow. No one’s ever loved me like that and I will forever yearn for it.” Henry said, not bothering to wipe the tears streaming down his face.

“And, what’s great love for you?” Harry asked.

“For me, great love is being an all in one person for your one and only person. You’re the best friend, the sidekick, the lover; everything. When you meet your great love, you wouldn’t find anyone else.” Henry answered.

-

“Hi! I’m Harry Holland and I’m just popping in to say that the elderly know so much about great love. So, I asked the youth what they think is great love.”

For you, what is great love?

“I’m Amaranthine LaSpina and I’m 21 years old. They say that great love is what Jesus did for us, but I don’t know about that since I don’t believe in things like that. But in my opinion, great love doesn’t necessarily mean ‘romantic love’. It can take on many forms like friendship, family, etc. The constant factor is that they are people who care for you regardless of the decisions you made and will make. They offer you their full opinions without bias, and still support you even though you go on a different path. In summary, they want what they think is best for you without being control freaks.”

“Hiii, I’m Jaemren and I’m 15 years old. For me, great love means having an instinct, of some sort, to treat someone as part of your family even though you’re in a relationship with them or if they’re just a friend or if they’re an artist who doesn’t know you exist. You will have the sudden urge to protect them at all cost because you don’t want them to get hurt. Because if they get hurt, you feel their pain; you feel like you’re getting hurt too. Of course, you will correct them when they’re wrong and you’ll be comfortable around them because you feel at home when you’re with them, y’know? Like, there’s warmth. Great love is treasuring someone you don’t want to lose in your life and in terms of feeling it, I think reassurance is the best way.”

“Betty Montefalco, here! I’m 20 years old now and great love will always be there. It’ll always fight for you- in fact, it never slept without an argument. It’s great, it’s explosive, it’s annihilating, it could be exhausting, but at the end of the day- it’s what you want and it’s what you go back to. Even when you’re not in that headspace or happenstance anymore, it’s yearning for someone for the rest of your life; consciously, subconsciously, or unconsciously. If you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get to see the greatness endure and eventually flourish in this lifetime. If not, I believe you get to have that love elsewhere. Maybe in another lifetime or in a mirrored universe. I believe the people we yearn for were put in our lives for a reason and none of these people go to waste. I try to remind myself that everyday and that not everything’s figured out yet.”

“I’m Lucas and I’m 18 years old. For me, great love just boils down to understanding a person to the deepest level. It doesn’t even need to be exclusive to a romantic kind of love. True love, for me, is knowing the person in every situation. I don’t mean that the person knows your favorites or knows your deepest, darkest secrets. Knowing the person in every situation is knowing how to talk to you in times of your happiness, knowing how to keep you happy, and knowing how to be there for you in tough times without being intrusive or anything. They can sense when something is wrong about you or if you’re feeling off and they really know how to help you. They don’t even need to be your lovers or even best friends. It takes a certain kind of empathy to be able to understand someone’s emotion so well and knowing how to help you with those emotions is what I believe to be the greatest kind of love one can show to another.”

“HAHAHA, great love??? I haven’t experienced that yet. I only have my firsts, but I don’t consider them my great loves. My expectation is that hopefully we’re in the same wavelength-ish. To me, it doesn’t matter how they will be. Hopefully no sacrifices will be made. You can get great love from your friends and family. Like, you do stuff for them just because you love them. Oh, I’m 21 years old and my name is Hebe. It’s pronounced like ‘Phoebe’.”

“I’m Alessandra; 21 years old. Honestly, I don’t know what great love is. But I guess it’s something that makes someone’s world meaningful. Crushes come and go, but great love stays.”

“I’m 18 years old and my name is Dash. Great love is where you can experience the good and bad without ever getting tired nor ever get sick of the person. It’s trusting the person who you experience great love with.”

“I’m Jai and I’m 18 years old. Greatest love. As someone who ceases to exist, but lives by the quote ‘we accept the love we think we deserve’, I definitely have no idea what love truly is. In the first place, we shouldn’t even be rationalizing what it is. I once told a friend that I never believed in love. I was teased about it, but sometimes I just want someone to take me in their tender arms and cover me in dirt, cover me in roses. As gravity pulls me in their arms; I’ll feel warmth, I’ll feel safe, I’ll feel at home. Oh, to have someone be the mark of who I need to be, to have a blossoming reverie with, like the way they came in my life would feel so right. I think greatest love would make me want to twist and turn, cry and burn, but I’d like it.”

-

Harry sat in his room editing his ‘great love documentary’ and he’s frustrated. He couldn’t feel a thing from it. He felt as if he’s lacking some kind of passion, but he doesn’t know what it is; he can’t put his finger on it. So, he saved the video and went to the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich. While doing so, he took out his phone and called his mum.

“Harry!” Nikki happily said through the phone. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. ‘M just a bit stressed, that’s all. You?” Harry asked before putting his mum on speaker, so he can decently make a sandwich.

“I’m alright. I’m just editing pictures. How’s the documentary coming along? Is it like you pictured in your head?” Nikki asked.

“Yeah, it’s alright. It’s not finished, but it’s all coming together. The documentary isn’t the problem, though. It’s me. I feel like something’s lacking in me. Like, I don’t feel a thing while asking those ‘for you, what is great love?’ questions. When I asked old couples, I didn’t feel my heart swelling with joy and love. Is something wrong with me?” Harry explained.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then, what is it? I want this documentary to work, I really do. I just want to be a great director. Not just for this project, but also in projects that I’ll do in the future. But I can’t do that if my feelings aren’t in the right mood or place. Am I making any sense, mum?” Harry sighed before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Nikki laughed, “I definitely know what you’re talking about. Harry, darling, you’re not inspired. That’s it. You’re doing a documentary about ‘great love’, but you don’t have one yourself.”

“Do I have to find someone as soon as possible?” Harry asked. “I don’t want to put this documentary on hold.”

“You don’t have to find someone as soon as possible and you don’t have to put your documentary on hold. You’ll find someone along the way, I promise you that. Just do what you have to do.”

“How do I know if I meet the right one?”

“You’ll just know. Trust me.”

Harry sighed, “Okay. Thanks, mum.”

“You’re welcome. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry hung up and finished his sandwich before going back to his room to continue editing.

-

Harry took his time with the documentary. He needed the inspiration to continue, so he took a break from it. He was in the neighborhood with a small ball in his hand as he walked Tessa for a little bit of exercise. That’s when he saw you. You were painting a piece of cardboard as you sat on the grass. Your eyebrows were knit as you concentrated on what you were doing. He walked up to where you were and stood next to you. He removed the leash from Tessa’s collar and threw the ball. Tessa immediately ran off to find the ball and Harry finally gave you his attention.

You felt his presence next to you, but you didn’t mind him. After all, he was a stranger.

“Um, hi!” Harry spoke, causing you to look up from painting. You gave him a tight-lipped smile and said, “Hello.”

“What’re you doing?” Harry asked as he crouched down to see it better.

“I’m doing a miniature version of The Office. Right now, I’m painting the walls. So, when I put them together, it looks like an empty office. I already have the grey felt paper for the carpet flooring of the whole office. I haven’t sticked it yet because I have to cut out the exact shape of the floor if that makes sense.” You rambled as you continued painting.

“That sounds… tiring.” Harry said. He looked around and saw Tessa coming back to him. He pats her head before throwing the ball once more, making the dog leave again.

“It’s really tiring. I’m just glad that I have all the materials and the patience to make things like this. A few months ago, I did Rachel and Monica’s apartment. It was epic!” You grinned before looking at him. “What do you do?”

“Excuse me?” Harry asked, sitting down next to you to stretch his legs.

“Like, what do you do in your free time, or just in general? What are your hobbies? Anything.” You asked him.

“Oh! I, uh, I’m a filmmaker.” Harry answered. You looked at him for a while and nodded. “That’s interesting. I’ve never met a filmmaker before. I guess this’ll be my first time meeting one.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Harry chuckled awkwardly. “I’m Harry, by the way.” He extended his hand to you.

“Like the prince?” You asked and he laughed, but nodded. “I’m Y/N.” You shook hands before you continued painting. Tessa came back with the ball and Harry took it from her before throwing it again.

“What kind of films do you make?” You asked as you carefully put the cardboard down on the spot next to you to let it dry. You grabbed another cardboard and started painting it.

“Just anything that comes to mind, really. Right now, I’m making a documentary about ‘great love’.” Harry said and you nodded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why are you making a documentary about ‘great love’?” You asked. You paused painting to look at him with curious eyes. Harry looked at you and shrugged, “There’s no special reason, actually. I just want to experiment. It sucks, though. I don’t feel it and I hate that I don’t feel it.”

You nodded in understanding, “You need a muse, y’know, like an inspiration.”

“Funny. My mum said the same thing.” Harry chuckled which made you smile.

“Great minds think alike.” You giggled. “Your mum and I should hang out, then. We clearly have the same thoughts.”

“I’ll tell her.” Harry said. You both laughed and you looked at your watch. The sun was about to set and you decided it’s best to start packing up your materials. Harry helped you pack up and when you were done, you smiled at him.

“Thank you.” You said and he just grinned in return. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Harry.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Y/N.” Harry said. At that moment he realized that if he lets you go, he probably would never see you again. If he never sees you again, his mind will swarm with what could have been’s and what if’s. He didn’t like it already. He knew he had to decide now and he did.

“Can I have your number, Y/N?”

-

As cheesy as it sounds, Harry became motivated in his work again. He began to really feel things towards you and it made him soar. His mum was right. He’ll know when he meets the right person for him. Lucky for him, he found that person at 22 years old while others aren’t so lucky.

He never doubted you for one second. He knew that you were the right person for him. That’s why he confidently asked you on a date. He was delighted when you agreed to go on a date with him. Eventually, one date turned into multiple dates. You even met his family. You thought it was too soon, but he insisted on introducing his great love to his loved ones.

You and Harry didn’t have a label yet and you were still at the ‘getting to know’ stage of your ‘relationship’. Harry learned about your quirks while you learned about his likes and dislikes. It was truly an exciting experience for you because it’s different and new; it’s refreshing.

Harry was your breath of fresh air on a sunny day. He was your quiet life in the countryside. With him, you were peaceful and safe. Your life would come to a pause when you’re around him because you want to live in the moment. You were merely a passerby in this situation.

Of course, passersby come and go. People who pass through the countryside rarely stay because it would only be a matter of time until they make their way back to the hustle bustle of the city.

And it happened to you.

His name was Jack. You and Jack had a long history together, but you both went your separate ways for reasons you could barely recall. You know how people have something consistent in their lives? Jack was yours and you were his. Even if you weren’t together anymore, both of you knew that you’d have each other no matter what. You didn’t know how Jack found you, but he did. After all, that’s how fate works.

Then suddenly the life in the countryside didn’t seem as enticing as it was anymore. The air made you feel suffocated and the sun started burning your skin. Your quiet life in the countryside began to make you feel agitated. Your life desperately wanted to play, but it stayed on a pause and you feared that it would stay that way. You wanted to move on and go through the roads up ahead, but something- someone, rather, was holding you back.

You knew it was time to come clean. As much as you enjoyed and liked Harry’s company, you just couldn’t stay with him. It pained you to realize that the countryside wasn’t for you even if it seemed so perfect. But fate tied you to the city and a city person, you’ll remain. When you told Harry, he didn’t understand it. You didn’t expect him to understand immediately, but you knew that in time, he will.

And he did.

He didn’t let you go; you just left. Besides, he could never let you go. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He was crestfallen for a long time, but his mum told him that things would get better. And she was right… again.

Harry moved on too, but he never forgot about you. To him, you’ll always be in his heart. He finally finished the documentary and he was happy with the outcome.

-

“Hi, it’s Harry! I’ve decided to add a little clip of me saying stuff that I’ve learned throughout this documentary.” Harry said with a small smile on his face.

“I’ve learned that great love is different for everyone. Great love is loving someone unconditionally and great love is also being an all in one person for your one and only person. Great love is or are people who care for you regardless of the decisions you make and will make. They also want what’s best for you. You have the urge to protect them at all costs and you treasure them because you don’t want to lose them in your life.”

“Great love will always be there; it stays. It’s what you want and will go back to, no matter what. It’s yearning someone for the rest of your life. Great love is understanding someone on the deepest level and you do things for them just because you love them. It’s something that makes someone’s world meaningful. Greatest love would make you want to twist and turn, cry and burn, but you’d like it. You’d like it because it comes with it.”

“During the process of this documentary, I’ve met my great love. I realized that all the answers that I’ve heard made sense when I met this person.”

“Unfortunately, this person isn’t in my life anymore. I used to curse life because of it, but now I get it. I was not their great love, but they were mine. What I felt for them was special and I will never feel that way for someone ever again. I now understand that just because I found great love for me, doesn’t mean that I’m their great love too. I will forever yearn for this person, but I will move on. I am moving on.”

Harry paused for a second and smiled at the camera, “Thank you for watching.”

* * * *

lol what do yall think??? i personally like how it turned out. feedback would be greatly appreciated. you are all my great loves 🤍

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thatforgottenangel @turtoix @givebuckyhisplumsnow @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @euphorichxlland @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @more-like-reyna @aayaissaa

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @emmastarz

+ @leafy-holland (oml why cant i tag u??)

#harry holland #harry holland one shots #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

[justnerdthings]

New Beginnings Ch. 12

F!Reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

Oh nooo!

@ancientowlgirl @miss-nori85

Liu was an early riser. And since you had been training with him, you’d had to adjust to his schedule. You were already up and out of your room when Lao came for you. He had begun to knock, but a nearby monk had stepped up to him. You weren’t there. You’d already left for training.

He’d eventually found you sitting in Raiden’s arena… on the edge of the cliff. He stopped at the stairs to watch you cautiously from a distance. Lao wondered how’d you gotten yourself that close to the edge. He wondered how long you’d been sitting there. Had you done this before, or had this been the first time you’d been back here since the morning after he’d pulled his stunt.

He’d hurt you that morning. He hadn’t meant to. He’d hurt you the night before as well. But that morning your arm had started shaking again and he figured massaging it would help calm your nerves. You’d been going through withdrawal. He’d never gone through it himself, but he knew it wasn’t pleasant. Lao sighed at the memory. What he had intended to be a helpful gesture had only caused you pain. He’d wished he’d known just how bad your muscles had been strained before trying to massage them. He’d never have tried.

