#i read the novel last year and it was ... fine. clearly written by a man and i wanted to save both louise and mathilde from it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangurk · 3 years

Text

She’s Always There (Paul Lahote x Reader)

Key:

Y/n: Your Name

Y/l/n: Your Last Name

Y/n/n: Your Nickname

Y/e/c: Your Eye Color

Y/h/c: Your Hair Color

Prompt Given To Me By @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhh.tumblr.com: hey!! so the reason I'm messaging is because I wanted to request something but can't fit it all into an ask lmao. anyways could i please request a Paul Lahote x reader where the reader has been super close to the whole pack for years and has been Paul's imprint but doesn't know it (bc Sam thought it would be best to keep u away from it all) and they decide to finally tell you about being shapeshifters and being Paul's imprint and you're so mad about them not telling u earlier and there's a huge argument and they and Paul tries to calm you down but you say stuff like 'leave me alone' and things like that and it sounds like you're rejecting him/the bond in ur angry breakdown. anyways Paul is heartbroken and can't get out of bed or eat or anything so the guys finally convince you to come back bc they and Paul need you and it's just the reader cuddling with him and getting him out of bed to take a shower and eat and he realizes that you're not going anywhere and it's just like healing the imprint bond? sorry for this WALL of text, I've just had this idea stuck in my head for a while lol. if you don't want to do it, that's completely fine!! thank you for your time ♡

ok so my guy,, bc this fic has been stuck in my head for a bit, some scenes have developed? so idk i hope this isn't too much, but if u do write it, would u be willing to add like some angst to it, obvi, and maybe a scene/part lol where when the reader tries to get him to shower (bc the misinterpreted rejection made him like super depressed and he just felt low about himself) he won't shower, because he doesn't want to come out and the reader is gone. so either they shower together (not smutty just angst&fluff) or she sits like in the bathroom while he showers LOL. and when he feels a bit better, they go down to eat and he's touching some part of her at all times. if this is too much to like,, include then that's a-okay. i just need to get this OUT of my MIND ugh lmao!/!

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: The Reader has been friends with most of the pack members for her whole life. Which is why, after months of silence and strange changes, she was willing to let them back into her life— until she finds out she’s been told lies that leave her in danger, of course. After a big freak out and two weeks of avoiding them, the boys come begging for her help; it turns out that Paul has some wolf-y claim on her, and whatever she said to him has left him worse for wear...

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Nudity, Angst, and Cursing.

A/n: this is literally like a whole novel I’m so sorry I got carried away. this is kinda based on a lot of fics I read where the imprint has the potential to really hurt people and I named Paul’s dad.

Word Count: 2.9k+

“The legends are real!?”

Y/n Y/l/n hasn’t ever been so disturbed in her entire life.

After weeks of radio silence, Sam Uley’s little ‘gang’, mostly consisting of people she’d known since childhood, had slowly trickled back into her life. What started as a grocery run with Paul or a movie with Jared had turned into big bonfire parties including Jacob Black and his gaggle.

But that was months ago. Months. And now, as she sits by a fire, surrounded on either side by them, they decide to tell her their little secret?

“Y/n.” Sam says as she abruptly stands, eyes stern and hand raised placatingly.

His actions only served to upset her more and her skin bristles with irritation. Sam was acting as if she, a human surrounded by shape shifters, was the unstable one. As if she could do any damage to things built to kill vampires.

“Don’t you dare, Sam.” She clenches her fists, glaring right back at him. “It’s been months- months- and you’re telling me now?”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up.” He reasons, voice a little less demanding. “We all wanted to be sure that you were ready to know.”

“Ready?!” Y/n laughs mirthlessly, y/e/c eyes wide with disbelief, “When was I supposed to be ready Sam? W-when one of you gored me? When a cold one ripped me apart?”

Her hands shake as she puts them on her forehead, blinking back tears. Growing up all she’d ever heard were stories of humans getting dragged into fights between wolf and vampire, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Emily in the eye because it was suddenly apparent that wolves alone could hurt people too.

It was so bad, whatever happened to Emily, that they said a bear mauled her— Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not like that, Y/n/n.” Embry chimes in, reaching out to grab his friend's arm.

She yanks her body out of the way and gathers her belongings quickly.

“What is it like then, Call?” She holds her bag to her heaving chest, “because it seems to me that you all have the ability to turn into giant, slobbery freaks that are built for killing vampires and, after completely dropping me for weeks, you decided to keep it secret from me for months. Did it even occur to you that I would’ve been better off knowing right off the bat?!”

No one says anything. Eight shifters and two of their girlfriends sit there, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language.

“You know,” Y/n has to clear her throat to steady her wavering voice, “had you guys really been souped-up on drugs like everyone says, maybe I could’ve handled the lying. But my life was clearly potentially in danger, and you let me hang around without saying anything. I- God I don’t want to see you people right now.”

She leaves with that, stepping over logs and storming back down the beach with determination. Faintly over the roar of her heartbeat, she can hear someone scrambling to stand behind her.

“Wait!— shit, sorry-” Paul grunts, jogging to catch up with her- “Y/n-“

With an unusual gentleness, his warm hand wrapped around her forearm. For a moment, deep in the back of her mind, a foreign feeling tells her to stop, to listen; but that small voice is quickly smothered by the rational part of her brain, and she wrenches her arm from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, lowering her voice, “Leave me alone- I need to be alone.”

Paul stands there, dumbstruck, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walks away. And he’d continue to stand there, looking like a kicked puppy long after her retreating form became a blur amongst the darkness of the beach.

“Paul?” Sam is hesitant, hand hovering over the younger boy’s shoulder a minute before he touches him, “You okay?”

Shrugging his leader’s arm off his shoulder, Paul sighs. “No...I...I’m just gonna head home.”

Instead of going in the directions of the cars, the wolf stalks off toward the woods; Emily stands from her seat, wrapping her sweater more around herself as she watches Paul leave. Concern is written all over her features.

“He’ll be fine, Em,” He pulls her in for a hug, “it’ll all work out eventually.”

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Y/n does a good job of avoiding them for a while.

She turns her phone off a few days in and avoids going to First Beach, even when Washington gets a rare, warm summer feel. Books that have sat long forgotten on her shelves get read and TV shows she’s always meant to catch up on get watched; it’s boring and she runs out of options, at one point thinking of dying her hair y/f/c just to spice things up, but it allows her to think. (Or at least it allows this strange little voice in the back of her head to tell her that she needs to go back to them.)

The next time she sees any of the boys is exactly two weeks after the bonfire incident.

She’s curled up on her couch, picking at some of the Clearwaters’ fish fry and barely watching an episode of ANTM, when a fist comes banging down on her door. Turning off the TV, she tiptoes to the window, peeking under the curtain as carefully as she can.

As she expected, Jared Cameron and Embry Call are on her porch, the former standing in front of her door with his hip cocked, the other rooting around in her mother’s plants for something. Cringing, she hopes if she’s quiet enough that they’ll just go away.

Her front door opens within minutes, however, and she realizes her hoping is fruitless.

Should’ve known you can’t hide from wolves, she can’t help but think bitterly.

“Y/n?” Jared calls out through the house, “we know you’re here.”

“Yeah, and you guys should probably move your spare key,” Embry tacks on, flicking the light switch to the living room up, “I've known you forever and it’s still in the same place.”

From her spot by the window, the y/h/c haired girl glares at the two boys, arms crossed over her chest. Embry gives her a lopsided grin and holds the key out to her, his bud plopping down on the couch and pulling her abandoned plate into his lap.

Y/n extends a hand to take the key.

“Has it really been in the same place?” She sounds a little more defeated than she’d like.

“Yeah, it’s always been in your mother’s cornflower pot.”

“That’s...kinda sad.” She wrinkles her nose, pocketing the key with the intention to hide it better later, “but uh, I’ve been ignoring you for two weeks for a reason. Peacefully breaking into my house kinda furthers my need for space.”

Embry scratches the back of his neck.

“Well,” He says, “we need you to come back, man. Paul won’t talk to anyone- Sam doesn’t know if he’s eating, and he won’t even get out of bed for patrol! He needs his imprint-”

“His what?” She cocks her head to the side and Jared snorts from the couch.

“She left before we got there, nimrod,” Jared mocks through a mouthful of food, “she doesn’t know what an imprint is.”

He lets out an indignant “Hey!” as Y/n walks by, snatching her plate back from him on her way to the kitchen. Embry chases after her, a grumpy Jared jumping up from the couch to follow.

“You’re his imprint— you’re basically his soulmate!”

“Really?” She says warily, sealing the fish and putting it back in the fridge.

Both boys nod clumsily.

“You remember a few weeks ago when you saw each other for the first time again and he kinda just stood there like an idiot while you talked?”

“Yeah? Oh!-” She brings her hands up to her mouth, brows furrowed as she recalls.

It was exactly Jared had said. She and Paul had seen one another for the first time in a long time and the minute her y/e/c eyes looked into his, it was like he’d been struck dumb.

Embry gives her an encouraging look, “An imprint is...It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. When you snapped at him last week he thought you were rejecting him….”

A part of her thought about how absurd it was that he knew that whole speech. But the bigger part of her came to a realization that made her stomach churn.

“So he's all depressed… because… of me?” She whispers, leaning back on the counter.

Embry, always a rather sympathetic person, opens his mouth to comfort her, but Jared cuts him off.

“Basically. So are you going to come with us so we can help Paul or are you going to continue being petty?”

In any other circumstance, Y/n probably would’ve thrown something at her for calling her petty. She felt she was completely justified in her actions. A part of her wonders if she can really believe them— they’d spent months lying to her after all. But a larger part thinks about Paul, curled up in his bed, slowly desecrating because he thinks she rejected him.

If it were really all some ploy to get her to listen to them, then she’d at least be the person who chose the well-being of her friend over a petty disagreement.

“I’m coming.” She affirms, pushing herself off the counter, and letting the boys lead her to the car.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Jared and Embry drop her off in front of the Lahote household. They tell her something but she can’t really hear them over her heartbeat, she doesn’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late to turn back.

Getting into the house wasn’t the hard part. Paul’s father, Cyrus, had been leaving as she arrived, and, after he watched her stare at the house with a fearful expression for a few minutes, he happily let her in. The hard part was willing her legs to take her up the stairs to Paul’s room, and then it was opening his bedroom door.

Y/n has known Paul since they were eight, but she was afraid of him until they were eleven. He wasn’t mean, per se, but his anger made him do mean things; she wasn’t entirely happy with puberty and it’s monthly gifts, but whatever it did to make her suddenly un-afraid of him she was grateful for. But now, standing in front of his bedroom door, she had a nagging fear that Paul would revert to that eight year old boy who threw lunch boxes and twisted arms behind backs until people cried.

The door creaks slightly as she struggles to push it open.

His room is almost completely dark except for the light coming from the hallway behind her. Trash and dirty clothes have formed a compact layer on his bedroom floor, foot sized holes leading up to the twin sized bed in the corner. On the bed, amongst the blankets she’s sure he doesn’t need, is Paul— or at least, a Paul sized lump.

As gross as it is, she’s kind of relieved he’s been eating.

“Paul?” She whispers tentatively, stepping toward the bed.

The lump flinches and turns toward her.

“Y/n?”

If the room and the description of his state weren’t heartbreaking enough, his voice definitely was. Hollow, rough, and small, everything it never was, everything Paul wasn’t.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah...it’s me..”

She carefully steps over to the bed, and Paul slowly sits up, pushing his blankets to the side. There’s a beat of silence as she stands between his legs, his reluctant hands coming to rest on her waist after a minute. Y/n let’s him have another to gather his thoughts.

“You really came…” Tears well up in his eyes and loops his arms around her back.

She runs a hand through his hair. “I did, and I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

Paul nuzzles her stomach, “S’fine, you didn’t know, and you’re here now.”

There’s a sort of cute, euphoria lacing his voice and he’s visibly much more relaxed.

“Just don’t ever say that again…”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She’s surprised when he manhandles her into his lap, but she doesn’t really mind. He’s warm and strangely familiar and something about it just— clicks.

“When was the last time you spent, I dunno, a minute or two out of your room?” Y/n asks softly, y/e/c eyes glancing about the room.

The shifter’s only response is a shrug, too busy nosing around her neck with vigor. When he finds a certain spot, it makes her squeak, and this seems to excite him like a puppy finding out its favorite toy makes noise.

“You need to bathe, eat something substantial,” She intertwines their fingers, “and the...pack...they’re really worried about you— are you even listening to me?”

He looks up at her then and flashes her a sheepish smile, answering her question. Pursing her lips, she pulls his arms from around her.

“C’mon, Paul.” She stands up and takes his hand. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

She moves toward the door, urging him forward, only to be jerked to a stop as he stays put. He looks a little distressed when she turns back to him, brows furrowed, almost like he’s in pain.

“Paul?”

He grunts, jaw clenched as the cogs turn in his head. Y/n cocks her head and reaches out for his other hand. It felt like some sort of supernatural intuition, one she’ll blame on the imprint and ask Emily about later.

“Paul, hon, why won’t you come shower?”

“I’m afraid you'll leave,” He says bashfully, “it’s stupid, I know, but part of me is afraid you’ll leave while I’m in the shower.”

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at his confession. Paul was part wolf, and part of being part wolf was imprinting— she almost wishes she’d have stayed long enough to listen, or been able to focus as the boys debriefed her on the ride over because only being able to speculate how much she’d actually hurt him was eating her alive. He wouldn’t even shower, something he desperately needed to do, because of what she’d said.

Taking a deep breath, she barely registers the words she’s about to say.

“I’ll wait with you, I’ll sit on the toilet, you’ll see me there.”

And true to her word, Y/n does sit on the toilet while Paul showers, reading the information on soap bottles to distract herself from the fact that he was there next to her, very naked. Occasionally he asks her what she’s doing, and she reads the ingredients out loud to the best of her ability, and he laughs a little— she tries to hide her smile, but she was too happy he was laughing.

She closes her eyes when he gets out, letting him dry himself off and pull on some clean shorts. He throws the wet towel at her when he’s done, eliciting a “Hey!” that makes him laugh again.

Now that he’s clean, the two of them descend into his quiet house. Y/n navigates the kitchen, her wolf attached to her hip and being less than helpful, and makes them both something to eat— he doesn’t do much more than stand behind her, wrapped around her, making her life more difficult.

“I’m so happy you came back.” He says, watching her work.

“I was always going to.” Y/n responds, her voice sure and steady.

They talk as they eat, sitting across from one another at the too big table in the Lahote household. Talk about how this was going to work, admitting feelings that always lingered, and everything in between; she hooks her leg around his, watching him scarf down his meal with a wrinkled nose and fondness glittering in her y/e/c eyes.

He’s...gross...but he’s hers, she’s kind of stuck with him.

A date is planned. An actual date.

Paul promises to take her to the local diner (and to wear a shirt, for once.)

“I’ve been saving up for something like this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you can get that dessert you like.”

Y/n laughs softly, but heat spreads up her neck and settles in her ears and cheeks. It’d been a long time since that had been her favorite food, but it was the thought that counted...

When Cyrus Lahote returns from work later that night his son and the Y/l/n girl are awkwardly situated on his couch— him on his back, snoring, her lying on top of him, face tucked into his neck, also fast asleep. The older man turns off the TV and tosses a blanket over the pair, ascending up the stairs with a smile on his face.

Y/n Y/l/n was trustworthy. She’s always there when Paul is in a rut too big for him to handle...

#paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight wolf pack imagine #twilight wolf pack #twilight fanfiction #eclipse #twilight wolf imagines #embry call #jared cameron #sam uley

981 notes · View notes

taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Two)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Hi everyone! Here’s ch2 of the new story, hope you guys like it. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t think you have ever been this bitter in your life—and you have a few things you can be bitter about. You could honestly make a list. But this? This is the ultimate bitterness and you hate it. It is driving you absolutely nuts! You’re alone with a man on an island…that’s lonely enough, right? Well, said man doesn’t even want to talk to you…that makes it ten—no, a million times more lonely. And you have every right to be bitter about that. So, yes maybe you are being a little petty when guys do interact.

It’s not like you are trying to purposely be petty, no, it’s not like that. You just can’t help your smart ass mouth or how childish you can become. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind completely though, he just has his own smart ass comments or he becomes childish himself. It’s a horrible mix! Neither of you win! And you always want to have the last word but with Taehyung as your opponent it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Okay, maybe a little less than fine. This company has got it all wrong! All. Fucking. Wrong. You two are barely getting along! It’s just eye roll after eye roll, smart ass comment after smart ass comment. That’s it. That’s the relationship. Taehyung barely spares you a glance throughout the day. You do your own thing and he does his. You won’t lie though…you are curious what he gets up to…the last week he has left the house and doesn’t come back until sunset…and he comes back sweaty and exhausted.

You want to ask what he does, you do, you really do. But something tells you he wouldn’t even tell you even if you begged. And you’re not about to beg for this asshole.

So, you guys keep to yourselves save the occasional breakfast/lunch/dinner run in. While he does god knows what, you have also been trying to keep yourself busy. You have recently learned to cook a couple meals, nothing too fancy but you feel proud. You play a lot of games, read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies.

But to put it simple—You’re bored. Fucking bored. You miss human interaction. You hate to say it but your food run ins are mostly on purpose at this point…you just want someone to chit chat with for a few moments even if its unpleasant conversation—because hey! At least it’s conversation.

You and Taehyung eat in silence after your little convo, he and you share strange eye contact…you call it strange because it’s more like he glares at you and you glare at him. Your eyes never leave one another. You feel like he’s trying to cast like, black magic on you, maybe something where if he glares enough you will burst into flames. You assume this because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Stop looking at me.” Taehyung finishes his last bite, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

“You stop looking at me.” You fire back and he sighs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why would I look at you?”

“Why would I look at you?” you mock, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and Taehyung squints at you.

“Oh yeah, real mature y/n.” His lips curl inward and he relaxes his arms at his sides as he stands from the table.

“I’m going to my room now.”

“You literally don’t have to announce everything you do.” You raise the bowl to your lips and drink back the leftover milk. You don’t want to look at Taehyung’s expression, you know you’re being ruder than usual. You’re just bitter. Yeah, pretty god damn bitter. You hear Taehyung release a long breath, and you’re starting to think he’s right, maybe you are a brat.

“Goodnight y/n.” he says much softer than you were expecting.

Yeah, maybe you are a brat.

~~~~~~

You’re snuggled up on the living room sofa, the TV plays some cartoon movie you found on the shelf (obviously one of his picks). The movie is on a low volume as you have a book in your hands. You just started it this morning and you have not put it down, it’s called The Roommate, a funny and sexy novel. Too bad your own roommate is nowhere near funny nor sexy. Okay, maybe he’s a little sexy. But his attitude is the opposite of sexy so therefore he isn’t sexy. Yeah, totally. Whatever you have to say to yourself, right? It’s evening now and you’re almost done with the book, you have hardly taken a break from reading. This reminds you of your last memories before the island…the night before you were…kidnapped. Yeah, kidnapped. That’s how you would describe it.

The night before you were like this…snuggled on your sofa in your parent’s house…

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard to—”

“Honey, relax.” Your dad cuts in. Your mom is going on and on again about how you still haven’t found another job.

“Relax? Our daughter suddenly left her job and moved back to town!” Your mother throws her hands up, “And she won’t even tell us why!”

You sit here, your knees to your chest as you read your book. You try your best to ignore your mother…you two have rarely ever seen eye to eye. If you told her why you “quit” your previous job and why you had to move back home she would probably find a way to blame you.

“She will tell us when she’s ready.” You hear your dad whisper to your mother. “Don’t push her, you know that makes it worse…”

You can’t help but nibble on your lips, starting to feel the anxiety build. You try to focus on the words on the pages in front of you but they’re beginning to become blurred.

“Oh what is she 5 years old? You treat her like a child! She’s an adult she can handle a little confrontation.”

Your eyes lose focus on the words in front of you, instead all you see is blurred vision thanks to the tears that try to visit.

“I’ll be going to sleep now.” You announce, closing your book and setting it on the end table next to the sofa. “Goodnight.” You grab your phone and stand from your place on the couch. Thankfully, your dad offers a soft ‘goodnight sweetie’ and your mom just nods her head.

You make your way down the hall to your bedroom, opening and closing the door quickly. You lean back on the bedroom door and sigh out, blinking away any tears that tried to appear. You won’t cry. Not again. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, startling you. You unlock your phone to see who messaged you when you see it lit up with a notification from him. You feel your whole world collapsing. Why the fuck is he messaging you?

You stare at your books pages, in deep thought as you recall your last night before the island. You don’t want to remember honestly. You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts when the side door opens in the kitchen. It’s Taehyung. He’s sweaty and clearly exhausted again…what the hell does he do outside for so many hours?

“Hi.” You say, looking up at him from your book. Wait. Why did you greet him?

“Hi…?” Taehyung is just as surprised as you are, with his wide eyes and open mouth. He scrunches his brows together as he eyes you. He gives you a small wave, confusion written all over his face as he begins walking through the entry way and heading upstairs.

You sit here embarrassed as hell. Why did you say hi? And why was your voice so high pitched? You turn red, redder than you probably can imagine. You drop your face in your book and groan, wishing you didn’t say something as simple as ‘hi’.

You have to remind yourself you two aren’t talking. That your roommate here at Casa de la Trapped, isn’t looking to become buddy buddy with you. Which sucks because you are human, you know, a social creature. What’s the harm in becoming friends? Sure you two banter, but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You just don’t get any bad vibes from him, in fact sometimes it seems like he’s forcing himself to be closed off.

You try to go back to your book when you hear a faint yelp from upstairs. Did Taehyung just kind of…scream? You sit here with your book, your ears in the direction of the stairs trying to listen for any indication that something is wrong. But it’s silent. You decide to go back to your book when you hear the noise of Taehyung running down the stairs. He is out of breath by the time he reaches you, standing next to the sofa.

You quite literally choke on your spit when you see him. This boy just don’t give a damn, huh? He’s standing here, trying his best to breathe evenly with nothing but a dark red towel hanging lowly around his hips. You gulp at the sight of him. You knew he probably had a nice body but you were not expecting this. His strong build surprises you, his soft, caramel skin glows even in this lighting and his muscles flex with every movement.

“Uh,” you begin, setting your book down again, “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Taehyung rushes to say, he sounds much different than usual. His voice is usually calm and deep but right now it’s panicked like a child.

“With what?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, I need you to take care of it.”

“You want me to kill a spider for you?”

“Kill?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chest, a shocked expression on his face. “All life is precious, y/n.” he pouts. “Just get it and take it outside.”

You tilt your head and try not to laugh as you look at him…he looks bothered, that’s for sure. But god, what a baby. Can’t even take care of a small bug by himself.

“Fine. Show me where it’s at.” You rise from the couch, pointing at the direction of the stairs.

“Yes, yes. I’ll lead the way!” Taehyung walks quickly. He makes his way upstairs with you following right behind him. He leads you into the bathroom when he brings back the shower curtain to show you the spider.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. “Where is it?”

Taehyung turns to face you, his face as white as a ghost.

“It was just here, I swear.”

You roll your eyes as you fight back a grin.

“Sure, Taehyung. Are you sure you weren’t just trying to show off your body?” you shamelessly drag your eyes down his body and he goes red.

“W-Why—why would I do that?” he murmurs out, “Plus, I am sure you’ve already imagined what I look like without clothes.” He recovers quickly, a smirk making its way on his face.

“Not likely.” You say nonchalantly. “Well, if there’s no bug—”

“Wait! You don’t expect me to use this shower still, do you?” He looks panicked again, like a small child.

“Uh, yes?”

“The spider could be lurking anywhere! Let me use your shower.” He suggests, loving his own idea. You on the other hand, do not love his idea.

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah.”

“y/n…” He whines, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You raise a brow, a small smirk creeping on your face. “Okay, have breakfast with me tomorrow. And you actually have to talk to me.”

“y/n…” he warns. “You know we shouldn’t do that.”

“And I want 5 facts about you.” You stand your ground, your hands on your hips as you speak. “And I’ll give you 3 about me.”

“How is that even fair?”

“I’m the rule maker here, Taehyung.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get used to it.”

Taehyung walks closer to you, his breaths reaching your skin.

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, “I definitely make the rules.” There’s a moment of strange tension as he stares down at you…then he’s speaking again. “If you only give 3 then I only give 3. That’s the deal.”

You stare up into his dark eyes and you struggle to swallow your own spit, he might only have a few inches over you but maybe they are a little intimidating.

“F-Fine. Use my shower.” You step out of his way and gesture towards your room. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.” You wink.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but this time it almost seemed playful and not overly dramatic. You don’t want to get your hopes up but when he’s not being closed off and frankly, rude, he’s really not that bad.

“Don’t get used to these types of deals.” Taehyung throws over his shoulder as he walks to your room. “Basically, don’t get used to me.” He says a little quieter, but you still hear him and you frown.

“Like, I would want to!” you yell out.

Taehyung does not want to leave this shower, ever. He’s almost kind of bitter that he let you have this room! You get the awesome rain shower and he’s stuck with some plain, basic shower head in the guest bathroom. He eyes all the different bottles that sit on the shelves inside the shower, these must be all the bottles you use in your real life, he thinks. He grabs the shampoo and opens it to sniff it. He’s never gotten close enough to you that he can smell your hair but man, this is what you smell like? Delicious. He squirts a generous amount of the shampoo in his palm with an evil glint in his eye and massages it into his scalp. Whoops, did he just use your shampoo? Oh well. He rinses his hair out and uses your conditioner as well, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses your body wash too! It smells divine and its making his skin so soft.

Taehyung just knows that him using your shit would bother you, he just gets that vibe. And he’s not sure why but riling you up is quite fun. Taehyung turns the water off and grabs his towel and starts drying off…he steps out on to the shower mat and eyes the room as he dries himself. He sees you organized all your lotions and whatever other products onto the sinks counter top, he sees how empty “his side” of the sink is. It previously held all his belongings that he had moved into his bathroom—the guest bathroom.

“Are you almost done in there?” He hears you knocking on the door. “I want to take a shower before bed!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whispers out, “Hold on!”

Taehyung wraps the towel around his hips again and goes towards the bathroom door, he stops to check himself out in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m all done, cry baby.” He rolls his eyes and you secretly hope they get stuck like that for how much he does it.

“Me, the cry baby? You wouldn’t even use your own show—”

“—anyway, bathroom is all yours.” He breezes past you, but stops before exiting the bedroom. “Um…” he turns around, “See you in the morning.” And then he’s walking out.

