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merakiui · 2 years

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[i.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵛⁱˡ’ˢ ᵈᵉˡⁱᵍʰᵗ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: descriptions of gore/death chapter i (you are here)│chapter ii

Today’s Horoscope: On this day, just as the stars align, your intelligence shines brighter than the sun and your positive energy uplifts those who know you. There are surprises waiting at every corner; it’s important to be alert. You will soon be rewarded for your continuous efforts and hard work.

In the large, horizontal tank, weightless, transparent globs of gel carry sparkling enchantments. Trapped in the malicious maw of mesmerization, you place your hand upon the glass and peer in at them, admiring the serene way in which they drift aimlessly in undisturbed waters. The lights from above dye their tiny, wispy bodies in the faintest, most angelic blue you’ve ever seen; the hue even reaches your fingertips, bleeding into your nails like the purest paint borne from cherub tears.

Jellyfish have always managed to captivate you. They are small and slow creatures who lack bones and a brain. Composed mainly of water, they exist for the sole purpose of protection—a gummy shield in which fish encase themselves to evade the jaws of ravenous predators. Charming as they are, jellyfish sting. And it hurts. A lot. They’re the type of marine animal you’d only ever hope to view from afar, through the transparent lens of a glass wall, lest you encounter one and it wraps its dangerous tendrils around your ankle in an electrifying embrace.

The intercom crackles to life just as you pull away from the tank, brows knitting in anticipation. “Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color of you.”

“I know that focused look.”

You whirl around, staring with wide eyes at the person whose back is facing you. His palm leaves a dark imprint on the jellyfish tank as he surveys the creatures inside with an expression you can’t see. His reflection is distorted beyond recognition, but his voice strikes a chord of familiarity within you.

“You’re fishing again, aren’t ya?”

“Fishing?”

“Don’t fish too deep. You never know what you’ll reel in.”

You blink and he vanishes in a brilliant explosion of playing cards under the glow of the aquarium. When you gaze beyond the spot where he once stood, all of the jellyfish have gone still in the water. You realize, with a sinking unease, that they’re dead.

“Today’s color is blue,” the woman repeats, her monotonous tone shaking you from your stupor. “As vast and wide as the sky and sea…”

You sit up in bed with a gasp, mind reeling through images of blue jellyfish, blue lights, blue skies—and your hand moves in search of your mobile phone. You locate it seconds later, tucked under the duvet like a bloodless corpse in a shroud. It glares at you when you turn it on and swipe through the pop-ups that clutter the illuminated screen. Flopping back onto the mattress, you click on the app that houses your digital dream diary and begin to record everything that just transpired.

“Blue. Jellyfish. Strange man. Cards. Intercom lady,” you mutter, voice thick with sleep. “Dead jellyfish. Blue… No, I already got that one. Um…”

Your thumbs hover over the keypad as you ruminate what’s missing. Eventually it clicks and you type the words color of loneliness into the document. Before you make another note, you search to confirm whether or not her claims are true.

“The color of loneliness…” Your eyes skim the first result and a smile claws through your drowsiness. With quick fingers, you consult today’s horoscope and scan it thrice before realization strikes. “She was wrong. That means today will go according to my horoscope. It won’t be the opposite!” You hug your phone to your chest and squeal, rolling back and forth until the blankets have tangled around your legs in a heap of wrinkles and you’ve bumped into another body.

A pair of pastel blues open in the gloom and your whereabouts in the real world come crashing down, heavier than the exhaustion that comes complimentary with a pre-sunrise awakening. No longer confined to the dreamy aquarium, you find yourself in a bedroom, tucked snugly in a king-sized bed, with a familiar man. The lights from a dozen skyscrapers cast an otherworldly luminosity on him, shining in through the slits in the curtains, and for a moment it’s as if you’re lying amidst the clouds with a seraph.

Azul yawns and reaches blindly through the shadows until he finds you. His arms wrap around your waist and you allow yourself to be tugged into his chest, where his heart beats out a steady rhythm that instantly soothes you. Combined with this comfortable embrace and the silkiness of the duvet, you breathe a satisfied sigh. When all else is swallowed by darkness—no matter what becomes of the people you once knew—Azul will remain as he always has: perfect and safe.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“No one,” you whisper. “I had a weird dream.”

“Oh?” His voice is low and husky—a brittle intonation that you’re only ever graced with in the early hours of dawn. “You can tell me about it over breakfast. I’d love to peer inside that curious head of yours.”

“Are you sure you won’t get bored?”

“Please.” A chuckle rumbles in his throat while he cradles your face with his hand, his thumb tracing circles into the softness of your cheek. “You could never bore me, my dear.”

Content with his response, you snuggle against him and slip into a dreamless slumber while listening to his heartbeat. Unfortunately, you’re not sure you can count the rest of the hours as ‘good sleep’ because your brain continues to buzz with faint recollections of your dream and the deeper meaning it holds. After lots of twisting and turning, you force yourself to wake at the crack of dawn despite your unwillingness to get out of bed. The promise of a good day is what eventually convinces you, so you throw the covers off and focus on welcoming a new morning.

Azul, dazed and sleep-deprived, tugs your robe-clad body into bed when you’ve returned from your shower, insisting on five more precious minutes before he joins you in getting ready. And because you’re so certain the day will be prosperous, you fall into his embrace as always.

“I know that focused look. You’re fishing again, aren’t ya?”

“So what if I am?” you mumble, weighing the current profile on your phone as if you’re a celestial judge and this person’s fate rests solely in your capable hands. “It’s hard to meet people nowadays. This helps me dodge so many bullets.”

“I won’t disagree with those facts.” Cater rests his elbows on the countertop, feigning dejection as though it’s as simple as breathing. “But how could you possibly look at other faces when I’m right here?”

“We’re friends, Cay. There’s a difference.”

”And I thought you said I was your type!”

“As friends you’re my type. That’s about it, though.”

“Total bummer.” The corners of his lips twitch into the beginning of a frown before promptly quirking upwards. “Well, what’s the sitch? Did you get any bites?”

“Yeah. But I haven’t reeled in anyone yet.”

“Aren’t you a picky peach?”

“I have standards,” you retort before turning your mobile his way so that he’s greeted to the sight of a shirtless man holding a fishing pole. Dangling precariously from the hook with large, glossy eyes is a sizable fish, its shimmering scales winking at whoever’s fortunate enough to stumble across his profile. “What’s your diagnosis?”

Cater’s nose scrunches as if he can smell the cloying stench of brine and body odor wafting from the image. “The doctor says he’s trying too hard.” He snatches your phone for closer inspection. “And he’s hooked the fish in the gills. In other words, if he’s careless with his fish do you want him as your main dish, Miss Marine Biologist?”

“Absolutely not.” You grin as he swipes the profile away. “Who’s up now?”

“A nature lover.”

“I like nature.”

“Do you?”

“Is it too much nature?” You sidle up to him in an attempt to get a clear view of the screen when a clipboard suddenly drops onto the counter. It clatters noisily, and you lift your gaze to meet a certain someone’s scowl.

“Slacking off again? I ought to have your heads for this.”

“My bad, Riddle. Cay and I already refilled everything and everyone’s been served. We had nothing better to do.”

Said man raises a brow before jutting his thumb in the direction of a table cluttered with dirty dishes and drying ice cream splatters. “‘Nothing better to do.’ Is that right?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cater is already reaching for a dishrag and a bucket of soapy water. “Cay Cay’s on the case!”

“You should have been ‘on the case’ the moment the customers left!” he snaps, rubbing circles into his temples. “We aren’t running a pigsty, after all. So get back to work and don’t let me see you on your phones until the break.”

“Yes, Riddle,” you and Cater murmur in unison, heads bowed submissively. Riddle studies your expressions for a moment longer before taking the clipboard and turning on his heel with a huff. He pushes past the striped saloon door and disappears into the storage room to begin the tedious task that is inventory.

Cater leans closer to you, slides your phone into the depths of your apron pocket, and whispers, “Riddle’s always been, like, super loaded. His parents are magic doctors and I heard that makes good money. So why’s he working part-time?”

Like I’d know. We haven’t talked in years.

“The commoner’s lifestyle is exciting, or so they say. Even the rich want to experience it now. Maybe that’s why they look for partners who can hardly support themselves.”

“Yikes. Talk about a power trip.”

“Or a huge win for me. Student debt sucks.” You wave to the couple sliding out of the booth to your right. They return your gesture with broad smiles. “Wouldn’t you want to date someone rich? Then all of your problems would go poof!”

“Money can’t solve everything, lovely. What happened to personality?” Clicking his tongue, he drapes himself against the counter in an overdramatic feint of despair. “What has our world come to?”

“It must be ending if we’re letting that strawberry devil act like the king of the diner.”

“He fits the part nicely, though. You have to admit these uniforms are super cute.” Cater glances at the storage room before withdrawing his phone for a quick selfie. “And this place is a perfect backdrop for my Magicam feed! Pose with me!”

“I never really cared for it, but I guess the aesthetic is appealing.” You tap at the plastic horns on your headband and force a grin for the camera. After Cater’s put his phone away, you add, “It’s just part of the gag, right?”

“It’s so much more than that! Don’t you understand what the ‘delight’ stands for in The Devil’s Delight? It’s devilishly delightful! Duh.”

You reach into the bucket and pull a rag out. Wringing it free of excess water, you shrug at him. “People like old-fashioned, vintage things. Simpler times, simpler pleasures. Isn’t that why this place gets so much foot traffic during the high season?”

“You have much to learn,” he says with a disappointed tut.

Rolling your eyes, you pass the rag to him and reach for the dirty dishes on the table. Cater flits over to a booth near the window, where a little girl has just knocked over her milkshake. The liquid drips from the table in fat droplets, landing on the clean tiles in patterns reminiscent of blood spatter. It’s a pastel crime scene, one that’s endearingly sweet and innocently pink. While Cater’s in the process of retrieving the glass and consoling the girl to the best of his ability, you carry the dishes over to the sink. He meets you halfway, passing the empty glass to you, and you take it from him and drop it into the basin.