Lao slowly moved down the stairs and across the arena. You were sitting so still. He wasn’t sure if it was because of your anxiety or you had been lost in meditation. He stepped up and sat down right next to you, leaving some space between you. He watched your face as you sat there, eyes closed.

You were focusing on your breath, listening to the sound of the wind whistling in the ravine. You’d gotten better at this. Liu had shared some tips with you. The one that helped you the most: Your mind is going to wander. Don’t fight it. Just make a note to revisit the thought later.

You could think about those three kisses from yesterday later. Right now, you were focusing on the fact that your knees were just about hanging off the edge of this cliff… No. Don’t think about that either. Think about that later. You were meditating. You were focusing on your breathing, on the air, on feeling your lungs expand with every breath. You were focusing on the whistling of the wind, on the distant chatter of monks that echoed through the ravine…

On the steps in the sand coming closer to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you felt a presence close in on you. It was next to you now. You forced your shoulders to relax. It was only Lao. It must have been. Liu said he had to take care of something this morning and he’d see you at breakfast. And as long as Lao was serious last night, you had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t going to hurt you again.

You could feel his eyes on you… those deep brown eyes that stared right into yours last night. They had been so full of regret that they almost made you feel guilty for being so upset with him. Maybe you were feeling a little guilty about it. He’d only been trying to help. Liu had told you that Lao was impulsive. He didn’t always think things through before he did them…

Lao didn’t say a word as he continued to watch you. He wondered what was going on in that head of yours. He doubted you were completely focused. Not because you weren’t capable, but because even he had trouble with focusing during meditation. And he’d been doing it his whole life! But, whatever you were thinking about, it seemed to help you stay calm with sitting on the edge of the arena.

His eyes shifted down over the edge. He leaned forward to look straight down. Several hundred feet, at least, of jagged rocks and certain death if anyone happened to fall down into it. He could still remember how you had hung off the cliff, balancing as you held his dangling self over this very spot. In that moment, you looked so determined to pull him up. Despite you saying only seconds before that you wouldn’t fight for him, you had. Lao grinned and let his legs hang over the edge as he looked back to you.

“You’re doing great,” he said softly to you, not wanting to startle you.

Your jaw hardened when you heard him. You never were good at taking compliments. You always felt there was some hidden meaning behind them. With Liu, you didn’t worry so much about it. But with Lao… You weren’t too sure yet. Other than last night, all you had to go on was him purposely trying to rile you up every chance he got. But just what kind of guy was Lao when he wasn’t trying to get under your skin?

“Thanks…” you answered, perhaps more cautiously than you intended. Lao had helped you out of an anxiety attack last night, and you were grateful for it. But you two hadn’t been training at the time. What was he going to be like when he was supposed to push you?

Lao noticed your hesitance. He wasn't sure if it was because you were in the middle of fighting off some anxiety, or because he was there. Either way, he figured anxiety was involved. You were probably worried he’d go back to playing the bad guy. “How long have you been out here?”

“About an hour?” you weren’t really sure. You hadn’t kept track of time. You weren’t even sure what time it was when you got up. You’d just gotten into the habit of waking up on Liu’s schedule. “I got up before the sun did, if that means anything.” Hell, you weren’t sure if the sun was even up as you said that. You’d had your eyes closed the whole time.

Lao’s brows rose, impressed. “That early?”

“I kind of had to, to keep up with Liu.”

Lao lifted his chin for an agreeable nod. “He’s always been a morning person.”

“It’s not so bad now. That second day though…” You winced at the memory of being so groggy that you’d actually fallen asleep during morning meditation. Liu had laughed about it, but you hadn’t. God, that had been so embarrassing.

Lao chuckled at your expression. “At the monastery, everyone got up at four o’clock.”

“In the morning?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Once I got out of there I started sleeping in later and later. But, then again, I stayed up later and later.”

“What do you mean once you got out of there?”

“When I graduated, I took some time away to see the world… Or, at least China.”

“Like rumspringa?”

Lao’s face contorted to his confusion. “What’s that?”

“It’s what the amish do in America. Once they reach a certain age they’re allowed to live outside their communities with no restrictions. See if they like it, or whatever. Then after a while they have to make a decision on whether or not to return to their community. As far as I know, if they decide not to return, then they’re like, banished, or something.”

Lao’s brows sunk. “That sounds horrible. Why would they banish their own people?”

“I really don’t know the details. I’m not amish. I only know about rumspringa because there was a show about it on TV.”

“Oh…” Lao still thought the idea was terrible.

“So is it like that? The thing you did?”

“No.” He shook his head even though your eyes were still closed as you couldn’t see it. “Not that last part anyway. A monastery will never banish anyone. They’re dedicated to helping people.”

“So what was China like?”

Lao straightened. “Loved it. Also kind of hated it. It wasn’t what I had imagined. The first time I visited Beijing, I almost lost my mind. I’d never seen so many people.”

You grinned. “Cities are like that.”

“Have you been to Beijing?”

“No. But I was born and raised in New York City.”

Lao’s brows rose curiously. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Is that why your English is terrible?” He joked.

You scoffed. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him with a raised brow. “Look who’s talking,” you countered. Lao spoke English just fine, but sometimes his accent threw you. You then chuckled and looked out at the ravine. You took a deep breath to calm your fear of the height as Lao laughed.

Lao then tried his best at a New York accent. “Ey’ Fahgetabou’it!”

You rolled your eyes at the horrible impression. Why did everyone not from New York think New yorkers had an accent? You didn’t have an accent, he had an accent. “No, you Wàngdiào tā,” You told him with mock offense. You knew your impression wasn’t any better, and you were sure you didn’t say it quite right, but your point was made regardless.

Lao’s brows rose again in surprise and he nodded with a cheesy grin. “Not bad. When did you pick that up?”

“I hear Chinese all day long, I was bound to pick something up.”

He was grinning. “Liu taught you, huh?”

You shook your head. “Monks in the infirmary. I’ve been spending a lot of my free time there. Figured it’d help to be able to understand most of them.”

Lao was nodding again. “Smart woman.”

You rolled your eyes again and looked at him. You both laughed at each other and he shifted closer to you. You didn’t seem to mind, so he inched just a bit closer after that. Feeling his hat tap against something, he looked up to see your fingers on it, feeling the blade.

“Why do you always wear this?” You asked curiously.

He lifted a brow and glanced upwards to the brim of the hat. “I don’t like being without it.” He shrugged.

“So, it’s like a security blanket?” You chuckled.

Lao laughed and reached up, slipping the strap from his chin and hat from his head. He held it on his lap. You looked up and chuckled again, earning a curious look from him. But before he could ask, your hand had reached up and began to fix his hair. His eyes shifted to the smile on your face. A knot twisted in his stomach.

That feeling from last night had returned. Those thoughts came back.

He couldn’t help but think about you last night after he’d left you in your room. You had been slowly but surely checking off each thing on his list. The list.

Brave? Check.

Smart? Check.

Selfless? Check.

Funny? Check.

Nurturing? Check.

Adaptable? Check.

Independent? Check.

Respectful? Check.

And as shallow as it was, he’d admit, you were easy on his eyes. He grinned. He knew you already thought the same of him from a few days ago when he overheard you tell Liu about it.

Pretty? Check.

Thought he was handsome? Check.

Alright, you hadn’t used the word ‘handsome.’ But he’d take ‘nice ass’ just the same.

“So, what’s the plan today?” You asked, but stiffened when you caught his eyes and grin. Oh… You knew that look. Liu had that look last night at dinner before you two had practically made out. Uh oh.

Lao noticed your face fall in obvious anxiety. His brows knotted. Then he realised he’d been staring. He sucked in a breath and quickly looked away. "Sorry," he said.

“It’s alright,” you said and looked away as well. Your cheeks were growing hot. Did Lao share Liu’s feelings for you? Oh… this was getting complicated. Oh no. You lifted your hands to cover your face.

Observant. Check.

Lao sighed heavily. There was no use in denying it. You'd figured it out. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to." And he didn’t. Lao never would have guessed it’d be you that'd fit his idea of a future wife.

You groaned. "Oh… Just go back to being an asshole," you begged. This couldn't be happening. Not both of them!

He forced a small laugh. "I don't think that's going to fix anything."

He was right. You knew he was. Dammit.

"Want to try and beat me up again?" He asked, forcing another laugh.

"Depends. Do you like that?" You glanced over.

He shook his head with another laugh, then shrugged his shoulders. "I don't not like it."

You swatted at his arm and he smirked before pulling his legs up and standing. He offered you a hand. You took it and he helped you up. “How’s your back?” He asked, letting your hand go.

“Still hurts, but not as much. Liu’s been making me take it easy.”

He nodded. “Do you want to take it easy?”

You lifted a brow as you followed him to the center of the arena. He chuckled.

“You want to take a break from taking it easy? Liu can be a little too cautious.” Lao shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes it’s good to push yourself.”

You thought about it for a moment. It’d been days since you last threw a punch, or lifted a weight. Actually, when you got up this morning, you were rather stiff. You could still feel it as you stood there. You rolled your shoulders with a slight wince. “Actually. I am kinda cramped up.”

Lao smiled. “Good. Because I hate meditating.”

You blinked at him. Your brows knotted. “What? But you—”

“Yeah. That was Liu’s idea. Liu thinks meditation can solve almost anything.” Lao shook his head with a dismissive wave. “Don’t get me wrong. Meditation is great. I just hate sitting and doing nothing.”

“So… What do you do instead?”

“Tai Chi.”

You perked up hearing those words. “Wait. I’ve heard of that before. That’s that slow-mo kung fu, right?”

He laughed, but nodded. “Yeah. It’s like meditation, but you focus on your form and movements.”

“So you don’t get so distracted,” you reasoned with your own nod.

Lao pointed at you. “Bingo.”

“Alright then, let’s try that.”

He flung his hat into the sand, the blade sticking in. Lao stepped back over to you. He stood a few feet away next to you and planted his feet. “Just do what I do. You can keep your eyes open.”

You nodded and copied his stance. You watched as he moved slowly, precisely. You tried to follow along. It was kind of like yoga, but you moved more and you didn’t really focus on stretching. You focused on your movements. You didn’t even mind that Lao was watching you. He had to. He had to make sure you were doing it right. Occasionally, he’d grab your attention and show you what you were doing wrong. But he mostly just let you be as you followed his motions.

This wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t yelling at you. He wasn’t even pushing you. This was completely different than what he’d been like before. This was nice. This was relaxing. This was much better. “You’re doing great,” Lao told you as you grew more confident in your movements. And you found yourself able to take the compliment this time. You smiled.

Lao noticed your smile. The one on his face grew. Yeah, this was much better. You weren’t so anxious. You weren’t angry. You didn’t resent him. He was sure you were more comfortable. “So, how has your withdrawal been?” He asked, continuing to lead you through basic Tai Chi motions.

“I’m not shaking anymore,” You answered.

“I noticed.”

“Headaches are better. Still there, but not as bad.”

“That’s good.”

“Losing my appetite though.”

“Oh?” He frowned. “How much?”

“Just not eating as much. I hardly ate much at all last night, but that may have just been anxiety.”

Lao nodded. He remembered how upset you looked in the hallway last night. “How is your anxiety? Worse?”

“A little of both. I don’t worry about my heart nearly as much. But I still worry about dying. The medicine I was taking helped me have a clear head and stopped the side-effects. Now it’s kinda all coming back.”

“What kind of side-effects?”

“Mostly palpitations and being lightheaded.”

“Are you lightheaded now?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay.”

“You’ll let me know if it gets worse, right?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’ve only passed out a couple times.”

“Didn’t the last one almost kill everyone here?”

You froze. Oh, yeah. You’d almost forgotten about that. You frowned. “Yeah… Sorry. I didn’t even know it happened.”

He frowned as well. “It’s alright. Not your fault.”

You looked to his face. “Kind of was.”

“No one got hurt.”

“But they could have.”

Lao stopped his movements. Shit, you were doing that thing again--Imagining scenarios that could have happened. “No one got hurt,” he repeated gently. “Had the shit scared out of them, sure. But no one got hurt.”

You’d stopped your movements as well. You sighed heavily at him. “What if they do the next time?”

“Who said there’d be a next time?”

You gave him a doubting look. Of course it’d happen again.

“You think too much,” Lao told you. “You and Liu…” He blew out his cheeks with a small roll of his eyes. “Worry warts.”

“Hey!” You pouted and straightened up. But he was right. You were a worry wart. You’d always been one. “It’s not like I can just stop thinking!”

“Sure you can. Don’t think. Do. Follow your gut.”

“You have to think. How can you possibly not think?”

“Easy.”

“Maybe if you don’t have a brain!” You mocked him.

He grinned. Lao shrugged it off with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll prove it to you.”

“How?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Red or blue?” He asked.

You knotted your brows. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think, just answer.”

“What?”

“Red or blue?” He repeated.

“For what? Like, which one I like more?”

“Don’t think.”

“I— I don’t know. Red!” You shrugged.

“Left or right?”

“Right?”

“Odd or even?”

“Odd.”

“Heaven or hell?”

“Hell.”

He lifted a brow at your answer, but you just shrugged. Curious, but alright. “Sun or rain?”

“Rain.”

“Running into a fire to save a stranger, or staying away because you could hurt yourself?”

Your jaw tensed with that one. Now you understood what he was doing. He was right. You could be impulsive. Saving that man had been dangerous. You could have gotten hurt, or died. But you’d done it anyway. And because you did, you saved that man. And you were still alive. If you had let your anxiety get the best of you, then that man would be dead.

That familiar icy chill washed over you. How did Lao do that? How could he seem like nothing mattered one second, and then drop a bomb like that to make you realise that you did, in fact, probably think too much.

“Dive over a ledge to save some asshole, or stay back because you could fall as well?” he asked, driving the point home.

You felt your eyes begin to burn. Sure, it'd been a test, but you thought it was real at the time. You’d believed he was going to die if you didn’t catch him and pull him up. You knew you could have died. But you’d done it anyway. You caught him. You pulled him up. If it had been real, you’d have both lived. He was right. You did think too much. What if when the tournament came, you were too scared to fight? Too worried to step in when they needed you?... They’d die. That’s what would happen. You would let them down, and they would die, and you probably soon after. You’d told Liu yesterday that you’d do your best, but if you kept worrying like you always did, you couldn’t possibly give him or Lao your best.