~~~~~~

You made eggs, bacon, pancakes, and have fresh fruit in a bowl all set up on the dining room table. For some reason you are too nervous to call out for Taehyung and let him know that breakfast is ready…you know, 30 minutes ago. You just patiently wait, sitting here tapping your fingers against the wooden table.

Another 20 minutes pass by when you hear faint footsteps from upstairs…he must now just be getting up, you think. You rush to reheat up some of the food before he makes his way downstairs. You set the bacon, eggs and pancakes back down on the table and make yourself busy like you haven’t just been waiting for almost an hour.

Taehyung finally walks through the kitchen, his face evident with sleep and his hair sticking out in all directions. He blinks at you lazily before his eyes widen in panic.

“B-Breakfast. I forgot—”

“It’s okay, I just finished.” You cut him off with a strained smile. “I see you like to sleep in.”

“Most days, yeah. Because I go to bed so late.” He admits sheepishly. Then he smirks. “Can that be fact number 1?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it? How gracious of you.” Taehyung takes a seat at the dining room table and he starts with grabbing two pancakes from the pile and setting them down on his plate.

“You cooked all of this?” He asks, surprised.

“No, the other people who live here did it.” You deadpan.

“Always a smart ass.” He says while pouring syrup all over his pancakes, “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right…” you make your way to the table and take a seat in front of him. You start with some pancakes as well, waiting for him to finish with the syrup so you can pour your own generous amount. He notices you waiting, his eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of half smile. He slides the syrup across the table and your hand goes out to grab it, your fingers touching his.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both get out at the same time. You stare at one another for another few seconds before Taehyung rolls his eyes,

“Big deal, our fingers touched. No need to get weird.” He chuckles, and you feel your heart feel all fucking weird.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “What’s fact number 2?”

Taehyung takes a bite of his pancakes and moans into the syrupy mess, his eyes finding yours again.

“Oh? You’re greedy for information.”

“I’m a little greedy.” You admit, “So?”

“Fact number 2…I’m almost 5’11.”

“So you’re 5’10. Just say you’re 5’10.”

“But I’m not just 5’10. Because I am almost 5’11.” He groans, “Can’t you just humor me here?”

“Okay Mister 5’11.” You laugh, “My fact number 2 is that I have one older sister.”

Taehyung nods his head, remembering the picture of you and some other girl that you looks a lot like you.

“I see.” He swallows his food, “So you’re the baby of your family?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He smirks at you, “You have that baby of the family vibe.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you give him a curious look and he looks at you like you can’t be serious.

“Because you’re…you know,” he gestures towards you with a knowing look and you scoff.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Brat.” He states simply. “Because you’re a brat.”

“Whatever.” You grab for some eggs and bacon, and Taehyung does the same.

“So, what’s fact number 3?” you ask, piling some eggs onto your plate.

“Already want the last fact? We are barely just eating.” Taehyung points out. He shovels some eggs onto his own plate once you are done, and sticks a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Greedy, remember?” you remind him with a smirk. “So?”

“I’m sure you already gathered this but…I’m an aspiring musician.”

“I figured you were…that, or an artist.”

“Art is just a really fun hobby for me.” He admits. He loves to paint but singing and making music is where his true passion lies.

“What’s your last fact?” he stuffs his face with another piece of bacon, you watch him as he eats the crispy meat.

“Umm…” you look up at the ceiling as you think, “I used to think I looked bad in sun glasses but then I got over that…so now I buy any cool, funky sunglasses I can find.”

“That’s a really random fact.” Taehyung chuckles, “I like cool, funky sunglasses too.”

“Wow, are you saying we actually have something in common?” you tease, bringing a forkful of eggs to your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says dryly. “Since we said all of our facts, I guess I can go now.”

“You’re not going to finish your food? Taehyung…” you place your hands on the table. “They’re not going to assume just because we are talking that we are falling in love for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t want to give them any ideas.” Taehyung says a bit harshly. Your face falls into a frown and you stand from the table.

“You can finish your food. I’ll leave.”

Taehyung blinks up at you and opens his mouth to say something but he remains quiet. You shake your head at him and walk off into the living room. If he wants to continue this “Little to no interaction” thing then so be it!

Taehyung sits here with his appetite lost. He holds his fork in his hand out in front of him and attempts to cut into his pancakes when he just gives up. He drops the fork onto the table and sighs out.

“y/n…” he calls out but you ignore him. “y/n!”

“Don’t talk to me.” You say with as much attitude you can muster and Taehyung silently mocks your words. He grabs his fork and aggressively cuts into his pancakes and takes a bite.

“Fine by me!” He yells out with his mouth full.

“You’re so annoying!” You groan and Taehyung silently mocks your words again but you can’t see him.

“And you’re a brat!” He says stuffing his mouth with another slice of pancake.

Great. For a moment there you thought you two could almost get along but he is set on this bullshit of not talking. You walk to the shelves in the living room and choose a new book, another romance novel. You take a seat on the couch, and curl up into a blanket. Taehyung can do whatever he wants! You’re going to enjoy your book and forget all about his annoying ass.

~~~~~~

Taehyung is finally dressed into some shorts and a sleeveless shirt as he makes his way out of the house. He is going to continue working on his little…project. You are probably wondering what he gets up to everyday, he thinks.

He is working on building a raft. He wants to escape this island but he doesn’t know how to build a fucking raft and this company didn’t necessarily give him the tools to escape. But he’s figuring it out. He is quite literally breaking tree branches and going from there. But it is taking time but apparently he has all the time in the world. 3 months? 6 months? A year or even more? He releases a long breath as he walks the path to where his “raft” is. If anything it’s just nice to get out of the house and breathe the island air. This whole thing kind of just gives him something to do and he knows this may not really work but he’s got to try. He’s a man of action after all.

He finally sees his “raft” chilling against a tree close to the beach and he walks up to it. Already feeling frustrated just looking at the pathetic thing. He has to make it big enough for two people…he isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t plan on escaping by himself, leaving you here.

He goes to his knees and holds it up, he feels his frustrations bubble over and he throws it to the ground. How the hell is he supposed to escape with this shitty thing?

He slams his eyes shut and sinks into the sand. He wants to go home. Things aren’t easy here…he can’t sleep. He is surprised he’s eating as much as he is, and he has mostly bad interactions with you. And he knows that it’s his fault. But he knows this is for the best but he can tell it’s not what you want. To be honest, this is actually really hard for him. He tries to come off as cold and closed off so you won’t take an interest in him but he’s dying! He wants to talk to you too! He is probably one of the most social of his friends! He has a lot of friends and he loves talking and hanging with them.

Taehyung feels his eyes become wet with hot tears and he grits he teeth together in irritation. He wishes he was home with his friends, with his family, with the girl he likes. He misses everyone so bad. He knows the night you two were “kidnapped” was the last day of the year, meaning they started this experiment January 1. He recalls his last few nights before the island…it was his birthday.

“No! I want him to open my present first!” Jimin whines and Taehyung can’t help the wide grin that adorns his face.

They’re all out at a bar, the music is loud and the alcohol is nonstop. Taehyung is surrounded by his closest friends, plus Hana—the girl Taehyung has been crushing on for the last year. She brought along a couple of her friends to this night out of celebration.

“He can open whoever’s he wants first…which is mine, right?” Jungkook hands Taehyung a box and Taehyung chuckles.

“Just for that, your two are going last.” Taehyung says, “How about I open Namjoon’s first since he planned this night?”

Namjoon gives the other two boys a cocky grin as he hands Taehyung a bag.

“Can I go after Namjoon?” Hana’s sweet voice is heard over the blaring music. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, her pink dress doing her a million favors. Not that she needs the favors, she’s always gorgeous.

“Y-Yeah.” Taehyung blushes, “But you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Really? You practically yelled at us when you thought we weren’t getting you anything.” Jimin playfully comments.

“Shut up dude.” Taehyung grits out, “Anyway, let’s see what Joonie got me.”

The night went on, the music got louder, the alcohol kept on coming. Taehyung is so happy. Everything is perfect. He doesn’t think anything can ruin his good mood.

“Want to dance with me?” Hana’s words leave her pretty, pink lips and Taehyung finds himself nodding yes before he can even register what she said. He would literally do anything she wanted.

“Then come.” She waves him over with her small, manicured hand.

Hana and Taehyung end up on the dance floor for quite some time…he’s too drunk to be nervous like he usually is. His large hands grip at her tiny waist as he brings her in closer, she lightly moans when she feels his hard body against her.

“We should talk.” Hana breathes out, “About us.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, panic starting to make its way into his body.

“What about us?”

Hana chuckles lightly, she goes on her tip toes and places a soft, sweet kiss against Taehyung’s lips.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She takes his hand and leads him outside the bar, out to a little patio. Taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he follows her outside…it’s not the first time they’ve kissed but he still can’t get used to it.

“You like me right?” she asks, pointing to herself. She’s got that sweet smile and Taehyung feels his nerves spiking.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out.

“Good. Because I like you too.” She admits, she closes her eyes for a moment, Taehyung spots the golden eye shadow that is painted over her lids. She opens her eyes again and he spots a sadness in them.

“But…” she begins and Taehyung feels his smile fade.

“But what?”

“No…it’s nothing.” She clears her throat, “You should take me on a date. And soon.” She giggles. Taehyung feels his smile grow and he nods his head.

“I would love to. We can—”

“Hey Tae!” Hobi’s voice cuts him off, “Yoongi says he just got off work and is on his way!!” He cheers happily. Taehyung turns to face Hobi and gives him a thumbs up before he’s spinning back around to Hana.

“Let’s go inside. We can discuss more on our date.” She smiles, taking his hand again.

“Sure.” Taehyung grins, his stomach doing a million flips. “Let’s go!”

Taehyung feels a few tears escape his closed eye lids as he sits in the sand. It’s too early to be in this state, Taehyung thinks. But alas, he can’t help it. He misses his life. This island put his life on complete hold. What if he’s stuck here for a year? Would Hana wait for him? It’s not like he’s expecting her to…but he thinks he would wait for her.

He stands to his feet, wiping his face of any leftover tears and he begins working for the day. He finds new trees with branches that would be easy to cut down and he resumes his little project. Hours and Hours go by and Taehyung is sitting on the beach’s sand and staring out at the water. He’s tired, he’s sweaty and he’s hungry.

Taehyung starts making his way back to the house now that the sun is setting. It’s pretty orange glow sets a relaxing mood and Taehyung feels grateful. He walks up to the side door that leads to the kitchen and watches you from the window. You look calm as usual and he feels himself feeling frustrated all over again…how are you so calm? He was having a meltdown on the beach earlier and here you are cooking dinner with a small smile on your face. He doesn’t understand you. Does this whole situation not bother you? No…he knows it has to bother you but how are you able to be so relaxed about it?

He opens the door and walks inside, startling you. You bring a hand to your heart when you see him but then visibly relax after a moment or two.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles lamely. And then he’s walking up the stairs leaving you to your lonesome.

~~~~~

Month: 1

It’s been a month. A whole month! It seems Taehyung has gotten even more distant with you…no major interactions since you two had breakfast together. He keeps his comments to you brief in passing and he barely makes eye contact. You’re fed up. You’re lonely. You need interaction and you can’t always cater to him! He can suck it up for once and do what you want.

Feeling brave, you give yourself a pep talk in your bathroom mirror. That’s right, you are going to just go for it! You are going to demand that he hang out with you. You fix your hair in the mirror and nod to yourself. Yeah, you got this. You exit your room and stroll down the hall to his bedroom, once you are standing in front of it you lean your head against the door, your ear lying flat against it as you try to listen for him. The room sounds pretty quiet…maybe he’s sleeping? No, no. You’re just trying to find an excuse not to do this, aren’t you? Ugh, pathetic.

You raise your fist up and begin knocking on his door. You’re left with silence…you’re being ignored. So you knock again. And again. And ag—

“What?!” Taehyung swings open the door, revealing that he was indeed maybe sleeping. His hair is doing that funny thing where it sticks out in every direction and his eyes are barely open.

“This better be important.” He huffs out.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You feel kind of bad you interrupted his nap…but you got to stay strong.

“Please hang out with me.” You blurt out.

“Huh?” Taehyung looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Not happening.” He quickly says.

“Just play a game with me, or maybe we could watch that movie…”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.” He raises his voice just the slightest and you flinch.

“Yeah? You think I want to do things with you? Like you specifically? Hell no! But I just want to do something damn it!” you flail your arms up, and breathe out heavily. “I am so fucking tired of always being by myself, it’s literally driving me insane.” You admit, you look off to the side as tears threaten to wet your eyes. “I am alone every single day. It has been a month, Taehyung? Did you know that? You’ve left me lonely for an entire month! I am going fucking crazy!” you bring your hands to your hips, “I have tried learning to cook all these god damn recipes as a way to distract myself but dude, I don’t even like cooking. I read all day too…I have all these imaginary book friends and that’s where I meet my social needs, isn’t that insane? Oh my god, I am going insane. And you?! How are you okay?!”

Taehyung is left speechless at your rant. He realizes that this loneliness is really getting to you…he admits he isn’t much better. But he kind of likes that you’re beginning to spiral. Is that mean?

“W-What game?” he juts out his bottom lip as his eyes slide to the side.

You stare at him with wide eyes as your chest heaves. You screw your eyes closed, and bring a hand to your head.

“What game?” you open your eyes to look at him, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What game y/n?”

You glare at him, huffing out deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“Mortal Kombat.” You spit out, “I really want to kick your ass.”

Your fingers work the buttons on the controller as you test out every god damn combo you can…and damn it is working because you are on fire.

“You could have warned me that you actually know how to play…” Taehyung pouts.

“You should have just taken my word for it, you loser.” You continue to kick his ass in the game, you are pretty good at pretending his character is actually him.

“One more game, y/n.” Taehyung begs, “I will beat you!”

“You haven’t won even one match, Taehyung. Just admit you suck.” You chuckle darkly.

You press a few more buttons until you see the word ‘Fatality’ grace your screen, you stand up in excitement yelling out your victory, you laugh like a god damn maniac and he can’t help but chuckle. Taehyung throws his controller to the ground and pouts dramatically.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You turn to face him, calming down.

“Nothing will heal this wound, y/n.” He states, throwing the sofa’s designated blanket over his body.

“How about we watch that movie you like so much?” you offer with a smile but Taehyung goes stiff at your question.

“I think we should just call it for the day…” he looks awkwardly to the side and you slump your shoulders.

“Oh…okay.”

“Listen…it’s not you—”

“Just stop.” You hold your hand up, “You want nothing to do with me, I get it.”

“y/n…” Taehyung looks down at his hands…he does feel bad. It’s not like he didn’t have fun with you just now. He just wishes this was all different.

“I’ll be in my room—”

“Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He cuts in.

“What?” you ask, completely off guard. “What?” you repeat.

“I said,” Taehyung breathes out, “Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He’s not just trying to be nice…he’s also, you know, hungry.

You hate yourself because you light up like the sun almost immediately. You wish you were strong and you could tell him to fuck off but instead you become the god damn sun from how brightly you shine.

“Really?” you ask with the most hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” Taehyung laughs, “Really.”

“You mean…you want to actually spend time with me?” you ask bluntly.

“I guess you can put it that way if it makes you feel better.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s in that playful way you only ever get to see so often.

“It does make me feel better actually.”

“Well, then.” He stands up and motions his hand towards the kitchen. “Shall we?”

“Are you going to be annoying the whole time?” you ask, “Or will you be serious about learning?”

“God, woman.” He rolls his eyes again. “I hope I annoy the shit out of you.”

“Oh, you already do.” You gesture for him to go to the kitchen first.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Somehow I believe you.” This time it’s your turn for the dramatic eye roll. “Now come on.”

“Oh my god. You aren’t even listening!” you yell out over Taehyung’s nonstop humming and whistling.

“I truly believe cooking is like an art, you know?” he continues to whistle some made up tune, “These instructions are like…a guide but you can kind of do what you…” he makes a fist with his hand and shakes it in front of his face. “… you want.” He finishes. “Yeah, these are more like suggestions.”

“Can we please just follow the directions.” You deadpan. “I want this to taste the way it’s supposed to!”

“You’re no fun.” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Cooking should be fun.”

“Cooking is so we can eat.”

“These dumplings are going to taste fine, y/n.” He assures you with a grin.

“You say that but…” you look at his pile of failed dumplings. “But…” you show him with your hand the absolute mess he’s made.

“Your point?” He raises a single brow and you scoff. There’s no way he is serious, absolutely no way.

You notice Taehyung is staring at you, his eyes look everywhere but your eyes and you start to feel nervous under his gaze. He has one of those dark, intense gazes that you just can’t shake off your mind.

“What?” you finally ask. “Something on my face?” you joke.

“Actually, yes.” He blurts out. “So much flour.”

“Oh.” You start to turn red with embarrassment, “Where? Here?” you point to various spots on your face with a towel and he just shakes his head.

“No, there.” He points but you still miss it.

“Just clean it off me!”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please touch me.” Then your eyes expand in size. “Wait, that sounds wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind, y/n.” Taehyung shakes his head again, “You’re just all kinds of dirty.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You look at him with your flustered as hell face, your face is probably redder than ever and it feels so fucking hot.

“Here.” Taehyung grabs the towel from your hands and begins wiping your face clean. “Your face isn’t dirty anymore.” He pulls his hand back, “But your mind still is, huh?”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Will you just shut up?” he mocks how you usually would and you roll your eyes. Hard.

“Doesn’t feel good does it?” He teases, “Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Can we please just focus on this recipe?”

“Fine.” He breathes out, “Except I will ignore this recipe completely and do what I think my ancestors want me to do. They whisper in my ear that these need more garlic.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Okay, I get it, Taehyung.”

You reach behind you and untie your apron and place it on its hook by the pantry. You walk over to the dining room table and take a seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung quirks a brow as you rest your head on the table.

“Resting. Letting you do all the work. You can cook from now on. I give up.”

Taehyung shakes his pointer finger at you and walks your way.

“Oh no, no, no.” he grabs on to your arm and begins dragging you up. “This was your idea so we are cooking together.”

“Uh, actually this was your idea.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s mouth hangs open as he realizes how true that is. “Not one of my better ideas…” he admits.

“Oh? Do you usually have good ideas?” You make your snarky comment and Taehyung let’s go of your arm.

“Usually the best.” He says, a cocky smile making its way on his stupidly handsome face.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you don’t know me.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” You jab at him and he visibly deflates.

“You know 3 things about me actually.” He gives you a half smile.

“All I remember is that you’re almost 5’11.”

“Well, that one was the most important. So your head is in the right place.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize it because you didn’t say anything but his face is full of flour as well. You stare up at him and start to laugh. Taehyung looks at you, confused. An adorable pout forms on his lips as he begs you to tell him what’s so funny.

“Your face.” You point at him and his fingers go to touch his skin.

“Clean me.” He commands. “I cleaned you, it’s only fair.” He points out.

You nod your head and walk towards the counter to grab the towel, Taehyung follows closely behind you. You turn around quickly and your chest bumps into his.

“Oh sorry.” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I got too close.”