“I’ll make another one. Strawberry with whipped cream and a cherry, right?” You meet the girl’s teary-eyed stare. She manages a shy nod while her mother assists Cater in clearing the table so that he may wipe it down. “I’ll put extra whipped cream just for you, so don’t cry. Mistakes happen all the time. We can’t control them.”

At the mention of a larger portion, she perks up. “Thank you, miss!”

There’s never a dull moment at this diner, you muse while grabbing a stainless steel milkshake cup and an ice cream scooper. But that’s good. It means this day is going to be rewarding.

By the time you’ve reached the end of your shift, the afternoon has melted away into an array of breathtaking colors. Pinks and purples streak the sky, and you’re reminded of sorbet as you admire the retreating sun. Cater joins you at the window just as the last customer exits, the bell above the door jingling out a cheerful farewell.

“Another day in the books,” he announces proudly, hands on his hips.

“I wouldn’t make note of it just yet.” Riddle stands behind the both of you with his arms crossed. “We’re on closing shift, which means I’d like to be out of here within the next hour. Only then will this day be ‘in the books,’ as you’ve put it.”

“And we’re back to work!” you announce, turning away from the window. Before you can take another step, Cater’s arm snakes around your waist and pulls you against him for a selfie. He snaps a photo before you can look presentable, which graces your Magicam-obsessed friend with an unflattering view of you struggling to escape his grasp. Your expression is twisted in a mix of shock and vexation, and it certainly doesn’t appear photogenic despite the sun’s rays framing your head like a bright halo. “Hey! Delete that!”

“Too late. It’s going on Magicam! #Devil’sDelight. #SummerSunset. #nofilter. #besties4lyfe. #StaySeethingRiddle. And… Posted!”

“My dignity…”

“You have more to worry about than your dignity.” Riddle gestures to the room with a sweeping hand motion. “And you can start by wiping the tables. I’ll tally the register. Cater can finish the dishes and then he’ll mop.”

“No way. I did that last time.”

“Consider it a punishment for taking so many pictures during work.”

Cater looks to you for defense, but you can only offer your most confident thumbs-up. “And you did it wonderfully, too. Not all of us are split cards, my dearest Cay Cay.”

“Both of you are heartless devils!”

“Stay seething,” Riddle replies, sharing a victorious smirk with you.

It’s times like this one where you really connect with your high-strung friend. He’s always been particular about order and rules, especially when it comes to important things like managing a business or completing academic tasks. Even when the two of you were children, he had his sights set on the future while you would stand outside his window, tossing pebbles without a single thought in your happy-go-lucky brain. But with his mature outlook on life, it’s no surprise he was granted the position of manager just two weeks after starting. And here you were competing with Cater for that role, foolishly bickering over who’d make a better diner manager.

Deep in your soul, you’re certain Riddle could cut more of an impressive leader than you could. Your measly shadow only ever wavers at the mere insinuation of taking charge of things like your present and future. If you could, you’d drift through life on a zephyr and shed every fear that dares to tread upon your good mood.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket while you’re wiping the surface of a nearby table, and you glance at Riddle to check if he’s still attentively counting money. Once you realize his focus isn’t going to stray anytime soon, you cease cleaning and pull your mobile out to read the notification.

[You’ve matched with sea♡sluggi! Chat with them now!]

Exhaling a weary breath, you unlock your phone to inspect the user’s profile. There’s nothing outstanding about their bio, which lists a standard greeting, an age, pronouns, and a few emoticons. A location isn’t noted so you can’t possibly determine if they’re nearby or not, and their profile picture displays a woman holding up a cat and flashing a peace sign at the camera. Enticed by her bright grin and the mirth crinkling her eyes, you swipe to the chat feature and type a short greeting. Once it’s sent you slip your phone inside your pocket and return to the task at hand.

It isn’t until you’re standing under the awning outside, bathed in the crimson illumination from the sign that flashes the diner’s name, when you finally withdraw your mobile. Riddle’s twisting the key in the lock while Cater hums a nonchalant tune and checks Magicam, and you scroll through the app to read and respond to the messages you missed while cleaning up. Of those missed messages, the user from before pops up.

[sea♡sluggi] heey, thanks for the reply! :D i’m not used to these sorts of apps, so i was worried i’d end up making a fool out of myself… my friends dared me to swipe on someone and u looked nice enough to reject me gently >_<

[(Name)] That makes two of us lmao I haven’t used this account in a while

[sea♡sluggi] lol rip

[(Name)] But you seem nice! Are you an animal lover?

[sea♡sluggi] yep yep! i volunteer at the local shelter. hbu?

[(Name)] I work at a diner :/ nothing special or fulfilling about that. But I’m studying to be a marine biologist!!

[sea♡sluggi] impressive! maybe u can save our oceans with ur marine biology magic :D

[(Name)] I’ll do my best

[sea♡sluggi] i’m counting on u~ ♪♪

“That just about does it. Good work, both of you.”

You look up from the fluorescent, pocket-sized screen to return Riddle’s tender smile with one of your own. “Have a good night, Riddle.”

“Y-Yeah. You as well.”

“See ya later, alligators!” Cater flashes a grin at you and Riddle before turning to address you specifically. “Call me if you get any bites. I want to know all the deets!”

“Roger that, Dr. Cay.”

He mocks a salute before turning the corner and disappearing from sight, his shadow stretching in the light. And then you hear the rumble of a car as it’s started up and he drives past the both of you, poking his head out to wave. Silence fills the void he’s left, and you and Riddle linger under the striped eave, eyeing the boardwalk in the distance. The wooden slats give way to the shallows beyond, where the horizon has become a tangle of blue and gray. A comfortable breeze rushes through the walkway, and you inhale the summery scents of sea salt and bonfire smoke.

“See you later?”

“Get home safely.”

”Aw. You care. Should I be expecting a confession under the moonlight?”

“Just don’t get into any trouble.” He scoffs and storms off, but you catch his whisper as it’s carried to you on the wind. “And I’ve always cared…”

“Wait! Can… Can we take a walk together? It won’t be far. I promise.”

Riddle turns to face you and a tense beat passes between the two of you, filled with unspoken anecdotes of the past. Eventually, warmth bleeds into his sharp eyes and he nods. Smiling, you fall into step beside him.

“Is everything okay?”

If you had a single Madol for every time someone’s asked that cursed question, you’d be set for life. Probably.

“I just wanted to catch up. Ask how the move went. When you messaged me saying you were moving, I didn’t think you’d actually do it. And then you got a job at DD! That’s the best coincidence in the world! But enough of my ramblings. How’s everything going?”

You owe me that much after all this time, you’re tempted to add, but your lips clamp shut.

“Well, I was accepted into this internship program for magic doctors, but I won’t be starting it until next month. Since I’ll be pursuing another degree in autumn, I’d like to get accustomed to life by the sea if I’m going to be attending university and interning here. Moving hasn’t been too difficult either. The flat layout has been a pain, though. It has to be absolutely perfect or else there’s just no point.” He frowns disapprovingly at the ground, as if it’s to blame for the complications. “Other than that, I’d say things are going well.” Pride soon replaces his discontent, and it’s a clear portrait of a level of self-satisfaction you wish to achieve.

“For real? Seriously? That’s amazing!”

“It would be even more amazing if you submitted your application. Cater told me you’ve been stalling.”

“I… Yeah. Well.” You stuff your hands into your apron pocket and kick at a nonexistent stone on the path. “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“I want to do it. I really do and I’ve filled everything out. But…” A soft breath tumbles from your mouth. “I guess I’m having doubts now that I’ve come this far.” You peer down the empty street as you cross it, feeling Riddle’s eyes crawl up your face. Your feet slow to a halt and you stand there with your gaze locked firmly on your sneakers. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want to do with my life right now.”

It’s a heavy admission—one you entrust with Riddle because he’s mature and responsible—and you surmise he can handle the weight of this gut-churning honesty. Though perhaps you shouldn’t have dumped it on him so suddenly because his response has your walls upgrading to wood and then stone and then steel, until you're no longer a fractured fortress.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t know why I said that. Forget I said anything.” The strained chuckle you force out of the confines of your throat is unimpressive and hollow. Riddle doesn’t seem to buy it, nor does he laugh with you. “For now I’m happy working with you and Cater.”

“Part-time employment will only get you so far. It’s not smart to rely on dead-end jobs with minimum wage as a stable source of income. If you intend to own a house or start a family one day, you’ll need stability and a well-paying, full-time job.”

“I know. That’s why I want to be a marine biologist. I want to talk to dolphins and study merfolk and do all of that fun, aquatic stuff.”

“Do you?” His brow raises, challenging you to spill the raw, unfiltered truth. “You’re nearly finished with your degree. You’d benefit from a position at a zoo or a rehabilitation center. Even a marine lab would be happy to have you. I can look for available internships and job listings if you’re not—”

“I’m going to be a marine biologist!” This time the bold declaration sounds convincing—to your ears, at least. “I promise I’ll submit the application tomorrow. I’ll head right over after lunch…or dinner. Or whenever I get the chance.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to distract you from whatever it is you need to do.” You wave your hand through the air. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I don’t mind setting time aside for you.” He turns the other way and clears his throat. “So… So don’t feel like you’re alone in this, all right? I’ll be here to support you. And even if you aren’t accepted, it’s not the end of the world. They’ll be missing out on your ‘big brain,’ as Cater often says.”

“Hah! With all of this hype talk, I’d better see you at my graduation,” you say with a grin. Before Riddle can get another word in, you seize his arm and tug him towards you. He stumbles, face contorting through mixed emotions. “My horoscope said something good would happen today! What do you think that could be?”

“What does that have to do with—ugh, seriously! Don’t just drag me into the street! We could get hit.”

Your laugh permeates the air, silencing the rest of Riddle’s irritated tirade. His arm slackens in your grasp and a loud sigh slips from his pursed lips.

“She said today’s color is blue. The only blue things around here are the ocean and the sky.” You glance at the sunless waters in the distance and inhale a determined breath. “Let’s go right now.”

“Now?!” Riddle shakes his wrist free, but your hand darts out to interlace with his. He gapes at the contact for a few seconds before promptly shaking his head and fixing his posture. “(Name), it’s late. What's gotten into you?”