Lao stepped up to you. He’d been watching your face sink lower and lower into guilt and realization. You watched him as he held your cheeks and he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. “Don’t keep doubting yourself,” He told you gently. “Don’t keep trying to be a prophet. Don’t look back and think of how things could have gone wrong. Don’t expect everything to turn into a catastrophe. Yes, things happen. Shit happens. But it doesn’t always.” He wiped away a new stream of tears and those deep brown eyes looked directly into yours as if searching for something. “You’re doing great,” He said, then grinned. “You’re kind of a badass.”

Your eyes flinched at the compliment. Your brows sunk as your heart skipped a beat. A badass? You?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings #reader x liu kang #reader x kung lao #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

I feel lonely tonight, the pandemic makes you distance yourself a little from those you love. It would be nice to see the allies and the axis in a super cheesy situation when seeing each other after a long time due to the pandemic with their partner and realizing that the spark between them is not gone, and they make love after a long time.

*Breathes out pure fluff* Yes- YES ANON! GENIUS ANON IS! Genius anon has made hetalia Secretary happy! Happy for a thousand days! (I'm sorry, I may have... Overreacted...)

Trigger Warning: Romantically Sexual themes

My NSFW tag is 'handsypandsy' For those who are uncomfortable with sensual things.

Allies and Axis rekindle a flame with their S/O after quarantine

Allies:

America:

It was a very painful experience for Alfred. Regardless if they lived together or not, having to be somewhat distanced sucked. He wanted nothing more than to hug and kiss his S/O but due to his job, having to quarantine became a regular for a couple months. Every phone call he'd profusely apologize to his lover, already expecting them to get bored and leave. But when the time finally came he sprinted into his house, slightly spooking his S/O with the door being whipped open, and immediately showering them with kisses and cuddles. It was almost out of character, but the briny tears soaking his cheeks made his S/O realize just how anxious he was. What started out with panicked kisses soon formed into gentle caresses, and drawn out moans as each party seemed overly sensitive to the touch that they so desperately missed. Clothing staying out, and hardly moved as they had grinded like two stones against each other. The bed that night stayed empty as the two did their romancing on the floor in the living room. Bare skin finally making it's grand entrance, and turning red from the forgotten sensation of making love. A movie they had tried to watch together Beforehand illuminated their bodies as they moved in sync. Gripping, and grasping for anything to help them to keep the pace steady. Both their panting and lustrous sighs hidden by the sound of the credits as the movie ended. The hot and heavy haze in the room had caressed the lovers to sleep in each other's arms. Both satisfied and feeling the safety and familiarity of their skin. Morning had come and Alfred's Sleeping partner was out of sight, but the smell of breakfast eased his worry, and he waddled to his lover. He had sneakily turned the flames off and whisked his S/O back to their spot on the floor, promising to take them out after one more round. Except the second time around was more for the fun of it, and whatever worries they had vanished.

England:

His S/O wasn't very far from him, so it took him all of his being to not see them. Phone calls weren't good enough, even with the suggestions of having intimate moments through the phone cables. It just didn't feel right. He began to worry it would never be the same, and this was what it felt like to drift away from someone. Once he was in the clear and could see his S/O again he bought flowers and take out in hopes that he could convince them to stay with him. To his surprise his S/O pulled him in, the flowers dropping outside on the doorstep, and they kissed him. He pulled back, his face shocked and flushing. But that soon turned into a playful grin as he convinced them their mealtime was slightly more important. As they ate Arthur and his S/O exchanged goofy noodle slurping faces, and stole from each other's plates, the atmosphere turning warm and comfortable. Yet it had a sense of urgency that was fully ignored by both lovers as they indulged in each other's presence. Clean up after the meal was going to wait as England decided to make the next move. With sincere words he held his lover in his arms and let every one of his worries slip past his lips. His concerns fading with every reassurance his S/O provided. Soon enough they had made their way to the bedroom, lips locked and hands loaded like springs. Trying so desperately to remember nights they had like this. Their clothes were pulled from their bodies as if they needed a desperate reminder of their soft skin and joints. He was smooth on his feet as he held his lover down to the blankets, and promised them more than just a good night. He wanted them to remember this moment for everyday after. He wanted them to feel loved, and wanted nothing more than to give them the love they desired. Putting his intrusive thoughts to the grave he gave them every inch of his emotions and attention, almost neglecting his own. No matter the sensation he made sure they were both well relieved, and confident the other would be there by morning.

France:

This was the biggest challenge he's ever faced. He felt like he worked so hard to keep his S/O around, and this cursed pandemic was about to shatter it. But with every phone call, and every video chat he was given more and more hope they're his still. His goal when he found his way into their arm was to make sure they knew he was still theirs as well. He kissed them, held them, and soothed ever single nerve they had until it was as still and unwavering as a lake in the early morning. No more talk about sickness, no more paranoia of the air, or touching being infectious. They were both given the chance to feel again, even for just one night, and he was going to make sure they took it. He picked them up and brought them to the bed, playfully trapping them in the blankets. After shortly joining them under the covers he asked them about how the distance made them feel. Upon learning how needy it made them for his touch, it felt like a thousand roses had bloomed from his chest. He made every move and touch painfully slow. Looking into his sweet Darling's eyes for consent for every inch of movement. But when the final connection of limbs and loins happen, he let every ounce of his adoration for them flow. He grabbed and caressed at random sections of their bodies, allowing them to instruct his movements, via by their moan or their words. He worshipped them, and their affection. Even after the high of their passion simmered down, he held them close, smothering them with soft kisses and adoring talk about being in that position forever, where not even hunger will stop him from moving their relaxed figure.

China:

He had the patience to wait it out, but that did not mean it was without it's agony. Truth be told he'd rather not hear the sweet voice of his S/O. It only made things harder, but he couldn't say no to the phone when it rang. It wasn't the time that went by that concerned him. It was the lost look on his S/O face when they realized they didn't love him anymore. It plagued him, and haunted his soul more than getting sick. He was a country so he'd survive, but he really only did this to protect his precious gem. But to his surprise he heard the knocking come from his door. Gladly accepting a distraction from his thoughts he opened it. He thought he was dreaming as his S/O stood there. He was so lost in thought he didn't realize their time to quarantine was up, and he was way past the time he promised to meet up with them. His heart ached and he assumed it was the final straw to the relationship, but that fear went away as his S/O embraced them, concern that he was mad or upset. The laughter that filled the room, as he explained how he managed to lose track of time with his own untrusting thoughts, gave them both relief. Soon enough they had found other ways to relieve their worries away. It started with china feeding them what they desired. He saw the chance to wipe away some leftover crumbs from their face, but chose to do so with his lips, than to do so with a napkin. The shock that came with the sensation pushed them both over the edge as they kissed and bite into soft flesh. Not tearing or bruising it, but simply testing the reality of the situation. They soon allowed themselves to become whole as the smell of warm food coated the room, but gave way to the lover's hunger for each other's affections, and bodies. It wasn't a completely soft reunion for too many hours were missed. But the sensation had them on cloud nine with every thrust or caress. Their inner flames peaking, and going out several times before they had exhausted their physical strength. Ending their love making session with tired smiles, and rumbling bellies. Though they felt weakened from their activities they had managed to carry themselves off to bed with a few plated of food to sedate earlier's, original, hunger.

Russia:

Between the cold winds, and the familiar taste of loneliness, Russia was suffering greatly. He called his S/O time and time again, just to hear their voice. Just to hear their affections reach to him through the phone. He feared he'd retrieve some form of addiction to this form of communication if the quarantine lasted any longer. He thought day in, and day out about his S/O to try and quench the foreign desires that kept him up at night. Embarrassed by his fantasies that started out innocent, but ended in something more raw and carnal. His S/O would soon hear more apologies for something Ivan couldn't bring himself to admit to. But when the day arrived he could see them again, any other words told to him by his boss were cut short as he rushed out of his home and directly to his little bear. Covered in snow, and almost freezing to death, his S/O dragged him inside, their motherly concern giving Russia a familiar warmth that surpassed a hearth's. He quickly shed his coat and boots. Taking his scarf he tied tied his S/O to him, telling them they were not allowed to be apart like that again. Endearment ran through his fingertips as he gently touched their face, a guilty look as he cautiously admitted to his sensual fantasies. The shame he wore in his body language signaled his S/O to start to coax him out of his intrusive thoughts, and into bed with them. Filling the space in between with comforting words, and an 'I missed you just as badly'. That's all Ivan needed to hear before letting himself take charge of the situation. His actions were rushed, and desperate. His lips and teeth traveling from their lips, to their neck, and to the collar of their shirt. Large hands squeezed and carefully probed his sunflower's flesh as they both quickly shed their clothing, not caring where the items fell to. Russia came to a halt as one final look of remorse masked his face. Sensitive to his needs his S/O egged him on with soft kisses of their own. The following friction and suffocating adoration was the only feelings present in the shared hours to come. Russia had allowed himself a tear or two to shed as the salt mixed with saliva of their kisses. With each worry came waves of pleasure, melting it away. Even when morning had come, and both sweethearts were aching and sore, they lay tangled up under covers, refusing to let the world outside peek into their serenity.

Axis:

Germany:

Time had stopped for him. Everything did. He felt a bizarre emptiness, and knowing the cause made it worse. He's use to the laughter his S/O made when he was too serious, and started talking nonsense logic. He missed their gaze from across the room as they would attempt to sneak baked goods fresh off the cooling rack. He missed everything. But he stayed strong. He promised to himself to not let some illness take him over. He stayed his distance from more than his S/O, even to the concern of his closest friends. He was more agressive with his training, the slight burn that came with it giving him some respite from his longing. It was an endless cycle. One he was more than happy to break when the time finally came. Yet he froze at the sight. It seemed his S/O has fallen victim to the pandemics careless attitude towards haircuts and hygiene. In other words they were perfect, regardless. In fact seeing them as if they barely crawled out of bed made it seem like all the time waiting never happened. And he loved that about them. So much so he scooped them up, and carried them off to the bedroom. He wasted no time in asking them if they missed him, if they wanted him. And with each yes he made his way to hover over them. Though he wanted to just dive in and feel connected again, he made sure they could handle it. Softly gave them words of reassurance if any fears had aroused. He made a promise that whatever was happening outside the front door, would never reach them where they were. Inch by inch he layered kisses and sweet words and praise against his S/O's skin. Hands finding theirs as he leaned into them, their beings touching yet again. He had them pinned down, not wanting them to waste a single amount of effort as he gave them whatever they wanted. At the same time he gave his love in the form of attentiveness, and teasing. He was calculated in every move, every kiss and every word. He would not stop these sensations until his S/O asked, or simply couldn't take anymore of Ludwig's motions. The end had neared to quickly for them both, but neither complained. It wasn't about how long they lasted, all that mattered was they had made it through part of the storm, and they would see their way out back to beautiful clear skies, once again.

Japan:

He was use to it so it didn't bug him. So long he was able to at least talk to his S/O he was satisfied. But he could sense the tone through the phone that his partner wasn't fairing as well. That's what got to him. The discomfort his S/O had, had soon transferred to him, and even with the distance he began to miss their playfully, hidden touches and affection. He slowly realized how long he made them wait, even for just holding hands. Guilt kicked in as he he came to the conclusion that his Darling had worked so hard for him to warm to their touch, and now it was being torn from them. From him as well. That's when the feeling of missing set in fully. He would shudder at the slightest breeze that came across his skin, and imagined it was their own hand, or just their breath. But that wanting soon came to over flow as he walked back into a shared living space with his S/O. He knew his face was redden, and noticeable so he informed his S/O of his feelings. Then slowly they both found a comfortable space to allow the feeling of intimacy to take over. Small hearts were drawn on each other's skin with their fingers, and they eased in to it. Not going to fast, or to slow. For Kiku's sake since he was still unsure of what these feelings were. That is until the first embrace. Then he melted to the sensation. Those ghostly drafts from his quarantine turning into the actual breath and skin of his precious blossom. Finally the tension in his body snapped and he moved against them, pillowy lips finding theirs. He never understood why others found it hard to kiss like this. There was plenty of air shared between the two of them, but as much as he enjoyed the sensation, he began wanting more. Greedily he laid down his S/O, enjoying their longing whimpers, and pleading eyes. Even with hands unfastening the cloth barriers, he never shied away, and took in his S/O's being for what it was worth. To him that was priceless gemstones, and silk. Every bit of his lover sprawled out in front of him, as he showed his true colors like he did the first night they intermingled like this. The pace increased further as his first release built. But not yet. He showered his S/O with every sensation they deserved to have. He was going to give him twice the amount of affection and touch as they gave him from the very start. Only then would he be truly happy, and satisfied. The lull of love making came and their after glows and blush cooled down against the wooden floors. He had just enough energy left to kiss their tired bodies, and rub away any sores, a physical lullaby that let them finally get a restful night.

Italy:

He was almost depressed most of the time. He wanted so badly to hold his S/O, and just squeeze them until they gave that adorable giggle he loved so dearly. But alas, he had to wait. He had to be patient. So he used that to make paintings, and small trinkets for his beloved. And it almost worked. He could get so into his craft making he'd forget that his S/O wasn't there, and call out for their opinion. Only bringing on the sadness again he was trying to avoid. Calls were hard to make as well, and it frustrated him to no end. Then the end to the waiting had come, and he left as soon as he could, a small bag of gifts in hand. He knocked loudly, despite the morning hour, and said many things to his S/O as he embraced them. None of which came in his S/O's native tongue, or at the very least sounded like gibberish. After his S/O received so many little gifts they couldn't help but feel better. There was a small silence as Italy leaned over, pecking their lips. Unsure if they were still there, if they were real. Lingering kisses washed away to soft touches to the face, and arms. Soon clothes had been pushed aside as the two memorized the sensation of being in the same room. Then all at once they collapsed to the couch, hands fondling buttons and buckles. Hair being moved aside from ears to be nibbled, and lips struggling to find each other's rhythms. Once they did the rest came easy. Sighs were elicited as their bodies became almost glued to each other. Barely ever separating. Surprised gasps, and soft moans claimed the silence as sweat and tears mixed together, right until the end. Though neither of them disconnected from their combined warmth. Making every sore and slight bite mark worth the effort.