You nod lamely, but neither of you step back. Maybe expecting the other to do it? You decide to ignore that and you reach up to clean his face. He has flour everywhere. No joke. This dude is messy. You kind of laugh as you wipe his face clean, he can’t help but laugh too. His breath mingling with yours as you two giggle.

“We are kind of a mess.” He admits, his tone is soft—almost shy. You slow down the patting on his skin and you gaze into his eyes for a moment. They’re dark. They’re powerful. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment when Taehyung clears his throat and you bring your hand back down.

“There.” You say, “All done.”

“Should we finish cooking?” Taehyung grins down at you.

“I don’t know, what do your ancestors say?”

“They say you’re a smart ass.”

~~~~~~

“Do you think we could…we could do this again?” You and Taehyung are standing outside your bedroom door. Why did Taehyung walk you all the way to your door? The world may never know.

“Do what exactly?” he asks as he sways back and forth in front of you

“Play a game…or cook dinner…or you know just hang out.”

“Maybe… once a week we can play a game or watch a movie or something…” he gets out awkwardly.

“Wow, you’ll grace me with your presence once a week?” you roll your eyes, “How generous of you.”

“Listen…” Taehyung looks at you more seriously, “I know social contact is important for like, our mental health or whatever. But we shouldn’t push it.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?” Taehyung steps forward and you gulp.

“So unfair.” You whisper. Taehyung bows his head down, he feels like he is shrinking. Because you’re right, he is being totally unfair. But he thinks this is the right move, the smart move.

“Y/n…” he sighs, “I’m doing this so we can leave.”

“And what if your little strategy isn’t working? It’s been a month Taehyung.” You point out, “And we’re still here.”

“I know, I know. Jesus, woman.” He breathes out, his dark eyes finding yours. “Look, they will get bored with us.”

“How can you be so sure?” you step forward. “What if we aren’t boring to them?” you whisper, your eyes staying on his.

“That’s why we should interact as little as possible.”

“Taehyung. No offense. But do you really think I want to interact with you?” you spit out, “I just need something, anything. I just need someone.” You step closer, “And you happen to be the only person here.”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together as he looks down at you, a frown decorating his face. He…he doesn’t want to be hurt by that.

“Once a week y/n. That’s all I can offer you.” He steps closer to you, his feet bumping into yours, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

You tilt your head up and chuckle,

“I told you I’m greedy though.” Your eyes stay on his, his piercing gaze causing you to shudder but you don’t break contact and neither does he. He’s challenging you, you can feel it. His eyes begin to narrow as he stares down at you, you wonder what he is thinking. He sighs out, his breath hitting your face and you blink up at him. You’re about to say something, anything when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You mean to keep your eyes on his eyes, you really do but you don’t. You hate yourself for dropping your gaze down to his lips. He smirks as realization hits him.

“Goodnight y/n.” He says, his voice so deep and low it catches you off guard. Then he’s stepping away from you and heading towards his room, leaving you at your door. You release the longest, shakiest breath as you watch him disappear.

You open the door to your bedroom and walk inside, you wish you could yell out in frustration. You wish you could scream into your pillow and know for sure he can’t hear you. You wish you weren’t here.

You change into some sleep clothes and slide into bed. You pull the blanket up to your nose and kick your legs dramatically. This guy is so annoying! Why can’t he just not care and live life normally so you can be normal too! Listen, you aren’t fucking thrilled about this either. But you’re handling it a lot better than he is. Why is that…? Why are you handling this so well? Maybe it’s because your real life is a fucking mess and this truly is the vacation you needed. You know, you know how pathetic that sounds.

You close your eyes and try to sleep but memories of your real life keep hitting you. You hate this. You hate all of this. You’re lonely. You’re all alone. In this this life on the island but also in your real life. You’re so fucking alone. You feel tears prick your eyes and you let yourself quietly sob for who knows how long. You wish you had someone to lean on…just in general. But you lost all of your friends at work…you lost your boyfriend…you only have your parents and even they are fed up with you.

After crying tears after tears you decide you’re thirsty. You tip toe out of bed and make your way downstairs…the house is so quiet and dark. It’s relaxing and also depressing. You finally make it to the kitchen when you scream bloody murder. Sitting in the dark at the dining room table is Taehyung.

“Wow, y/n. It’s not next week yet.” He jokes. You quickly turn on the dining room light and look at him like he’s insane.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim loudly, “And why are you awake?”

“I have trouble sleeping…” he admits, he scratches the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “What about you?”

You step closer to the table and Taehyung’s eyes slightly expand. He notices your swollen eyes and puffy lips. Had you been crying?

“Hey…are you okay?” he whispers out, standing from his chair.

“Don’t act like you care so suddenly.” Your eyes slide to the side, “I’m fine.”

Taehyung looks down, guilt burying itself into his body. He looks up at you and tries to speak but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I just came down for some water.” You tell him. “That’s all.” You walk over to the fridge for the pitcher of cold water then you walk to the cabinet and try to grab a glass from the top shelf but you struggle. You huff out and close your eyes in frustration when you feel Taehyung’s chest on your back.

“I’ll grab it for you.” He says softly. He reaches for a glass and hands it to you, you take it from him and offer him a small thanks.

“See? That’s something only people who are almost 5’11 could do.” He teases and you look at him with a serious expression. You look down at your feet and sigh out before you let a giggle slip between your lips.

“Goodnight Taehyung.” You look up to study his face, and you see his smile fade.

“What?” you ask.

“Once a day.” He says. “We can hang out once a day. But that’s it.”

You feel your heart do something funny…you feel your tummy doing something weird too. You feel your entire chest get hit with a wave of….something.

“It’s fine, Taehyung.” You finally say after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to push you.”

“This isn’t for you.” He smiles, “I think I need the social contact too.”

“Well, no fucking duh.” You state with the roll of your eyes. “We can’t isolate ourselves…it’s so unhealthy.”

“I get it.” He breathes out, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after that until we’re out of this place.”

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days you and Taehyung play some games or watch a movie together, just doing at least one activity a day. Just like he said you two would. Admittingly you do feel better about this arrangement. Not talking at all was a pain in the ass and terribly lonely. Sometimes Taehyung will come to the living room and play a game by himself while you read, just sharing a space without really talking, even after he did his one activity with you. You hate to admit how much you like that he does that.

It’s not like you want to get to know him specifically…but you would like to sort of know the person you are living with…that makes sense, right? It’s not him! It’s just that he’s the only person here…and you want a friend. Yes, you can admit you want a friend. You aren’t going to fall in love with the dude…you just want someone to talk to and hang out with. God, is that such a crime? Plus, you’re in no place for love. If the company truly knows you, with their “research” and all then they should know you are not ready for any type of romantic relationship.

You lay here on the couch, your legs hung over the arm of it while you stare up at the ceiling. It’s hot out today and this house happens to come with a lovely pool. The ocean is scary so no beach for you…but pool? Yes. You lay here, wondering what Taehyung is up to. He went out again today like he usually does, you wonder if you can ask him about it now…now that you guys aren’t on total terrible terms. Nah, you will wait a little longer before you ask. Instead, you rise from the sofa and head upstairs to change into a swim suit.

You have a lot of options, to be honest. This place did not lack on the clothing items! You decide on a simple dark green bikini, you try it on and decide you like the way it looks. A lot actually. Have you lost some weight? You guess the lack of fast food options has made you a little slimmer, and the amount of fresh food that’s available here. Plus you started lightly working out in the home gym, sweating a storm.

You head back downstairs and go to the back where the absolutely lovely porch is located…it’s a whole wooden deck. With a glamorous pool in the center and a hot tub off to the side. You wish you really lived in a place like this—not here, specifically. (For obvious reasons) You shrug off the towel that’s wrapped protectively over your body and make your way to the pool. You don’t know what you’re being self-conscious for…Taehyung doesn’t usually come back until sunset and it’s barely the afternoon.

You dip your toes in the water first…it’s pretty chilly but you handle it, dipping your body further and further into the water. You shiver just a bit before dunking your head underneath, letting the water consume you. You stay underwater, opening your eyes and staring at the blue nothingness.

“I love you.” He says for the first time, making you float on air. You knew he was going to say it soon, you could feel it but you were not expecting it here.

You two are sitting at Cozy Coffee, your favorite place to relax and read and write. You are in the middle of writing a very intriguing sentence when your fingers stop typing in reaction to his confession.

“You what?” you ask, a small smile adorning your face. “You love me?”

“Yes.” He reaches for your hand across the table, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling.” You tease. “But I…”

“You don’t have to say it yet if you aren’t ready,” he squeezes your hand, “I can wait.”

“No!” you squeeze his hand back, “I…love you too.” You admit softly.

He brings his hand back, folding his hands together out in front of him and sighs out, his breaths escaping him softly.

“These past 6 months with you y/n…” he begins, “Have been the most wonderful.”

“They have been pretty nice, haven’t they?” you smirk. “Tell me your favorite part?”

“Any part where you’re naked, for sure.” He laughs and you gasp.

“Hey! Behave.” You warn with a smile and he keeps laughing.

“I’m serious, this is the best relationship I have ever had. You’re definitely the best girlfriend…all these other girls have been crazy.”

You frown at that, “Why crazy?”

“Ugh, you know how women can get.”

You don’t like the way he said that, you feel your smile twist into another frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because you aren’t like that. You’re different.”

You smile again, once again feeling special with his praise.

“Different how?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He half jokes. “I don’t know, you just are.”

The water is starting to sting your eyes as you continue to hold your breath, memories flooding you. This water isn’t the only thing trying to drown you. You finally squeeze your eyes shut and swim up to the surface, gasping for air once you reach it. You breathe out heavily as you try to catch a breath, your wet hair dripping down your just as wet face. You swim to the edge of the pool and lift yourself up on the ledge and sit with your legs still in the water.

Why do you have to think of him?

After an hour or so that passes and plenty of sun later you decide you’ve had enough of the day outside. You stand to your feet and grab your towel and dry off, draping the towel over your right arm. You’re still pretty wet you admit, but nothing crazy. You head for the house, walking through the back door. Once you enter the house the cool AC hits you, causing you to shiver but you decide a warm shower will solve this. You turn the corner in the hall to head upstairs when your body slams into another body. You run into Taehyung hard causing you to tumble over and fall on top of him.

Taehyung yelps out when he makes contact with you, his body falling to the hard tiled floor and he winces. You fall on top of him, your chest smooshing his face. Yeah, your boobs in his face. That’s what that fucking means. Your wet boobs in his sweaty face.

“What the hell?” Taehyung mumbles between your breasts, “Get off me.”

You’re quick to try to scramble off his body, your hands landing in all the wrong places as you try to lift yourself. He groans loudly when you make contact with his lower hips and his hands go to grab your wrists trying to stop you from moving around so much.

“Chill, chill.” He breathes out slowly, still holding on to your wrists. He makes his way out from beneath you and pulls you up by the wrists.

“I wasn’t this sweaty before you ran into me…” Taehyung observes, “How wet are you?”

“I wasn’t this wet until running into you. How fucking sweaty are you?!”

“Fair.” Taehyung says with a smirk, then he’s blinking at you. “You went swimming today?” he eyes you up and down and you immediately feel insecure under his intense gaze.

“Uh, yeah.” You take the towel that’s draped around your arm and go to cover yourself with it.

“Why are you getting shy now?” as sly smile draws itself on Taehyung’s face. “You didn’t seem this shy just a moment ago with your tits in my face?” he questions with a low voice.

“Oh my god, can we not bring that up?” you begin to blush and you hate yourself for it.

“Why not?”

“It was an accident first of all. There will never be a time again where my boobs are in your face.”

“Oh you’re making the company sad.” Taehyung pouts.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Taehyung laughs. His laughter dies down though when he shamelessly eyes you again.

“Green is my favorite color.” He says while walking past you and heading upstairs.

You stand here, embarrassed as fucking usual. Your whole body warming up and you don’t even feel that cold AC any longer. You breathe in and breathe out. Taehyung is not making this stay very easy, is he?

~~~~~~

Month: 2

“Don’t you use that blue shell!” You scream at the air around you, your eyes concentrating on the screen ahead.

Taehyung smirks, working his fingers on the controller. God, he can really move his fingers. Wait, why the hell would you think that?

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You are both totally immersed in your game, the finish line in sight. You jump to your feet in rushed excitement as the finish line is soon approaching. You need this win to tie with him on your ongoing competition in Mario Kart. You’re both oh so close, the anticipation rising. Like, honestly you might shit yourself. Taehyung also leaps to his feet, joining you at your side. Now you are both screaming at the screen, your throats will totally pay for this later. You are jumping up and down, yelling at one another , slamming your fingers on the controllers, harshly pressing down on the accelerator button. You can see it. Its literally right in front of you! AND you are ahead of him! The finish line! Your screams getting louder and louder…when…you are graced with a black screen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You yell in unison.

You turn to face Taehyung, the one you hate the most right now. Your eyes dark and your voice low.

“What did you do?”

“ME? I didn’t do anything!” He says accusingly.

“You must have! You knew I was going to win—”

“First of all, we don’t know that.” He cuts you off all matter of fact. So annoying.

You look at him incredulously.

“THAT’S IT! I’m going to strangle you!” Before you can take a step towards him to you know, kill him, the screen turns a bright white, catching your attention. Lucky dude. Your focus now on the screen, you look at it with your head tilted to the side. There are black letters at the top of the screen and you decide to read out loud whatever this caption says.

“Re…Request?” your eyes scan the word slowly. “Oh. Oh shit,” Your eyes go wide, you turn to face Taehyung, his expression mirroring your own. You had completely, like completely forgot about the ‘Requests’. It has been a couple months of silence so how could you not forget? You wonder if this company is finally ready to move …this…along. Whatever this is.

Only seconds pass before more black words appear on the screen. Your eyes stay on Taehyung though, too nervous to read what comes next.

Taehyung must realize you have no intention on reading anymore because he exhales deeply and faces the screen.

“Okay, here goes…” he begins, “The two subjects must…”

#bts #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst

296 notes · View notes

thatshithurted8 · 4 years

Text

Marigold

Pairing: JJ x Introvertedreader!!

Summary:In which JJ Maybank pursues the shy and introverted girl he catches checking him out at Midsummers.

Word Count: 3.1k

Marigold Masterlist

A/N: Since you guys loved my last JJ x Introvertedreader fic I decided to write another one with a different idea. I love this concept so much and hope to write more in the future.

The Pogues hated Midsummers. It was the one time every year that Kooks could flaunt their wealth without it seeming like they were bragging. However, they weren’t the only ones who hated it, you hated it as well. Considering your dad was close business partners with Ward Cameron you went every year. You and your family belonged to the country club it was held at, but you weren’t considered a Kook since you lived in a different township.

You sighed walking into the country club with your parents and brother. You were extremely proud of your fathers accomplishments, but socializing with random people drained the energy out of you. You would much rather stay at home chilling in bed while reading a book or watching a movie on netflix. And besides your parents would force you to hang out with Sarah and Wheezie, but you weren’t close with either girl. Weirdly enough though you had a strong friendship with the oldest member of the Cameron siblings, Rafe. Despite your wishes of staying home there you were standing outside of the country club wearing a short white dress that hugged your body before flaring out the bottom, and of course you were wearing a flower crown that consisted of orange and pink marigold flowers.

You stood close to your parents until it got dark out, reading a book on your kindle e-reader. You liked reading hard copies of books, but you felt bad that your parents bought you a kindle and you barely used it. Seeing that tonight you would be forced to talk to people you barely knew bringing your kindle along was a perfect tool for others to not disrupt you. However, through out the night you would still be disrupted from reading to say hi and talk to some of your fathers friends and acquaintances.

Just as you were about to find out who the father of Miranda’s baby was in the book you were reading your kindle dies.

“No no no.” You groan to yourself before putting it in your purse. Of course you forgot the charger at home. It was just great now you had to socialize.

You looked around at your surroundings for the first time that night and you had to admit it looked beautiful with all of the lights and flowers everywhere. It looked a like a scene coming straight out of your books. As you looked around and admired the scenery your eyes land on a blond server in a black tie and vest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you feel the butterflies in your stomach erupt in flutters. You’ve never felt that sensation before just by looking at someone.You continue to watch him walk around picking up empty cups and putting them onto the tray he was holding. You have never seen someone so beautiful in your life.

After all of the romance novels you’ve read you’d think flirting would come naturally, but you were too scared to make a move on the attractive server with a cut on his lip and temple. So continuing to check him out until he catches you was your plan on how to shoot your shot.

JJ collects some more empty glasses and is approached by some party goers asking for refills as he does so. However, as he walks around he feels someone’s eyes on him. He places the tray down on a near by table and looks around, his eyes almost instantly meet yours.

Your eyes widen once you realize you’ve been caught, your cheeks heating up once again. You quickly look away, your hand flying down to play with the hem of your dress.

JJ smirks, but is taken aback at the feeling in his stomach when he locked eyes with you. His heart started to beat faster and his stomach fluttered. All he could think about was how beautiful you were and why he hasn’t seen you before.

The Maybank boy picks up the tray, walking back to the bar to discard the dirty glasses, having no intent on getting the Kooks their orders. As he walked away he turned around to glance at you again. JJ smirks to himself again, turning back around when he catches you for the second time that night staring at him.

You internally scold yourself for looking back at him again right after being caught. Being caught once was embarrassing, but being caught twice was even worse.

After dropping off the dirty glasses JJ makes it his mission to talk to you and maybe make a move. Clearly you were interested, but you were too shy to make a move. Which is completely fine JJ’s personality would compensate for your shyness.

JJ walks back outside and your eyes instantly lock with his once again. You blush and look away, pretending you weren’t waiting for the cute boy to come back outside. You glance over your shoulder to see if he was still looking at you and he was, but he was also walking in your direction. Oh god he was walking over to you.

“How are you folks tonight? Can I get you guys any drinks?” JJ asks you and your parents once he reaches the tall table you were standing around. His blue eyes scanned over the faces of your family members and their friends before locking eyes with you, his smile becoming brighter, causing your heart to race faster.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” Your mom says before turning back to your younger brother that was pestering her for the ipad.

Your dad thinks for a second before ordering a manhattan. You ignore what everyone else orders as you continue to admire the beautiful blond in front of you. Your heart was beating a mile a minute just because of how close in proximity he was to you.

JJ turns his attention to you after writing down everyone’s orders, “And what can I get for you Marigold?” He asks, referencing to the flowers in your hair.

You blush at the sweet nickname and look down at your feet. JJ could’ve sworn everything stopped in that moment and it was just you and him.

“I uh I’ll just have a virgin shirley temple.”

JJ snaps out of his trance of admiring your features and writes down your order. “You know I can get you a normal one. I won’t ask for your ID.” He whispers, stepping closer to you.

You giggle at JJ’s suggestion as he is engulfed by the smell of your perfume and the sound of your laugh. He couldn’t believe how good you smelt and how cute your laugh was.

“No I’m okay thank you though.” You say looking over at your parents and brother to see that they were in a deep conversation with their friends, before looking back to JJ.

“Well Marigold I’ll be right back with your virgin shirley temple.” JJ says winking at you before turning to walk to the bar inside. You watch him walk inside with your cheeks hot and most likely red.

In the meantime of waiting for the cute server to be back with the drinks you look around the country club once again. Your eyes meet familiar ones and you smile when you see Rafe. His eyes soften when they meet yours, but you couldn’t help but notice how tense he looked and how he was clutching the glass in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.

Despite the loud music the sound of the door of the country club grabs your attention. The butterflies in your stomach erupt once again when you see the blond server with your drinks. JJ almost instantly makes eye contact with you which makes him almost drop some of the drinks. You bite your lip, watching him approach you as you try to stifle your giggles at how cute he was.

JJ makes it to you without dropping any drinks which was an accomplishment considering the prettiest girl he has ever seen was watching him. You watch as JJ hands the drinks to your parents before turning to look at you.

He takes the glass off the tray and puts a napkin under it, “And for you Marigold.” He says putting the tray underneath his arm.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing once again at the nickname.

“Look at the napkin.”

You do as JJ says, placing your drink on the tall table you were standing beside. On the white napkin, written in messy, but legible ink was a phone number.

You look up at the boy in front of you, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire. You were shocked that he was interested in you too.

“Call me sometime.” He says winking.

Just as you were about to stutter out a sentence two hands were placed on JJ’s chest, pushing him back a bit. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you see that the hands belong to Rafe.

“She won’t be doing that anytime soon.” Rafe says, Topper, Kelce and a few other Kooks standing behind him.

JJ’s eyes widen a bit, not in fear, but in realization that he has been caught. And of course caught by the Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

“Aweh Rafe. Are you still upset that I turned you down? It’s not going to happen man let it go.” JJ jokes, stepping a few steps away causing you to laugh.

JJ smirks at you, realizing you were laughing which only makes Rafe even more mad. Rafe basically growls at the boy who just gave you his number, before him and his friends start to chase him.

“Ah shit!” JJ yells, dropping the drink tray and running into the country club.

“Rafe stop!” You yell following after the group of boys into the fancy building. People pointed and starred at the scene that was happening causing you to become uncomfortable for being in the spotlight.

You jog down the hall in your flats and groan when you realize the group of teen boys ran into the men’s washroom. You were about to turn around in defeat until you heard Rafe talking, with venom laced in his voice.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a while JJ Maybank!” He yells, a groan is heard following after. Your brain didn’t have enough time to comprehend what the attractive servers name was before you found yourself in the men’s washroom.

Your blood boils when you see Kelce holding JJ in a choke hold as Rafe got ready to injure the boy again.

“Rafe stop!”

All eyes in the room turn to you, even JJ’s as Kelce turned around to see what you were doing, making you falter at the attention.

You look at JJ’s eyes that looked relieved once seeing you, before looking at Rafe. His eyes soften looking at you and your upset face. The oldest Cameron sibling has always had a thing for you.

“Y/N you shouldn’t be in here.” Rafe says softly.

Despite being in a choke hold JJ couldn’t stop the feeling of the butterflies in his stomach erupting when he finally learns your name. It was beautiful just like you, but seeing how flustered you got when he called you Marigold boosted his already large ego.

“Rafe you know I don’t like confrontations so please just leave him alone.”

Topper scoffs, “And he’s supposed to care? This dirty Pogue deserves everything coming his way. Including his dads fists.”

Your mouth falls open at what Topper says which makes the rest of the Kooks in the room laugh. You look between JJ who was clearly embarrassed and ashamed, then back to Rafe and Topper. This poor boy was being abused by his dad making your heart break for him.

Deciding not to fuel the fire like Topper wanted you to, you try to reason with Rafe again while Kelce struggles to hold JJ in his grasp.

“Rafe leave him alone. Please.” You say, your eyes pleading with the brunette. You despised confrontation and being center of attention in the situation you currently were in made you anxious, causing your breathing to become labored.