“We haven’t hung out like this in a while.” When your eyes lock with his, Riddle swallows anxiously and glances between you and the path you’re meant to take. “Live a little.”

“I’d prefer to live during the day when there’s enough light,” he grumbles, but he allows you to pull him in the direction of the boardwalk. The street lamps, their bulbs crowded with insects, cast speckles of amber on his face, highlighting the wine-colored hue that stains his cheeks. “What’s so special about the color blue anyway?”

“I don’t know, but she said it was the color of bruises and sadness. Uh, there was something else as well. I can’t remember it, though.”

“I’m not following. Who said all of that?”

“It’s not important right now. Look!” You gesture towards the brightly lit boardwalk. Energy pours from the people gathered on the wooden platform. Some are stumbling out of a bar and some are lingering under the glowing Ferris wheel. There are couples and friend groups populating the area, all caught up in the alluring nature of the seaside nightlife. A full moon casts a circular spotlight on the lively scene and you can feel the energy digging its fangs into you, tempting you with its candy-coated escapism. “Should we take a detour?”

“You’re more than welcome to, but I can’t indulge in this foolishness.” He huffs. “I have a lot that needs to be ready for tomorrow and I can’t afford to fit any useless interruptions into my already tight schedule.”

“I know you’re busy. I just thought it’d be nice to hang out like old times.” You toe the ground, tracing a circle into the concrete. “At least come down to the shore with me. Please?”

After what feels like an eternity of crushing silence, Riddle groans in defeat. “Ten minutes. That’s all I’m willing to give you.”

“That’s all I need.”

With your friend trudging behind, you lead him away from the main road towards the beach. The wind picks up with every step, clawing at the fabric of your work uniform with restless gusts—as if warning you to turn back while you still can. A low hum rises in your throat, spilling past your lips like a waterfall of made-up melodies, and it isn’t long until you’re skipping towards the ocean. Riddle can just barely keep up with your pace and he stumbles down the slope, a string of complaints following his sluggish movements.

With your hands situated on your hips, you inhale the briny air and watch the waves that crawl towards the shoreline. Through a thin veil of wispy clouds in the velvety sky the moon reflects in your awestruck eyes, a pale pearl withholding seductive secrets. Riddle’s feet shuffle through the grit and he stands stiffly at your side like an attentive soldier ready to throw himself into the frontlines of an intense battle.

“Why’d you come here?”

“No reason in particular.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d have a reason perfectly outlined and annotated.”

He chuckles. “How about this? Living in a coastal city is a valuable change of pace with new avenues for opportunity.”

“Lame.”

“It’s far from lame.”

“Says the lame one.”

“I’ll have your head for that.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. The distinct sound pierces the air and Riddle glances at you as you grip your sides. “It’s good to have you back, Riddle!” you exclaim, wiping at an invisible tear.

I missed you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, frowning at the waves that curl and fold in the distance. “Thank you…”

Something scuttles past his shoes in the sand and he flinches away, tripping over his feet in an effort to regain his stability. His hand latches onto your arm on instinct and, caught by surprise with the additional weight you’re now forced to bear, you’re unable to support the both of you. With a yelp, you’re tugged down alongside Riddle as he falls and you land in a heap on the ground. Whatever creature startled Riddle to begin with has buried itself in a protective layer of sand, hidden from both sight and mind. Another gust of wind rakes cold fingers through your scalp.

With a grimace, you suck in a breath through clenched teeth. “I think I sprained my ankle! Damn. That really hurts…”

Riddle’s eyes grow impossibly large and he reaches for you, hands grasping air as he moves to touch you and then draws back, conflicted. “Ah, um… M-My apologies! I’ll help you to a hospital. If there’s anything else I can do to—” His distress is soon silenced by your poorly concealed snort.

“Just kidding!” You sit up and spread your arms, unflinching when Riddle sends you his meanest glare. “I’m okay. Can’t say the same for your pride, though.” Your fingertips rifle through the sand until you feel the cool, rough exterior of the crustacean that caused this entire mishap. Lifting it by its body, you dangle it in front of Riddle, who jerks away the minute its foreboding pincers snap at him. “Ta-da!”

“P-Put that thing down!”

“But it’s cute.”

“It’s dangerous,” he snaps. “Get rid of it before it hurts you.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise from the sand and brush the particles from your apron before meandering towards the shoreline. As you bend down to release the crab, your eyes catch sight of something in the distance. A shadowy outline loiters underneath the boardwalk, swaying in time with the flow of the surf like a buoy at sea or a stationary boat riding a current. The crab scurries towards the reaching waves, swept away the moment you blink. You stare at the mass for a few drawn-out seconds before turning to Riddle.

“Hey, there’s something under the boardwalk. I think it’s stuck to one of the posts.”

“What is it?” He dusts himself off and covers the distance to get to you.

“I’m not sure, but it looks like a float. Sort of.”

“Well, don’t get closer. We don’t know what it is.”

“But what if it’s something mysterious? Like hidden treasure! Ooh, that would be so cool. We’d be rich, wouldn’t we?”

“If it really was hidden treasure, we wouldn’t be seeing it right now.” Riddle shakes his head. “It’s probably litter or driftwood. The ocean carries all sorts of trash.”

“You’re being too critical. It’s not as bad as you make it out to be, Mr. Grumpypants.”

“I am not a ‘Mr. Grumpypants.’ I’m being realistic.”

“And I’m being unrealistic, so let’s go get ourselves some treasure!”

With a whoop, you drag an unwilling Riddle towards the strange buoy. He protests the entire way, but you don’t miss the way his hand squeezes yours. Once you’re within close proximity, the figure begins to take a clearer form and you approach it with slow, determined steps. From the light provided by the street lamps lining the boardwalk, the shadowy mass finally shapes into a human silhouette, their head bowed and body half-submerged in the water.

“Hello? Are you okay?” You take a step towards them, but Riddle’s grip tightens. You gaze at him. “They might need help.”

“They’re not responsive…”

“They’re probably drunk. Hold on.” You shake your arm free, ignoring Riddle as his hand chases desperately after yours, and glance at the person. “Hey, wake up! Now’s not the time to be…sleeping…”

And then you notice it. Under the moon’s silver glow, the water is stained a foggy vermillion. The person, who you’ve determined to be a male from closer analysis, has a gaping hole carved into his chest cavity, where his innards are currently oozing out in thick, waterlogged trails. Your jaw drops in muted horror when you realize he’s been tied to the post with nylon rope, the twine digging into his skin like a tightened noose. Drying blood streaks down his cheeks in twin rivers. You don’t want to assume the worst, but when you catch sight of his hollowed eye sockets you know right away that something about this corpse isn’t natural.

The water continues to rock him to and fro, simulating a mother’s loving cradle.

Riddle pushes past you, pupils blown wide. “Don’t get too close! Honestly, how careless can you be? You can’t just walk up to a—” He chokes on his words once his gray hues fall upon the grisly sight and he staggers away so quickly that he loses his footing and lands in the sand with a muffled thump. “G-Great Seven, this is—”

“A crime scene,” you finish, bile rising in your throat. “And we’re standing in the middle of it.”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #serial killer jade #death row undertow #death row undertow chapter one #happy riddle day! have a jade fic :)

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wannaberp · 7 months

Text

— WHO IS KANG INSU?

he’s a TWENTY-ONE year old wannabe, born NOVEMBER 20, 2001. he’s currently eyeing SR MEDIA and lives by the words “all we have is now...”

maybe you should learn more or ask him a question.

▶ PLAY THE CLIP [ dream_reality.mp4 ]

being asked the question suddenly has insu at a loss for words, at least momentarily that is. the real reason behind all of this, or at least part of it anyway, was to gain some sort of recognition from his father but he couldn't exactly speak those words out loud to others. so, with that in mind he can only speak the partial truth to the interviewer who asked the question, the part of the truth which led him to where he was now and had left him working harder towards making the 'other part' of that truth happen.

with a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly, insu clears his mind and all of those unwanted thoughts out, speaking once he's finally pushed past that wall of 'revenge' he has buried deep within. "my dream is to become an idol that others can look up to, though i also want to be an idol that can shine brightly on stage whether it's with others, or even on my own if the chance ever arises." pausing, insu manages a slight smile to seem a bit less serious and more easygoing. of course he can't really show how he's truly feeling, how he really wants to say a few words to his own father and make it known that he does plan on making the older man regret everything he's ever said to him. for now, he'll wait and save those words for the day that he finally succeeds and gets where he really wants, to eventually say those pent up words to the older man's face rather than through a screen.

"i want to make music that others can relate to and even can lift people's spirits, music that can leave them smiling and dancing along to but also can help them get through rough moments in their lives." this time the smile on his face widens just a bit more, becoming more sincere than previously as he does his best to charm the interviewer and the ones watching through their screens. "i would love to be known as one of those more 'down-to-earth' idols who is always there for his fans, and i feel like i'll be able to accomplish this goal over time. i know that things don't come to you easily in life, but with enough hard work, dedication and patience i'm certain that there will come a day in which i'm able to look back on everything and proudly say that i've managed to make all of my dreams come true. not only for myself, but for my fans as well."

what he says is true, that he will do everything in his power to make his own dreams come true, but for now he knows that this journey will most likely be long and rough. the path to success would definitely come with many trials and errors, many different obstacles blocking that path, but insu was determined more than ever to get through each and every rough patch no matter how long it takes. he wouldn't back down so easily.

#be:accepted #kim junseo #wei

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eight-twenty · 7 months

Text

Eight things: (The Lack of) Life Lately

the world is shite rn. but we are expected to live life normally somehow. so here's life.