-End-

And holy cow the amount of times I had to change the word 'of' to 'if' and vise versa was painful! Anyway- I hope you all enjoyed this! Cause I certainly did *cough Russia my love cough* I feel slightly bad American's was slightly shorter than everyone else's, but it just felt like a good place for him. I don't know, let me know what y'all think.

#hetalia #hetalia world stars #hws #aph #hetalia american #hetalia england #hetalia france #hetalia china #hetalia russia #hetalia germany #hetalia japan #hetalia italy #handsypandsy

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 12: Billows and Breeze 

Summary: Burning questions pave the way for a few much-needed answers. 

Read on AO3

Read chapter 12 on tumblr below the cut:

Previous, master list, next

A/n: I’m back, thanks so much for your patience! As usual, this chapter picks up directly where the last left off, so it might be good to glance at the previous chapter if you want a refresher.

Chapter 12: Billows and Breeze

***

After the unfortunate incident with the knife, Claire had been reluctant to leave his side, still buzzing with worry over him. She’d gotten herself well and truly worked up, and Jamie thought that they needed to do something lighthearted and low-stakes. The day so far had been so charged with tense energy that Jamie thought perhaps being outside in the familiarity and tranquility of nature would do her some good. 

“Do ye fancy a hike?” he asked Claire, who was sitting curled up on the couch. Immediately remembering that “hike” was likely not a word in her vocabulary, he amended, “a wee walk about outside?” 

Claire’s face brightened instantly and she perked up. “Oh can we? I feel so stuffed up!” 

Jamie was proud of himself for once again correctly guessing what would be good for her. Perhaps he had her figured out now… 

Thus the preparations began. It was an unseasonably warm day for autumn in Scotland, so Jamie was comfortable with Claire wearing one of the armload of dresses provided she also wore his jacket. Most of them still lay on the chair where he’d deposited them the night before. He grabbed one out for Claire, handed it to her, and then she disappeared off to change. When all of the rest of the dresses had been draped over his arm to bring upstairs, he noticed the book laying on the chair. The Woman of Balnain. 

Alarm bells went off in his head, and his curiosity peaked, but he didn’t have any time to spare to look into the book. It’d have to wait. As he tossed the clothes upstairs in the guest bedroom, he took a stop by his office to place the book on his desk. Soon. 

For his own preparations, he suited up in his well-loved hiking boots, packed a backpack of water and snacks, and considered their destination. Claire likely wasn’t interested in a car journey (she’d had enough excitement for one day), so perhaps just a walk about his property and a stroll to the neighboring monro. It truly was beautiful: the heather was in full bloom this time of year, turning the hills into sweeping seas of purple. Claire would love it. 

So, they escaped out the back door and set out side-by-side along his property. They weren’t touching, just amicably basking in each other’s nearness. About two steps in, Jamie realized he needed to slow his pace. His long legs and inexhaustible hiker’s energy would far outpace his wee faerie. 

“I never thought tae ask…” Jamie began as they walked along, Claire’s face upturned toward the sunlight peeking through the clouds, “how old are ye?” 

“Oh…” she looked down shyly and then glanced back up at him from under her lashes, “I'm quite young really, I’m only 9 and 30.” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open. He was incredibly taken aback by this, having pegged her to be about his age if not younger, but quickly decided he could take it in stride. 

“‘Quite young?’” he chuckled, “ye’re practically a granny compared tae me, lass. I’m 29.” 

“29!” she exclaimed, as if she had just told her that he was the bloody queen rather than a decade younger than her, “but you’re so… why don’t you live with your parents?” 

Jamie nearly tripped over a stone in his path but managed to right himself before toppling over. Claire had stopped walking the moment “29” had left his mouth, and she was staring at him with a concerned gaze that uncomfortably reminded Jamie of how an adult might look at a lost child. 

But the pieces were beginning to fall into place in his brain, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs as he gathered his thoughts. With a glance at Claire and then a tilt of his head, they resumed walking. 

“I sense that maybe there’s a wee difference between lifespans of humans and the fair folk…” he began uncertainly, “Humans only stay wi’ their parents until they are 18 or so. Besides, I lost my mam when I was young, and my da a few years back.” 

He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to share that last intimate detail with her, superfluous to the point as it was. He hardly ever talked about his parents’ deaths to people, and it disconcerted him a bit how easily it came tumbling from him now. Apparently a deep part of him wanted to share everything with her. 

“Ye said ye’re quite young…” he continued, and a horrifying thought suddenly struck him, “you didna still live wi’ yer parents before ye came through the stones, did ye?” 

Oh Christ what if she was only a child by fae terms! She looked his age but…

His head began to spin, but she thankfully answered before he could work himself up any further. 

“No. I suppose things are a little different for the fair folk. We are taken care of by our parents until around 30 years of age or so. But I’ve been on my own for far longer than that. I… I lost my parents as well. When I was very young. I can hardly remember them really…” 

She gave a little tilt of the head, trying to keep the mention of tragedy casual, but he could see the pain in her eyes that wouldn’t meet his. 

Jamie’s heart ached for her, tinged with the familiar longing for his own parents. It seemed they really were kindred spirits— him and Claire— two lost souls who’d somehow come to find each other. 

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said huskily, “so that’s what ye meant when ye’d said ye’d been takin’ care of yerself yer whole life? Did ye no’ have other family?” 

Claire shrugged her shoulders a little, as if her clothes were too tight, and shook her head, her curls billowing in the gentle breeze to hide half of her face. He knew she wasn’t hiding from him intentionally, but it still made his heart clench to see her discomfort. 

“Not really. But the fair folk are rather communal. We are often near each other, even if we don’t live as a family unit per say. Others made sure I was well, and I had friends and other fae around, but mostly I’ve been—” 

She left the word “alone” unspoken, but the meaning was clear. The undeclared word seemed to linger in the air between them, weighty and heart-wrenching. 

At this new declaration, Jamie couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand. She wasn’t alone anymore after all. Maybe she felt that way, but Jamie would be damned if it were true. He wouldn’t leave her. Her wee hand slipped easily into his, and he allowed his thumb to drift over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. What else could he say in the midst of such loss?

“What about you?” she asked, her natural radiance suddenly coming through in her smile, dissipating the heavy topic’s dark cloud, “will you tell me more about your sister?” 

Jamie couldn’t help a sheepish smile. “Aye, Janet is her real name. After we lost our mam when I was around 8 or so, Jenny became sort of a mother tae me. She was always there when I needed her, and— weel…” he let out a bit of a laugh, thinking about the earlier blow up with Jenny, “she’s always there now, sometimes too much when she’s sticking her neb intae my business… but I’m glad she’s there. I love her verra much.” 

Claire gave him a sweet nod and squeezed his hand. “I can tell she’s important to you.” 

Apologies rose in Jamie’s throat along with the resurfaced guilt from earlier. He had told the one person who mattered most to him that Claire meant nothing, and both of them were aware of it. But as much as he was bursting to lay himself at her feet and explain his mistake all over again, he’d already been forgiven, so it was time for him to move past it. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Claire letting out an exclamation. They had just rounded the edge of the monro, revealing the expanse of rolling heather— its purple waves spread into a picturesque canvas across the landscape. 

“Bonny, is it no’?” he asked, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. 

“It’s beautiful,” she uttered in wonderment. 

Feeling like a protagonist in a romance novel, he held tightly to her hand and led her through the field. Her skirt billowed in the breeze behind her, and her face was lit up with a serene joy. Riotous curls swept all around her head, and Jamie was enthralled. He found himself walking almost completely backward so he could watch her face as she took in the beautiful sights. 

He could admit to himself that it was cheesy, but to him, Claire would always be the most beautiful view. 

If only he could tell her that… To bring them to a halt, gather her into his arms, and kiss her until she was breathless…

He had to squeeze his eyes shut before the longing took him over. The words he always repeated to himself came to the forefront of his mind. 

You can be her friend, her anchor, but nothing more. She’s lost everything, ye canna take advantage of her. Pull yerself together. 

And so he did. He wiped all thoughts of kissing her from the slate of his mind— imaging a whiteboard of the errant imaginings being erased— and grounded himself in the moment. 

“Have ye ever seen a place like this?” he asked. 

She shook her head, still smiling in delight. “We don’t usually wander out as far as the moors. Well, some do. Some have experienced a great deal. But I hadn’t ever left my forest before now.” 

He nodded, going silent as his imagination overwhelmed him with images of him taking Claire to the beaches of Greece. Her joy as she took in the crystal blue waters, her dropping to her knees to grab handfuls of sand, her body clad only in a bikini as she jumped into the waves...

A question suddenly struck him and pulled him rudely from his fantasy. 

“Do the fair folk read?” 

She looked at him, uncertain. “Read?” 

He thought back to their adventure at the bookstore. She hadn’t actually asked him about the books, but she hadn’t made any indication she knew what they were either. It had been an overwhelming day; he couldn’t blame her for not asking about every single thing when it was all unfamiliar. 

“Do you have language in a written form? With symbols?” he expanded. 

She gave a little shake of her head and looked curiously at him. “We communicate verbally, like we’re doing now. What is reading?” 

And thus, Jamie set into the best explanation he could manage. About communication, learning, writings surviving the years to give insights into ancient ways, the power of stories in human culture. 

“We tell many stories,” Claire told him during a break in his explanation, “all passed down from one generation to the next. Like I said at the gardens, language is everything to us.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. Jamie’s curiosity about the fair folk was well and truly peaked, and as they walked along, enjoying the serenity of the warm day and the feeling of earth under their feet, he launched into more questions. 

“This may be a difficult question tae answer, but… how are ye alive if ye dinna eat? I mean… humans get energy from things we eat, where do you get yers?” 

“Well… I suppose a simple way to explain it is we get energy from everything around us.” She made a wide, encompassing gesture to their surroundings. 

“Like from the sun? Like plants do?” Jamie’s brain was running away with thoughts of Claire going through the process of photosynthesis. 

“No, it’s… it’s hard to explain. It’s more like… I just tap into the energy of the earth. I don’t really know how else to say it.” Claire gave him a bit of a helpless smile, and Jamie returned one in dismissal of the topic. It didn’t matter to him so much how exactly it worked so long as it did. 

“Okay, one more question,” he asked, hoping he hadn’t already pushed her too far with his curiosity. 

But his fears were assuaged when she answered indulgently, “you can ask me as many as you want, Jamie.”

That got his head spinning. What he really wanted to know was about relationships between the fae. Did they have marriage? He longed to ask her (and maybe get down on one knee depending on the answer), but he bit his tongue. It wouldn’t do to be scaring the lass with a daft question when he couldn’t even keep his feelings in check. No, he’d save that one for another day. 

“I appreciate it, lass, but jes’ one more for now. From the stories I’ve heard from my mam… and that many people believe in Scotland, ye’re supposed to leave offerings of milk and sweets— food— for the fair folk tae eat. But ye dinna eat, so…”

Claire let out a laugh then. Not one of mocking or disdain, but pure enjoyment. And it lit up Jamie’s soul to hear even though he had no idea why it was she was laughing. 

“You humans think you have us all figured out. That one, my lad, is one you all made up completely on your own. I’m sure half of the things you believe are mere superstition,” she answered with an entertained gleam in her eye. 

Jamie could have talked to her for hours, deciphering which of the scottish legends were true or man-made, unraveling the secrets that made up his mysterious faerie, but he noticed she was starting to droop a bit. Her pace had slowed, and despite the wide smile still gracing her face, Jamie thought it was time to turn around. 

“Come now, lass, let’s go home.” 

She gave a grateful nod, and with that, they turned back. On the way home, Jamie began to explain all about his job. About the publishing company— his whole livelihood based on stories. Claire seemed to lighten at that, and Jamie started to mentally catalogue which books he’d have to read to her first, imagining her delight as she was introduced to all different kinds of worlds and knowledge. 

The sun was just beginning to go down as the cottage came in sight. The clouds were lit in a warm golden light, and specks of it sparkled in Claire’s hair. Rather like the color of the aura around her— he thought. He looked at her then, really looked, and saw the soft shimmering cloud, barely visible in the golden sunlight. They were no longer holding hands, but he thought if he took just one step closer, he could feel the warmth of it. Indulging himself, he did, and found it to be just like it always was. A sense of well-being, of serenity, of Claire. 

*

“Would ye like another shower, a nighean?” he asked as they stepped inside the house and he took the jacket from her. 

She looked quite excited by this idea. “Oh yes, please.” 

He inflated with the pride of pleasing her and had to hide his smile as he hung their jackets on the hook. 

“Well alright then. But only if I can take one after ye, I must smell worse than the underside of a stag.” 

Much to his surprise (and perhaps even horror), Claire suddenly was on top of him, her face pressing against his shoulder and hands casually rested on his sides, holding him still. There was the sound of a deep inhale, and then she withdrew her face with a smile. 

“I think you smell wonderful,” she said sweetly, without a hint of sarcasm in her tone or guileless eyes. 

Jamie laughed out loud, his chest heaving with the force of it. Claire laughed along with him, although he wasn’t entirely sure what she was laughing about. 

Overcome by his giddiness (the lass had just smelled his oxter and liked it for Christ’s sake!), he leaned in and caught her around the waist. Holding her body against him, he lowered his head and took a whiff of her neck. His nose brushed the skin there, and she began to squirm against him, the softness of her clouding his mind. 

“Ye smell like…” 

His words cut off as she struggled playfully, making him laugh. The squirming only egged him on, and he easily held her incapacitated as he sniffed again, this time on the other side of her neck. She pushed half-heartedly at his chest, but at the same time, she seemed to be leaning closer to his touch. 

He had been planning to tease her, to finish his sentence by listing whatever horrible smell he could think of and demanding she shower immediately, but he found that when he really thought about it, she smelled fresh as a summer rose. Like the heather of the fields and crispness of the breeze. 

Of course she did, the lass didna drink, she likely didna sweat either. 

Just another enchanting thing about her— she would always smell intoxicating. 

“Actually ye smell good,” he finished lamely.

His hands fell from her waist, releasing her, and she pushed away from him while continuing to laugh. 

“Well I’d like that shower either way,” she teased. 

As he headed toward the bathroom to turn it on for her, he began to berate himself over their little display. His eyes squeezed shut with the force of his embarrassment.