Rafe bites his lip, deciding what to do. “Kelce stop.” He says. Ultimately because of how visibly upset you were.

Both you and JJ let out a sigh of relief when Kelce obeys Rafe’s orders and pushes him out of his arms causing JJ to stumble over to you. You grab JJ’s arm steadying him while looking at him concerned. Both of your hearts begin to race even faster at the small contact, but JJ makes a bold move and intertwines your hands. While your heart skipped a beat at this, Rafe was seeing red. He wanted to beat JJ to a pulp more than ever.

You send Rafe a pissed off look at his antics of being a bully. You two have had many conversations about him being rude to others and how he needs to stop, but clearly everything you said to him in the past went in one ear and out the other. Just as you were about to walk out of the washroom with JJ the lights flicker.

“Gentlemen.” A security guard says walking into the room. “And lady?” He says once his eyes land on you.

“Is there a problem in here guys?”

JJ lets go of your hand and turns to the guard, knowing he was about to get kicked out. You instantly miss the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft one. It was comforting.

“Pardon me, officer. No there is not an issue.” JJ says moving his hair out of his face while looking around the room full of Kooks. “Actually yes there is an issue. We got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in right?” He says, but you bite your lip at how cute he looked trying to find an excuse. Clearly no one was trespassing though. Everyone in the washroom belonged to the club and JJ worked there. It was just Rafe being Rafe and taking his anger out on any Pogue he could find.

“Blatant disrespect for private property. I’m in violation of all kinds of shit sir, but these young gentlemen caught me and were about to escort me away.” The Maybank boy says turning to Kelce and adjusting his tie. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, what did he mean he was in violation?

The security guard grabs JJ’s arm and yours since you didn’t belong there either and starts to escort you away.

“Hey safe travels back to the cut! Hopefully next time you have the balls to hit your dad back.” Rafe says causing JJ to jerk away from the guards grip and turn to attack Rafe. However, the guard and other Kooks stop him in time before he could get a hit in. Rafe’s comment only made you more mad at him.

As you and JJ are escorted back outside you were still confused and dumbfounded. You understood why you were being escorted back outside, but why was JJ being kicked out? Was it just because of his social status?

Once you three were outside the guard removes his strong grip from your arm, but continues to guide JJ away.

“Hey I can walk myself man.” JJ says as the guard starts to get more and more aggressive with him. By now a bunch of people were watching and were starting to whisper amongst each other.

As the two walk down the steps of the club you watch JJ grab a drink off of a random table before downing it. His actions only made the guests gossip even more, including your parents, but all you could do was swoon at the boy. Even though you two just met and were basically polar opposites you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to step in and say that you invited him, but the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were afraid of everyone looking at you and being the spectacle of Midsummer.

Luckily for you though another person steps in. “Let go of him!” A girl you believe to be named Kiara says.

“You can’t just boot him!” She yells as more people look over at the display that was unfolding. Standing from afar you secretly admire the girls guts for standing up for him, especially in front of so many people.

You hated being shy and wanted to be as outspoken as her. Every time you thought you were breaking out of your shell you would retreat back inside, becoming too uncomfortable and drained by socializing with so many people all the while putting on an act that you were outgoing. However, tonight was one of those nights where you decided to be your shy and quiet self and yet JJ was still attracted to you.

“Excuse me ma’am?” The security guard asks.

“I invited him here. I’m a member of this club.” She says as her parents try to stop her from making a fool of herself.

You step closer to the railing where Kiara stood and you instantly make eye contact with JJ who was still being held by security. His heart skips a beat and a rush of adrenaline flows through JJ’s veins after making eye contact with you. In an attempt to impress you and to make you laugh JJ turns towards the guard and pushes him into a table, causing the crowd watching to gasp.

As glass shatters on the ground JJ turns and points at Kiara. “Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He says turning back around to leave before he could get caught by security once again.

“And that goes for you too Pope.” He says to the boy wearing an apron.

You and the rest of the crowd of people watch as Kiara’s and Pope’s parents try to stop their kids from running off with the delinquent that just caused a scene at the most anticipated night of the year. However, the two teenagers run after their blond friend who was saluting another boy their age.

You slowly walk down the porch steps in a trance. You wanted to live like them. To live freely without caring about what others think about you. To be comfortable with speaking to a group of people instead of just a few at a time. Not only did JJ’s looks draw you in, but his ability to live carelessly as well was a factor.

As the four teenagers reunite they start to run off towards the beach. You continue to watch as they run away, but your heart skips a beat once again when JJ turns around and looks at you.

“Call me!” He yells while putting a pretend phone up to his ear with his hand before turning back around and running off with his friends.

1K notes · View notes

sofwrites · 3 years

Text

Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

81 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

Text

Summary: Freed and Laxus have always flirted, it's just something they had done. But after Laxus returned from exile, the flirting died away as Laxus reestablished his position in the guild. But Laxus finds himself missing the flirting, and knows a way to bring it back. Unfortunately for Freed, it requires more teasing than any one man can take. [Fraxus One-Shot]

Notes: Hello again, here’s my second fanficiton written over vacation because it’s raining and there’s nothing to do. This time, it's just Freed being horny for Laxus, and Laxus making things so much worse for his own fun. So enjoy seduction, strip poker and smut. Thanks for reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3

How To Seduce Your Rune Mage:

A Guide By Laxus Dreyar

Step 1: Lay The Groundwork

Laxus had taken to a new style of clothing again. It was… distracting.

The outfit wasn't too dissimilar to what he had always worn, but Freed could see the differences. The white shirt was now form fitting enough to mould around his impressive biceps and cling to his pecs, whereas his old shirts had been loose enough to billow around him. Furthermore, he apparently had decided to only button the shirt up half way, leaving his tanned, tattooed chest exposed to whoever might want to look. Or, to whoever might be desperately trying to look anywhere else.

Compared to the new pants, though, the shirt was nothing. Laxus still wore the leather pants he insisted on, but these were tighter. Freed had walked up the stairs behind Laxus and had been eye level with the mans ass; the leather clung to his toned cheeks like skin.

Freed had been relieved when the walk upstairs had been over. The relief died when Laxus sat down.

Even the way he sat made Freed pause to both appreciate the sight of the man and curse him for seemingly being unaware of the effect he was having. He was leaning back in the chair, talking to Bickslow with his hands behind his head and his legs spread far too wide. His arms were flexing under the shirt, muscles all but ripping through the fabric. The leather of his pants pressed across his hard thighs, emphasising the beautiful strength in his legs. Freed had, more than once, let his focus slip and found his eyes roaming the man's thighs.

And then there was his dick. It was borderline obscene in how obvious it was in the pants. Dicks bulged in pants, of course, but for the split second Freed had glanced towards Laxus' crotch - not on purpose, of course - it looked like the pants were made to draw focus to his cock. The large, obvious mound was the focal point of a damn sexy sight that Freed couldn't allow himself to enjoy.

They had all mocked Laxus for calling himself a god, but in moments in this, the comparison held some weight.

Freed had to look away, Laxus hadn't dressed like that for his friend to lust after him. Just because their relationship had always had a flirtatious edge - well, it used to anyway, but Freed felt that might not be appropriate anymore given the things Laxus was going through - it didn't mean that he wanted him for anything more. They amused each other with their sly winks, double entendres and the coy touches that they'd shared from time to time. Nothing more.

But dammit, the way Laxus was sitting was like a beacon. He had picked the perfect position to drive Freed mad, and he didn't seem to even know it. His whole damn body seemed to be pointing to the large bulge in his pants - the bulge Freed would not allow himself to ogle - and yet Laxus was still chatting with Bickslow as if he didn't know.

Freed was almost tempted to leave. He could deal with his… urges when he got home, and then could hope that Laxus went back to his looser, less enticing outfit. Because if this was going to become a mainstay in their lives, Freed didn't know how to deal with that.

Dammit; he was a grown man, not a horny teenager. This was ridiculous!

As he always did, Freed had brought one of his many novels into the guildhall so he had something to do to pass the time. He would simply put all his focus on that, and Laxus would be the last thing on his mind. By the time he would have read a chapter or two, all the shock and desire born from Laxus' change in outfit would have died, and the man sitting across the table from him would return to what he had always been; the slightly too cocky asshole with handsome features and a great body, but someone he couldn't allow himself to think about because acting on his desires would be detrimental to the team dynamic.

He was a captain, and Laxus was essentially his teammate. Lusting after him was asking for trouble, and Freed had gotten over his attraction to the man before. He would again, and with the help of his novel he would push these thoughts to the back of his mind.

'Arthur hauled himself up over the railing of his ship, grunting with effort. The pirate captain ran a hand through his short blonde hair, absently removing his sodden shirt as he walked across the deck. As he passed Clark, he sent the man a grin and a wink, a flirtatious act of seduction. Not that Clark needed it, seeing the tattoo on Arthur's chest was enough-'

"God dammit," Freed muttered resentfully.

Freed owned exactly five romance novels. They were self indulgent and rarely read, and yet somehow he had picked up the only book he owned out of his collection of hundreds to have a romantic lead with physical traits similar to Laxus'.

"Somethin' wrong?" Laxus asked, looking over to Freed with his eyes alight with amusement. He looked towards the book Freed was reading and grinned. "Getting to the good stuff, huh?"

"What?" Freed asked, then looked at the cover of the book. The barrel chested model made it clear it was a rather trashy romance, and Laxus' implication was clear. "No, I most certainly am not."

"Because you leave that stuff for when yer alone, huh?" Laxus teased.

Freed didn't know what it was about himself that delighted in confident men, but that part of him was almost preening with delight at Laxus. Thankfully, just as much as he liked a man with a cocky side, he also liked bringing men like that down a peg, and as such he could still cling to some of his dignity.

"I was frustrated because one of the main characters has a terrible sense of direction, and got the other character lost," Freed rebutted. "It was something I can sympathise with."

"Damn, yer brutal," Laxus chuckled. "But you always go hard on me, huh Freed?"

That must had been unintentional; there was no way Laxus had meant to say such a teasing thing. It was just as unintentional as the way Laxus shifted his position to look towards Freed, somehow spreading his legs wider and drawing the leather tighter across his legs. Damn him; was he just naturally sensual and it had taken the tightness of his clothing for Freed to realise it.

He couldn't help it, his eyes flickered to the impressive bulge in his pants. For a moment, Freed considered acting. Would he rather get to his knees and suck the man off, or flip him over and fuck him where he stood?

The thoughts went as soon as they came, and Freed found himself standing.

"I'll get us around," He said to explain why he suddenly lurched upwards. "Anything in particular you all want?"

Bickslow and Evergreen asked for their usual, whereas Laxus requested Freed "surprise me, but make sure it's hot." The inflection he put on the last word sent a chill down his spine, and Freed quickly retreated to the lower floor of the guildhall, trying to distract himself however he could.

As he did, he missed the smug, satisfied expression on his friends face. Laxus had Freed right where he wanted him, and part one of the plan was complete.

——

Step 2 - Set The Bait

So, Laxus was modelling now. Of course he was,

The newest edition of Sorcerer Weekly was sitting on the coffee table of Freed and Laxus' shared apartment, exactly where Laxus had placed it when he'd left the apartment. He had done so as if it weren't a big deal, claiming that he had spoken about the Raijinshuu during an interview and that Freed should check it out if he was interested. That would have been fine, if it weren't for the picture on the cover, and the promise of many other pictures inside.

On the cover, Laxus was wearing a dress shirt and blazer, with the buttons undone so his chest and flexing abs were teased. His pants were unbuckled, teasing the top of his boxers in a way that was like a punch to Freed's gut. Not to mention the damn smoulder Laxus had perfected.

Dammit, Laxus had been against modelling for his entire life, and now he was doing a four page spread! Where had the change come from? Freed might almost think Laxus was doing it on purpose - intentionally driving him mad as a ridiculous prank of some kind - but that was a stupid idea.

And Freed knew how this worked. He knew the pictures inside would show off more of him. They always did, and Freed knew they'd look so good. So damn good.

"No," He mumbled to himself. "Get ahold of yourself."

Laxus was his friend, he certainly didn't want nor need Freed ogling pictures of him in various states of undress; fantasying about pinning him down and taking him, or pushing him to a wall and making out hard and passionately. They were friends and partners, this ridiculous attraction was something Freed would just have to get over.

But… well, Laxus had said he wanted Freed to read the article. The article would be on the same page as the pictures, so he clearly didn't mind Freed seeing the pictures. And Freed was fairly sure Laxus had some kind of attraction towards him in return; on a mission a year ago, Laxus had been speaking in his sleep and moaned out Freed's name pretty damn loudly. That was a memory that plagued Freed when he was touching himself, whether he wanted it or not.

So, maybe it wasn't too bad. It wasn't too invasive.

He picked the damn magazine up with a rush of oddly exhilarating dread. Page five was the first of Laxus' article, and Freed flipped towards it. He would just save his curiosity and be done with it.

Oh. Oh goodness.

A large picture of Laxus was printed. Laxus was shirtless, covered in some kind of oil that made his tanned skin glow beautifully in the light. He was flexing, abs so shredded and his arms pulsing with veiny muscles. His lightning was flickering over his torso, making him look everything like the all-powerful wizard that he was. Freed swallowed, and his cock lurched in his boxers.

His eyes fell onto page six, where another picture was printed. Laxus was wearing workout shorts and nothing else, the spandex clinging to his thighs in a too tempting way. He was mid sit-up, stomach crunching and hair sweat drenched.

Freed was palming himself over his pants without realising.

He had already gotten this far. He turned the page to see the next picture, and audibly swallowed.

The picture on the left was of Laxus wearing nothing but light grey boxer-briefs. He had his right hand resting behind his head, biceps flexing and bulging hard. His pecs and abs were rigid and pronounced, nipples hard looking. Water had clearly been poured over him, and droplets seemed to be sliding down the endless expanses of muscles that made up the man. His boxer briefs were overly tight, hugging his bulge to perfection and making Freed palm himself harder. His cock was hard now, and precum leaked out of his slit when he saw that Laxus was pulling down his waistband to show the base of his cock and trimmed pubes.

When he looked to the final picture of the, Freed actually moaned. Laxus was naked, his dick only covered by the white bedsheets that rested over his crotch. He lounged on the bed, looking sleep worn and sexy.

Fuck, Freed had wanted to see that in person.

He suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. He was in his sitting room, on the sofa he shared with Laxus, looking at the smutty pictures that Laxus had taken, while palming his dick. Freed was not a sex hungry idiot and he had gotten over his attraction to Laxus before, and he would again. He just needed to get it out of his system, that was all.

Within a minute, he was in the shower, stroking himself off as he imagined Laxus on his knees before him.

Again, he missed when Laxus returned home. He missed when Laxus saw the magazine, open on the page with his nude picture. He missed when Laxus sniffed the air and smelt the scent of cum, and grinned to himself. Before Freed left the shower, Laxus retreated to his bedroom, cock hardening in his pants as he did. He wanted to join Freed in the shower and cut the bullshit, but his plan hadn't gotten there yet. And, he had to admit, Freed eye-fucking him all the day was hot as fuck, and he wanted more of that before he made his move.

——

Step 3: Reel Him In

"And with this, Laxus," Freed placed his cards on the ground. "I get your pants."

Freed and Laxus were alone, sitting next to a campfire beside a lake. It was just the two of them on the mission, which had been completed earlier in the day. Rather than returning home, Laxus had suggested that they camp out for the night and return to Magnolia in the morning. Freed had agreed, and somehow had been talked into a game of poker. Strip poker, to be more specific.

They were in various states of undress. Freed was wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, and probably should have given in by now. One more loss and he'd be spending the night naked, not an overly attractive idea with Laxus sharing a tent with him.

For the start of the round, Laxus has been brutally successful, and Freed had lost his shirt, shoes, coat and socks before he had gotten a single piece of Laxus' clothing off. Freed had wanted to claim Laxus was cheating somehow, but the alcohol he'd drunk had made the argument too much bother. Every time they lost a round, they had to take a drink, and Freed had lost a lot of rounds so was practically drunk at this point.

That wasn't too bad, it certainly made looking at Laxus half naked more pleasant and less stressful.

The drinking wasn't the only forfeit they'd implemented either. If either of them lost twice in a row, they had to do a forfeit chosen by the winner. That had happened to Freed twice, and he'd had to give the story of his most embarrassing moment - a puppeteer wizard had taken control of him and made him act like a clown for a full day, in full costume including the wig and squeaking nose - much to Laxus' amusement. The second forfeit was to do as many chin-ups as he could on a nearby tree. He managed thirty before the bark started cutting into his hands, and Laxus hadn't taken his eyes off him.

Laxus had only been forced to perform one forfeit: speaking in rhyming couplets for a round and slapping himself every time he failed. His cheek was red, but Freed still wanted revenge.

"You don't have to enjoy it this much," Laxus laughed, taking a drink as he stood. He shucked off the too-tight leather pants and threw them to the pile of clothes. He spread his arms to show his state of undress off, and Freed swallowed at the sight of Laxus in his white boxer-briefs.

Fuck, why was everything he wore so tight these days?

"So," Laxus grunted. "What you gonna make me do?"

"Your cheeks are very red," Freed commented with a drunken grin. "Perhaps the fire is getting you too hot. So, you're going to submerge yourself fully in the nice cold lake."

"Fuck, you're cruel," Laxus sighed, patting Freed's bare shoulder as he walked past him. "Glad I'm on your team most of the time."

Freed only realised his mistake when it was too late. When he had chosen the forfeit, he had simply wanted to make Laxus feel the horrors of a cold lake in the middle of the night. It was only when Laxus was wasit high in the water that Freed realised he had instructed Laxus to get soaking wet in front of him while he was wearing his boxers and nothing more. His white boxers - made of the fabric that turns slightly transparent when wet.

Fuck, what the hell had he been thinking? Were his critical thinking skills so redundant around Laxus?

"I'm gonna get you back for this, asshole," Laxus yelled, and Freed turned to watch as Laxus dove into the cold water head first, only to resurface a moments later with an exclamation of: "Fuck that's cold."

Freed couldn't look away. Laxus, the man who had been plaguing Freed's most carnal and deprived dreams and thoughts, was wading through the lake, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He looked like a fucking supermodel, and Freed felt the horrible feeling of a boner growing in his revealing boxer-briefs. Worse still, he couldn't stop it, because thoughts of kissing the man dry or dragging him to the tent and having his way with him wouldn't stop assaulting him.

And Laxus, the bastard, decided to make things worse. He stood right before Freed, his bulging dick eye level with Freed (not that Freed allowed himself to look), with his arms crossed. He was so close that a drop of water from his chest fell onto Freed's nose and made him wince.

"Well, you might be okay losing your boxers tonight, but I ain't," Laxus shrugged, "and it's getting late, so I'm gonna call it a night. See you in the tent, you evil bastard."

He emphasised the point by flicking the cold water into Freed's face, and then walked to the shared tent. Freed was left alone by the fire, genuinely considering jumping into the water to shock the boner out of his system.

And Laxus just grinned, knowing exactly the effect he was having on Freed and loving it.

——

Step 4 - Adapt

"Oh thank fuck," Laxus gasped the second Freed walked into their apartment. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that."

Freed frowned, dropping his bag at the door. Laxus seemed to have been waiting for him, which was a shock. Almost as much of a shock as when Laxus stormed over towards him and wrapped his arms around Freed in a tight hug. Freed was frozen for a moment, but lifted his arms and returned the hug. Someone had apparently told Laxus what happened then.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Laxus growled. "Don't you ever pull bullshit like that again, you understand me?"

"I won't," Freed promised.

"You better not," Laxus pulled away, but cupped Freed's cheeks to check his face for injuries. When he saw none, he deflated. "Idiot."

Freed had been on a mission with Bicks and Ever, and it hadn't gone well. The creature they were fighting was stronger than they had expected, and to divert attention from some bystanders, Freed had put himself in the path of the beast. He'd been bitten, and the creature's teeth had injected poison deep inside of him. For around a week he'd been in bed, unresponsive as the medical mages removed the poison from his bloodstream. According to Bickslow and Evergreen, it had been one of the worst weeks of their lives, and apparently Laxus had been kept in contact about it.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "I've got a scar, that's all."

"They wouldn't let me come see you," Laxus stated. "I would've gone if I could have, but they wouldn't let me. I wanted to be there."

"I know," Freed nodded, smiling a little as he pulled away. He frowned when he saw what Laxus was wearing. "Why are you wearing a robe?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, that," Laxus blushed a little. "So, fuck Freed you could have died. And I know you're okay because you don't lie about shit like this, but it kinda puts things into perspective. Just because you made it out this time, doesn't mean it'll happen again, you know?" Freed nodded, wondering what this had to do with a robe. "And it got me thinking that, if something happens to ya, I ain't gonna want any regrets, I don't wanna look back and wish I did something that I was too scared to. That make sense?"

"Yes," Freed nodded.

"Well, I don't wanna regret you, so I'm done with the bullshit," Laxus stated. "The flirting without following through on it, and trying to turn you on to see if you'll start something? It's just all bullshit when either of us could fucking die at any point-"

"Laxus," Freed said firmly. Laxus was spiraling, and Freed needed to get him back to something more safe. "The robe?"

"Right, yeah," He calmed himself. "The robe is me saying that, if you want me," He undid the tie on the robe. "Then you've got me."

The robe fell from Laxus' body, revealing him in his nudity.

Fuck. Fuck!

Freed had put in a lot of effort keeping boundaries with Laxus. Yes they flirted, but they both seemed to consciously avoid seeing each other naked. Nudity was the last bastion of them being platonic with one another, because when it happened it would be the crescendo of their flirting. It was an unspoken rule; if they saw each other fully naked, then they'd finally do something about it.

But there Laxus was, naked and proud. His dick had the same veiny girth the rest of his body had; long, thick, and half hard.

And, if Laxus was being truthful, his body was Freed's for the taking.

Without hesitation, Freed closed the space between them and wrapped a hand into Laxis' hair. He wrapped the short blonde locks into his hand and tugged Laxus down towards him, pulling him into a heated and needy kiss. Laxus' hands were on his ass without thinking, groping Freed hungrily as he rolled his naked hips against Freed's. Freed let out a shuddering moan, allowing Laxus' tongue into his mouth.

Years worth of flirting and causal grins and caught moments of attraction had been leading up to this. No more dancing around it; they wanted each other and they were going to take it.

Freed's hands roamed over the body he had wanted to explore for so long. The muscle was as hard as it had always looked, and the quiet gasp from Laxus when he grazed his nipple made Freed grin.

"So responsive," Freed taunted.

"Shut up," Laxus growled huskily, taking hold of Freed's belt buckle to undo it. "I wanna look after you, baby. Not listen to ya smart-mouthing me."

"I don't need coddling," Freed argued.

"I said I'm gonna look after ya, not coddle ya," Laxus grinned, bringing his lips to Freed's neck in teasing bites. "I know you Freed, I know exactly what you want out of a man."