Finding the fountain of youth I just turned 31 and a month, and the fading youth is starting to show. From the whites on my hair, the slowing metabolism, and the crackles from joints I never knew existed and the dimming lights on my eyes. When I was young (literally just more paychecks and a year ago) I used to find youth in trendy ampoules of skincare and habits guised under #selfcare. Now I've been finding it thru the consumption of things I used to (and should've enjoyed) as a kid, healing the inner child per se. In case it has not been sprawled out in my online spaces, I have been devouring Anime*, DraMione fan fiction**, Windows 2000 games, library trips, and for a brief moment of pure bliss I've been intentionally away from being online. 10/10 will recommend. Ironically, I've started this extra anti-aging routine thru the discovery of "The Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan", a limited anime series about a 31 year old children's host (I do children's parties on the side too!) who struggle behind the scenes work and his own bleak life. The consumption of childish media has put my mind in such a numbing state and I've somehow learned to take life less seriously--the hand drawn characters on screen can do the hardcore living for me. *Currently, the state of the world is giving off Marleyan and Eldian energy yeah? **Started by testing the waters through Manacled that it left a whole in my chest in the end, and found healing through DMATMOOBIL (the best after-cure of Manacled's dark themes) and Remain Nameless (the perfect combination of above titles). Escapism at its best. Living the cringe but free thirties indeed.

2. Relearning to be comfortable with visibility. Lately, I have been so careful about visibility, at least online. Lately, every piece of content I give away to the internet feels like creating a horcrux. Preserving my being through self expression online didn't use to feel so painful until of late. The online space used to be my refuge, the space where my irl personality could shine through because all I ever need to show up for it are words; it also used to be the place I can comfortably showcase my so-called income generating 'talents' (okay, not so-called, I know I'm capable) to make up for the lack of popularity and nepo connections. However, I have such a love-hate relationship with being recognized. Having an ounce of validation makes me want to squirm into a cave. Having too little recognition also makes me feel I'm doing my god-given skills a disservice. It takes a certain amount of privilege to not have to put your self out there, especially for someone who needs (and wants) and audience to shine through in their areas of passion. I am continuously learning and coming to terms that my work would never speak for itself without me calling attention to it. It's actually quite arrogant of me to think that people will just flock to my work--and to assume appreciating me for the raw talent without self-promoting makes me better than anyone. As a wise philosopher of my generation once said:

3. Inexisting is a fantasy that keeps me going.

Visibility being said, being invisible irl sounds so good rn. Being away from it all but without having to die or without having to be obliviated from existence has become a concept I've loved toying with lately I know I can't be invisible, but I can be inside a Pikachu mascot for a day, and that's the closest I can ever get to inexisting--and I kind of want that.

photo from reddit

Having to participate in society has become so daunting.

4. I've been going to church on Sundays again Hozier, my lord and saviour, once sang "If there was anyone to ever get through this life with their heart still intact, they didn't do it right." to which I also say "If you've been through catholic school all your life with your faith still intact, you didn't do it right"

Without the outside pressure of guilt, going to church on your own terms feels like therapy; the idea that someone else who is bigger and better than you is to be blamed for your misfortunes (and luck) feels nice. 5. Random wedding detail nobody asked for: I am a girl dad's gworl. I purposely didn't have a father-daughter dance at my wedding (as per tradition) because I hated the idea behind it, of it symbolizing the father giving his daughter (or responsibility) to the now husband. Why can't people just get married without the thought of having to be given away--or having give up the life you loved living. marriage built on other people's beliefs is so weird, man.

Husband

General piece of advice that nobody also asked for: Marry based on your idea of what a marriage entails, even if it's not practiced by many. Do it to create your definition, not by tradition.

6. The fear of "utang na loob" will ultimately be my downfall in this country life. Everything they say (by they i mean sitcoms) about Canada is true. People in Canada are awfully nice and are painfully so sincere about wanting to help. And perhaps the reason I'm struggling more than necessary is because not only do I now know/want to ask for help, but also because I don't know how to receive help without feeling like my life is to be built in returning the favor upon acceptance.

7. A charcuterie board of cheesy feelings I am also reaccepting how I am a super cheesy person at the core. I simply can't be cynical and detached (i have tried). I like reaching out first, i like sharing paragraphs about my latest obsession, i like take cares and nice meeting yous, sweetness and earnestness. I like giving warmth and affection. i think it's cool to.

I never really understood the idea of self-preservation. I never learned to quantify generosity when it comes affection (love, trust, even money). To quantify emotions and feelings (e.g. subscribing to the idea of not knowing how to love anymore because you've given to someone who didn't deserve it) is like believing in the concept of virginity—that a woman becomes 'less than' once it has been given. it's silly and outdated. To borrow from my (not a philosopher) old tweets filed under the thread "concepts and ideals that we need to stop preaching because the world is entirely different now"

the world continues to be entirely different the last time i thought it was different (taking at a worse turn i believe). send a paragraph long message of nothing to someone. that will surely mean everything. 8. Consistency remains to be a concept I struggle with, and that I believe is the solution to my being. Consistency to me is stripping away sincerity in exchange, and I have always preferred the latter.

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yoonpobs · 3 years

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back-burner | 02

some shine brighter than the rest but it gets dark sometimes

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister’s best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, heartache :(, academic/life insecurities, parents comparing you to your sibling

WORDS. 3.1k

back-burner masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

You stare at the screen, blank-faced and rather moody as you slump further in your seat.

Your parents can't be bothered to nag at your long face, and even if they did you wouldn't have listened anyway. It's not unusual for you to act up at an event you were unwillingly dragged to, especially when the said event was meant to celebrate the achievements of your ever-perfect older sister while you played the part of the black sheep of the family.

But you suppose completing her PhD at only twenty-six years old was a highly impressive feat that you couldn't even put be a Debby downer towards. Haerin worked hard and you witnessed all of her hard work with your own eyes. From pulling all-nighters and scheduling excessive meetings with her mentor—she's done everything at the top of her game, and it clearly paid off when her published works were used and praised by top universities across the world.

So when she walks up to the podium, back straight and a smile as wide as she was taught to have, you can't help but think how pretty damn cool she was. Even if you were begrudgingly compared to her every waking moment of your life.

Haerin is the poster image of elegance when she adjusts the collar of her blouse right before she beams at the crowd in front of her. When she skims the crowd, you briefly see her eyes rest on your family and that's when your mother decides to flail her arms around to catch her attention.

You sink further, burning at the embarrassment of suddenly being on the big screen. It's an odd look, you nearly scowling while your parents smile brightly in pride. You try to fix your face, but it's to no avail when you realise that you'll always look like a raging bitch no matter how hard you try.

When she speaks, her voice is smooth as honey and crystal as clear waters.

"Good afternoon to the dean, fellow academics, graduates and honourable guests," she recites gracefully with impeccable precision, never once looking down to her script.

You hear your mother choke on a sob as you try not to roll your eyes at her dramatics.

"It's an absolute honour to be standing on this stage and giving this speech to people that I've looked up to throughout my academic journey," she says, beaming to the Professor that helped her through her PhD who stands next to her before she's taking another deep breath.

"Often, we look up to people who have numerous awards and recognition under their name," she smiles, "But we tend to forget that these people—like me, and like you—are simply humans ..."

You know what Haerin is saying is probably some phenomenal, philosophical concept that has people oohing and ahhing alike, but you really couldn't be bothered to hear her wax poetic. After all, philosophy was her forte after she's dedicated her twenties to studying that field of study.

She says people clap, some cry, it's an average day witnessing Haerin's impact. You're more than used to seeing her be celebrated like she was a God amongst mere mortals, so used that you don't even notice the person that slides into the seat next to you.

"You look bored."

You blink, barely catching yourself as you turn your head to the source of the voice.

The words get stuck in your throat when you finally acknowledge your new guest, lips tilted slightly upwards as he levels you with an amused smile.

"I'm not," you say as you clear your throat, "Just tired."

"So, bored," he chuckles.

"At least I got here on time," you snap back, mostly in embarrassment at being called out.

Yoongi shoots you an unimpressed look before he's turning back to focus his attention on your sister who's still gathering her applause like it was nothing.

"You know I had a shift at the ER," he says pointedly.

"Yeah. So don't nag at me for things that are out of my control, okay?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

Yoongi smirks to himself before shaking his head.

"You're in a mood," he muses.

"Why wouldn't I be?" you mutter under your breath as you fold your arms across your chest. "I have to watch my older sister collect awards left and right like Thanos collects his infinity stones. How do you think I'd live up to that?"

Yoongi laughs, a little louder than you'd expected as you spot an elderly lady who glares at him. Your parents are way too focused on recording Haerin from every angle possible to greet your new guest so they don't even notice the sound coming from him.

Yoongi stays silent for a beat before he turns to you, face neutral as you shift nervously in your seat at the fact that you'd likely overshared.

"It's whatever, I'm just jo—"

"You don't have to live up to that," he finally says.

You blink, slowly turning your head to see Yoongi shrugging at you with an unreadable expression.

He's always been a little hard to understand, but he was understanding. You suppose you'd take what you could get.

"Easy for you to say," you snort, "You don't have a legacy to live up to."

"No, I don't," he grins, "But I know you."

You narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a reassuring look as if he was able to explain to you how he truly knew you.

Frankly, you didn't doubt him. Yoongi was one of the few people in your life who stuck around despite your erratic tendencies, or even when you were brattier than usual. Though you'd really like to attribute it to the fact that he was a nice person in general, or that he cared about you—you knew why he stayed as long as he did.

And that thought sends a bitter expression on your face.

"I don't think you do," you mumble, focusing back onto the stage where your sister seems to collect her umpteenth award for the day.

Yoongi doesn’t respond. The cheers grow louder, and you suppose Haerin had said something sensational once again when the audience stands up to give her a standing ovation. You wish you could feel bad that you missed out on the latter part of your speech, but you knew that people like her didn’t rely on luck to receive recognition. It was just her.

So, you stand up, plaster a tight smile that hides the inhibition that ferments in your chest and let the claps drown your thoughts.

Haerin smiles, and she looks as beautiful as ever. You look away.

“You made it!” Haerin’s voice is bell-like when she spots Yoongi hovering behind your parents who have already doused her in hugs and congratulations.

“Of course I did,” he returns with a roll of his eyes, but even then, his arms immediately reach out to wrap around her petite frame.

You force yourself to glance away when his eyes grow soft as she beams up at him with her charming smile.

“I know the hospital gets really busy this time—”

“Stop,” he sighs, shaking his head good-naturedly while you’re essentially forced to absorb their conversation like an outsider; stomach unsettled when her giggles melt perfectly along with his own laugh. “This is an important day for you. I’d never miss out on this.”