That was something a couple would do. Not friends. He’d been overcome by flirting in the moment, the nearness of her that seemed to make him lose his heid. He’d stepped over a line. 

The feeling of her squirming in his arms, of holding her body against him, lingered in his mind long after he’d left Claire to her shower. He sat down at the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. 

He had to get himself together. 

*

While Claire showered, Jamie needed to take care of real life. Food was first-and-foremost, and then he had to set about the task of taking more time off work. There was no way he could leave her. That was the same thing he’d told himself the last few days, and Jamie briefly wondered if he ever would be able to. It certainly wasn’t getting any easier. 

As he pulled out his phone to shoot Ian a clipped and matter-of-fact text about yet another absence, Adso gave him a green stare of disapproval from his perch on the coffee table. 

“What are ye judgin’ me for?” he asked the cat indignantly. 

Adso simply gazed at him some more, even and unwavering in his haughty objection. 

Jamie sighed heavily, “I guess ye’re right,” he told the cat, “I’ll call him. Now stop eyin’ me like that.” 

Whipping out his phone, he reluctantly initiated the call. 

“Hi, Jamie,” Ian answered, seeming rather muted compared to his usual exuberant greetings. 

“Hello, a charaid,” Jamie said, and then there was a long silence. Guilt was seeping into his brain at the thought of possibility driving his family away. The cat really had convicted him… 

“Listen, I am—” “Jamie, I wanted tae—” they both started at the same time. 

“I’ll go,” Ian volunteered, “I wanted tae tell ye that I’m sorry we ambushed ye this mornin’. Ye’re right. Ye’ve worked hard wi’ out a single day off in years, ye deserve a vacation if that’s what ye’re needin’.” 

“Thank you, Ian. I’m sorry, too. I shouldna have blown up at ye and ignored yer calls. I’ve jes’ been… sortin’ through some things.” 

“I understand that,” Ian chuckled. 

“Listen, were ye serious? About me takin’ as many days as I need?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then ye willna bite my heid off when I ask ye for the rest of the week?” 

“Ye’re a canny one makin’ me say it before ye drop that bomb on me… Of course, Jamie. Take the time ye need. Ye’d tell me if anythin’s wrong, wouldn’t ye? Ye ken ye can talk tae me about anythin’?” 

Jamie’s heart clenched. “Of course, Ian. Thank you. Listen, I hafta go, but I’ll see ye soon, aye?” 

“Aye. And Jamie… maybe gi’ yer sister a call? I ken she wants tae apologize.” 

“Alright, Ian,” he answered rather noncommittally, still stinging from their fight, “Bye, a charaid.”

With Ian’s quick goodbye, Jamie hung up and sat back heavily in his chair, sighing at Adso— who was looking smugly satisfied over making Jamie do the right thing. There was barely a moment of silence between them before he thought about the fact that Claire had been in the shower an awfully long time. 

“Wee besom’ll use up all my hot water,” he grumbled at Adso on his way toward the bathroom to check on her. 

Not that he really minded in the slightest. Claire could use up all the hot water and leave him taking cold showers for the rest of his days and he would just thank God that it meant she was with him.

***

Next

#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire #outlander fanfic

[onlysarah235678]

A Little Bit Part 9

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Finally dinner time, I’m starving! Just FYI, the next chapters will definitely take longer. Classes start tomorrow! As always thank you for reading, and thank you to illuminated-blue for her beautiful gifs. Enjoy!

Warnings: abundance of domestic fluff, brief mention of death, jealousy if you squint, and vague mention of domestic violence (only one sentence).

You and Milo arrive at Billie’s a little before 8pm. You took him shopping with you because you didn’t want to waste time going back and forth. He just slept in the back seat while you practically ran up and down the aisles to get back to him. Of course, in your hurry, you forget something and have to run back inside. Milo didn’t seem to notice because he was still exhausted from the exciting day and his pain meds.

You lead Milo out of the car and to the front door, grocery bags on one arm, Milo’s leash wrapped around the other. You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell and taking a small step back. You look down at your clothes that you’d grabbed after your shower and you were regretting your choice. You were going to be sweating by the time you finished making dinner.

You hear the faint sound of heels tapping against the hardwoods a few seconds later. You smile at the idea of seeing Billie after so long. Well at least it felt like a long time. Milo looks up too with his tail wagging as he prepares to explore a new place.

When Billie opens the door, she smiles at the sight of you and Milo looking cute as always. You’re fully loaded up with grocery bags, your dog, and flowers that you’re already handing to Billie with a shy smile. She smiles wider as she takes them from you with an appreciative smile, smelling them as she moves out of the way so you can step inside.

“For you. I know it’s kind of cheesy, and not as cool as what you gave me, but I saw them and thought of you.”

Billie’s appreciation just grows at your explanation of the roses that you’d brought her. As you walk through the front door, Billie tries to take some bags from you, but you hold them away from her with a smile. You just take off your shoes and Milo’s leash before telling him to stay as you move some things to your free hand.  You follow Billie through the house into the kitchen where you place all of the bags on the counter. You watch as Billie moves to find something to put the flowers in.

“You’re too sweet. I love them.”

You smile as you look behind you for Milo. You realize that you told him to stay and you call for him before turning back to Billie. You take a closer look at the medium as she’s pulling out a vase from one of the cabinets.

She’s wearing a white lace dress with her signature pearls, and upon closer look you realize that her dress is covered in flowers.  

“How do you always look so good?”

Billie’s response is to chuckle before she walks back over to you. She puts the vase and flowers down carefully before taking a good look at you. It makes you want to squirm, but you resist somehow before she’s meeting your gaze again with a smirk. You always look cute, but tonight she finds you irresistible. She says this to you, but before you can respond or rather argue, she’s leaning in to silence you with a kiss. You can’t find it in you to really care and you kiss back. When you break away, you’re smiling as you look around the kitchen while Billie puts the roses in the vase.

The kitchen is nice. You saw it the last time you were here, but you don’t remember it very well. You hadn’t exactly been paying attention to interior design the last time you were here. You quickly steer clear of those thoughts and hurry to turn back to Billie as you take off your coat and get to work on cooking.

“How was your day? Did you finish recording?���

Billie nodded as she finished up with the flowers before heading toward the fridge for drinks. She watched as Milo wandered around the living room nose to the ground as he went. She placed a bottle of wine she’d picked up for tonight on the counter near you before responding.

“We’re all done. The only thing left now is promotional interviews. Wine?”

You consider what Billie’s saying before you nod in agreement. You’re much more relaxed than the last time you were here, but you wouldn’t mind a little alcohol. You thank her as she pours you a glass before handing it to you.

“That’s great news. Congratulations.”

You keep an eye on Milo as you get everything together to start cooking. You practically ordered Billie to sit down and smiled when she just rolled her eyes and muttered a ‘yes ma’am’ under her breath. You could get used to bossing Billie Dean around, but you don’t dwell on that dangerous thought before you start chopping up the ingredients.

The way Billie’s kitchen was set up, you could stand by the stove and cook and be able to look up and see the blonde watching you. It made you feel nervous, but you focused on your conversation and the food. You’d made this dish dozens of times before.

“How are the kittens doing?”

You had to ask because well it was your job and two, you were surprised to not see at least Bit yet. A brief look to Milo reminded you that maybe she was staying away for a reason. You look back to Billie just in time to see her smiling as she thinks about how her gang of kittens is growing.

She still hasn’t named any of the others, and she probably wouldn’t at this point. She didn’t want to get any more attached to them than she already was because she couldn’t keep them all. She mostly just called them little one and mister (for the couple she decided were boys). She tells you this and you laugh before shaking your head.

“You have at least two boys, including Mickey.”

You say this with a shrug because you really can’t tell yet. Everything is so small it’s just guesswork. Billie knows this, but she also likes guessing with you based on what you’ve both observed. They were all developing their own personalities and it was adorable to watch them all interact. Bit mostly just supervised and she was spending more time away from the kittens now that they were on solid food and formula.

Billie briefly tells you about how that’s going before Milo walks into the kitchen to stand next to you. You don’t notice him immediately and you nearly trip on him when you move to grab your drink. He isn’t allowed to stand in the kitchen at home, but he often breaks that rule. You try to enforce that now see if you have any luck.

“Milo, no. Go sit over there.”

You point toward the edge of the kitchen, close to where Billie’s sitting and Milo just looks at you with his big eyes and whines. You stare at him and he stares back before you sigh in defeat. If you had been looking, you would have noticed Billie smirk at the fact that you were such a softy for your dog. You decide to try one more time and luckily Milo listens.

“Milo, go say hi to Billie. Say thank you for letting you visit.”

Milo finally retreats with a wag of his tail to go greet the medium. Billie just smiles as she holds out her hand for him to sniff before she pets him. He starts to pant after Billie begins scratching his ears and you laugh before speaking up.

“Thank you by the way. For letting me bring him.”

Billie just smiles before looking down to Milo’s tongue sticking out of his mouth as he pants happily. “It’s no problem at all. He’s sweet.”

You smile at this not having to agree with her before you finish up chopping the onions.

“So... a fence? Has he done anything like this before?”  

Billie’s question makes you groan before you admit that Milo has always been a little over enthusiastic at times. He forgets commonsense in the face of his favorite toys, specifically frisbees and any type of ball. A couple times when he was younger, he had run into multiple trees trying to chase down an errant tennis ball.

“It’s not his fault. He’s just so…”

“Eager?”

You nod before looking back over to Milo who was now lying at Billie’s feet. You smile before you reach out for the next thing to cut. You don’t notice Billie frown as she sees the long scratch on the back of your hand.

“How’d that happen?”

You look up to see what Billie’s talking about, and you follow her gaze to your hand. You laugh slightly before you mention the cat and by association, the owner that you saw today.

“Oh, it was that cat I told you about. His owner’s the one who was bothering me.”

Billie’s frown deepens at this and she raises an eyebrow in question as she recalls what you’d told her this afternoon.

“The one you called a bitch? I thought you said it was fine?”

You pause, your silence deafening before you eventually try and shrug it off. You hadn’t counted on explaining the Claire situation to Billie Dean. You honestly had hoped that she wouldn’t ask about it because you didn’t want to explain why you couldn’t get someone who was barely drinking age to leave you alone.

“It was fine after she left, yeah.”

You sigh at your stupid answer before looking to Billie to see if maybe, just maybe it worked. The way that she’s eying you makes you realize that no, it did not work.

“What is it about her that bothers you?”

You sigh again before you look away from her briefly to try and locate a pan to start cooking in. You don’t want to just start opening things randomly so you ask, hoping to change the subject.

“She’s just very…suggestive. Where are your pans?”

Billie looks at you for a second before she gestures to the cupboards behind you. You find one and then a spatula with her instruction before you hurry to keep yourself busy. You don’t see Billie try to put together your meaning as you remind yourself of the recipe you knew by heart.

“Suggesting what, exactly?”

You try not to curse yourself, or look like you’re cursing yourself as you look back to Billie who’s watching you intently. She has a cigarette in her hand which she got from somewhere, but it’s not lit yet. She’s just holding it between her fingers, twirling it as she waits for your answer.

“Y/N?”

Whoops. You’d been staring longer than you thought when you manage to break your gaze away and back to Billie’s face. You don’t notice the slight worry in her eyes as you shrug again, but give a more acceptable answer this time.

“She just flirts with me all of the time, but I tell her no because well I don’t like her, she’s too young for me and well. You know…”

You trail off as you look Billie up and down again as if to make a point. Billie doesn’t say anything immediately. She just sighs as she puts down the cigarette that she was never going to light. She reached for it before remembering that Milo was here. She didn’t know if you’d want him around the smoke.

Finally, Billie nods before mentioning what she’d planned on waiting to discuss until at least dinner.

“Well, I guess that’s a good segue way to what I wanted to talk about tonight.”

You can’t help but stiffen at the way Billie says this. It doesn’t sound like good news. It sounds serious and you don’t like that. Billie must notice because she moves to stand up and walk over to where you’re becoming increasingly more anxious.

“Don’t worry, dear. It’s nothing bad. I was going to wait until dinner to mention it.”

You nod before mentioning that it will be done in about 15 minutes. You move to go grab ingredients for the next part, but Billie stops you. She’s holding your hand, and you instinctually squeeze hers before looking to her nervously.

“Y/N, it’s really not bad news. I just wanted to talk about an interview I have next week.”

You just nod as you think about what this means. You find your thoughts interrupted again when you feel Billie’s lips on your cheek.

“Trust me.”

It’s not a question but you nod because you do trust Billie. You trust her a lot and you allow your faith in this trust and her reassuring smile to calm you down.

“Of course.”

Billie smiles before kissing you one more time, this time at the corner of your mouth. She sees your cheeks darken and smirks at her success before she moves closer to you.

“So, how can I help?”

Bit doesn’t show up until you and Billie are sitting down to eat. You nearly trip on her before you see her tail disappear under the table. You look around for Milo who of course is sniffing around for her, but you stop him.

“Milo, wait! Don’t eat Bit, please.”

Billie turns when you say this and watches as you hold Milo back. She looks around for Bit before grabbing the cat from underneath the table. She protests of course with a loud meow that catches Milo’s attention. His head tilts to the side as he looks at the cat. You hold him back but let him sniff Bit from a distance. She hisses and Billie lowers her to the floor and watches as she runs away. You loosen your hold on Milo and he just turns his attention to your food instead.

He’s’ clearly more interested in your food, so you just tell him to sit in the other room when you and Billie sit down again.

“That could have gone worse.”

Billie just laughs as she nods in agreement. She’s honestly surprised that Milo didn’t really pay much attention to Bit. She would have thought that he’d try and chase after her, but then again if he goes to work with you every day he must be used to seeing cats. She asks this and watches as you go to nod but then change your mind last minute.

“Ah, I mean it depends. He’s very food motivated, but he also likes chasing rabbits. I don’t know if cats are the same, but as long as we have food to keep him here it should be fine.”

You both look to Milo who is just staring at the two of you, or rather your food. You just roll your eyes before shrugging and hopefully doing a better job of reassuring Billie.

“He’ll be fine. I promise.”

It’s almost half an hour before Billie brings up the interview again. She’s enjoying your company and doesn’t want to make you worried or ruin the mood by getting too serious. You had just been telling her about your high school graduation party, after a lot of coaxing, and she could tell you were still a little embarrassed. She didn’t want to make that worse.