"Oh do you?" Freed challenged. "And what is that?"

"Me," Laxus grinned.

Before he could say anything, Laxus' hands wrapped around Freed's thighs and scooped them up. Freed was lifted up, straddling Laxus' naked body and leaning against him to keep them both upright. A laugh spluttered out of Freed, because the man who had been the subject of his fantasies for so long was lifting him up and walking him to his bedroom.

This was happening. They were going to bed together, and Freed knew that it would be indescribable.

He was thrown into his own mattress, and Laxus crawled over him. Every fantasy, every photo shoot, every thought of Laxus paled in comparison to Laxus crawling over him, shamelessly naked. His chest was heaving and he had the thinnest layer of sweat over his chest, and Freed found himself a little breathless as Laxus placed his hands either side of his head. He looked down at Freed with an expression of mingled cockiness and fondness; a look only he could manage.

"It's awful unfair you're still dressed, baby," Laxus murmured.

"I'm rather fond of the situation," Freed smirked, and Laxus grinned down at him.

"Then you might not like this," Laxus taunted, reaching down and groping Freed's already hard cock through his pants. Freed gasped, but the hand was gone as soon as it came. Laxus smirked down at Freed when he grunted his annoyance, fiddling with the belt buckle again to unfasten it. "Hips up, Baby."

Freed did as told, and Laxus was pulling Freed's pants down his legs. Once they were off, he tossed them aside and grinned down at the hard cock tenting his boxers. Freed was breathless at the hungry, horny attention Laxus showed his hard dick.

"Touch me," Freed panted an order.

"You still ain't naked," Laxus grinned. "But I'm gonna fix that."

Laxus crawled up Freed's body again, his naked legs grazing against Freed's as he ran their strong bodies against each other. He let out a slight shuddering breath as his knee grazed Freed's hard cock, before refocusing his attention at the task at hand. He placed a hand on the side of Freed's shirt, before yanking at it hard. The buttons on the shirt flew off, scattering across Freed's bedroom floor with a clatter. With his abs and chest exposed now, Freed watched as Laxus lowered his head down and pressed kisses against his stomach.

"Oh god," Freed moaned.

"That's right," Laxus grinned. "Say my name,"

Freed let out a breathless laugh as Laxus reached his chest with the kisses. He pushed himself up further, naked chest against naked chest, and brough Freed into another spellbinding kiss. They melted into one another, moans enfusing with the kiss as Laxus' hands kneeled and grabbed at Freed's body. A wayward spark of Laxus' lighting hit one of Freed's nipples, and Freed moaned so loudly and blissfully that Laxus went half lidded.

He'd have to remember that. But not now.

As they kissed each other, Laxus removed the shirt from Freed's arms and tossed it to the side. Freed's paler body contracted beautifully with Laxus', and Freed moaned at the press of the other mans bulk against him. This was like every fantasy he'd had about the man, but better in such an explosive way.

Laxus' knee was gently teasing Freed's straining cock, the seam of his boxers the only friction against his aching member. He raised his hips on instinct, trying and failing to rub against Laxus.

"Please Laxus," Freed whispered. "Just touch me."

"Not until yer naked," Laxus whispered back, hands running over Freed's flexing abs. "So soon, baby."

One of his roaming hands slid down to his cock, giving it a single, torturous pump. Freed whined and Laxus chuckled into his ear, the feeling of the man's breath against him incredible in its intimacy. The hand hooked itself in the waistband of his boxer-briefs, quickly pulling them down and exposing Freed's cock to the room. He moaned at the change of temperature as Laxus tossed his boxers away.

For a moment, Laxus sat up, straddling Freed and looking down at him with horny adoration. He looked at Freed with the same expression of need, desire and lust that Freed looked at him. Freed's cock leaked with pre cum, and Laxus looked almost blissed out.

And then, he lowered himself, taking Freed's cock into his mouth in a single fluid movement.

"Fuck!" Freed exclaimed, hands clutching at the sheets as the warmth of Laxus' mouth covered his cock.

He was thunderstruck as he watched Laxus work. The man who Freed adored was sucking his cock, smoothly and passionately, taking him to the balls and then drawing back to the tip. He neither gagged nor slowed, as if his sole purpose in that moment was to suck Freed off.

"Shit," Freed moaned. "Laxus, stop. I'm gonna-"

Laxus only increased the speed of his movements, tongue licking and teasing at the tip of Freed's cock. Freed's grip on the bedsheets turned white-knuckled, and he thrashed his head back as white covered his eyes. The pleasure was unreal, multiplied whenever he thought of the man who was doing this to him. He groaned, bucking his hips as the rush of orgasm overtook his senses.

The feeling was damn-near life ending. Every nerve, sense and thought was set alflame as he bucked his hips, his spasming dick fucking Laxus' throat without repentance nor care. A spew of cusses, moans and exclamations filled the room as spurt after spurt of hot cum shot down Laxus' throat.

He was swallowing it all, and the constrictions of his throat against Freed's dick only further drained his balls.

"Fuck," Laxus gasped once every drop of his lover's cum had been swallowed. He was red faced and grinning, chest heaving and dick rock hard. Freed, despite the orgasm, was just as hard. "You tasted so good, baby."

"Fuck," Freed parroted weakly, shifting and pulling Laxus towards him. He pulled him into a sloppy and needy kiss, not purebred by the taste of his own spunk on the other man's tongue. He openly groped at Laxus' ramrod dick, pumping at it and delighting in the shuddering moans Laxus tried to hold back.

"Wait," Laxus panted, pulling away. "First time I cum for you, I wanna cum in you."

Freed could have reached orgasm again from just that.

"If you wish," Freed teased, and Laxus' face brightened and he pulled him into another kiss.

Without argument, Freed allowed himself to be pulled so he was straddling Laxus, his cock resting against Laxus'. They kissed slowly, Laxus scraping at his back while slowly gyrating his hips in a way that was clearly driving both men mad. Freed was absently pulling at Laxus' hair, mind swirling with the memory of Laxus' lips around his dick, swallowing him without complaint. Fuck, this was happening. He and Laxus were going to fuck.

All the fantasies of this moment fell away. Freed knew they would be pathetic when faced with the reality.

As they kissed, Laxus had reached into Freed's dresser and brought out a bottle of lube he kept there. He had covered his fingers with the lube, before slowly trailing them down Freed's stomach, leaving a cold trail in their wake. He cupped Freed's ass with large, cold hands. Freed gasped as they ran gently across the crease of his ass.

"You ready?" Laxus asked in a voice one might describe as lovestruck.

"Yes," Freed nodded, pushing his body tight against Laxus'. "Please."

One finger slowly slid inside Freed, and the moan of unfiltered, unadulterated pleasure filled the room. Laxus was grinning as he slowly probed Freed's asshole, teasing and slow in his movements but stretching him out to perfection. Another finger pushed its way in, and Freed groaned a guttural groan as he rested his face in the crook of Laxus' neck. He stretched and toyed with Freed, and all he could do was delight in the face it was Laxus doing this to him.

"That's enough," Freed stated just before Laxus slid in a third finger. Laxus looked at him with a hint of hesitance, and Freed smiled a naughty looking smile. "I want to feel you splitting me."

"Fuck," Laxus breathed, and his cock lurched at the words. "You demon."

"Absolutely," Freed agreed, shifting his weight up.

With slightly shaking hands, Laxus held the base of his cock and pointed it upwards. With too slow movements, Freed carefully moved himself down again. The tip of Laxus' fat, quivering cock rested against his hole for a moment, and they both groaned at the feeling. Freed paused, but with a shared look of trust and desire, he slowly began to lower himself down.

Inch by inch, he took Laxus' cock inside of him. They both groaned, moaning their pleasure to the otherwise silent room. Laxus scratched at Freed's bare back, while Freed clutched to his lover's shoulders. His thighs quivered with the effort of holding himself up, and a gasp split his lips when he felt his ass rest against Laxus' legs.

He had never felt so thoroughly filled before, and his eyes fell to the back of his skull.

After a few moments to accommodate the new sensation, Freed gave a tentative grind of the hips. Both men moaned loudly at the feeling, and Freed's grip on Laxus' shoulders tightened. He rested his head in the crook of Laxus' neck again, before whispered a quiet, "Fuck me, Laxus."

It happened instantly,

Thrusting, slow at first but incredible, started to split Freed open. The beautiful burn of his body being torn apart increased with each slow and taunting push and pull of Laxus' dick. He could feel all the ridges of Laxus' dick inside of him, pushing apart muscles that was all too happy to accommodate him.

And then, with a stronger thrust than before, Laxus hit the spot. Freed let out an incoherent sound of erotic delight.

"There," Freed demanded, voice wavering. "Oh fuck, there."

Laxus needed no more instruction, thrusting his hips up again and again, faster and more powerful with each strike. Consistently he beat against Freed's prostate, again and again making him moan, whine, grunt and roar with the pleasure that only years of growing desire could have caused. Freed pushed down against him, wanting to feel more. To get more!

"Oh fuck," Laxus moaned, voice a horny, needy, desperate shadow of its former reticence that drove Freed mad. "Shit, fuck."

He was cumming, and the feeling of the man he loved filling him with cum while he spasmed and grunted was all-consuming to Freed. Orgasm overtook him with the same sudden ferocity, and the overwhelming euphoria made him shut his eyes and drown in the pleasure.

As he rutted into Freed, cum still spilling, Laxus pushed them both down. Lying atop Freed now, Laxus rode the high of orgasm to its end, not caring that Freed's own cum had spattered across both of their faces and chests. Panting and slowing his thrusts, he collapsed onto Freed with a giddy, horny smile.

"Holy shit," He cussed. "Why the fuck did it take us so long to do that?"

"It's a mistake we won't repeat," Freed said, equally breathless.

He pulled Laxus into another kiss, slower this time but arguably more passionate. Their movements were tired, lethargic, and perfect. Freed shifted them both, removing Laxus' cock from his ass and lying beside him, not once breaking the kiss. He nuzzled into his lover, smiling gently.

"I'm glad you're okay," Laxus murmured when they did pull away, stroking Freed's cheek. "And I'm sorry I fucked around and didn't make a move before. All that teasing bullshit was just my way of trying to get you to do something first, because I was scared of getting rejected."

"I can understand that, and I certainly won't be angry at you," Freed chuckled. "But know, I will do exactly the same to you from now on."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Laxus grinned. "But we're not waiting that long until we fuck again, right?"

Freed simply smirked, and kissed his lover again. "Absolutely not."

#Fraxus #freed x Laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #Writing #one shot #word count: 5.9k #canon divergence

50 notes · View notes

hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

The Last Dream of My Soul part 2. (R.L.)

This part is a bit short but I hope that’s okay with you all! Any feedback is appreciated and message me or comment if you want to be tagged! My requests are also open. Enjoy!

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friend Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus?

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.8k

Part one

By your second week eating breakfast with the Marauders you were starting to feel like you really belonged with them. James was extremely funny, in your opinion the funniest of the group. He never failed to make you laugh when you sat near him in the common room and once he made you laugh so hard in the Great Hall that you had almost choked on your toast. Sirius was also funny but in a different way. He playfully flirted with anything that moved, something that would normally make you scoff, but with him it just made you laugh. You weren’t as close with Peter, though you helped him with his transfiguration homework and he occasionally shared his sweets with you. And then, of course, there was Remus. Remus was by far your favorite of the group, though it was for reasons you’d never dare disclose to anyone but Lily. He was sweet, sending you reassuring smiles when you’d muster up the bravery to tell a story to the group. He’d slip you chocolates when you were studying late at night and fostered the same love for muggle literature as you. Every little thing he did only added to your attraction to him. In your eyes, he was absolutely perfect

You looked forward to the evenings in the common room, sitting next to the crackling fire with the marauders and Lily. Laughing at James and Sirius’s jokes and stealing glances at Remus’s face, seemingly glowing the light of the fire. You finally felt as if you had found your place at Hogwarts.

“Hey (Y/n),” Remus said, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” you replied. He shifted in his spot on the floor, next to the couch where Lily sat with James.

“I just finished Crime and Punishment,” he said. You turned in the large armchair where you sat to fully face him.

“Oh really? How did you like it?” you asked.

“I liked it, though I have to digress- you were right- it is a bit dense,” he answered. You smiled at his from your seat, quickly looking down at your hands.

“Well of course. I told you so,” you responded. You heard him laugh lightly from the floor.

“I was wondering though if I could borrow your book? The one you talked about at breakfast the other week,” he inquired.

“Oh of course!” you said. “I can go fetch it for you right now.” You gestured towards the stairs that led to the girl’s dormitory.

“Oh you don’t have to get it right now,” Remus said. You smiled and shook your head.

“It’s no trouble. I’ll be right back,” you replied, pushing yourself up from the armchair. He thanked you as you made your way towards the staircase, but you just smiled and waved him off.

When you got to your room you rifled through your bag, attempting to locate the book. You searched for a moment to no avail, before realizing that you had left it on your bedside table. After you retrieved it you turned to head back downstairs, only to almost run directly into Lily.

“Oh my goodness Lils! You scared me,” you said, clutching your chest.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she replied.

“What are you doing up here?” you inquired. Mere minutes ago she was downstairs in the middle of a conversation. You wondered what had brought her upstairs so early. She usually didn’t leave the common room for at least another hour.

“It was getting late and I’m tired,” she replied, shrugging. “Plus James and everyone else decided to go up to bed,” she continued. You felt yourself deflate.

“Oh,” you said. “I was supposed to bring this down to Remus. I guess I took too long,” you said, holding up the book. You felt embarrassed that you had gone all the way upstairs to retrieve him the book when he had just decided to go to be without waiting for you.

“Don’t be silly,” Lily said with a smirk. “He’s still waiting for you downstairs.”

“Oh,” you responded.

“Yes he’s waiting for you all alone in the empty common room,” Lily said in a teasing sing-song voice. You felt yourself blush.

“Lily, I’m going down there to lend him a book. What do you think is going to happen?” you said. Lily just laughed, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You shook your head and headed down towards the common room, now feeling slightly nervous. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you saw Remus’s head pop up. He had moved from his spot on the floor to the now vacant couch. He shot you a smile as you walked over to him.

“Here it is,” you said, handing the book to him. “Sorry I kept you down here waiting for me, I didn’t know everyone was planning on turning in so early.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” he replied, taking the book from you. He quickly flipped through the pages, feeling the worn parchment against his fingers.

“Wow, Lily wasn’t kidding. You really have marked this thing up,” he said, chuckling. You ducked your head in embarrassment.

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” you responded sheepishly. Remus looked up at you, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“Oh don’t worry about it. I can tell that you really love the book,” he said. You nodded silently, averting your eyes to your shoes. A silence fell between you as Remus turned the book over in his hands. You were debating whether to bid him goodnight and go upstairs or attempt to start a conversation with him. Luckily, he made the decision for you.

“At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, what is this book about?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. You giggle softly before sitting down next to him on the sofa.

“Well,” you began. “It’s the story of the muggle French revolution. It follows a man who was kept as a political prisoner, his daughter, a French aristocrat, and a drunken lawyer. It’s full of intrigue and espionage, and while not a romance, it contains what I consider to be the most romantic scene ever written,” you said, catching yourself before you continued to ramble. You look up to meet Remus’s eyes to see that he’s smiling.

“That sounds incredibly interesting,” he said after a moment. You smiled and nodded.

“What qualifies it to be the most romantic scene ever written?” he asked in an almost teasing, yet earnest tone.

“I’m not sure exactly. Something about the words is just perfect. I guess it’s just the kind of thing I wish someone would say to me,” you answered shyly. You saw him nod in your peripheral vision.

“Are you a fan of romances then?” he inquired.

“Yes, I am. They might be my favorite type of book to read,” you answered abashedly. You had always loved the allure of romance novels; Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and Jane Eyre had been your go-to reads throughout your adolescence. You longed for a romance of your own, and since that seemed unattainable, you lived vicariously through your books.

“I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of,” Remus said, “Though I can’t say they’re my favorite types of books.” You laughed.

“That doesn’t exactly surprise me, Remus. You are a boy after all,” you said jokingly, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Hey! That’s an unfair stereotype. I’m sure plenty of boys enjoy romance novels. I am just not one of them,” he said with a smile, nudging you back.

“Why don’t you like them?” you asked. He shrugged, his joking demeanor morphing into a more uncomfortable one.

“I don’t know exactly… I just don’t picture myself wanting a real-life romance, so why would I want to read about a fictional one?” he elaborated. You felt your stomach drop.

“Oh,” you said, attempting to keep your voice even, “so you just don’t want to fall in love?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s it. I don’t think the whole falling in love and marriage thing is for me,” he responded. You hoped that you appeared to have an unbothered demeanor because it felt as if your heart was breaking.

“That sounds a little sad, don’t you think?” you asked. Remus shook his head, still appearing a tad uncomfortable.

“Not to me. Besides, loneliness isn’t the worst type of pain that one can feel,” he replied. You frowned.

“I’m not sure about that. For me, the pain of loneliness seems unparalleled. I want nothing more than to fall in love,” You took a deep breathe, playing with the hem of your sweater. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus shrug.

“I guess that’s where you and I differ,” he said after a beat. You nodded quietly. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, you stood up from your seat on the couch and dusted off your skirt.

“Well, I best be off to bed,” you said. Remus looked up at you quickly. He gave you a small smile before bidding you goodnight. You quickly turned around and rushed up the stairs.

By the time you got to your dorm, your body felt heavy with disappointment. You closed the door hurriedly behind you before flopping onto your bed. You let out a sad sigh, looking up at the ceiling, After a minute you felt the bed dip beside you and you look up to see Lily grinning down at you.

“So how’d it go?” the redhead asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Fine,” was your response. Lily groaned before laying down next to you in the bed.

“Come on (Y/n). Please just tell me what happened,” she begged.

“Nothing happened,” you said simply, “and it’s been made clear to me that nothing ever will happen.” Lily looked at you, clearly confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I have been informed that Remus Lupin is not one for romance. He doesn’t want it now, and he doesn’t want it ever,” you replied, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Oh,” Lily said softly. “That was not how I expected that to go.” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I’ve gone seven years without needing a boyfriend. I certainly don’t need one now,” you said defiantly, getting up to begin getting ready for bed. You saw Lily frown.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t want one. You’re allowed to be sad you know?” she says, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Lily, if I let myself be sad over every boyfriend that I never had then I would have been sad for the last seven years,” you replied. Lily began playing with the threads of the quilt that was splayed across your bed.

“I guess.” She got up quickly and went to join you by your dresser. “Well even if Remus Lupin is too daft to realize it, you’re quite a catch,” she said reassuringly. You giggled quietly.

“Thank you, Lils,” you responded.

“Don’t worry someday you will meet your Mr. Heathcliff,” she reassured you, patting you on the shoulder, before skipping off to her own bed. You run your brush through your hair, desperately hoping that she was right.

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

Taglist:

@goosegorl @serenefreakgeek

272 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

#bangtanarmynet #bts social media au #bts scenarios #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts #jungkook scenarios #namjoon scenarios #jungkook fake texts #namjoon fake texts #jungkook fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #bangtan

427 notes · View notes

shijiujun · 3 years

Photo

Hope everyone is partying (by yourself, spiritually, or with people, all are totally fine) well into the Christmas weekend! I am back with even more recs (I’ll prolly give it a rest at the 10th one sorry for the spam guys)! This one I just finished a few days ago, because CHINA BOOKSTORE PUBLISHED THIS ON CHRISTMAS WITH MANY GOODIES!! And I was like oh cute long-hair dude, let me read this.

Anyway this is a fengshui + supernatural + body-switching type of novel, with a heavy focus on fengshui! I don’t know if everyone knows what fengshui is (I will prolly do a list for Chinese New Year) and I am no expert, but it’s basically like Chinese geomancy where you can calculate a person’s fate, wealth, marriage suitability etc. with things in an individual’s environment.

So a lot of Chinese people, for example businessmen when they have new offices or when couples renovate their homes, they may get a feng shui master to arrange furniture and add crystals or talismans or whatever to increase wealth/prosperity/happiness or harmonize bad energy etc., just an example. When you want to check the compatibility of yourself and your SO, some people do go to the fengshui master and calculate their 八字 (day, hour, time they were born + other things) to see when is an auspicious day to marry etc.

My ex-editor really believes in feng shui masters because hers really predicted a year that her husband got into hugeee trouble like almost to the day itself apparently. And she always wear an accessory with a snake on it because the master said

Written by the same author (Xi Zi Xu) who wrote Kaleidoscope of Death!

- Part of Min’s ‘Why You Should Read’ Series -

Summary:

This book is set in the normal, regular, law-abiding modern city world where fengshui is heavily believed in, and skilled masters can see spirits, bad energies. Where dogs can be reincarnated as humans, and there are demonic pets that humans can keep, and paper dolls can come to life basically.

Zhou Jia Yu is a government office worker who dies in a car accident one day, and wakes up in the body of another Zhou Jia Yu - a handsome man whose name is the same as his. He’s brought back by this spirit bird in his head called Ji Ba (pun not intended), who says that Zhou Jia Yu is fated to save Lin Zhu Shui, the young, blind fengshui master who has caught him.

Unfortunately, this second Zhou Jia Yu is a con-artist who has cheated the money of several families via fraudulent fengshui schemes, and his scams have led to the death of several children in the process. Legendary fengshui master Lin Zhu Shui and his disciples have caught/imprisoned this Zhou Jia Yu, not knowing that original conman Zhou Jia Yu has died (and therefore his soul is gone), leaving good citizen Zhou Jia Yu in the body of a conman.

Lin Zhu Shui intends to kill conman Zhou Jia Yu (not really kill, kill but probably will do something to his soul, considering there are laws against murder you know) when good citizen Zhou Jia Yu wakes up in this body, but because he has come back from the dead, his body and soul is considered an extremely yin (cold) body, which allows him to attract more bad spirits and energy, giving him an extraordinary, gifted ability to excel in the fengshui line. Of course, being the master that he is, Lin Zhu Shui also realizes that this Zhou Jia Yu (and his soul, in particular) is not the one he caught, and as he has an extremely yang (hot) body, the both of them are compatible with each other. Lin Zhuo Shui realizes that he can train Zho Jia Yu and then takes him on as his disciple.

Cue Zhou Jia Yu being tossed into a dangerous fengshui competition as he figures out just what Ji Ba wants him to do about Lin Zhu Shui. In the meanwhile, he falls in love with amazingly handsome, cool and aloof Lin Zhu Shui (who threatens to murder him if he doesn’t come out first in the competition), who keeps him warm when he gets unbearably cold due to his body condition. They also have to deal with an evil person working behind the scenes, and how Zhou Jia Yu eventually returns back into his own body at the end.