You’d like to think that you were relatively good at shielding your emotions. You survived twenty-two years by suppressing the anger that bubbled for whatever reason because Haerin was out there achieving greatness. When you were in a household that only valued excellence, anything but that was sourly shoved aside.

But now, your face is tight. Tighter than usual, at least. It’s to a point that your mother sends you a scowl, a warning in her eyes when she looks over at you.

Don’t ruin this for Haerin, it says.

Before you can excuse yourself, your father’s resounding voice cuts through the atmosphere.

“Yoongi’s always taking good care of you, Haerin,” he says fondly, smoothing a hand over your sister’s hair while her eyes grow into crescents at his statement.

“He is,” she agrees softly.

“It’s nothing,” Yoongi chuckles, pulling away so your sister can fully settle into the embrace of her father while he smiles proudly at her.

You wonder what it’s like. To have eyes on you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

Instead, your eyes drift to the dirt beneath you.

“He’d be a good husband,” your mother whispers, nudging Haerin as her face flushes in mortification.

You bite your tongue, swallowing the bile that threatens to spill out of your throat at the idea.

It wasn’t a new one, but it’s one that you can never grow used to. Not when it was so possible, and so expected. It’s only a harsh reminder that whatever you were feeling would always be shielded anyway. Especially when it wasn’t your emotion to feel, to express.

Not when Haerin and Yoongi were the pair made in heaven.

“Mom!” she hisses, right before offering Yoongi an apologetic smile.

He doesn’t even bat an eye. He simply smiles at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him. You nearly scoff because it definitely didn’t. Why would that bother him? Haerin was perfect. It makes perfect sense.

They were perfect for each other.

Your voice gets stuck in your throat, and it’s commonplace that you’ve yet to utter a single word in Haerin’s presence. The limelight is always on the one that offers substance, not the one misguided and misdirected. You don’t mind the disregard; you were used to it.

But the tenderness in Yoongi’s gaze is hard to get used to.

“Anyway,” she coughs, shaking your father’s grip off before she’s grinning widely at you. “You’re here too!”

Haerin has always been kind.

She’s someone that all sorts of parents use as a role model for their own kids. Study hard so you can be as intelligent as Haerin. Mind your manners so you can be as classy as Haerin. Do this, do that—so you can be like Haerin.

It was you that held the animosity.

“Of course,” you mumble, offering her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes before she’s tumbling into your chest.

You’re taller, but that never negates her presence. The way she takes up space in all the right ways, with her brightness and her charm that could captivate anyone.

You had the height, but you were only half the person Haerin could ever be.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispers, grabbing onto your shoulder when she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck.

“Why wouldn’t I,” you mutter, stiffly patting her back.

“You’re busy, I know.” You nearly roll your eyes because she was the one with a PhD. Not you.

“Not really,” you concede, and you note the bored expressions that mark your parents’ face.

You don’t even want to see what Yoongi thinks.

Haerin pulls away just enough to shoot you another smile. You wonder what it’s like to truly look so happy all the time. You suppose when you don’t have to pretend it’s much easier to smile the way Haerin does.

“You’re working with grassroots aren’t you?” she asks cheerily, and you’re mildly surprised that she remembered.

“Uh, yeah but—”

“Haerin! We want some pictures out front of you!” Your mother interjects, immediately pulling your sister away as she yelps at the sudden force.

Your face returns to its stoic state, not the least bit surprised that your parents were disinterested in hearing your involvement in grassroots. It wasn’t the elite thing to do. They always made a stern reminder to you to keep their names out of the loop when you were working with activists across districts.

So when Haerin offers you a pout and an apologetic expression, you only shrug before you’re pulling away yourself.

Your parents don’t shoot you another glance before they’re dragging Haerin away, animatedly discussing her offers from top firms that valued her publications.

Only then, do you remember that Yoongi still remains silent. It’s almost humiliating that he’s witnessed that exchange, but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. And you know that he’s witnessed the worst moments, but the reminder never failed to sting.

It’s because the light shines so bright on Haerin that he may just get lost in your darkness.

“That’s cool.”

His voice interjects just as you turn on your heel, stopping you from moving any further as your eyes rest on the path before you.

You don’t say anything, and he takes that as his cue to continue.

“Haerin always tells me about what you do,” he says, walking up to your side until he’s directly in front of you that you can’t ignore his presence. When you look up, Yoongi still looks monotone, but his eyes are still kind. And they’re trained on you. “You’re a driven person.”

That makes you scoff.

“You’re really going to tell me that after you just saw my sister receive her PhD?” you say dryly.

He frowns. “That doesn’t make you any less driven of a person.”

You note that he doesn’t even compare you to her. It sends a warm feeling to your stomach.

But reality hits, and you suppose it’s because you couldn’t compare yourself to Haerin when she was in a league of her own.

“You don’t need to comfort me, okay?” you sigh, “I’m used to it. My parents love what Haerin does and it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s easier to get away with working with activists when they aren’t all up in my business anyway.”

Your words earn a small twitch from Yoongi’s lips, and you’re wondering what he finds so funny.

You realise that Yoongi tends to find a lot of the things you say amusing. You weren’t even that much of a funny person. You were far more boring than your sister, so you genuinely wonder what runs through his mind.

Before you can pose the question, he shrugs with a gentle shake of his head.

“I’m not comforting you,” he says pointedly, raising a brow at you when you snort at him.

“Could’ve fooled me with the unwarranted pity party you were throwing me with your eyes,” you say, narrowing your gaze at him.

Yoongi laughs, shoulder shaking before he peers down at you with his cheeks rounded in amusement. You hate that your heart still stutters in your chest even after everything you’ve witnessed. Even when you vividly picture how right his arms looked around your sister.

“I called you driven and now it’s a pity party?” he laughs, hand reaching out to squeeze your shoulder as you nearly jump at the contact. “You really need to fix your comprehension skills.”

It’s light-hearted, and you’re used to Yoongi poking fun at you. You were virtually the only person you’ve ever seen him truly joking with, not even with your sister.

Haerin was more mellowed down, less crass than you were. So the time for jokes was, well, there were definitely jokes but you don’t think (or know) if she and Yoongi have laughed until they cried.

You know you have, but you don’t sign off that possibility. There were things that Haerin and Yoongi did in private that you never allow yourself to indulge in.

Your heart would never survive.

“Maybe you’re just bad at getting things across,” you retort.

He smiles. “Maybe. But I meant what I said.”

“I fail to see how me working grassroots who have volunteers from all over makes me driven,” you mumble.

Yoongi stares at you a second longer than you anticipated. And you find yourself squirming under his gaze.

His eyes are always intense, even when you know that there was no malice underneath his irises. Yoongi was naturally just an all-in person that made it very hard to breathe around him. Especially when you knew that he was observant and could pick apart almost what anyone was thinking.

Sometimes, you were terrified that he saw right through your emotions.

“People have different modes of transport in getting to where they belong in life,” he says.

You blink, furrowing your eyebrows at him, confused. “What?”

He glances to the side, stuffing his hands into his pocket as a small smile appears on his usually blank face.

He looks stunning this way, jaw chiselled and emphasised by the natural light and the way that his forehead remains exposed with his hair styled back. It’s devastating, but you can’t help but stare.

“We all have different starting points and different endpoints,” he says matter-of-factly, “Some people are good drivers—so they take cars. Metaphorically, at least.”

“Yoongi, what are you even saying,” you deadpan.

He ignores you and continues.

“Some people don’t feel comfortable driving, so they take buses, or bicycles, or even go by foot. Or have people drive them places.” His voice is smooth when he carries forward, and you’re still lost at the point he’s attempting to make. You wonder if this is the influence of Haerin’s philosophical knowledge.

“Different modes of transport means taking different routes. A car can’t travel in water, and a plane can’t park in a garage—they all essentially serve their own purpose effectively in the medium that they were made to serve it in.”

You’ve always known Yoongi to be extremely introspective, but you’ve never heard him wax poetic about transportation vehicles before.

But as always, you listen. You always do, especially if it’s him that’s speaking.

Finally, he looks at you, and your heart nearly lurches out of your chest when his eyes soften at your gaping expression.

“Point is, we’re all driving to our own destination points, and each journey is unique to each person,” he says softly as your breath hitches.

“But I’m no Haerin,” you mumble quietly, finally speaking and finally understanding what Yoongi was getting at.

“You aren’t,” he concedes as you feel your heart drop. But he picks it up immediately with his reassuring grin and the hand that smoothes over your hair comfortingly. “You don't have to be.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you hope he doesn’t notice.

“So don’t knock yourself down just because you’re heading in a different direction than she is,” he says, “You’re driven. And you’re doing great in what you do. That’s all that matters.”

When he looks at you once more, eyes honest and pure with his hand resting over your head—

You realise that Yoongi does know you.

But perhaps, it isn’t enough.

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts smut #bts drabble #min yoongi angst #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi series #slow burn

1K notes · View notes

taechaos · 3 years

Text

A Thriller Film

pairing: director!Jungkook x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere, smut

synopsis: Jungkook's life is his movies, but people don't know his movies are his life. As an anonymous director, no one can suspect him as the villain in a story, but he leaves a clue in his movie about you.

warnings: smoking, stalking, murder, solo masturbation, public fingering

word count: 5.4k

a/n: i don't know why i put so much effort into this but we love to see it flop 🥰

Smoking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Jungkook noticed you for the first time when a cigarette was hanging off his lips, exhaling the stress from the process of organizing a new thriller film with a less than cooperative crew. Fresh out of high school, you were bright and skipping on the sidewalk in the early hours of the morning. What would such a young woman, applying for colleges left and right, be so happy about?

He didn't know you at the time, but looking at you was like a breath of fresh air. While he survived off of coffee and nicotine, you seemed to have a lot of happiness to share. Your smile was incompatible with his frown.

So he ignored you when you passed him with your earphones blasting a song so loud, he involuntarily caught the lyrics.

Fall... back... in... to... place.