“Is something wrong?”

Billie looks up in surprise at your question and then at the fact that you ‘re shooting her a worried look. She must not have been hiding her feelings as well as she’d hoped to. Billie just shakes her head before she smiles at you. You finish up your food as you watch her carefully, hoping that she’s not about to lie to you.

“Nothing’s wrong. I was just going to ask you something.”

You do your best to not show how tense you immediately become and just smile before nodding in response.

“Okay, what’s your question?”

Billie takes a second to look around the room before answering. Milo is sleeping and Bit has not come downstairs since her brief forced meeting with the dog. She sighs before looking back to where you’re waiting for her to ask whatever is on her mind. Billie tells you about the interview she has next week and how she’s kind of looking forward to it. She’s worked hard on this season and wanted to do it justice by making sure the word got out. Eventually she mentions what she expects to be asked.

“Since it is very likely that they will ask me about us, I wanted to ask you what I should say.”

You frown slightly as you consider this. You’d only been thinking about where this relationship was going and how long it would be just between the two of you since you met the medium. However, now you weren’t sure what to say. You wanted to say that you’d love for people to know. Well maybe not because with this came a lot more harassment, at least you assumed so. You really just meant that you’d love for people to know that you were lucky enough to be with Billie Dean Howard.

Sometimes you still wondered how this even happened to you.

You don’t realize how long you stay silent until you hear Billie sigh. You look just in time to see her frown disappear before you open your mouth to say something, anything that won’t make her think that you’re not ready for this. You are and you plan on telling her that, but Billie beats you to it.

“I don’t mean to put this all on you. I just wanted to make sure that you were, um sure about well--.”

Billie trails off as she becomes uncharacteristically flustered. She’s beginning to think that she’s jumped the gun and made you uncomfortable by bringing up the nature of your relationship too soon. Hell, it had only been a few weeks since she met you. Even though it felt like longer, Billie knew that it had been a very short time to have such a discussion. If she weren’t in the public eye, she doubted that they’d talk about this any time soon.

You came to Billie’s rescue after watching her second guess herself. You smiled and couldn’t help but feel a little surprised by the fact that Billie was stumbling over her words. Normally calm and collected Billie was worried.

“It’s okay. I know what you mean, and I’m sure if you are. I don’t mind people knowing how lucky I am.”

Billie nearly rolls her eyes at this but something catches her attention. She listens for a second before she’s leaning back in her chair and waiting for Bit to appear.

“You’re such a charmer, Y/N. I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”

You smile widely but you’re prepared to argue when you hear a soft thud behind you. You miss Billie standing up as you turn to see that Bit is leaving a kitten that she’d just placed behind you. You frown as you watch Mickey squirm and react to his rude awakening.

“Bit, you little…”

You turn back to see that Billie’s already walking past you to retrieve the kitten. You’re about to stand up when you spot Milo out of the corner of your eye. He’s yawning cavernously before he sniffs the air around him. He looks up and sees Mickey lying in the middle of the floor in front of him and he’s already on his feet to investigate. He doesn’t make it before Billie swoops in and picks him up to check on him.

“Milo, sit down.”

Milo doesn’t listen immediately; he’s standing at Billie’s feet staring at the kitten in her hands. You reach out to get his attention and he turns as you scratch his head before sitting down. His tail is wagging but you don’t pay him any mind as you get to your feet to sneak a peek at the kitten.

“How is he?”

Billie just sighs before shrugging as she mentions how not much has changed since you saw him yesterday. He still hated his medicine, but luckily he took it without much struggle. He was spending more time away from his siblings when possible and he actually didn’t even sleep with them last night. You frown in confusion but don’t get a chance to ask before Billie explains with a slightly guilty expression.

“Well, I was worried about him being squished, so I let him sleep with me.”

You try to imagine how this worked without Mickey being in danger, but you weren’t as subtle as you thought and Billie just laughed.

“I had him wrapped up in his own bed on the ground. I didn’t want to risk him falling.”

You nod in approval as you think about this, and then you smile at the sight of Mickey on his back with his little legs outstretched. He looked completely at home in Billie’s arms and you loved it.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t get over how cute he is.”

Billie smiles as she watches you fawn over Mickey before turning to Milo. He was still focused on Mickey from where he sits beside you. You eventually notice where Billie is looking and you turn to Milo too before speaking up.

“Oh, Milo. Right. I can make him leave, if you’re worried he’ll-.”

Billie cuts you off with a shake of her head as she smiles before turning a little so Milo can get a good look at Mickey who is still sleeping. He perks up a little and his tail starts wagging faster as he stands up and moves forward to sniff the kitten. You grab his harness in case you need to pull him away quickly, but he just whines as he tries to get closer to Mickey.

“Milo, no, wait.”

You’re relieved when he sits back down and just shifts impatiently while Billie shifts Mickey so he’s in her hands. She holds him in front of Milo and you’re not super stressed at all as your dog leans forward to inspect the still-unaware Mickey.

When Milo just licks him once before turning to you to be let go you nearly sigh in relief. You loosen your grip on him to see what he plans to do, but Milo just turns away and heads to the table that you’ve abandoned in search of food. You hurry to grab him and steer him away from the table as Billie laughs at your dog’s lack of interest in Mickey. She decides that she needs to run him upstairs and put him back to bed. It’s getting late after all.

“I’m going to take him back upstairs, don’t touch anything. I’m cleaning.”

You stop short of picking up your plate as Billie says this and you turn to see her shooting you a serious look. You can’t help but argue, your damn need to clean up after yourself temporarily overriding your desire to just listen to whatever Billie tells you to do. You watch her start up the stairs before you manage to speak.

“But, I—you cooked I don’t mind! I like cleaning!”

This is kind of a lie, but it doesn’t matter anyway because when Billie turns around on the stairs and shoots you a look you give up. You just nod before deciding that you’re not going to risk disobeying. Milo paws at you and you realize that you have something else to do anyway.

“Don’t touch, I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Okay, I’ll just go…walk Milo really quick.”

You see Billie smile before she disappears and you just turn to Milo before heading toward the front door.

“Come on Milo. Walk.”

Of course he jumps up and runs to the door to grab his leash. You slip on your shoes before reaching for the doorknob. You pause as you think about the likelihood that you’d been followed here. You ignore Milo’s whines as you decide that it doesn’t matter. You’re serious about not feeling the need to hide anymore. Still you take a deep breath before you open the door and let Milo go out first. You look around quickly before just following Milo wherever he wants to go.

Billie Dean sighed as she watched Mickey get situated next to his siblings and Bit. Bit was grooming herself and not paying her any mind as she tried to figure out what to do next. She usually shut them in here for the night, but she didn’t want to do that yet, She hadn’t even medicated Mickey yet which of course she had remembered after getting him settled. She decided to go ahead and do that now since it was almost late enough.

It was nearing 11pm and although she knew that you had work tomorrow, she was trying to figure out how to drag this evening out. Billie had been thinking about how tonight would end ever since you agreed to come over. Honestly she’d been thinking about it for much longer than that, but she would never admit it. She didn’t want to rush you, but she definitely was ready to take the next step with you. Whatever that was.

Billie goes back downstairs and heads for the refrigerator to grab Mickey’s meds. Once she has them, she heads back upstairs and sneaks into the laundry room. She picks Mickey up again smiling sympathetically as he mewls at being disturbed before giving him his medication slowly. His face scrunches up and he makes a noise that is somewhere between a hiss and a whine and Billie’s heart melts. She kisses his head before putting him back with the other kittens. She is grateful that she only has to give this to him a few more times.

When Billie gets back downstairs, she grabs some of the dishes on the table and brings them to the kitchen. She is glad that you insisted on cleaning as you both cooked because now there were only a few things to clean up. Billie is still washing dishes when you and Milo come back. She doesn’t hear the door shut and she’s humming under her breath when you sneak up on her.

“Hey, did you know that--.”

You trail off when you see Billie jump and drop a fork in the sink. You open your mouth to apologize, but the medium is spinning around to shoot you a bewildered look.

“Y/N! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

You raise your hands in surrender before attempting an apology. You smile slightly as you watch Billie shut off the faucet without looking away from you.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to sneak. I thought you heard me.”

It took Billie a few seconds to calm her racing heart, but once she saw your smile and flushed face her fear melts away. She sighed before she reached into the sink to grab the fork she dropped. She places it in the dishwasher before closing it and turning back to face you.

“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

You just laugh before you reach out for her with a questioning look. Billie just sighs again before letting you pull her into a hug. You’re cold to the touch from being outside, but she only holds you closer as she starts rubbing her hands up and down your arms to warm you up.

“You’re so cold. How far did you go?”

You smile as you pull away slightly to look around for your dog. He’s sitting on the carpet again in the living room and you roll your eyes as you mention your little adventure around Billie’s neighborhood. She listens as you tell her about walking down toward the end of the street and then being dragged toward one of the biggest houses you’d ever seen. There had been a party going on apparently and the smell of food was all Milo needed to decide he wanted to go that way.

“I had to drag him back here, so now he’s mad at me.”

Billie laughs at this before she pulls you back towards her while you’re sneaking another peek at Milo who’s now licking his paws. You’re a little surprised and you let out a sound that makes Billie smirk as she shoots you a questioning look.

“You’re sure about this, Y/N? You’re okay with telling the greater LA area about us?”

You can’t help but laugh at this, not even thinking about how many people this includes as you nod in agreement. You don’t really care about any of that at the moment and Billie seems to realize this as you move your hands up to her shoulders. Since Billie’s taller than you, especially with her heels, you have to stand on your tiptoes to reach her lips. You feel Billie smile at this, but you ignore it as you hold on to her tighter.

Billie responds by digging her nails into your hips as she pushes you back against the counter. You groan and retaliate by tangling your hand in the medium’s hair and pulling. You can’t help but smile in victory as she hisses against your lips. However, Billie doesn’t let this bit of smugness slide, and she pushes her hips against yours as she kisses you harder.

You moan and roll your hips against Billie’s as her tongue slides against yours. She kisses you until you feel like your knees are going to buckle, but she pulls away before that can happen. That said, Billie’s mouth on your neck didn’t make you feel any more stable. You curse under your breath shivering as Billie’s nails scrape against your neck when she moves your hair. Now that it’s out of the way, Billie’s path down your neck was long and torturous. You didn’t realize that your grip on the medium’s hair had become painful until she hisses and bites down on your pulse point.

“I know you like my hair, but you’re going to pull it out if you’re not careful, dear.”

You let go of Billie’s hair like it burnt you before you apologize. You feel your face flush slightly at the fact that Billie of course knew you were obsessed with her hair. You weren’t exactly subtle, and her hair was just—you’d kill for it. You didn’t get far with your apology before Billie cut you off with a look that effectively shut you up.

“Oh god. I’m sorry, I was just--.”

“Y/N. You don’t have to apologize. I liked it, just maybe a little bit less.”

You blush harder before just nodding in agreement. You look back up to Billie to kiss her again, but you instead find yourself being lifted onto the counter. Your eyes widen as you look around for a split second to regain your bearings. You let out an impressed noise as you smile at Billie who is looking awfully smug. You choose not to comment on this for now and lean back in to meet her lips, but again you’re stopped. You barely hold back the annoyed whine when you see Billie moving away and turning to something else completely.

“What-?”

You turn to where Billie’s looking and immediately move to get off the counter. Milo’s moving towards you but he’s staring at Billie in a way that puts you on edge. It’s a little embarrassing and you don’t want to explain it, but you can’t just write this off. Can you? You sigh as you step around Billie to redirect Milo back to the living room. It’s not his fault that he’s so protective of you. He doesn’t know the difference between what your ex had done and what Billie just did.

“Hey, Milo. No, it’s fine. Go sit.”

You’re relieved that he listens to you and seems to relax as you scratch him behind his ears. He wags his tail before circling once and sitting back down on the rug. He’s still able to see you which makes you a little nervous, but you don’t get to say this before Billie speaks.

“Is everything okay?”

Now Billie’s never had a dog before, but she knows enough about their body language to realize what had just happened. She just wasn’t sure why. Milo hadn’t been anything but sweet and well-trained around her, but this was something completely different. This wasn’t something that just happened unprovoked.

Billie looks to you to see you smiling slightly, nervously. You don’t want to tell more than you have to at the moment. So you just nod and try not to blush too hard.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He just…didn’t know what we were doing.”

Billie watches you blush but doesn’t comment on it. She’s not sure she believes all of what you’re saying, but she doesn’t bring it up. She can tell how tense you already are, and she knows that she has nothing to do with it. She wants to continue what she’d just started, but she didn’t want to just pretend like this didn’t happen. She wanted you to make the choice.

“Well should we leave him be and take this somewhere else?”

You feel your heart start to race at the question and the possibilities. Of course. You want to say that, but you look back to Milo before trying not to sound too obvious.

“Is it okay for Milo to stay here? Any chocolate or onions lying around?”

Billie laughs before she shakes her head and takes a quick look around the room. She doesn’t spot anything that sticks out. She doesn’t have a lot of clutter around her house because she’s not really around long enough to accumulate it. She decides that things are safe enough down here, and the cats will be fine upstairs.

“Nothing of the sort. He should be fine.”

You nod before you reach out to grab Billie’s offered hand with a smile. You say goodbye to Milo watching as he just wags his tail before you follow Billie upstairs. You can already feel your heart rate begin to pick up again as you reach the top. You thought you hid your nerves well, but you should have known better. After all, Billie was very good at picking up on different energies. This thought reminds you of something you’d been meaning to ask her since it occurred to you during dinner.

“Billie?”

You say her name as you follow her into her bedroom. It’s dark so you can’t really see anything but a bed in the middle. The room is illuminated when a lamp is switched on and you take a moment to glance around. It’s as tidy as you thought it would be and just from standing in it for five seconds you can tell it’s distinctly Billie. The way the room is decorated and the faint but familiar perfume lingering in the air has you smiling. You don’t realize you’re being watched until you hear Billie laugh.

“See something you like?”

You nearly laugh at this but instead just walk towards the blonde who’s already sitting on the bed. You shrug as you sit down next to her with a grin.

“Nothing more than you, Billie Dean.”