Read:

Novel (Online) | Novel (Print) - Dec 2020 Print | Novel Translations

Characters:

1. 周嘉鱼 Zhou Jia Yu (third from right) - A really cute government office worker whose soul was pulled into a conman’s body, who has the same name as he, when he got into a car accident. Has an extremely yin (cold) body which attracts spirits (good and bad), and allows him to see, smell or hear them more clearly than everyone else except for Lin Zhu Shui. He cooks extremely well too and is considered a treasure in the household by Lin Zhu Shui’s other disciples because none of them can cook for shit. They don’t initially know that this Zhou Jia Yu is not conman Zhou Jia Yu, although they suspect it, and once they fall in love with his cooking no one doubts him anymore HAHAHA.

He gets a feng shui tattoo personally done by Lin Zhu Shui who already knows that his soul was switched, a tattoo which is supposed to help him in feng shui matters. Gets a paper doll son halfway through the story, who he calls Xiao Zhi (little paper), which calls him Dad (and calls Lin Zhu Shui Big Dad - da baba) ;-; It’s the cutest shit ever.

There’s a mystical creature in the back of his head that speaks to him and helps him out on certain feng shui things, and helps him to explain what he’s seeing, but aside from telling Jia Yu that he’s supposed to save Lin Zhu Shui, the mystical bird thing is unable to tell him anything else. Within a few weeks of him waking up in this body, he’s sent by Lin Zhu Shui on an international feng shui competition without having any sort of basic knowledge, only innate talent, much to his panic XD As Lin Zhu Shui continues to protect him, teach him and tease/smile at him, Jia Yu, who is certified gay af, falls totally in love with the seemingly aloof and strict feng shui master.

They probably would have continued like this if not for Jia Yu’s body deteriorating because his body is technically not his and not compatible with his soul, and Lin Zhu Shui tries to find a way to save him, after seeing the future where Jia Yu’s body is rotting as he dies slowly over months and begging Lin Zhu Shui to kill him and let him die.

2. 林逐水 Lin Zhu Shui (third from left, right next to Jia Yu) - Long-haired, wears changshan perpetually and is blind, but can see more clearly than most people. He knows where everyone’s positions are exactly, and can see spirits etc. very well despite being blind. Considered a genius of the feng shui world and is the patriarch of one of the big feng shui families in the world - the Lin family. He’s a master at drawing talismans, carving crystals/gems and feng shui tattooing.

He’s so well-known that everyone wants to be his disciple, everyone wants to get a talisman/crystal/tattoo from him, everyone wants him to come and look at their houses, but he can’t be bothered with most people. He’s also super handsome? So a lot of girls (and guys) are always drooling over him.

He has an extremely yang (hot) body, which is supposed to naturally help to repel spirits and what not, but because of this he suffers a lot in the summer. His body condition is very rare and when he was younger, others said he would not live past 18 years old, and his parents gave up their lives to change his fate so he would survive. The feng shui master also predicted that Lin Zhu Shui would experience another calamity when he was 30 (thereabout), and that year, thankfully he has Jia Yu as his entire house caught on fire in the summer while he was in it (and cooling talismans and the house item placements meant to keep the house entirely cool in the summer were no longer working). Jia Yu helped him to cool down with his incredibly yin body.

Knows right off the bat that this is a different Jia Yu, and starts teaching him as one of his disciples. Can only eat the food hat Jia Yu cooks because his yin qualities transfer to the food he cooks as well, and Lin Zhu Shui usually cannot eat anything else that’s cooked outside. Gives Jia Yu a carved jade pendant he made himself that’s apparently worth thousands of dollars to keep him safe, and is a dumbass when it comes to confessing to Jia Yu hahahaha (although he’s successful at the end!)

3. 沈一穷 Shen Yi Qiong (second from right, dark skin tone) - Lin Zhu Shui’s youngest disciple and also Jia Yu’s best friend, technically. Brash but smart, and is always thirsting openly after his shifu Lin Zhu Shui, it’s hilarious! He’s a little jealous in the beginning because his shifu is showering Jia Yu with so much attention when he’s only been around for a week etc., but quickly gets used to it and supports Jia Yu. Jia Yu always makes fun of his tanned skin, then makes fun of his singlehood HAHA, while Shen Yi Qiong provides emotional support to Jia Yu, and by emotional support I mean when Jia Yu asks him what will happen to him if he loses the feng shui competition, Shen Yi Qiong pats him on the shoulder and asks him to choose a vase/pot pattern (like a ceramic pot where you put cremated ashes) = shifu will kill him if he loses the competition, so gets Jia Yu to choose a pot he likes so Shen Yi Qiong can help him put his ashes in HAHAHAHA. He is the last one to find a significant other, but the one he finds is like a legendary mystical creature who half deceives him into promising to marry him and then keeps chasing after Shen Yi Qiong so he can marry him XD

4. 林珏 Lin Jue (first from left) - Lin Zhu Shui’s cousin but technically his older sister because she brought him up after his parents died. Spends most of the novel being sad about her past lover who died because of an illness, and is wooed a few years later by a legendary golden dragon.

5. 小纸 Xiao Zhi (that little cute white thing on top of Jia Yu’s head) - A paper doll who’s given to Jia Yu after he helps out at the paper doll village/tribe, and grows up with Jia Yu and Lin Zhu Shui taking care of him. Is the cutest little shit ever, can speak, and calls Jia Yu ‘baba’ and Lin Zhu Shui ‘da baba’ i.e. dad and big dad. Very strong, and can protect Jia Yu very well.

Other Things I Like in the Novel:

Jia Yu basically goes to the feng shui competition and destroys everyone else because he’s just gifted in this aspect - When he wakes up, and in the days leading up to the competition, he doesn’t have a cellphone (Lin Zhu Shui and his disciples live in a remote part of town, a traditional-type house, one with nature) and after he wins the competition, other people want his phone number to contact him and he’s too embarrassed to say that he’s basically too poor to have a phone after rising from the dead, so he bluffs everyone and says “My shifu says that handphone signals and radiation will interfere with advanced feng shui readings so I don’t have one” and LITERALLY half of the feng shui training population gets rid of their phones on that day, gullible af

Everytime Jia Yu runs cold, he has to drink some of Lin Zhu Shui’s blood mixed with water/milk, and the man’s yang blood warms him up immediately

Jia Yu has to deal with four of Lin Zhu Shui’s disciples, all who are really suspicious of him because they think he’s the conman, and Jia Yu doesn’t realize they already know it’s not him until they defend him in front of other people, and he’s so touched

Shen Yi Qiong gets his marriage fortune told during one of the cases by accident. He asks when he’ll get married, and the thing replies “Seven Three” AND HE’S SO DEPRESSED BECAUSE he thinks that it means he’ll only get married when he’s 73. It’s a source of jokes between him, his other shixiongs and Jia Yu, but then towards the end he realizes what it means - His supposed match, a legendary mystical male weasel who’s 73 years old XD

Jia Yu keeps thirsting after Lin Zhu Shui, fully aware that he’s very gay himself, and he’s confessed to while he’s stuck in the haze of a high fever, so he thinks it’s a dream. Lin Zhu Shui doesn’t realize he forgot/thinks it’s a dream and is pissed that he’s rejected HAHAHA and then Lin Jue reminds him to not be a dumbass and confess properly, and so he does so again in an empty amusement park, after summoning evil spirits so they can fly in the air and make a heart shape just for Jia Yu while they’re on the ferris wheel XDDDD

#danmei #danmei recs #我五行缺你 #my five elements lack you #my five elements is short of you #西子绪 #xi zi xu #min's why you should read

98 notes · View notes

violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

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

You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

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

The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

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

For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

---------

The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

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

You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

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

Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

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

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

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

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

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

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

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

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

337 notes · View notes

hankwritten · 3 years

Text

Lies, Damned Lies, and Valentine’s

Day 7 of the valentine’s day event, Whole Team

“Have the RED team vandalized us in the middle of the night?” Medic asked, gazing around the common room which had been papered with tiny hearts. “What is with all the pink?”

“Ach, it’s Valentine’s day, boyo!” Demo told him with a hearty slap on the back. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Medic adjusted his glasses, which had fallen out of place with the overzealous display of masculine affection. “My wife and I are…estranged. I have not celebrated a Valentine’s day in a very long time.”

“Well, so long as you made your cards, you’re celebrating just fine.” When Medic didn’t respond, Demo pressed a, “you did make some cards, right lad?”

“Cards for who? I told you I have not spoken to-”

“For the team ya quack,” Demo snorted. “We always make cards for each other on Valentine’s day.”

“…Like kindergarteners,” Medic asked drily.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud doc,” Demo elbowed him. “It’s a tradition.”

Medic crossed his arms, and kicked a small paper heart that had fallen on his shoe. “Well no one told me about it.”

At that, Demo finally paused. “Ah, I suppose everyone forgot to mention it to the rookie. Don’t worry though!” This time, Medic dodged the pat aimed at his shoulder. “Everyone knows you only got here a month or so ago, they won’t hold you to any obligations.”

“What a relief.” Medic rolled his eyes.

He was able to put the ridiculous conversation out of his mind thanks to the oncoming battle, slinging on his pack with a feeling of purpose. Dealing with REDs and avoiding Spies took most of his concentration, as a day that he went about distracted was a day he’d find quite a few Sniper shots through his head. However, as much as he’d dismissed Valentine’s by the midday break that afternoon, it appeared his teammates hadn’t.

He’d followed Heavy to the cover of the sentry nest, but as his partner was filling up Sasha, he noticed that Engie had laid out a few pieces of folded paper on top of the dispenser. Medic wandered closer. It took him a moment to parse what he was seeing, but then he remembered the travesty that had become of the common room and realized Demo had been dead serious about Valentine’s Day. Engineer’s valentines were spread out neatly, all unique, all cheerfully signed by members of the team. Scout had draw a rather good rendition of the man himself standing next to his sentry, a little heart between them. Sniper had written ‘THANKS TRUCKIE’ in block letters. Even Soldier had put in some effort, as he had used red, white, and blue construction paper to make what might have been the shape of Texas if you squinted enough.

Nearby, Pyro was showing off their own collection. Scout had also drawn a picture for them (of Mayor Balloonicorn), which they had delicately set in the grass, their other cards out before them. The one from Engie they were attacking with vigor, since the Engineer had been forward thinking enough to glue tiny pieces of candy to the folded paper.

“They’re all real nice Pyro,” he was chuckling. “Though maybe put them back in your pocket? Don’t want them to get dirty.”

Pyro nodded, and began shuffling them back into a pouch within their chemsuit.

“They take this very seriously, don’t they?” Medic noted absently about the pair.

Heavy, having loaded on the ammo required, turned and saw Medic mulling over Engineer’s cards. “Oh, da! Every year. We do not spend holidays together, so for team, is closest thing.”

As he spoke, he reached into his front pocket. Something with Demo’s handwriting dashed all over it appeared in his hand, obnoxiously saccharine with its copious hearts and overuse of the color red. Yet the Heavy Weapons Guy displayed it proudly, and Medic offered him a wry smile.

“I had no idea,” Medic mused.

“…Team forget to tell you?” Heavy rumbled. “Heavy see. Heavy wondered why doctor did not give him one.”

Medic coughed lightly into his hand. “I wasn’t aware until this morning-”

“No, is alright. Heavy’s little joke.” He patted Medic on the shoulder, which was (surprisingly) more reserved than Demo’s attempt at the same. “We kill RED babies, that is gift enough, da?”

Medic agreed, and followed him off into battle. However, this time the threat of the loving spirit stuck, and Medic found himself skewered on the end of the Spy’s knife more than he was comfortable with. He tried to shake himself, to forget his teammates’ foolish obsession, but one thought kept rankling him: he might have not known to send out cards, but why hadn’t anyone gotten him anything?

They returned to BLU base with an embarrassing loss on their collars, though you wouldn’t know by looking. Everyone was in the common showing of their haul, passing around heart shaped cookies that someone had made last night and stuffed in the fridge. Medic tried one, and nearly gagged on how much sugar had been crammed into such a small package.

Apparently everyone had gotten the same memo about Demo’s cards, as each one came with a tiny novel vodka attached. Demo peeled off the last one (from Soldier with a picture of a shovel on it, saying simply I Dig You) with the utmost care, lining them up next to his whiskey bottle.

“Look!” he grinned to Soldier. “Me scrumpy’s birthed a litter!”

Soldier, who had taken to taping his own cards to his helmet, slapped him on the back. “Congratulations! You’re a grandfather!”

Scout, like Pyro, couldn’t help but flaunt his, claiming that he got the most out of anyone. When Sniper pointed out that everyone got seven cards, he pivoted to say, “yeah well mine are the best, quality over quantity Snipes.”

Medic shouldn’t have been irritated. He didn’t care about Valentine’s Day, not in the slightest, so why was he getting so terse about his teammates’ holiday cheer? Of course they didn’t get cards for the rookie, they probably would have gotten cards for their old Medic, not him.

That thought itself would have put anyone in a sour mood, but the tipping point was when he walked the corner and saw Spy delicately arranged bits of red-hued paper into a manila folder, smiling slightly as he set the last one down. Medic was close enough to read, saw Sniper’s handwriting, and also that the poem it was quoting was incomplete. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. / I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. The next two lines were missing— Medic knew enough of poetry to glean that—which meant Sniper probably had the other half. All shuffled always with the other ones he’d gotten from Scout and Engie and Demo and whoever, but the most important thing Medic could determine from the display was all those people had given Spy valentines too. Spy. Medic’s eye twitched. Before he knew it he was barreling past Spy, out past the others in order to get to the hallway. There were a couple exclamations of confusion, a few calls asking what was wrong, but Medic ignored them all.

He didn’t need their obligatory attempts to include him, he could see when he wasn’t wanted.

“Doctor! Wait!”

He considered not stopping for the deep voice behind him, but unless he wanted to go charging off onto the battlefield, his path would eventually take him back around base. He sighed, and turned to face the man behind him.

“Can I help you?” Medic snapped. There was no use pretending he wasn’t miffed.

“What is the matter?” Heavy asked. “Have not seen you this angry before.”

“Well that is not a big surprise considering we barely know each other, apparently.” Medic crossed his arms.

Heavy furrowed his brow. Always a man of few words, he either didn’t know what to say, or figured it was better not to antagonize Medic further, and so he settled for waiting for his teammate to elaborate.

Medic relented eventually, shoulders sagging as he exhaled. “I realize I am not…part of the team so to speak. I understand I am not as close to you all as your old Medic was, and I do not blame you for not including me, but it is still…difficult to watch everyone open cards and…not receive any myself.” God it sounded so childish when he said it allowed. He was a doctor for god’s sake! He should be above such petty jealousies.

As his self consciousness closed in, he hunched, and failed to look at Heavy. It took the man saying, “doctor did not get valentines? Is not possible,” for Medic to turn back around and see him shaking his head. “At very least, Heavy give card.”

“You…?” Medic unfolded his arms. “When?”

Heavy raised an eyebrow. “Did doctor not check locker?” When Medic blinked, Heavy added, “is where we put at start of day, so none get lost.”

“…Just like in kindergarten,” Medic finished the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God I am such a dummkopf.”

Heavy chuckled, clearly glad to have resolved the situation. “Medic is far from. Come, we look now.”

So Medic did come, entering resupply and walking to his locker, taking a moment to brace himself as he grasped the handle. He turned it. Immediately, he was hit with an avalanche of purple, pink, and red, an absolute tidal wave of valentines rushing out to greet him from where they’d been conglomerating inside his locker like a clogged artery.

There were so many, decorated all with his class symbol or words of thanks. Pyro had made at least four, decorated with crayons and rainbow drawings, sticking slightly where the paint hadn’t dried. Medic picked one off the floor. Scout had drawn Archimedes beautifully, which was astounding considering the two hadn’t gotten along since the Über incident, and it must have been quite a strain to sit still long enough to capture the bird’s likeness. Engie had detailed out a list over every time Medic had saved his bacon in the past month, Spy had written something long and oddly heartfelt, Soldier had gifted him a coupon for one free haircut. The list went on.

It took Heavy gently touching his shoulder while he read Sniper’s uncharacteristically kind letter to realize he was holding his hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat, but despite that still couldn’t find words.

“Medic is part of team,” Heavy stated, matter of fact. “We appreciate. Do not forget that.”

Medic’s eyes fell on a large card, tucked behind the Quick-Fix in the back of the locker so it hadn’t come tumbling out with the rest. This one was unquestionably from Heavy. Medic wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

Delicately, he reached out and took it, seeing it was nearly the size of a proper book, made out of two pieces of paper tied with a string. He gently gazed over the words inside, drinking them all in, and then softly spoke, “thank you mein friend.”

“Is no trouble.” Heavy squeezed his shoulder, and Medic could tell his friend was smiling by the chuckle in his voice. “Now! We go. Back to party, doctor should get to show off his cards too.”

“Yes, lets. But ah…not this one though,” Medic finished, softly folding Heavy’s card back up. “This one I will keep here.”

Heavy smiled. “If doctor likes.” With that, Medic followed him back to the party.

#dontneedavalentine2021 #heavymedic

22 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 3 years

Text

Title: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

Author: Yuen Ren Chao

Rating: 4/5 stars

I haven't been reviewing books lately, and I've had kind of a dry spell, so I'll try a brief one here.

I finished this novel about Ren's childhood, narrated in third person by an adult character. I had read about half the book in the press when it was published in 2008, and the other half last year. It's a bit of a grab bag: a comic novel, a coming-of-age story, a surreal historical novel with time travel, etc. Its diversity is actually a downside; it can feel scattered, the connections between plot elements hazy and difficult to grasp.

I found the book hard to read in the early going, as it was very much a product of its time and place. It was written during Japanese occupation during World War II, and depicts all the characters in an exaggeratedly old-fashioned, archaic role -- almost a re-creation of classic Chinese (or Japanese) literary conventions. The book also uses a number of Chinese words idiosyncratically and with whimsical meanings; when I was reading it, I looked them up occasionally and found them to be strange or mysterious, although probably not all of them would be equally incomprehensible to a 21st-century reader.

(If this sounds like a problem, that's because it is. I recommend the book anyway: just keep in mind that it is a product of its time and place -- a fine thing in itself, but one which may be alien to most readers.)

The characters seem, in some respects, to have been influenced by Chinese popular fiction of the 1920s and 30s, in particular Lan Xichen's Songs of the South: Chapters of a Hired Male. These are: Ren's father -- a famous "literary genius" who spends all his time writing the kind of drivel that wins prizes in the competitive world of Chinese literature, but in the 1930s becomes one of the main forces in Chinese literary circles thanks to his political clout. The character is named "Yung-cheng" and spends a lot of time in dialogue about the value of the old ways, with his father and his family's various elderly relatives. There is a certain similarity between his voice and Lan Xichen's: a somewhat condescending intelligence combined with the timbre of a nostalgic middle-aged man. Ren's father in particular shares some qualities with Lan Xichen's Pang Chu: a taste for fine wine, an interest in sex (but in a non-explicit way), and a mysterious background that makes him seem impressive and powerful but is never quite explained.

(I've been warned that the book also bears some elements of a certain genre of Chinese literature that was big in the 1990s, but I haven't explored that much beyond the first three chapters.)

The second major character is a 14-year-old girl orphan who comes into the story for non-plot-related reasons, and a third, much more minor one appears briefly in a dreamlike chapter ("Dawn again. The curtain is closed.") which links up with the plot somewhat mysteriously.

The book is clearly meant to be a kind of "coming-of-age story" -- in the classical sense that a young person goes through puberty and comes of age -- but it's very different from most stories of this type. There's plenty of drinking, sex, and partying, but these all have a special emotional charge in this setting, because they're all surrounded by memories of the war and the occupation, which had a very visible and devastating impact on China during the author's childhood.

The whole thing feels like a story told by a person who has lived so long that everything is filtered through the emotional residue of the past. Ren's great, great uncle was one of the people responsible for the defense of China during the Boxer Rebellion a hundred years earlier, and he left behind a record of his experiences; in turn, Ren's great-grandmother was related to Ren's mother (whose father, the narrator's grandfather, had been a Japanese collaborator during the Chinese Civil War).

In the plot, the narrator experiences a number of trials and tribulations -- and I won't get too far afield of the thematic core here; it would take several thousand words to get to it. But the narrator is at the same time himself a young adult who is dealing with a number of personal trials and tribulations, and who is concerned about the future. Many important chapters are narrated in the third person but are clearly meant to be read inside the narrator's head.

The narrator's grandfather was a collaborator during the Chinese Civil War. The narrator's parents are divorced and have since married other people. The narrator is living in the house of his parents' second wife, an ex-beauty queen. This is, of course, all extremely old-fashioned, and there's not much sense of what the 21st century is like, culturally or demographically. It helps tell a story about what it was like to live in this world.

All of these concerns go to the heart of the theme of the book, which is youth losing its naivete and innocence, and adulthood gaining confidence and resilience. It's a theme that often gets highlighted through childhood metaphors and analogies -- like the one that compares a young lover to a new bicycle or car.

The narrator's grandfather, who has taken care of him since he was a tiny child, died shortly after the end of the war. Shortly afterwards, his mother died too, and the house they lived in then passed into the hands of his father's second wife. The narrator got on well with his stepmother, but his stepmother's husband (the narrator's stepfather) treated him with kid gloves -- the narrator was never sent to a public school, although he clearly wasn't living in a traditional family -- and he also had a drinking problem. The narrator's relationship with his stepfather turned out to be somewhat strained. In any case, as he grew up, he slowly ceased to be ruled by the older man's austerities and neuroses.

I was worried that he was going to turn out to be a "pathetic little man forever," the way his father had been at the end of his life, but he doesn't. In fact, he has a new, more adventurous view of the world, after spending much of his life stuck in a stifling home. But he still retains many of his childhood habits. There's a very clear sense throughout the book that he remains essentially the same person he was as a child -- perhaps an adult version of that little boy, but essentially the same immature, insecure, immature, childlike person.

There's a moment in the novel at the halfway point that makes me think the book may be a metaphor for what happened during the Cultural Revolution in one particular city, where the narrator grew up. But this, and some other things that happened in real life while I was reading the book, make me want to say that there were no real conflicts, that the story is not about real events; it is about something that the author knew in a direct way while he was writing. This is, after all, what a novel is: something mediated by the imagination, which takes events in history that are distant from us -- usually very distant -- and transmutes them into a world that is, at least in part, only in the reader's head. That's what the novelist is doing. That's what a fiction book is.

I'm being fairly vague and abstract here. The Wind-up Bird Chronicle is not exactly genre fiction. The closest thing is the first section of Jonathan Lethem's novel Motherless Brooklyn (the sections after that one evoke a sort of "novel-within-a-novel" format at times), and I found the two very different. Lethem is the most real writer I've read in ages, and I didn't find Motherless Brooklyn to be similar. So I'm going to give The Wind-up Bird Chronicle a 4/5 stars rating while admitting that I might be "over" it in some ways. At the very least, it's a book that I'll always remember for a long time, and it has some real emotional power.