The second time he saw you, he was smoking again and you were just as happy as the day before. How can someone be so in tune with themselves, with life? The same song played from your earphones, the one he listened to on repeat after searching up the lyrics: Space Song. An urge to approach you surged up in him, but he only watched you as you walked past him. A single glance from you was all it took to anticipate tomorrow.

Today, when he recognizes you from your clothing first; colorful, silky, gorgeous. So much personality in one outfit, a polar opposite to his casual black outfit in jeans and a plain shirt. Even your bag is eye-catching, and he flicked the ash off of his cigarette before nodding at you as you passed the bus stop, reaching the front of his studio.

Why did your eyes just widen? You acknowledge him with a friendly smile, and go on your merry way. That is until he lightly taps your shoulder, and you turn instantly.

"Hey," he greets before you can utter a word, "where are you always rushing off to?"

Your lips part in surprise; the man you secretly - guiltily - side-eyed for the past few days noticed you when you weren't looking? "I have an interview. Well, a few," you chuckle.

"For what?" he tilts his head curiously and takes another drag from his stick.

"Career counseling," you plainly reply, but it sounds enthused. "I'm a clueless graduate." Your hands clutch your tote bag before you discreetly check the time on your wrist. You're going to be running late soon.

"You interested in cinematography?" Smoke follows his words, but you aren't fazed.

"I'm interested in all forms of art, why?"

He notices you checking your watch again. "I'm a film director. This is my studio," he cranes his neck behind him. "You can apply for an internship here. Maybe for a stylist even," he points at your floral romper with his chin as his eyes trail.

You shift your weight on your left foot when his stare flusters you, and you consider his flattering suggestion for only a second before saying, "thank you for the offer, but I need to go now," you grimace sheepishly, "can I think about it?"

"Take your time," he reassures with a sly smile and inhales from his stick, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of your perfume alongside.

He doesn't look away when you walk off with a shy wave, entranced by your struts until he's called back in. It's with newfound inspiration that he's inside of his studio.

The storyboard of his upcoming project needs a few tweaks, and he doesn't fail in enhancing his crew with a different idea.

It’s been a week. Okay, it might’ve been shorter, but Jungkook is impatient. Besides, it didn’t help when he saw you holding hands with someone... so less than. It really baffled him to see you with a guy who wore such shabby clothes. He looks like the type that Jungkook would cast for a flop character.

The two of you are like a toy display across his studio in that cutesy, obnoxious café with a smoothie in the middle of your booth. He chuckles as he lights up another stick when he notices the two straws in the single cup. Cliché, cheesy, but cute in a childish sense. Your age shines through the amateur romance between you and that loser.

It especially shows when you look to the side with a laugh and lock eyes with him; so flustered that you gasp and focus back on your date. What makes you so shy about seeing him? You seemed so confident during your conversation two days ago.

He whistles when he notices a stray dog in an alleyway. You look at him as well but don't hear anything beyond the glass wall, but it catches his attention regardless. He whistles again before saying in a hushed voice, "come here girl." It's difficult to suppress a smile when you gaze at him questioningly, as if trying to decipher his words. "Naive little girl," he mouths as he smokes, "what are you doing with that boy?"

He almost chokes when you take out your wallet in front of a waiter; are you paying for him? That's why you ordered one drink - so you could share? Jungkook isn't cruel but, he finds it laughable that your boyfriend is so... unappealing. He can't help but wonder why you're with him; maybe his face? The boy is somewhat handsome, but he only has his facial features to go by. It's rather strange for Jungkook to think about this in the first place, so he gets back inside his workplace after harshly shooing the stray dog away with a stomp of his foot.

"I'd like to start my internship today."

Jungkook runs his eyes up and down your body while leaning against a brick wall. "Paid?"

"I-I'll do it for free. Besides, I don't know if I'll even work in this industry," you twiddle your fingers while smiling up at him. He intimidates you, but this morning you decided you did enough thinking and here you are, an aspiring stylist all of a sudden.

"Get inside," he nods at the door before stubbing his cigarette and following you to his studio. "You know what you're going to do?"

"I'm going to decide the outfits, right?" The place looks cozy to you, with its minimalistic interior design and blunt switch between the stories. The first floor is strictly for business, with lined up cameras, lights and a microphone. There is even a green screen! And the second floor seems to be more of a resting area with its couches and open laptops, but you can't make out much from the entrance. Jungkook starts walking ahead of you, making a beeline for the black stairs. You tail behind him and smile at anyone who notices you, which isn't a lot of people. It's not crowded.

"Right. We're still working on a storyline, haven't finished it yet so it's possible this project might not be published. You with me so far?" he glances at you, and at your firm nod, continues, "when we finish planning, scripting and shit, you come to play."

"So what do I do now?" you innocently inquire and watch him plop down on the red velvet couch. He clicks on the space of his keyboard to light up his screen.

"I have an idea for a character, and I want to know how you would design her," he vaguely explains as he scrolls through his document.

"You want me to sketch it or explain?"

"Let's hear you out first. Irene," he suddenly calls out loudly.

"Yes?" a female responds from downstairs. You see a woman with a grey cap look up at him, her attire nothing short of casual.

"Come here."

She skips a few steps while climbing up the stairs at his command. You're not awkward when you greet her, and she offers a coy smile.

"This girl - what did you say your name was?" he asks you. You tell him and he continues, "she's going to be our intern. I want you to critique her with me."

"What's she in for?" Irene asks before sitting across from him.

"Wardrobe stylist."

Her eyes widen as she takes a second look at you. Your style is definitely unique, but... immature. She has half the mind to not question Jungkook about his choice.

"Okay..." she trails. "I'm Irene, by the way. I'm going to be an executive producer for the upcoming film."

"Nice to meet you," you brightly chirp. "Sir?"

Jungkook smirks at your addressing of him. "Yes?"

"What is your name, if I may ask?"

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, but you may know me for my pen name Shin Dong-hyuk."

Your mouth falls open when you instantly recognize the name. "Wait, what? You directed My Time?" you incredulously wonder aloud.

My Time is a movie that took the world by a storm; it brought recognition to the whole country for its popularity and clever writing. You never knew the name was a pseudonym, however. It's a suspense genre, about the life of a crazed fanboy who is obsessed with a foreign celebrity. He stalks her on the internet, has a fanpage of her and pays a hefty amount of money to strangers to update him on her whereabouts. He's portrayed as a young college student in the story, and inevitably runs out of cash from reckless spending. When she gets into a dating scandal, he goes on a theft spree and flies out to meet and confront her. It ends with her murder when he finds her with another man in a hotel room, and he stabs himself in the heart afterwards. There are a bunch of clues that foreshadow his ending, from his family life to his friendships. It's an amazing thriller, and you researched his name in the credits to find more of his works after seeing the movie but to no avail; there is only one listed.

"That's me," he nonchalantly reveals as if he didn't just give you the shock of your life. "Don't tell anyone though, will you?"

You whimsically put on an imagery zipper over your mouth while trying to recover from your racing heart.

"I don't have a clear outline, but the female lead is going to be naive but charming. She has to stand out, alright? Happy, extraordinary, special."

"We didn't decide on that," Irene butts in with a displeased expression.

"I forgot to tell you, I deleted our previous plan."

"You did wh-"

"What do you think?" he turns to you as he ignores Irene's shrieks. "What color are you imagining?"

You feel nervous when he puts you on the spotlight after revealing his identity. You close your eyes with a deep inhale before answering, "I'm thinking red and green, like Christmas. There should be a hint of white as well."

Jungkook drinks in your outfit before grinning mischievously. "Perfect." All of your colors.

Stalking is bad, but there are worse things in life.

Is it such a bad idea to follow you home when it's dark out? He kept you for a long time in the studio, allowing you to dress up a mannequin with all sorts of costumes you had in mind in the backroom. He's certain you had fun with him when you left with a permanent grin on your face.

You live with your parents, and he knows for sure he's at least 5 years older than you. You look about 19, so he's assuming he's only 8 years older.

A small villa with windows all around, he observes, before glancing back at your bedroom. The lights are on and you're swinging your legs with excitement on your bed after you face planted on the mattress. He didn't see you greet your parents before running off to your room, and he can't help the smile growing on his face at your hyperactivity. It was like an instinct to walk you home in secret and he isn't sure why he is still watching you. He should look away when you get off of your bed and heave your shirt over your chest, but instead he steps away from the lamp post to hide from the light.

You're changing, and he can't take his eyes off of you. As if that wasn't enough, you unclasp your bra without even pulling the curtains. Do you know he's there? The thought excites him, and his pants begin to tighten around his crotch. He lowly whistles at you, but you don't hear him again. You do look outside for a few seconds while stretching your arms, however, and he's certain you have a connection to him.

He leaves when you put on your pajamas with the image of your bare tits imprinted on his mind. He doesn't head home first, as the studio is only a few minutes away from your home and he wants to leave you a gift.

When the familiar building enters his vision, he doesn't waste time in unlocking the door and switching on a single dim light. He rushes to the backroom after locking the entrance for a second time and unzips his jeans as he goes. You were here not too long ago, and he can pinpoint exactly where you stood while striding to each corner with purpose. Bending, crouching, leaning, doing just about anything to tease him.

Now that he can imagine your perky nipples realistically, he immediately takes out his length from his restraints and picks up a random handkerchief to pump himself with. He doesn't stop to think over his actions; he's acting on urges, on impulse. Never has he ever done something like this.

He's rather relaxed as he sits down on an idle stool to close his eyes and run his hand up and down his shaft. What he would do to press your tits against his cock while he slides it up and down, smearing his cum all over your lips while you sleep. You would swallow it without a second thought once he finishes in your gaping mouth, and wonder why there's a dull ache in your breasts the next morning.

His breaths grow shallow the faster he strokes himself, the more he thinks about using every part of you for his pleasure while you're knocked out cold. He involuntarily thrusts into the air while quiet moans slip out of his open mouth. Something about how taboo it would be to fuck you while you're unconscious turns him on so much. Would that be something you're into?

The handkerchief is so soft, so silky against his length, he can almost imagine it to be your hand. He starts twisting his hand around his cock, from the base to the tip as his other hand palms his balls before he begins to reach climax. Strings of cusses fall out of his mouth when he quickens his pace, the fabric against his skin resounding in his ears before he finally spurts out his cum into the cloth.