This makes Billie smile and you turn to her so when she reaches out for you, you’re already moving towards her. Your lips meet again and you quickly pick up where you left off downstairs. Your fingers are tangled in Billie’s hair and you gently tug her forward so you can feel her against you again. You groan as Billie practically pulls you into her lap before her hands fall to your hips. It isn’t until you feel Billie’s hands move between the two of you and to your shirt that you pull away.

“Billie?”

You watch anxiously as Billie’s hands stop moving and she shoots you a concerned look. You’re tense again and she’s not sure what to make of it. She has her suspicions but she doesn’t say any of them as she waits for you to talk to her.

“Yes?”

You shift slightly but don’t dare move as you sigh before looking to Billie with a frown.

“I have a potentially mood-killing question.”

Billie had been expecting you to ask something related to what you were doing. She knows you mentioned having an ex, but she didn’t know how far you may or may not have gotten with her. This is the last thing on Billie’s mind when you finally gather the courage to ask your question.

“Is he here?”

Billie frowns in confusion and her mouth is already opening to ask ‘who’ when it dawns on her. She feels you tense even more as you look around the room quickly. She sighs before she shakes her head. She’s telling the truth because she knew that the moment you got here that it was just you and Milo. She says this to you and expects you to visibly relax, but you don’t. You sigh before shaking your head at the nerve-wracking thought that keeps plaguing you.

Billie nods again before her hand comes up to your cheek. You sigh as you lean into her touch before frowning again.

“No, Y/N. He’s not. He hasn’t been all night.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sorry I had to ask. I’m just—still having trouble understanding this.”

Billie can only nod because she’s not sure how you’re dealing with what she’d told you. You hadn’t mentioned it since that first time and she didn’t want to push you. So the subject of your father had been tabled for now. Billie watches as you fail to come up with something to say.

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. This isn’t something that makes a lot of sense.”

You nod in agreement before doing your best to calm down. You focus on Billie’s touch again and move as close to her as possible. Her hand drops to your waist as you pull her into a hug. She frowns as she struggles to form a response. She doesn’t make it before you pull away with a smile.

“Thank you for understanding.”

You lean in and kiss her in thanks, but you get a little carried away. You’re very conscious of the fact that you’re surrounded by Billie, her touch, taste, her smell, and you can’t help but want more. You’ve only been waiting to have Billie Dean like this since your little encounter at work.

Just the thought of it makes you feel hotter and you shift impatiently on top of Billie. She can tell you’re getting worked up again and pulls away before things can go too far. She waits until she has your attention before asking.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight, Y/N? We don’t have to.”

Your frown disappears and you sigh before nodding in answer. You’re very sure that you don’t want to wait anymore. You know that she doesn’t want to either, but she’s also more aware of your other emotions. You don’t want to think about those right now. You have the answer you needed to be comfortable enough to do this tonight, and you really, really want to do this tonight. Billie being so sweet and listening to you worry just makes the idea of waiting harder.

You nod again before kissing Billie once in thanks. You’re still so surprised by how Billie’s always so thoughtful and you appreciate that more than you can put into words. You just aren’t used to having someone take care of you like she does. You try to say this, but fall short as you squeeze her hand that’s still at your waist.

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re sweet, but I’ve been thinking about this too long to wait, Billie.”

Your smile turns into a smirk as you see Billie’s eyes widen slightly at your words. You hold back a laugh as the medium just nods before leaning in to kiss you once, twice.

“You’ll tell me if you change your mind?”

You just nod before meeting her lips again in an insistent kiss to tell her that you’re certain this is what you want. You feel her hands tug at your shirt again and you groan as she shoots you a smile.

“Okay, well let’s get this off of you, sweetheart.”

Part 10

#american horror story #ahs fic #ahs #my fic #ahs murder house #ahs imagine #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit

[kiranogareru]

VIOLENT BEAUTY OF LOVE

Warning: Mention of blood, death, Hanahaki disease and probably cursing, because I curse a lot, may give you the feels

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/n: Tried 3rd person view for this, feedback is welcome! Also, I don't know where I'm going with this, so let's take this journey together😅

Katsuki jolted up in his bed, eyes wide and holding a wild look of horror in them!

His throat feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as the burning sensation of brutal scratches from within began to restrict his airflow!

'No, not again..' he thought in realization as he started coughing

He choked and gasped, desperately trying to force some air into his aching lungs! His eyes welling up and unintentionally staining his cheeks with tears

The feeling was unbearable, the agony making him subconsciously reach for his neck with both hands, in a futile attempt to somehow soothe the pain, but alas..there was nothing that could be done

Katsuki kept his condition a secret, not wanting anyone to think he's weak. He's been dealing with this for months all on his own, fighting it day in and day out and the worst part is he doesn't even know what's wrong with him!

At first it wasn't as bad, so Katsuki brushed it off as a stupid cold, but the symptoms kept worsening and no medication seemed to work

As the all-too-familiar metallic taste rose to his mouth, Katsuki knew exactly what would happen

He pushes himself up and off the bed, planning to run to the bathroom, using the last of his strength, but as soon as he stands, his legs give out and he drops to the cold, hard floor of his dorm, knees scraping upon Impact!

Katsuki is now supporting his weight with one arm and gripping at the collar of his shirt with the other,as his coughing fit continues, until his pain spills itself on the tiled surface beneath him

Y/N was so concerned about Bakugou, he had been missing several classes, he seemed disconnected and tired during most of his training sessions these past few weeks

Losing sleep and performing anything less than perfect on the battle field, isn't like him, in fact it is so uncommon that it became an instant tell that something was wrong with the normally, fierce blonde!

Though the weirdest thing ought to be the unusual aura that radiated off of him. He was mostly calm and very quiet!

Y/N is one of the few people that Bakugou has allowed into his life, he trusts her! They're personalities are very similar and that provides Katsuki with a sense of comfort and understanding!

This lead the duo to become close friends, but without realizing friendship turned to love...the one-sided kind to be exact

Y/N had just woken up to multiple messages from Eijirou, saying how Bakugou sounds sick again

Kiri: Do you mind checking on him? If any of us go he'll feel like we're looking down on him for being sick

Fuck, Eijirou was right, Katsuki would mistake the Bakusquad's concern for pity

Y/N found herself at Katsuki's door, worried at the sounds coming from the other side

She was unsure whether she should knock or simply enter and help him, but his shaky breaths and quiet sobs convinced her to do the latter!

She cracks the door open and pushes it gently, slipping into the room

What she's met with, leaves her in shock, her mind unable to form words at the sight in front of her and her gorgeous orbs prickled with building tears!

Right there on the floor, was a barely conscious Katsuki, lying in a pool of flowers, petals and what she could only assume was his own blood!

Never before had she witnessed a thing so mesmerizing, yet so damn cruel! She didn't even know such a combination could be achieved!

It made her angry that this...this violent beauty of love was possible!

Why did such tragedy, such pain have to befall the boy she loves?

Y/N kneels next to Katsuki and cradles his exhausted form, observing her dear friend closely. His vermillion eyes glassy and puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, blood and petals smeared on his lips and chin!

The saddened, soft expression she was wearing, while gently caressing his cheek, made him wish he could dissapear! As much as he loves being in her warm embrace, he despises the fact that she is there!

Bakugou never wanted her to see him like this, so vulnerable and beaten down, so- so fucking weak! He'd rather her think of him as anything, but weak!

He hated that out of all people, she had to be the one to walk in and catch him at his lowest!

His handsome face, was tainted with pain and she fucking hated that! It made her sick to her stomach, to see someone so strong, look so distraught!

Y/N carefully rested Katsuki's head on her lap, brushing some stray, spiky locks of ash blonde hair, out of his face

She couldn't help but wonder how long he's been suffering for and who could possibly be the cause of the heartbreking disease, the one of unreturned feelings, better known as Hanahaki!

How could someone that managed to win Katsuki Bakugou's heart, throw away their chance and deny his love? It just didn't make sense to her!

Some sort of awkward tension was thick in the atmosphere of the room, as silence spread between them, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why..

"Why didn't you say anything dumbass?" She asked, with a halfhearted smile on her lips, using his nickname for her, in an attempt to lighten the mood

"I can handle it on my own, I don't need these extras thinking they can surpass me just because I'm sick" He grumbled, his voice coming out strained

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Her question was clearly rhetorical, since both of them knew the answer

"So...who is it?" She finally questioned, voicing the thought that was stuck in her head

Katsuki gave her a strange look, one that implied he had no idea what the Hell she was talking about!

"Huh?" Was all that left his lips

"Who are you in love with?" She hesitantly asked

Bakugou quickly sat up, his back now facing her, as he suddenly started coughing once again, his breaths shallow and sharp!

She couldn't bare the scene that was unfolding in front of her very eyes! His body was a trembling mess, while he struggled to breath, flowers coated by his blood spattering from his mouth and hitting the floor, like some type of poetic murder scene!

She desperately wanted to help him, but didn't know how, or what she could possibly do!

As Katsuki started to calm down, Y/N went to get some wipes from his drawer

Both teens sat down, this time on Katsuki's bed. She cupped his face and begun to clean him up

"Whoever the fuck said I'm in love? And what does that even have to do with anything?" His voice was hoarse and his tone cold as he spoke

His words took her by surprise, since she was so shook up that she forgot she had even asked him something!

'Did he not know?' Y/N thought to herself

"I figured- because of..the flowers?" She stuttered out, her statement sounding more like a question if anything

"What about those damn flowers?" He spat in confusion, with a scowl on his face

"Katsuki..." She softly spoke, taking a hand of his in her own, her other resting on his cheek "do you not know why you're sick?"

He felt his chest tighten at the contact, but kept an unfazed facade, as he proceeded to lock eyes with her

"Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snapped

"Like what?" She asked, perplexed as to what she did wrong

"I can see the fucking pity in your eyes!" He growled "It's just an illness! It's not like I'm fucking dying Y/N!" He angrily yanked her hand off of him and looked away

"Katsu you- you are dying..." Her voice cracked and trailed off, eyes brimming with tears, that were threatening to spill

"You have Hanahaki. Look around you, the plant in your lungs has grown so much, that you're coughing up fully grown-" Her words caught in her throat, as she pointed to the blossoms, picking one up to examine it closer, only to discover that these were her favourite flowers, even the colour was right!

"Hanahaki?" Bakugou looked heartbroken "I thought it wasn't real"

He'd heard stories about it ever since he was little, but never knew anyone who had actually experienced it! But apparently life has a funny way of teaching you things

It all made sense to him now! He already knew he was starting to fall for her, but now he also knew how Y/N felt and this only gave him two options!

He could either, suffer a little more as a lovesick puppy, until he dies, or get a surgery that will remove the problem from it's literal roots and risk losing all memory of the girl he loves and possibly the ability to love again!

As he was deep in thought, Y/N turned to him, flower in hand and with tears streaming from her eyes to match her broken smile

"It's not me..it can't be me" She mumbled out, gaze on the floor as she couldn't bring herself to face him

"Y/N it is you! I'm in love with you!" He confessed, his head resting against hers, those lively ruby orbs of his staring at the flower in her palm, while his hands cupped hers

"Please don't say that.." She sniffled, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulling something out "I don't want to be the one who did this to you"

She opened her fist, showing him petals of a flower he didn't recognize "I don't want to be the one who hurt you!"

'How could I have been so dense, so oblivious? Of course she loves someone else' Katsuki felt his heart shatter like a mirror, the pain returning, as he let out a sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace

He tried his hardest not to break down in tears, not to let the flowers suffocate him and allow this moment to be his last memory! Just her in his arms!

"Don't cry Y/N, I'll be alright! This is not your fault! I'll get the surgery and I'll be alright!" He rubbed the small of her back to soothe her

"But what if you forget about me? I don't want to lose you!" She cried

"I would never forget about you!" He told her sternly

"Do you promise?" She asked, like a line from some cheesy love story

"I promise, but only if you go into surgery too! I don't want you to end up in pain" He admitted

"Okay, I'll do it" Even though Bakugou tried to reassure her, she feels guilty and is willing to do this if it means he will be happy

As the days passed and the time for the surgery came around the teens went their separate ways, since their appointments were registered in different hospitals, or at least that's what Bakugou told Y/N

In reality he had simply asked principle Nezu if he could visit his parents that day for personal reasons and stayed with them

Mitsuki gave her son a whole lecture, but after he got fed up, he decided to tell her and Masaru the truth...or part of it anyway

Meanwhile Y/N was in another part of Musutafu, lying on an operating table

Two days later they were back to UA, trying to catch up on assignments. Y/N had no recollection of her prior love interest and Bakugou had no intention of telling her that he never went to the hospital!

"Yaho Katsuuu" She greeted, as he entered the kitchen. It was their turn to clean it today

"Huh?" He tilted his head to the side "Which extra are you again?" He asked playfully

Her shocked expression made him laugh "That's not funny!" She pouted "You scared me!" She said, before smacking him on the head

"It was funny to me dumbass" He said as he proceeded to wipe the table

Y/N was happy that everything seemed to have gone back to normal, she loved seeing him smile

But little did she know...

By the end of that same month, Bakugou was found dead in his dorm, which resembled a cursed garden of blood-soaked flowers! Some stems and thorns were coming out of his mouth, while others had pierced through his lifeless chest! The scene was gut wrenching!

Aizawa was the one who found him, after Y/N pointed out that he had never followed the rest of the class out of the dorms

The dorms were immediately sealed, so none of the students could see the traumatizing sight!

However Y/N had a feeling that she knew what had happened to the fiery hero-in-training and she couldn't help but blame herself for it

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #x reader #hanahaki #bnha #bakugou #king explosion murder #dynamight #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou angst #bnha x reader #bnha x female reader #mha x y/n #tw death #tw graphic #bnha bakugou

[nightshadedawn]

Persona 5 Royal Playthrough pt3

I ended up going through two Palaces before I could update y’all. Oh well.

...Yeah, no, quit calling me Miss Special Snowflake's boyfriend. It's not happening.

Ryuji, Morgana, and Yusuke having a conversation in the laundromat: "It's like he's our mom," says Ryuji... the mom friend.

Every time Morgana is like "I have to turn into a human so no one else can have Lady Ann!" then expects no one else to hear him makes me laugh. Like, bitch, no.

I have the restaurant in my Thieves Den 'cause I like it. Yusuke, Ryuji, and Morgana are there. They're so precious.