5 notes · View notes

monikafilefan · 4 years

Text

seven years

This is an answer to a couple different anon prompts from a long time ago mixed together. One with Maggie finding Scully’s journal and seeing what she’d written to Mulder. The other prompt was for Mulder to spend a lot of time at Scully’s place after “all things.”

tagging @today-in-fic

Margaret Scully considers herself to be a great many things in life. She’s a conservative woman of God who has quietly voted democrat since the day she said “I do.” A loyal navy wife who has worked her slender fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mother of four; a stickler for rules who occupies her time spent alone with a well-kept home; a grandmother who loves to spoil her grandbabies with cookies before dinner and always reads “just one last story, Grandma” at bedtime.

She also considers herself an excellent judge of character and has learned over the years when not to pry in the private lives of others without invitation. Though she cannot say she has never let curiosity take over and wishes her children would invite her in to visit those hidden recesses of their minds once in a while.

But blind is one thing she is not.

Arriving at Dana’s for a quiet Mother’s Day brunch after church today has only confirmed her long-lasting suspicions of the current relationship status between her daughter and Fox Mulder. One look at Dana’s flushed cheeks and swooning smile as she utters her partner’s name across the kitchen table would have been enough to satisfy Maggie’s curiosity about whether or not her daughter has finally embraced what lay within her heart.

Yet, there is much more to be seen here than a meaningful smile and pink cheeks.

And Maggie sees plenty.

A pair of men’s running shoes - size twelve - sit snugly by her daughter’s size sevens. A large leather jacket that smells of familiar cologne is slung over the coat rack by the door, only partially hidden by the sweater she’d gifted Dana four months ago on her first birthday of the new Millenium. There are two mismatched mugs resting next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes inside a cup in the bathroom - bristles touching in comfortable ease - and two towels hanging dry over the shower door. The entire bathroom smells of men’s body wash.

A new development seven years in the making.

Maggie dries her hands at the sink and shuts the bathroom door, smiling warmly as she goes.

“You need help cleaning up, Dana?”

“No.” She shakes her head and turns the water off in the kitchen sink, soap bubbles rising above the dirty plates as she wiggles her rubber-gloved fingers. “I’ve got it, Mom, today’s your day. Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

It’s her day, too, Maggie thinks, but will never say. There will always be an ache in her heart at the thought of her child unable to raise one of her own, yet her pain is one she soothes regiously on her knees come Sunday morning.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine.”

Maggie eyes the paired coffee mugs once again and taps each one with her manicured nail, giving her daughter a chance to open up if she so chooses.

“Do these need to be washed, too?” she asks, knowing good and well that they do not.

Dana’s blue eyes widen as they flick to Maggie’s but replies with a casually dismissive, “No. I cleaned them this morning,” before resuming her scrubbing. This time, Dana does so with a renewed flush and a bitten lip.

“That’s good, honey,” Maggie says with a reassuring squeeze to her daughter’s shoulder, but cannot resist adding, “It’s good to spend mornings with those you care about,” as she turns to leave her with her thoughts.

As Dana finishes with the dishes, Maggie allows herself to admire the intimate details of her daughter’s home - now that she knows for certain with whom she’s been sharing so much of it lately. Her slender fingers trail along the bookshelf, scanning the titles of anatomy books, several science journals in which Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD has been published, and some classic novels she recalls her freckled nose being buried in over the years. All are in alphabetical order. So very Dana.

She chuckles and her eyes catch on a leather book that is not neatly tucked in line with the rest. It’s black with golden letters etched on the cover that simply says “Journal.”

Curious, Maggie holds the journal close and contemplates on whether she should peek, selfishly hoping that more than just the surface-level emotion her daughter allows her to see might reveal itself.

Yet, the thought of betraying Dana’s trust unnerves her. Her daughter trusts so few these days.

As she firmly decides to return such private thoughts to where she found them, she notices a piece of yellow paper slipping out of its back pages. Maggie quickly tries to nab the square bookmark so Dana wouldn’t lose her page due to her mother’s intrusion when the spine flips wide open, fanning out words of heartache her eyes simply cannot unsee.

And every word is intended for someone else.

To whom it may concern,

To my family,

Dear Mulder,

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you’ll read it and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other…

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie exhales through her fingertips, hesitantly scanning the pages scrawled in intimacy with watery eyes.

...Mulder, if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we’ve traveled far together this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone...

Months spent watching helplessly as the bright light of life burning within her daughter slowly faded more and more each day was the hardest thing she as a mother had borne. Watching and waiting for what many thought was the inevitable is something she would never wish upon anyone. And here she is, sneakingly seeking some sort of deeper understanding of what her baby girl has endured.

...Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you’re out there if I am ever to see through this...

Maggie sighs and swipes at a tear hovering along her lashes, hands shaking as she adjusts the book to replace it, when the piece of paper floats to the floor.

Bending down to retrieve it, the journal pages flutter open across her lap to another time in Dana’s life. Maggie’s chin quivers at the words displayed before her.

Dear Mulder,

There was a time in the not so distant past when I told you I was throwing this journal out. That I chose to leave my moments of weakness in the past. But the time has come to admit to myself that losing my only child, my daughter that was never meant to be with you by my side, only confirms that the ache of what lies within my heart is meant for you to bear along with me. That this time, the distance must necessarily be traveled together…

Maggie gasps at the strength and conviction laced within her daughter’s words. The raw heartache Dana must still feel after burying a piece of herself is a familiar one Maggie does not have the strength to re-expose.

But her baby has not experienced it alone; she’s had her partner, and that has been enough.

Her eyes burn and a hot tear rolls down the swell of her cheek, splashing onto the next page before she can stop it. Pinching the tear-stained paper between her thumb and index finger, she waves it through air in hopes of drying the smeared ink before she shuts the book. As she does, Maggie turns the page fully and sees a single sentence hastily written over and over with what she recognizes as fierce emotion pouring from her child’s fingertips.

Dear Mulder,

Personal interest is all that I have. Personal interest is all that I have... Personal interest: it’s something I’ll always have, even if I should not.

“Oh, goodness.” She should not be reading any of this. If Dana wants her to know what secrets lie in her heart, she will tell her.

Maggie picks up the yellow paper next to her feet and immediately realizes it’s more than merely just a bookmark. It’s a note addressed to “Scully” that’s written in fresh ink and time stamped for today’s date.

I never imagined you’d invite me to see your private thoughts you’ve kept so well guarded over the years. I’m truly grateful; for your loyalty, your trust… for you, Scully. More than words can ever express.

Sniffling and riddled with guilt, Maggie slips the note meant for her daughter to read in private back behind the journal’s last written entry. This time, Dana’s greeting to the man she’s clearly been loving from afar for years is a very different one.

To my constant, my touchstone...

Maggie quickly shuts the book and stands, heart racing at her lack of self-control as she places the leather bound memento back on the shelf.

She has known for years that her daughter loves her partner a great deal, and that he loves her just as fiercely in return. She’s not an oblivious woman and never has been.

No, she thinks, as her eyes scan the room once again to land on a lone photo of Dana and Fox standing close together at a crime scene, staring into one another’s eyes, blind she is certainly not.

“Mom, I have tea brewing if…” Dana enters the room and stops a foot away as she takes in the likely overwhelming expression on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie swallows a lump in her throat and smiles softly at her daughter across the room. Suddenly she sees the tomboy with wild red hair and dirty knees; then the teenage girl with freckles and braces kissing a boy on their front porch. She sees a proud Dana graduating with honors and jumping head first into med school, only to be eagerly recruited by the FBI. She then sees that pride and determination focus on a quest that Maggie will never truly understand, but she doesn’t need to.

No, Fox Mulder is the reason Maggie now sees a real and fulfilled happiness on her daughter’s face for the very first time.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” Maggie assures, and she means it.

Dana cocks a brow - just like her father used to - and points to the kitchen. “Okay, well I’ve a kettle on the stove if you want some tea.”

The house phone rings before Maggie can respond and Dana stares at it carefully, as if considering whether or not she should pick up. At the fourth ring, she gives in and answers with a breathy, “Yes, Mulder?”

Maggie smirks, silently moving about the living room to gather her things.

“The audit has been moved up? To tomorrow?” Dana huffs with her back turned, tapping her nails along her desk. “Isn’t this a little short notice coming from Skinner?”

Walking into the kitchen with her purse and sweater slung over her arm, Maggie removes the teapot from the burner before it screams for attention. She pours her daughter a cup the way Dana likes it and sets it on the dining room table as she finishes her call.

“Yeah... yes, I can do that,” Dana murmurs, failing to fight off a smile before swiftly hanging up. “I’m sorry, Mom I-”

“Have to go?”

“Mm,” she confirms and darts her gaze out the window. Maggie knows the summer sun is only partially to blame for the glow on her Irish child’s porcelain cheeks. “Something like that.”

“Fox needs you.” A question isn’t needed this time and both Scully women know why.

“Yes,” Dana draws a deep breath and nods. “It looks that way.”

Maggie has seen more than enough today to know that it’s always been that way. And when her daughter finally looks at her again, Maggie is staring at her gleefully.

“What, Mom?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dana runs her tongue across her upper lip, expectant. “You may as well.”

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, openly grinning now with a motherly confession perched at the tip of her tongue.

“I may be near-sighted, Dana, but I’m not blind yet,” she teases, reaching up to cup her daughter’s reddening cheek. “Not blind at all.”

side note: Mulder leaving evidence of his weekend sleepovers at Scully’s is a little slice of head canon happiness I like to cling to pre Requiem. I do however believe the evidence shows he moved in with her after he came back in “deadalive,” just not beforehand.

#angst #romance #msr fanfic #maggie scully #cancer arc #pre requiem #journal entries #mulder spends weekends at scully's

147 notes · View notes

lynnkn · 3 years

Text

Get It In Writing

Here’s my Pynch Secret Santa for @betterwithoutsense. One of the prompts was non-magic au. Hope you enjoy!

@pynchpromptweek

Read it on ao3!

Ronan was always an outdoorsy type. His mind moved faster when the world around him moved slower. He liked New York, but it was never meant to be his home.

He had come up with the idea to move back home, drunk out of his mind on a Tuesday, after weeks of trying and failing to churn out so much as a short story, let alone a novel. He hadn’t had an original idea since he was fifteen. It made perfect sense if he didn’t think about it too much. At fifteen, he’d created some of his most original ideas, he crafted plots so intricate they made his adult self weep with jealousy. Characters had come to him like dreams. Nothing he’d written since Declan swept him and Matthew off to Alexandria had come close to the stuff he’d scribbled in frayed notebooks between lessons.

If he did let himself think about it, he’d wonder if it had less to do with the change in locale and more to do with his parents’ deaths.

He’d called Blue the next morning. She offered him the couch at her mother’s house while he looked for a place. He calls her again just as the plane lands.

“Don’t hate me,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“Oh, I love when you start conversations like that.”

“I’m stuck at work.” There’s a shuffling and a crash from the other end of the line, followed by voices. At least three of them are yelling out for Blue. “We’re understaffed. Three people quit last week and I’m the only manager left.”

He makes plans to call an Uber as soon as they land. He hates to do it, but he’s left without much of a choice. He’d avoided taxis and the like for most of his time in the city, but every time he did it, it felt wrong. His skin prickled and pulled like even it knew he did not belong in the backseat of someone else’s car.

“But I sent my cousin to pick you up at baggage claim,” Blue says.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you at the house?”

“Yes, definitely! I’ll see you tonight.”

“And thanks for all this.”

“No problem, Ronan.” She huffs a breathy sigh and the phone crackles as she leans in closer to whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too shithead.”

Ronan had met plenty of Blue’s cousins. While the girls come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, they have names like Orla or Chrysanthemum. They wear mismatched clothing and make art out of recycled materials. They’re all indiscriminately weird. He feels confident in his ability to pick a Sargent out of a line-up.

The baggage claim is a confusing swirl of business suits and combat uniforms. He walks past a family carrying a giant banner. But he recognizes none of them. There are no floor-length skirts, no dyed hair. He pulls out his phone to call Blue back when a voice calls out his name. He turns, but he can’t make out who it is. Then he sees him.

He’s leaning against a half-wall, hands tucked into his pockets and a denim jacket tossed over his shoulder. He pushes off with his foot and approaches cautiously. He’s waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” Ronan coughs out. He’s proud of his own tact and grace for the briefest flash before he opens his mouth again. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Blue said she’d call you.” He shuffles for a moment, grabbing desperately at his phone. “I’m Adam. I’m gonna take you back to the house if that’s cool.”

“It’s fine, man. You’re just not who I expected.”

“Well,” he says, starting a sentence he clearly never plans to finish. “You got bags?”

“Yeah. Wait here. I’ll get them.”

Adam takes the large suitcase and reaches for the duffel, but Ronan shakes his head. Adam shrugs and leads the way to the car. Ronan pulls the bag onto his shoulder and flinches as the bag bangs angrily against his stiff muscles. He moves through the pain, desperately hoping Adam can’t tell he’s struggling.

“So how are you related to Blue again?” he asks, desperate for a distraction.

“Uh, I’m Persephone’s kid.”

He remembers Persephone, long white hair, and a soft-spoken voice. She baked pies and could speak with some level of authority on any topic a person brought up. But she hadn’t had any children that he knew of. And he’s sure he’d remember Adam.

“Oh. Sure.”

“It’s an adoption thing,” he says like he’s not outrageously uncomfortable.

“That’s cool,” Ronan says like he wasn’t wondering. He doesn’t want to push so he lets the conversation float away. He’s a big fan of comfortable silence. The issue is that nothing about this situation is comfortable and he’s drowning in his own goddamn bullshit. He follows Adam to a monstrosity of parts but resists the urge to comment. This clearly isn’t the kind of car a person chooses for themselves. They exchange nervous smiles over the trunk and settle into their seats.

Adam clearly knows where he’s going so Ronan settles back in his seat, watching D.C.fade away. When the world turns green, he lets himself feel at home.

“Blue talks about you a lot,” Adam says.

And that’s the funny thing because he’s talked to Blue a lot in the years since he left, but she’s never mentioned Adam. He searches his memory for any mention or comment on the addition of a new cousin, but there’s nothing. He’d told her about every gruesome, gory detail of his move to Alexandria, of school, and Declan, and Matthew. And then when he’d moved to New York, he’d told her about his building and the shitty people he talked to and he’d laid all this on the line without considering that she was still in Henrietta and her family was changing and he didn’t even know. Why hadn’t she told him? He only lets it sting for a moment. Then he numbs it with a promise to talk to her later.

“Yeah,” he says. “She’s my best friend.”

They don’t talk much more on the drive, but Ronan watches Adam out of the corner of his eye. He’s the kind of guy a teenaged version of himself would’ve fantasized over. His hands grip the wheel and his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he focuses on the road. His eyebrows hang heavily over weary eyes. He’s a strange guy, a unique blend of old and young, of new and refurbished. He’s a lot like the car he drives and Ronan wonders if this body is also the kind no one chooses for themselves. But he can't stop staring nonetheless.

The house looks like itself when they pull up and a strange warmth pools through his gut. He breaths in the air as he steps out of the car. It’s lighter here. The air hits the bottom of his lungs and he pulls another breath in just to hold it there. To breathe. If he forgets, he can pretend he’s fourteen and coming over to borrow a cd. Or that he’s ten and coming to watch a movie his parents wouldn’t let him watch. Or that he’s seven and going over to play at a friend’s house for the first time in his life. He could stand out there all day, but he wants to see Maura so he hauls the stupidly heavy duffel over his shoulder and goes inside.

“Ronan? Is that you? Get your ass in here.” Maura’s voice blends with the hum of the laundry machine and children screaming somewhere down the hall and it’s a sound so wrapped in nostalgia, Ronan can’t remember what year it is. He follows the sound to the kitchen where she waits with open arms. He leans down to let her pull him into a hug. Behind him, the screen door slams as Adam comes in behind him, but he doesn’t pull away. “How’ve you been?” she asks, finally pushing him back to take in the sight of him.

“I’m alright.”

“You’re staying with us for a while?”

“Is that a problem?”

“You know it’s not.” She turns back to the counter in front of her. She has a sheet of pepperoni rolls half wrapped and lined up on a strip of parchment paper. She grabs the dough and goes back to work as Ronan leans against the counter, watching her fingers delicately shaping the rolls. “We’re a lot nicer to the boys than we used to be, right Adam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says brushing past both of them on his way out the back.

“Oh I’m convinced,” Ronan says.

Adam stops and quirks a quiet smile, the kind Ronan wasn’t supposed to see. He turns back to them. “I promised Calla I’d fix the porch rail.”

“It can wait if you want some lunch," Maura says.

“I’d rather finish it up before class.” He looks like an animal caught in a trap, leaning towards the back door and letting his eyes wander out the window. “But I’ll take a pepperoni roll when I’m finished if you’re offering.”

She nods at him and this seems to be a dismissal because he’s out the door before Ronan can blink. As soon as he’s gone, though, Ronan is thinking about him again. About how strange he is and how much stranger he seems in a house like this. He shouldn’t fit in and yet, everything about him makes sense.

Ronan washes his hands and picks up a strip of dough, following Maura’s gentle instructions. She reaches over and fixes each roll he makes, but he doesn’t mind. He lets her fix his mistakes with no more than an overdramatic eye roll. And she doesn’t comment on his lack of manners. Maura never expected him to be polite, so long as he was kind.

Blue doesn’t make it home for another two hours. By that time, Ronan is full of pepperoni rolls and Adam has gone to class. He waits for her on the porch and she runs and jumps into his arms the moment she sees him. He picks her up, sweeping her feet out from under her. He’d hit a growth spurt a month after leaving town and hadn’t stopped until he was ducking in doorways.

She startles, but he’s strong and he’d chop his own arms off before he hurt her.

Blue and Ronan had been the weird kids of their homeschool co-op. She yelled about the patriarchy during history and he knew more about Irish folklore than algebra. She hissed at the other kids and he hit anyone who made fun of her.

“I knew you’d come home eventually,” she says.

“Then you must be psychic cause I didn’t know until last month.” He hugs her and she still smells like the tree in the backyard and pixie sticks. All is right with the world. She doesn’t look all that different either. She grew maybe another inch or two, but all-in-all, she’s still what he remembers. He wonders if she’s disappointed cause he sure as hell isn’t the Ronan she knew.

The passenger side door shuts and a man climbs out. His hair is neatly combed and his shirt is ironed. He sweeps a hand over his tie and waves at the two of them.

Blue waves back. She glances over her shoulder at Ronan, hesitant and curious. She waits for a reaction, but Ronan has nothing to say. He watches, slack-jawed and stupid as the man approaches. He kisses Blue on the cheek and offers Ronan his hand.

“You must be Ronan,” he says. They shake hands, a sweaty affair that Ronan pulls away from as soon as he gets the chance. “I’m Gansey.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Blue says. He grins back at her and then at Ronan, slipping into the house, leaving silence in his wake.

“Anything else you wanna tell me?”

“Well John Boy, things have changed here on Walton’s mountain.” She laughs at her own joke, watching for Ronan to join her. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were miserable, Ronan,” she says. “And don’t say you weren’t I could tell. I just didn’t want to rub it in your face.”

“You still should’ve told me.” It burns, like every other little hurt. These days, Ronan can’t seem to feel anything a normal amount. Every prick is a white-hot scorch. Every ache is a broken bone. One day the floor fell beneath him and the pain gets worse every time he hits another level of concrete and earth.

Blue nods and she turns, just enough to the side so Ronan can’t parse out her face. He can’t read her anymore. And so he falls again.

“And what about Adam?” he asks.

“What about him?”

Ronan’s not even sure himself. But he shows up in the same shitty town he’s always lived in and he comes back to a place that had once been his second home and this guy is here, just waiting and he’s everything Ronan thought he’d wanted back then. His perspective is tilting. He thinks about the guys back in New York: Proko, Skov, Swan, and Jiang. He thinks of Kavinsky and how much sense they made. He thinks Adam seems like the kind of guy who’s going to get him hurt. He thinks of how much he’d love to let someone like Adam hurt him.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“I didn’t know how to,” she says. “It’s not my story to tell.”

“Then why send him to pick me up?” Ronan leans into her, watching for a flicker of something recognizable. The Blue he’d known never lied to him. She was honest, sometimes brutally so and she never hid anything from him. They’d talked constantly over the years. And while he’d unloaded all of his bullshit on her, she’s remained mysterious in regards to her own life.

“I think you’ll like him,” she says. “He needs someone like you.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your cousin, Blue.”

“I’m not suggesting you fuck him. I just thought you could be friends.” She rubs her hand over her eyes, pulling her features in a sharp downturn. “I was gonna say the same about Gansey.”

He lets the breath out of his cheeks and watches the wind blow through the grass. It's grown long, just the way Blue likes it. He lets the wind move him like the grass, swaying gently until he feels grounded. He’s not mad at Blue. Not really. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I just want to make sure you have a support system here.”

“I do,” he says.

“Besides me and my mom.” She wipes at her eye again and Ronan graciously ignores the single tear.

He gestures to the door and the family waiting inside. “Well then let’s go.”

Blue smiles and Ronan remembers why he’s here in the first place. Blue is something stronger, more prominent than anything in New York. She makes him stronger, louder. It’s not just about Henrietta or the mountains. It’s in Blue’s smiles and Maura’s eyes and the strangeness of them all. This is where his story is waiting for him. It’s always been here. Ronan is the one who left.

Soon they’re all sat around the table for dinner. The conversation is light and easy. No one pushes Ronan to talk about what he’s been doing in New York and he’s eternally grateful for that. They talk about Blue’s job at Nino’s and Gansey’s parents’ real estate business. He promises to help Ronan check out some of the properties in the area. Adam excuses himself early, claiming he has to get up early for work in the morning.

“What do you do?” Ronan asks, helping Maura clear the table.

“I work at the Greenmantles’ farm up in Singer Falls,” he says. And Ronan feels his heart drop all the way to his ass. “It’s this really old shitty family farm that this guy bought a few years ago. And he has no idea how to run a farm so it’s a disaster.”

“Oh,’ Ronan says. “That’s my house.”

Adam’s eyes widen to twice their regular size. “I…”

“It was always kind of shitty,” he says.

“Yeah.” Adam stands awkwardly behind his chair, perhaps waiting for an appropriate time to bolt. Ronan breaks eye contact, hoping to put him at ease.

But the idea of his home, fallen into disrepair bothers him more than he expected. He remembers the Greenmantles. He doesn’t remember them fondly. He turns to go outside for another breath of fresh air. As he heads for the door, Ronan hears the exchange between Adam and his mother.

“You couldn’t have told me he lived there before I opened my mouth?”