"Fuck," he exhales as he coats his makeshift glove with his release. White on white doesn't make much of a difference, and he's panting as he folds the handkerchief to rub it evenly so it sinks in completely.

He leaves it on the stool after zipping his pants, and his eyes twinkle under the moonlight on his journey home.

You aren't alone when you walk to work. Jungkook is taking his usual smoke break while watching you swing your interlocked hands back and forth with the guy next to you. Your smiles exude the same aura, and Jungkook sarcastically notes how compatible the two of you are. The boxy grin shines with the sun, but it doesn't hide the boy's worn out clothes.

"Good morning, Jungkook," you greet before introducing your boyfriend. "This is Taehyung, Taehyung meet Jungkook. I'm going to be under his wing until I decide my major."

"Hello, Taehyung," Jungkook coldly says before blowing smoke in his face.

Taehyung scrunches his nose before chirping, "hi!" He then turns to you and whispers, "I thought you wanted to study medicine."

You shake your head dismissively with a light laugh before responding, "it's just an internship." You let go of his hand and bid farewell with a peck on his cheek before going inside the studio.

"Well, have a good day," Taehyung smiles as he's about to leave before Jungkook holds out his hand to block the way.

"Taehyung, who is your girlfriend?"

"Um," he furrows his brows before saying your name.

"And who are you?"

At Jungkook's blunt question, Taehyung pauses and takes a step back. "What do you mean? Like my full name?"

"No, who the fuck are you? What is your contribution to society? What do you do for a living? What are you wearing?"

"Sir, I-" Taehyung's stammering is cut short when Jungkook asks, "how much money for you to stop leeching off of her?"

He scoffs, "excuse me? I'm not leeching off of anyone, and I'm sure as hell not breaking up with her for your money." Taehyung's face heats up from the shameless confrontation, and he starts walking in the opposite direction.

"So you're not going to leave her?"

Taehyung doesn't turn to look at him as he emphasizes, "no."

"Good."

He abruptly stops in his tracks. "What?"

"Your dedication is admirable," Jungkook comments with a shrug. "I'm satisfied with your answer."

"Were you testing me?"

"Bingo."

He starts chuckling before shaking his head. "I always knew directors were crazy; you scared me for a second."

"Where you headed now?" Jungkook smoothly switches the subject, but notes the fact that you've spoken about him to your boyfriend.

"I have a farm two blocks away." When Jungkook raises a brow, he explains, "I stayed the night with her, so I decided to drop her off before leaving."

"Want me to drop you off?"

It's a kind offer, really, but Taehyung is still put off by the insults thrown his way just a minute ago. Doesn't he have work to do anyway? "That's alright, thank you, but I'll just take the bus. Have a good one, Jungkook."

Jungkook doesn't stop him as they both wave goodbye. He doesn't bother putting out his cigarette before going inside.

Where would be a farm only two blocks away from the city center? It has to be a lie.

You're wandering around the place as to not awkwardly wait for Jungkook who sharply inhales at the sight. He calls your name.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to become?"

"I," you look at him funny with a laugh, "I still don't know."

"Then take a gap year."

Your brows shoot up to your hairline. "Why?"

"I want you to be invested in this project completely. Once the planning is finished, I'll give you a salary. What do you think?"

He's asking you to work full-time for him. Not as an intern, but an employee and you are beyond willing after only being here for two days. He's a famous director; how can one pass up this opportunity?

"I'd love that."

You noticed that Jungkook has a very unique way of working. You've heard that he's been keeping his crew until late at night, already having an outline for his plot and he's moved onto screenwriting. He apparently disappears randomly throughout the evening after you leave, and you've had some different experiences with him of your own.

He asked you to steal from the wardrobe of his backroom. "Take everything that you'd wear," he said before stepping out of the room.

When you confusedly compiled all of the clothes that caught your eye under your arm, he took them from you and brought them upstairs with a huge grin. "Keep that one," he pointed at the handkerchief you thought about lacing your neck with.

Taehyung's quiet with you. He doesn't respond to your texts, doesn't call you, doesn't come over. You're too busy spending time with Jungkook to check up on him, and it serves as a well distraction when you keep glancing at your notifications. It hurts, especially when your wallpaper is a picture of you and him. It hurts because he isn't with you in your proudest moments when you were with him even at his parents' funeral.

The only thing keeping you happy is casting. Jungkook asked you to make a list of all the actors that would suit his characters after giving you a vague description of their traits. The budget isn't an issue, and you're having so much fun. He makes you forget your worries without even trying.

Jungkook intimidates you, but he's so lovely.

A mere "aspiring" stylist is casting actors for a movie. How many people can brag about that? You almost stumble on the stairs as you quickly climb up with Jungkook's laptop in your hands. He gave it to you for research purposes as he drew a rough storyboard with Irene.

"I made a list," you exclaim brightly. Heads shoot in your direction and you sheepishly grin at your volume. Jungkook's eyes linger on your covered neck; it's almost like a collar.

He whistles and beckons you to sit next to him. You obey and anxiously present your list to the professionals; you have no idea how to go on about this task, and no one guided you. You're certain you look utterly amateur in front of them.

Irene is inspecting your list without hinting her thoughts as Jungkook asks, "who are your favorites?"

"Well, I think Kim Namjoon is um, suitable for the male lead's role and Joy-"

"It's decided then," he claps his hands twice without hearing out Irene who scowls at him.

"You're not cooperating with us," she voices in a complaint, "why are you always calling the shots on your own? These are major decisions-"

"Ms. Bae, don't take any offence now. I'm taking your opinions into accounts when I make these decisions. Unless you have an issue with something, let's not dwell on this, hm?"

She sighs as you stand there awkwardly. She's upset, but stays silent.

"The two leads are Kim Namjoon and Park Soo-young. The team will decide the rest of the cast, thank you," he informs you with a ghost of a smile.

"Of course," you breathe.

You don't know how long it is supposed to take to shoot a film, but surely it's not this fast paced. Jungkook is relentless with his production; there are hardly any breaks in between takes. There are bags under his eyes from pulling all nighters to work on his scripts.

He is a perfectionist and a hard worker, as you've come to find out. You feel bad for the amount of times the actors recited their lines when they didn't capture a scene right in Jungkook's eyes. It was an honor for you to meet these famous people beyond a screen, and you were strictly ordered to do Joy's makeup only. You are her stylist, but the professional one does help you after she's finished with Namjoon's.

"Cut," Jungkook says into the speaker. You're located in a rented mansion outside of the city, but you can't enjoy it when everyone is so stressed. "Start over from line "he's leeching off of you"."

Even actors can't hide their annoyance from having to do a 25th take of one scene. Jungkook pays them enough to go on with this torture however, so they have no room to complain.

They start over and you force yourself to watch them again and again.

"Oh my god, cut!" You can hardly resist groaning yourself. Everyone on set is overworked, and you know the director has it the worst, but it's overwhelming you too at this point. You flinch when your name is called. "Act Joy's lines, will you?"

"Me?" you point at yourself in surprise.

"Go ahead," he urges with a nod.

You have no idea how to act, and it's nervewracking having to do it in front of A-listers. You pick up the script handed to you from another woman and start reading:

"He's not leeching off of me," you pause to inhale shakily; your hands tremble from the heavy stares on you.

"I'm his family, the only one he has left. No one would know if he was gone, and he trusts me to look after him without having to dangle a dollar bill over his head."

This goes on until the final scene, and the retakes cut down to half.

A few months pass, and it is time for the premiere. The movie, simply titled Pretty Girl, easily got a green light for display in theatres, and it's been heavily promoted on YouTube and TV. You are excited to your core, and watching the celebrities walk the red carpet was a first for you. Jungkook easily blends in with the crowd as he once again didn't reveal his real name in the credits, but his pen name is gaining more and more recognition. You have never seen the movie throughout the editing procedure, but you can't wait to see everyone's efforts show on the big screen.

You're dressed fancily because Jungkook asked you to go with him, and the two of you are sitting in the crowded theatre with not a single empty seat to be seen. Even the entrance is decorated in retro style to fit in with the movie's theme! The jazz music playing in the halls reaches your ears, and your knees are bouncing in anticipation of the movie. Jungkook is smiling as he listens to you ramble.

"I can't believe I played a part in this whole project!" you gush with shaking fists. "I met the best director I know, and I worked for him! This all feels like a dream... No one even likes my style, and yet I became a stylist!"

"I love your style," he denies, "even now you have all the attention in the room."

"Pfft," you roll your eyes playfully, "they all think I must look weird. I tried to wear something classy so I don't stand out, but it hasn't been working out."

"Keep it that way, you're beautiful like this."

Heat creeps up to your cheeks at his compliment and you squeak, "thank you."

He doesn't get to relish your flustered state as everyone goes quiet once the movie starts.

The time period is unclear, as the language is modern but the filter is black and white. The first scene is in a bar, a man in a suit eyeing a woman with a date who is an outcast with his clothes. They're washed out and ugly, but he looks handsome with his dazzling smile at the woman.

An involuntary grin spreads across your face when you hear their dialogue.

"I want to touch someone's shoulder to see how they react. Did you see how they looked at me when I walked in here? I think they think I'm your sugar baby or something," Jimin's character jokes with a laugh.

"I know! They're all so boujee, but I'm willing to be your mommy without sugar," Joy winks. They have fun until Jimin leaves to the bathroom and Namjoon's character approaches her, who has been staring at her ever since they walked in. Joy is offered a modeling career, and she accepts after she's told that her fashion only works with her because of how beautiful she is. She's bashful when Namjoon gives her a business card.

Jungkook's film is only over an hour long, but everything is timed so perfectly. His directory is straightforward, and you admire his work until a song comes on.

"That's my favorite song!" you whisper into his ear. It's Space Song by Beach House.

"Mine too," he whispers back.

There are montages of photo shoots, Joy's rise to fame in the modeling industry, but the trouble is Jimin, her boyfriend. Namjoon confronts him one day when Jimin drops her off to her new workplace.