I got a three in a row Tycoon on cutthroat!!!

Ryuji and Ann just keep going "Shoulda figured" and other versions of the statement every time I win.

Ann just rejected Morgana's feelings HARD. I am happy.

Ryuji is too good, honestly. Why would anyone not like him? He's... He's always trying to build the team up, make them proud of themselves and what they've done. I will admit that he has his moments of being not a great human, but they're teenagers who were given absurd powers, so honestly, can you blame them?

I didn't know darts was an actual minigame! There's so many minigames. I'm so happy.

I don't like Akechi. I don't know why some people do. Like, his death scene was a bit... too late for a redemption for me, right after he tried to kill Joker, several times. His pain is understandable, but still... I can't.

Their "two sides of the same coin" also doesn't seem particularly fair. It's totally uneven in everything but color schemes.

Guys, GUYS, please, PLEASE decide whether you're going to react to my teasing or not.

"We don't have to deal with them directly," Ryuji says joyfully about the mafia. Oh you sweet, sweet, innocent child, if only you knew what I do.

I literally can't play this game around anyone else because I tend to yell "BABY!" to Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke and "BITCH" or "FUCKER" to... a rather long list of villains in this game... and Makoto.

I can literally feel Yusuke's anxiety about his painting when you take him to Leblanc to see Sayuri.

How can you say Yusuke isn't gay when he says everything I do is beautiful?

I love Ryuji's 9th social link. It's LITERALLY written like a confession scene. This also means I kinda hate it because... I can't date him.

Also... PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI

I actually kinda thought that the new scene for Ryuji being a crossdresser is kinda funny??? Is this bad??? I wanna see him in a dress, tho. I gotta agree, he'd be a natural. Not the like, painfully obviously not taking it seriously from the dancing game, though.

Though I do think it's valid that he freaks out when two strange adults come up to him and try to take him somewhere, especially in a place known for being shady, and at night.

...When Ryuji complains about it, I do feel bad about ditching him. Then again, I blame the cat.

Ryuji may be my ideal type on paper, but I'm also highly attracted to Yusuke and this is so totally unfair.

*softly chanting* butlers butlers butlers butlers

Don't mind me just... *makes meticulous plot to avoid having Makoto join the team that i may or may not write a fanfic about*

Makoto is one dumbass bitch. Like, honestly, there's nothing she does that's in any way remotely smart.

...I thought I'd just skip Makoto's scenes until she became relevant, but here I am, still skipping her scenes. Does that mean she’s still irreleveant?

"Witch" I suggest, and Makoto complains! "Would you prefer "Bitch"? I can use that too.

I put Yusuke on the team in the middle of the palace through settings, replacing Morgana, who had been standing right behind me. Which made Yusuke stand right behind me. It looked like he was holding onto my waist and standing uncomfortably close. Bro, babe, I love you, but not in front of my boyfriend and girlfriend!

Just accept the compliment, guys, I'm not going to compliment Queen.

...Opening chests with Ann or Ryuji is just so sweet because they're so affectionate and touchy feely. Especially Ryuji.

Math. Fucking. Sucks. I should not have to use math in a game. I hate this. Obviously it's the Palace Makoto comes in that this happened.

Well, I finished the Palace in a day. I love the feeling. But it was getting close there. Joker and Yusuke were down to no spells...

...Yoshizawa hasn't showed up yet. When is she getting shoehorned in?

WHY IS THE VELVET ROOM RED!?

My very first playthrough I didn't execute a single execution except for the first one we have to do. It  really screwed me over my second playthrough...

...I broke the electric chair. That's certainly something that happened.

147 games of Tycoon later and I've only been a beggar 31 times in total, versus the pure thirty wins in just Cutthroat.

They're in their summer uniforms and it makes make miss warmer weather already. It's fucking snowing outside. Grrrr.

Beat Kaneshiro! ...Wasn't a fan of his new boss battle. I'm even playing on safe mode! But whatever.

Makoto is a DISASTER at Tycoon. She exclusively got beggar all three times I played with her!

...RYUJI YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND NOT LET ME DATE YOU.

Ann, sweeties, baby, you're doing so well.

She confessed to me, then in the call afterwards it was basically insinuated I proposed... WHICH IS LIKE FUCK YEAH 'CAUSE SHE ACCEPTED IT.

It makes me think of the future conversation where they're talking about marriage.

Anyway, if you haven't noticed, l love Ann.

My next playthrough I'm not gong to date her, though. I'm a completionist and I want ALL of the possible awards. But... I refuse to cheat on Ann. So I'll date everyone else then just hang with Ryuji... despite how cringy some of the date things are.

...If Akechi wasn't, you know EVIL and tried to KILL ME, SEVERAL TIMES, I might, MIGHT, like him. But in truth, I think that's really just the Persona 5: Revival talking. We get... into some stuff during that.

I know that either Atlus or the translators know EXACTLY what goes on in the Persona fandom because otherwise "He's too pretty to be wrong" would not be an option when talking to the newspaper girl about Akechi. I have to agree with her that his looks aren't really, you know, awesome enough for that.

Also, I read it as "He's too petty to be wrong" at first and I think that's an accurate sum of his character.

YO AKECHI-FUCK I HAVE NO NEED TO SEE YOUR ASS LIKE THAT WHEN I HAVE BOTH A BF AND AND GF.

...fucker fucking giving me shit about my fake glasses...

If you COULD date the boy out of mod, Akechi would definitely be the one they were pushing you to date. Like Makoto. Or Yoshizawa.

But hey, at least I get to not be nice to him.

I remember seeing this picture where Ann, Ryuji, and Joker kept going to the movies together and seeing 3D movies, and Joker couldn't wear the 3D glasses properly because of his own. I keep imagining that picture during this event with Caroline and Justine.

You know what? Some people call Joker a loli lover because of them, but nope! He's just adopted two more siblings. That is my stance on it.

FUcking

Fucker

WHAT THE FRRRRRRRR

FUCK YOU ATULS OR TRANSLATORS OR WHATEVER

APHRODITE AND MARS ARE FROM TWO DIFFERENT MYTHOS. Aphrodite is GREEK, Mars is ROMAN. Their reversed are VENUS and ARES. USE ONE OR THE OTHER PEOPLE.

I get very pissed about this, and it's worse with Hades.

7/4 is the day I am screaming at, if you were wondering.

My dad asked me if the other students think Joker's stupid because every time I answer a question right they get all surprised.

I don't really like Makoto, as I'm sure you've noticed, but she was super nice about Ryuji's special move idea. And that put her ahead of Akechi in my book.

TESTS ARE NERVE WRACKING EVEN WHEN THEY'RE FICTIONAL

Yusuke and Ryuji are good boys, the best boys. And they're so awesome about their special move.

AND RYUJI OFFERED MONEY FOR YUSUKE'S FOOD. And implied that he did it before???? Ryuji, you best boy.

This boys' outing DOES make me happy, though. Like, insanely happy. Dunno why.

Maybe because Joker gets to be so flipping cheesy.

...fuck you, Yoshizawa.

HONESTLY WHAT THE EVER LOVING--- Grr. Too many choices while with her. Too many. OOC Joker when with her. 0/10.

I LOVE THE FESTIVAL PHOTO

And you know, it's really hard to choose between Lala-chan and Ann, but... GONNA TAKE ANN ON A DATE

Got her some flowers. Lets see if we can give them to her this time!

"Such a good FRIEND." Babe, we're DATING. For like, TWO WEEKS NOW.

AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO GIVE HER FLOWERS

Ann called Yusuke a pretty boy, but then she's missing out on the REAL pretty boy, Pretty Boy Ryuji.

Ryuji, why're you so worried about other girls when you've got ME?

"I like the shade." "What are you, moss!?" Oh, admit it, Ryuji, I'm growing on you.

Cargona. Snrk. Gods, I love you, Ryuji.

Dome town with Ryuji! "Isn't it all couples?" That's the point!

I COULD GIVE RYUJI THE ROSES!?

Sadly, I bought those for Ann. Ryuji, you get the noodles.

AND HE FUCKING LOVED IT.

"It feels like I really captured Ryuji's heart!" FUCK YEAH I DID

Gonna give Yusuke the bracelet when I get the chance.

Why is everyone color coded in the chat room? Kawakami, Akechi, Mishima, and the reporter are all ORANGE. What's the point? Well, Akechi's more of a golden orange, but close enough.

While Mishima is not my first choice for a date, he's definitely not my last.

...But the boy really needs some fucking sleep. He's not drawn with the bags under his eyes, but I can see them!

It's not fair that they give Akechi a kicked puppy sprite. I'm... goddamnit, they're trying to make me not hate him.

When Makoto doesn't know something, I'm brought great joy.

NO DAD MAKOTO IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND ANN IS AND SHE IS LITERALLY R I G H T T H E R E

First day in Futaba's Palace! I've gotta say, this is my second favorite palace. Kamoshida, Futaba, Madarame, Sae, Okumura, Shido, Kaneshiro, Holy Grail. In that order. I HATE Kaneshiro's place and dealing with the Holy Grail. But whatevs, man. I love this game. (Vanilla, at least, this one is still on the fence)

I found out a cool little thing. On the uphill sand slopes in the town (don't know about anywhere else) if you're running and turn back quickly, Joker will do a little animation to steady himself. It was cool and made it seem, I dunno, more human? Anyway, while I was admiring this, Ryuji and Yusuke just stood at the top of the slope and Ann followed me while I was running. Best girlfriend ever.

Kin-Ki is looking pretty kin-ky if you know what I'm sayin'

Please don't murder me because I do terrible puns.

*we fall through the trap door* *Ryuji starts screaming* Same, baby, same.

...Makoto is seriously annoying. Like, she's got no business acting as familiar with Futaba's situation. The one who WOULD be the most familiar is Yusuke, and I'm glad he recognizes that. It's not the exact same, none of their stories are after all, but I feel like those two get each other better than even Ryuji and Joker understand each other.

Yusuke and Ryuji's special attack is THE BEST

Ryuji and Joker getting up close and personal in the shadows. All those fanfics coming true, man.

I thought Futaba was sloth, not wrath? Why are her Will Seeds called Wrath?

Beat it in one day! It's so satisfying to watch all those achievements when I leave the palace.

You know, I'm thinking of wearing the Christmas outfits for the final battle. Just to be kinda funny.

Spending a relaxing day with Yusuke after going through Futaba's Palace... kinda want to take him to the bathhouse to check out that new scene, but I also REALLY wanna feed the boy... gonna feed the boy.

Apparently I can only make 'decent curry.' Which is fine. Because "I" can't make curry at all. Joker, you've done much better than I.

THE DATE CHANGE SCREEN HAD A RAINBOW AND RYUJI WAS COMING OVER ON THE SAME DAY FUCK YEAH MY BISEXUAL BABY

...Broooooo, the way you talk about your manga is how I talk right before I start shipping.

Took him to the bathhouse, 'cause I don't gotta worry about Mama Sakamoto feeding him.

...Can I take Ann to the bathhouse?

Asked Ryuji to move in. He was all up for the idea until he remembered that I live in an attic.

I'm Charismatic now!

...I was all hoping Ann would stop by but then Akechi asked me out. Laaaaaaaame.

Ryuji's smile is so fucking cute.

...I say we just be honest, and everyone's so fucking stupid about it until Makoto explains it. This pisses me off. They're not that dumb... At least, they weren't until Makoto showed up.

Futaba's hiding in the closet. ...I've spent too many weeks making jokes about closets to not have a joke about it.

Really, Yusuke? You see those books and think she can't understand?

...Wait, that sassy tone of voice... You were TRYING to pull a reaction of her. I knew I shipped those two for a reason. OTP and BroTP. Doesn't matter, they're both awesome.

I love you Ann, but I don't think your situations were the same at all. It's not like both are valid and bad, but... different.

Joker is SO fast compared to the others, especially when he's speeding.

What the...

Holy fuck...

JOKER IS TOO EFFING COOL

THAT MOVE TO GET FROM THE ENTRANCE TO TO TREASURE DOOR? Awesome!

Damn, Joker has my heart too.

I kinda wish we could see Futaba's costumes in her Persona. That would be pretty neat.

The moment right before Wakaba appears is so aesthetically pleasing.

...Futaba being happy is almost enough for me to accept Maruki's offer, and I haven't gotten there yet.

Ryuji and Ann keep smacking each other out of their ailments. Like, you guys just love each other so much! It's awesome.

Joker has lackluster responses to Wakaba... I'm hoping that isn't one of those "Answer these wrong and you break her!" things... Not that I think I was, but still.

I liked Futaba's new animation for when she defied her mother.

I wish the anime looked more the cutscenes. I'm trying to rewatch the anime so I can pinpoint specific moments for future editing purposes, but it's kinda painful.

1- This is the SECOND TIME you've landed on Yusuke while running from trouble.

2- YUSUKE LET GO OF MY GIRL

No Makoto, I don't want to go see Futaba with you! I can go see her myself.

So, I like Takemi's new voice with her lines during this scene.

Sure, she collapses every so often and sleeps for a while. Stays like that for a few days. Sorry that I put her into a coma for a month, Boss...

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE WITHOUT GLASSES

Guys, we have a month. Stop worrying.

THE TWINS ARE SO CUTE WHILE HANGING ONTO THE BENCH PRESS

Damn, Joker's dying to the amusement of two little girls.

I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get results for all that training. But I liked the scene.

Yusuke just casually be lugging bigass paintings around.

Taking the girls to the church may have been one of the funnier moments. These cement them as Joker's little sisters. With Futaba. Damn, Joker, you got no brothers.

Yusuke promises to come by every day and we can tell him to take his clothes off. ATLUS, you have some EXPLAINING to DO.

..And Yusuke took it and ran with it. My sweet summer child, I don't think I could handle you in as little as possible on the day to day.

"The heat induced delirium made me think outside the box." Same.

Guts takes sooooooooooooo long to level up.

"Punish me more" he says, as if Takemi won't do it.

"Good god. Well, none of my medicine can cure THAT." AT LEAST WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE

BATHHOUSE WITH YUSUKE

Awe, he had fun. :)

#Persona 5 #akira kusuru #shuann #pegoryu #pegoryuann #persona 5 royal #yusuke kitagawa #ann takamaki #Ryuji Sakamoto #Pretty Boy Ryuji