“I could’ve,” she says, placing a palm on the top of his head. She plants a kiss on it and walks to the sink to wash out her mug. Adam, for what it’s worth, smacks his head against the doorframe.

He spends the next night, sitting on the blanket with Blue and Adam and their friends. Gansey’s there, as is his friend Henry. Noah, one of Blue’s coworkers turns up with beer. And they sit in the grass watching the stars. It’s not until they’ve been laying there for a couple of hours, laughing and teasing like they’ve always been this way, that Ronan realizes how much he needs this.

As the others trickle inside for air conditioning or food or sleep, Ronan and Adam are left alone for the first time since the car ride.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” Adam says.

“It’s not that,” Ronan says, hands folded behind his head. The stars are duller here in Henrietta proper, but it’s the closest to home he’s gotten in years. “I just realized Blue hasn’t been telling me shit. I didn’t know about you. It’s not personal.”

“That’s probably my fault. I told her not to tell people.” He bunches a corner of the blanket in a tight fist, before releasing it and smoothing it back out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I just…” He stops, just long enough that Ronan doesn’t think he ever plans to finish the sentence. Then he groans like he’s forcing the truth from someplace buried within him. “Things weren’t good at home so when Persephone offered…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Still,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

The beer is warm and settling in Ronan’s stomach in that way that makes him a little worried sometimes, so he sets it aside. He closes his eyes and reminds himself why he stops. Because it would be so easy to keep going. But he actually likes talking to Adam, and he thinks he might even want to remember this conversation in the morning.

“Blue said you’re a writer?” he asks.

This is a tightrope. Ronan calls himself a writer. His father had called him a writer. Even Declan, for all his infuriating nagging, calls Ronan a writer. But he has nothing to show for it. Nothing’s proud of. People use to ask him this and he’d pull out notebooks full of stories. Sometimes he’d just recite stories from memory like Niall once had. But now, he has nothing to show for the title. He’d trusted the story was here, buried in the hills of Henrietta, sleeping, waiting.

“I guess I am,” he says.

“What do you write?”

“Fantasy.” It’s one of the oldest truths he has to give.

“Only fantasy?” Adam asks. “Never anything else?”

Ronan shakes his head. He’d never had much use for anything else. He’d grown up with his father's stories, grandiose and ridiculous. He’d never conformed to the rules of the mortal world and Rona’s narrative imagination took the hint and ran with it. He silently begs Adam not to ask about his work anymore. Hopes to God he won’t ask to read anything. And he doesn’t. Instead, he tips his head up toward the sky, eyes tracing patterns of stars overhead.

“Tell me something about you,” Ronan says when the silence lingers too long.

“Like what?” He doesn’t move, chin tipped up the heavens and Ronan studies the curve of his jaw.

“Anything true,” he says.

“I’m deaf in my right ear.”

“Really?”

“No,” he says. He’s got a gentle smirk that charms Ronan more than he’s willing to admit. “It’s my left.”

“Can you hear me okay now?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s quiet.”

The summer passes in hazy waves, washing over him every few weeks as he watches time slip away. He’s done nothing. He’s written nothing. But he tours properties with Gansey and makes art with Blue. He buys a skateboard and lets Noah teach him a few tricks and he let Henry take him to Henrietta’s newest and only gay bar. It’s not the best summer of his life, but it comes pretty damn close.

And then there’s Adam who listens better than anyone he knows. They sit together, nearly every day, either on the porch or in the kitchen. Sometimes they drive miles away from the house in Adam's car, away from Henrietta and they park and they talk.

He tells Adam about the farm and Adam tells him about the trailer. He talks about Declan’s nagging texts about college and Adam talks about using the money from the Greenmantles to pay for classes and textbooks at the local community college.

In September, Adam’s car falls to shit in the driveway and several hours under the hood aren’t enough to fix it so Ronan drives him to work in Maura's car, promising to bring it back immediately so no one got stranded at the house.

He follows the gravel driveway, following the curves and dips just as he had once upon a time. He doesn’t watch Adam, but he can feel himself being watched. “This is where I’m gonna live,” he says, pulling in behind a car too shiny and new to fit in with its surroundings. “I don’t want to buy another place.”

“You mean this is it?” He looks over his shoulder out the window and Ronan watches the line of his shoulder crease. If he could, he’d trace a finger over, push in where the skin dips beneath bone. He turns back before Ronan can pull his gaze away. “This is your perfect house?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. I guess I just assumed this place would be…”

“Traumatic?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Adam's gaze floats back to the open field. Ronan can't tell if the expression is jealousy or pity. Maybe it's both. “You don’t see my buying my childhood home.”

“I loved that house. I loved the farm. I could get cattle.”

“You’re gonna buy cows?”

“No, but I could if I had this place.”

“You could always ask if they’d be willing to sell?”

“You work for the guy. Do you think he’d sell it to me?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches the house, eyes full of hope or envy or something dangerous like that. When he turns back, the light of the sunset hits his face and everything seems right. Ronan can picture them sitting on the porch, sipping tea or bourbon on the front porch. He wants this. He wants him. He wants, wants, wants so much it hurts. He reaches, but the whole world lays on a shelf above him, just out of reach.

His mother used to hide cookies on the top shelf, saving them for after dinner. When he closes his eyes, Ronan can see his father’s arm stretched upward pulling the cookie jar down to Ronan. “Just one,” he’d whisper and they’d never speak of it again. Until the next time.

Adam leans forward, pressing warm lips into his and it’s that hand reaching out to him, pulling things down to him that once seemed so impossible he could cry.

He nearly does when Adam pulls away, slowly with a single breath. It was a period, not a comma. It was a thought, not an answer. They let themselves freeze, both leaning over the center console to breathe against one another’s collarbones. This was impossible.

“Do you wanna come look around?” Adam asks.

“Isn’t that a little risky?”

“Mr. And Mrs. Greenmantle aren’t home,” he says. He leans over to unlock Ronan’s seatbelt and the feel of Adam’s arm brushing against his stomach could convince him of almost anything.

“Okay,” he says.

Adam takes him by the hand and leads him around the house, past the empty cow pastures and the shiny new silo. He introduces him to Mr. Gray and the other farmhands and they regale Ronan with stories about Adam at work that make his cheeks flush bright pink.

They climb up the hill and past the old storage shed, just the two of them.

“That thing’s still around?”

“Yeah. It’s old as shit. I can tell.” Adam kicks up some gravel and a small cloud forms around his ankles. “A lot of the old equipment up there’s never been used. Greenmantle just leaves it lying around and sends me up there twice a week to look for something.”

“Yeah. That roof leaks every spring.”

“I know. I keep bugging him to have someone look at it.” He shrugs, the noncommittal gesture of someone who is used to being ignored. Ronan takes care to grip his shoulder with a weighted strength. And he looks at this guy, so fucking beautiful and so capable, and wonders how anyone could see him in any other light.

“Show me the house,” he says, wrapping his other arm around Adam’s waist.

“We’re gonna get caught.”

“Then we’ll have to be fast,” Ronan says. “Lucky for you, fast is my specialty.”

“Stop,” he says. He pushes away, without a second glance and bolts for the barn as soon as he’s out of Ronan’s grip.

“Hey,” Ronan calls after him. He watches as Adam turns, pulling anxiously at his bangs as they flop into his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just miss this place.”

He thinks of the smell of cinnamon in the kitchen and the dent Declan’s head made in the hardwood and the green slime stain on the carpet in Matthew’s room. He wants it back even for a moment. He wants it more than anything. Anything except Adam.

But Adam pulls another breath into his lungs and says. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”

He takes Ronan’s hand in his, leading him toward the house, pulling at his finger and the heat trapped between their palms travels all the way up Ronan’s arm. He lets himself be dragged until they reach the porch. He pulls a key from the sconce and opens the front door. The same one Ronan remembered. He could picture his mother, standing in the foyer if he focused.

The craziness of it all strikes him as he stands there. He thought he’d never see this place again, but he’s standing there and he’s so close to what he wants and yet so far. So he pulls Adam in for another kiss, this one messier, hungrier. He buries his hands in the hair on the back of Adam’s neck.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan turns back to the open door and there is Greenmantle in all his smarmy glory. Ronan previously thought his teenage memories had exaggerated, but he was clearly right all along. This guy simply looks like a bastard.

“Sir,” Adam says. It’s a plea, a desperate Hail Mary from someone Ronan once thought was too proud for such things.

“Get out,” he says. He holds his hand out and Adam slowly drops the keys. He doesn’t look at Greenmantle or Ronan. He watches his feet. Ronan can’t help but watch him. “And don’t come back. You’re done.”

They don’t talk on the way back to the car. There is nothing to say. Adam slams the door as he sits. He makes a sound, so low, so guttural, Ronan would’ve thought it came from one of the animals.

“You took it too far. I lost my job, Ronan!”

“I know that.” He puts his keys in the ignition and lets the engine roar to life under them. He feels better, but Adam clearly doesn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“If I don’t have a job, I can’t keep paying for school.”

“Listen, I know. I’ll help you. It’s not like I’m gonna let your freeze out there.”

“Oh yeah, cause your dream comes before everything else, huh? What about my dream?” He takes a harsh breath and hunches over the dash, refusing to meet Ronan’s eyes. It’s possible there are tears, but Ronan feels too guilty to look more closely.

“What fucking dream, Parrish? Your big dream is to spend the rest of your life slaving away so some dipshit in suit and tie gets to summer in Guam. That’s not a dream. That’s a nightmare.”

“It’s better than this.” He drops his head to his knees, burying his face. He has nothing to worry about. Ronan couldn’t look at his face if wanted to. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then let help you find something better.”

“This is why you don’t know anything about Blue. You’re too caught up in your own bullshit to realize the rest of us have stuff going on too.”

He drives Adam back to the house without another word. He doesn’t go inside. He doesn’t want to see anyone else. He wants to drive. He takes the backroads too fast and the curves too sharp. He lets the road lead him to the convenience store just up the road. At least he saves the whiskey until he gets back to the house.

When he wakes in the morning, he doesn’t remember much after he got back. But he’s on the porch, back aching and head throbbing instead of tucked away on the couch, so he’s willing to bet it didn’t go well. Maura is sipping tea at the kitchen table. “Wanna tell me what you were doing out there? With my car?”

He shakes his head. He tests his voice, but it’s rough and gravely. He clears it into his fist before trying again. “Is Adam here?”

“He went to talk to Greenmantle.” She sips her tea again, placing it beside her. She looks up, trying to look him in the eyes, but Ronan stares at the table, the floor, anything but her face. She gives up, crossing the room to fill a glass with water from the sink “Blue and the boys went with him,” she says, handing it to him. "they said they were going to get his job back."

He sips at it cautiously. It lands in his stomach with a splash, so he stops, letting it settle before sipping again. “I need to go see him.”

“Is that a good idea?”

He drains the rest of the glass in one gulp and sets the glass back on the table. “I don’t know,” he says. With a clearer head and a couple of Ibuprofen, he hops in his car and prays for one more miracle.

Mr. Gray is there when the BMW crawls up the drive. He directs Ronan to the old shed, before reminding him to not get caught.

Adam’s got the door to the shed propped open so he sees Ronan coming from a mile away. “Go,” he says once they’re close enough to talk without yelling.

“Parrish, I just wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t pull a muscle.”

“I’m trying to act like a grown-up here. Would you come talk to me?”

“Talking to you got me stuck up here cataloging inventory in the first place. I had to beg for my job back.” He drops an ax beside him with a resounding crack that catches them both off guard. They stare at each other for a moment, caught up in their confusion before Adam turns back to his work. Ronan can’t look away. “Just leave me alone. We can talk tonight.”

The crack returns followed by a crash and Adam’s head dips beneath the stacked crates without time to so much as scream.

“Parrish!”

He rushes forward, forgetting to consider the already fragile flooring. It bends and moans in front of him. He pulls back, leaning over the boxes to get a view of the hole, slowly spreading as bits of wood flake off. “Parrish?” he yells begging his friend or God for an answer.

Both God and Adam seem to have other plans as Greenmantle rounds the corner. “What the hell was that sound? What are you doing here?”

“Parrish, can you hear me?” He waits for an answer. A beat. Nothing. He’s not a patient guy, but he waits for a second longer, prays for so much as a grunt or groan, but nothing. “He fell through.”

“What do you mean he feel through?”

“I’m not a fucking contractor. He fell through the fucking floor. What else do you need to know?”

Mr. Gray is there in an instant. He stays back graciously and doesn’t seem interested outside the basics. “Is he responding?”

“No,” Ronan says. He thanks God that someone else is taking over the situation because he's beginning to feel horribly unqualified. “I think he’s unconscious.”

“Do you have your phone on you?”

“No. I left it in my car.”

Mr. Gray turns to Greenmantle wordlessly. The two exchange looks that seem to cycle through an entire exasperated conversation before Greenmantle spits out “I don’t have service out here.”

“Ronan?” Blue yells, rushing forward. Henry, Noah, and Gansey follow her. He holds out a hand to keep them back. He watches the hole, waiting for it to spread, and feels it bobble beneath him. He’s not safe either and he knows it, but if someone else comes inside, they’re definitely fucked. He looks at her though and the unshed tears in her eyes undo him.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can say anything. He’s trapped leaning over a hole and Parrish is trapped and the whole world is pulling in toward him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it off. Still, he says “I’m okay. But if I move the rest of this place is gonna cave in on him.”

Gansey runs up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He tucks her into his chest and they both stare back, discomfort clear in their eyes. They flash him matching encouraging smiles through the fear.

“I’m gonna call 911,” Henry yells, sprinting back across the field from where he came. No one stops to thank him.

“Is this really necessary?” Greenmantle asks.

“It may be a while before anyone makes it out here,” Mr. Gray says. “Ronan, if we can get you out, they’ll be able to get to Adam quicker. Can you sit down where you are?”

Ronan pushes a box of small garden tools off to the side, clearing enough of a path for him to sit down. He lowers himself gently, holding his breath the whole way down. He doesn’t release until his ass hits the floor.

“Good,” Mr. Gray says. He leans forward, peering over the mess to meet his eyes. Ronan sees his own fear and panic reflected in the man’s eyes. “Now roll onto your stomach, okay? You’re gonna crawl.”

He pushed himself over, turning as slow as he could. The floor groaned again beneath him. “This isn’t working. This is all gonna end up on top of him.”

“No. It’s not. You’re going to crawl toward me. You ever play army guy when you were a kid? It’s just like that. Keep your stomach on the ground and crawl.”

Ronan crawls. He can't see the other from the ground, but he can hear them talking around him.

“We can’t get to Adam until we’ve got him safe," Mr. Gray says. His voice is calm, but in the overly-controlled way that indicates a person is not actually calm at all. “If we tear down that back wall, we may be able to dig through to him.”

“We might just end up staking more debris on top of him,” Greenmantle says.

“I don’t know how else to access him.”

“There’s a crawlspace,” Ronan says. He pulls himself past an old ladder, taking care to avoid rusty nails and a suspicious stain. He thinks about his last tetanus shot and decides a booster couldn't hurt.

“What?” Greenmantle leans down to stare at Ronan through a gap. Ronan ignores his furrowed brow and exasperated tone.

“There’s a crawlspace underneath.” He pulls himself another inch and Gansey is there offering a hand. He takes it graciously and Gansey pulls him the last few inches off the foundation and through the doorway. Mr. Gray leans over and tugs on his other hand pulling him up. He’s still coughing from the dust and panic as he throws himself around the corner of the building to the small wooden door.

The deadbolt gives way with little fuss despite the copious amounts of rust around it. “Adam?” he yells into the entrance, but there’s still no response.

“I’m little,” Blue says. “I can fit more easily.”

“You’re not dressed for it. There’s ticks and shit down there.” He hurriedly tucks his jeans into his boots and slides through the door before anyone can stop him.

He can see the damage as soon as his eyes adjust to the dark. And then he’s army crawling again. He pulls himself forward, pushing past bugs and dirt and what he thinks was once a raccoon. He crawls until he reaches and a chunk of wood too big to move. He has no leverage in the slim space around him. He can barely push himself up. His shoulders are squished in too tight to move anything heavy. He kicks himself for not thinking of a better plan. He crawls around the wood, blinking dust from his eyes and searching for any sign of Adam.

He peeks past the beam to see a clear space on the other side. He sees the ax to his left. He’s here. He’s somewhere in this place. He’s so close Ronan could touch him except he’s hidden and not responding. “Adam?” he yells one last time.

There’s a groan, soft and pained, but a groan nonetheless.

“Ronan? Can you hear us?” Mr. Gray yells.

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Kinda busy here.”

“You need to get out of there, Ronan.”

“Let me just get to him.”

“Ronan, now!” Gansey yells.

There’s another crack and a plank falls on top of the stack. But it stops as soon as it starts. The dust settles into his eyes and he can’t see in front of him, but he can hear the gasps and murmurs from above him. “I’m okay.”

“Ronan get out now.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Adam coughs. It’s harsh and pained, but it’s the best sound he’s heard because he can tell where it came from. He pulls the ax toward him. There isn’t room to swing, but he doesn’t want to anyway, not with Adam so close. He smashes it into the block of wood. It doesn’t split, but he’s got enough force to crack and splinter it. With a few more strikes, it breaks away just enough to wiggle. He pulls it back, throws it over his shoulder and there is Adam.

He’s pale, coated in a layer of dust and grime and his temple’s a mess of blood, but he’s the best thing Ronan’s ever seen. He collapses by his side, sweeping a hand over the blood clumping in his bangs. He weighs the danger of spinal injuries against the threat of another collapse. The voices screaming above him win out. He ends up pulling Adam behind him, trying to keep his head and neck as steady as possible.

Mr. Gray waits at the door and Ronan is more than happy to hand Adam over to him. He pulls Adam into his arms and immediately heads for the driveway where an ambulance is pulling up. Ronan falters back a step at the ominous task of pulling himself back out.

When he turns back to the opening, his friends are there. Noah and Gansey reach down, grabbing Ronan by the biceps and hauling him out with minimal assistance from himself. Henry hands him a bottle of water and a towel as soon as he touches the ground again. And Blue says nothing, simply throws herself at him, face into his chest, and hugs tighter than she ever had before. And he lets her.

And when he starts coughing, they help him sip from the water. When he coughs so hard he throws up, they pull him to his feet, dragging him toward the ambulance as well.

In the end, Ronan’s lungs are okay. He’s advised not to inhale large quantities of dust again. He tells the ER nurse where she can go. It’s all quite civil as far as Ronan’s concerned.

Persephone hugs Ronan as soon as she arrives at the hospital. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around him in a gesture he understands as a thank you. He doesn’t tell her it was no big deal, but he squeezes her back and hopes the message is clear.

Adam’s broken arm, three broken ribs, and moderate concussion are fairly underwhelming as far as structural collapse injuries go. “What did I tell you?” he says that evening when he’s staying awake for more than 30 seconds at a time. “I’m hard to kill.”

No one finds this quite as funny as Adam, but he’s awake and healthy enough to be laughing.

When Greenmantle arrives at the hospital, not twenty minutes before the end of visiting hours, Ronan is fully prepared to drag the man from the room, but Adam stops him. “Actually I’ve been wanting to talk. Please, Mr. Greenmantle. Come sit.” He takes the only seat in the room, facing across from Adam like a business meeting. Adam drops a folder on the stand over his bed. He pulls the papers out and spreads them out. “Here I have copies of my timesheets, dating back to last June with reminders from me to call a contractor about the shed. And you signed off on all these, didn’t you?” Greenmentle nods, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously. “What do you think a lawyer would think of these, Mr. Greenmantle?”

“Well, I — uh.”

“But I don’t really want to sue you.” He sweeps the page back up into a file and slips them back into the folder. “This isn’t some sort of moral high ground thing either. I should sue you. I just think we can solve this without any lawyers, don’t you?”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“So what do you say, you sell my friend Ronan your farm and we can all go about our lives.”

“Well I’m sure we can talk about prices, but this particular property is quite valuable. I’ll have to get a fair price for it of course.”

Gansey steps forward, clutching his own folder. This one is red and labeled “Greenmantle can suck my Dick III.”

“Actually we have some numbers here for you, sir.” He shuffles through the papers contained and pulled one from the bottom of the pile. He folds it over and presents it to Greenmantle with a flourish, that is unusually snarky for Gansey. Ronan finds himself charmed by it.

“This is considerably less than I paid, Mr. Gansey.”

Adam clears his throat. “Yes, but let’s pretend I did take you to court. If you look here, this is an estimation of what you’d be paying based on some employer negligence data I found. So all in all, I think you’ll find that to be a very fair price given what you could end up paying.”

“I see…”

“And of course, this way your wife never has to find out about any of this. She didn’t want you spending too much on the property if my memory serves me well.” It’s bold talk from someone who slurred and mumbled his way through the alphabet just a few hours ago, but he’s bouncing back fast. “Sleep on it. Come talk to me again tomorrow.”

Greenmantle shuffles out of the room, clutching the paperwork to his chest. Ronan likes his odds.

The nurse knocks softly on the door. “Visiting hours are ending soon,” she says. “One of you can stay with him overnight if you want, but everyone else needs to head out.” Persephone scoots closer to the bed, wrapping her fingers lightly around Adam’s wrist and Ronan wouldn’t dream of trying to fight her over this.

Ronan pats Adam twice on the leg, a friendly gesture and nothing more, but fingers grip at the hem of his jacket.

“Can I talk to Ronan alone for a minute?” he asks Persephone, who nods quietly and shuffles out with the rest of the crowd. And when it’s quiet and everyone else has become a memory, Ronan pushes himself up onto the side of the bed, leaving little room for Adam to wiggle himself up into a seated position.

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself. Jesus, Parrish. They’re gonna kick me out for good if I knee you in the ribcage.”

“I’m real sorry, Ronan.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize just cause I saved you. I would’ve done it anyway.”

He leans back, petulant as a child. “I’m not. But I went too far and I am sorry.” He grips the blanket like that night under the stars before releasing it again. "What I said about Blue..."

“You weren’t wrong. But I'm gonna do better Parrish. I want to be better.” He watches the way Adam's brow creases and for the first time in a long time, he understands why people keep going when shit sucks. If he’d known that face, scrunched and focused as he chewed on the edge of his swollen lip, was waiting on the other side, he never would’ve considered any other option. This was what people live for, this feeling here. This is what people write poems and songs and fucking dystopian YA trilogies about. There's an entire story in the shit-eating grin. And he found it. The goddamn holy grail. “I just want to see you happy.”

“And that dream thing? You were right," he says. "It turns out I’ve been paddling upstream for nineteen years without ever knowing where the creek drops off.”

“Then you draw your own map and you figure out how to make the water do what you tell it.”

“And what are your big plans, Lynch?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m buying a farm.”

#the raven cycle #trc #pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #alcohol tw #abuse tw

15 notes · View notes