"How can someone so poor be able to court a woman like her?" he asks rhetorically.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Jimin is offended until Namjoon laughs it off and reveals it was a joke. The audience sighs in relief, and all is fun and games until Jimin is brutally murdered next to a dumpster. You gasp at the gore scene and glance at Jungkook, until something dawns on you.

The story is starting to sound familiar. Was this movie inspired by your encounters? Your eyes light up as you give your utmost attention to the movie. The line between reality and fiction is beginning to blur.

Joy goes to Namjoon's house, where the dialogue you first reenacted comes to play. The shots are gorgeous, the script filled with metaphors on poverty and currency, and the romance is sickly sweet. There is a sex scene not long after... Joy forgets all about her boyfriend in the snap of Namjoon's fingers.

You tilt your head when you remember Taehyung. Where is he? How come your boyfriend didn't even show up to this life-changing experience?

Jungkook's hand slides over your thigh out of nowhere, as he murmurs, "do you mind?"

You stammer when his fingers reach under your dress to poke at your panties. "S-Sorry?"

"I said," he grazes your folds as you tense at the feather light touch, "do you mind if I touch you, pretty girl?"

Your chest heaves as your lashes flutter in a daze, but you nod nonetheless. His low raspy voice already has you clenching your thighs, unintentionally trapping his hand against your pussy. He's gentle, almost curious with the way he runs his fingers over your silky underwear before he moves it to the side. You're shivering with delight and thrill, and you don't take your eyes off of each other as he begins to flick your clit carelessly.

"Looks so pretty on you," he compliments the makeshift choker on your neck. It's his handkerchief you wore for the occasion, unaware that it's dried with cum. He pulls on the knot like it's a collar, and you're entranced. Your pants fan his lips at the close proximity, and he doesn't shy away from slotting his mouth against yours. You quietly moan into the kiss when his thumb starts to rub your clit, and his long finger pokes at your entrance.

"You mind?" he murmurs against your lips, his words slightly slurred as he doesn't stop kissing you. The wet noises are drowned out by the loud volume of the movie, but you can't focus on what's going on.

"I don't," you breathe before he slips in two fingers, exploring your walls with precision. He's multitasking as he circles your sensitive clit, and you're not very experienced in regards to sexual encounters but your hand lands on his hard-on anyway.

"Don't be shy," he chuckles into your neck, "touch it."

You don't know what you're doing when you slip your hand under his pants and palm him over his briefs, but his sigh is encouraging you. You're touching each other in a room of 100 people.

It's embarrassing when his free hand joins yours to help you touch him while simultaneously fingering you. He must have sensed your lack of confidence, because he starts to stroke his erection over your hand. You start to imagine his fingers as the real thing, and with your particularly low stamina, have a hard time suppressing your whines.

"Kiss my neck," he suggests as a solution to your nibbling. You didn't even realize your nether lip is bleeding from how hard you were biting on it. You bury your head in his shoulder and start pecking his neck. He holds back a laugh at how shy you're being, and he feels proud for predicting this moment perfectly in the movie. Joy is having the time of her life with Namjoon, unaware of Jimin decaying in the attic.

He quickens his pace in your cunt, and you bite him rather harshly at the sensation. He hisses with a chuckle; he likes it when you're impulsive. He can pick up the squelches from his thrusts because of how wet you are, and you climax all over his fingers in a matter of seconds with a whimper. You're twitching in your seat, and your hand strokes him faster but he stops you.

"In my studio," he says and you nod tiredly against his shoulder. The issue isn't that he doesn't want to cum in his pants, but the movie needs to become reality. He wants to fuck you on that one stool, with Taehyung's corpse decomposing in the backroom.

Jungkook always adds a pinch of fiction to his stories, but they're mostly based on true events. If you paid attention to the ending, maybe you would've realized that.

Lying is bad, but there are worse things in life.

#bts imagines #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #jjk smut

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walkingnightmare · 3 years

Text

After scrolling thru the tags ive seen an underwhelming amount of posts talking about Isaiah and the cop situation with Sam. I know it was overblown by sambucky, and I admit i had added to the amount of sambucky posts and yes this episode was a win but it completely overshadowed the more important topic of this episode; racism. (edit: not saying diving into sambucky posts is bad, but just enjoying sambucky without shedding light on to the main theme and problems of the show is)

And im definitely not the best person to talk to about racism since i am white but it frustrates me to a living end how people missed the theme of this episode. From talking to Isaiah all the way to the therapy scene the topic was a lingering blanket, hell the bank scene and the government giving the shield away in episode one racism was the lingering topic.

The cop scene is automatically uncomfortable, with Sam and Bucky getting confronted by cops and one of them asking Sam to give him his ID, and asking Bucky if Sam was bothering him. Sam is rightfully angry, and Bucky is showing the ignorant white friend whose privilege shines like no other. This only gets resolved when the cops realize they’re Avengers and takes Bucky off for missing his therapy session. Ive seen that scene five times and it still pisses me off. And it should. It should piss everybody off.

And what should piss you off even more, is how they handled Bucky, a known HIGHLY DANGEROUS assassin, compared to Sam, a LIVING black man. They handled Bucky with kid gloves, while their hands sat on the butt of their guns while talking to Sam. You would think it would be reversed, right? Wrong.

And Isaiah! Isaiah fought for his country, LITERALLY beat Bucky’s ass in a fight, and yet they threw him in a jail cell. And Steve? He not only was a country hero, but was given a welcome back party when he re-awoke.

I hope you can see my anger through this text, i really do. I hope you got the message of this episode, and if not I hope you realize now and educate yourself because the shit that happened in this episode happens way to much in everyday life. I hope you realize Sam’s been fighting every second of this show to just be and think about the things he’s been presented with.

I’m damn tired of seeing people feel pity for Bucky but not an ounce for Sam. I’m tired of people using the “If he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me” line to pity the shit out of Bucky because “my baby’s been thru too much 🥺” and not see how selfish Bucky was this episode and how his words affected Sam and his decision to give up the shield.

I’m tired of people ignoring the lead character of this show because he is a black man. Im tired of Anthony Mackie not getting the recognition he deserves.

You diehard Bucky stans wouldn’t even have this show without Mackie, so you at-least better show a little damn respect when he’s on screen.

#marvel #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fatws #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #isaiah bradley #falcon and the winter solder #racisim #sam wilson deserves better #isaiah bradley deserves a hell lot more than he got #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #kinda an anti-bucky post #im angry #and you should be too

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exovapor · 3 years

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I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

#tmnt donatello #tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt fandom

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imjusttpeachy · 4 years

Text

the early bird gets the panini (c.h.)

well this is quite the change of pace isn’t it. lmao i figured u guys needed a break from the crying so here’s... whatever this is

thank u all new followers!! u jus made a big mistake💞🦋

u guys should search up “my very real collab with 50 cent” by corpse if you haven’t heard it yet, i ascended the first time i listened lmaoooo

playlist

the wombats - greek tragedy

aminé - heebiejeebies

free nationals - beauty and essex

the marías- let my baby stay

summary: Corpse interrupts the reader’s morning livestream after she left him alone in bed that morning. Fluff and fuckery ensues.

word count: 2, 326

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns, coarse language

>>>

“Okay, Tom Nook is the most bitch-ass motherfucker I’ve ever met. I could fold him like a panini with a slap I swear to god.”

Mornings were definitely one of your favourite times to stream. Of course, you loved staying up into the early hours of the morning only kept awake by the energy drinks running through your veins and the screaming of your friends over your headset, but nothing could beat the sweet simplicity of waking up with your watchers. It was always so calm, your anxiety levels at a low with the small audience building up slowly as more of them woke up. Reading those good morning messages saying that you helped to start their day off on a good foot— nothing would beat that.

The only downside to these scheduled morning streams was having to tear yourself away from the cozy warmth of your bed, especially if there was a certain someone blanketed over you silently persuading you to stay there forever. It was always a rare sight, bruised eyes sealed shut, long eyelashes kissing pale cheeks as small snores escaped from slightly parted lips. Glancing down at the messy black mop that rested on top of your chest, you sighed softly. You knew he’d only been asleep for a few hours, if that, thinking back to the night before where you crawled into bed alone after kissing him goodnight before leaving him to finish editing for his latest video. He worked too hard, but despite you reminding him this every single time he stayed up into the dark hours of the night to finish his work, he always never seemed to be satisfied. Most of the time you were able to coax him from the stuffy confines of his gaming office, bribing him with sweet kisses and promises of cuddles; when he was in the zone, though, nothing could steer his sore eyes away from the monitor. So with a sweet kiss goodnight, you’d make your way to the bedroom, falling asleep to the faint click-clacks of his keyboard.

It was funny how different you were in that aspect. You always loved mornings, the sun shining through the blinds always brought a smile to your face holding the promise of a bright day ahead. It felt good to never be in a rush, to enjoy the still air, and watch the world around you wake up as people settled into their daily routines. The day’s chaos always seemed to leak through into the dark of the night, but in the morning everything felt new and refreshed; the perfect new beginning to another chapter in the story of your life. Though, allowing yourself the guilty pleasure of staying in bed tangled together with your favourite person every so often wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Okay, maybe it was almost every day.

But who could say no when those strong arms encased you so perfectly, holding you so close you couldn’t figure out where you ended and where he started? Who could say no to his warm skin pressed against your own, the weight of his body grounding you as you pulled yourself from the darkness of sleep? Who could say no to being able to study his face up close, running your fingertip ever so lightly along the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheekbones, watching his eyelids flutter as he stirred softly in his sleep? Who could say no to the pillow talk you shared once those pretty eyes opened, the deep grumble of his morning voice that prickled goosebumps over your skin as he muttered those 3 sweet little words?

Definitely not you.

Well, not often anyway.

Reluctantly pulling your gaze away from the sweet face resting on your chest, you glanced over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Red numbers reading 9:37 AM that seemed to be glaring back at you pushed any thought of indulging in your morning pleasures straight from your mind. You’d need to be live in 20 minutes. Puffing another sigh from your lips you slowly worked your way out from underneath your personal weighted blanket, trying your best to maneuver him softly onto the pillows to not wake him. Of course, you’d never be that lucky. Hissing through your teeth as your feet hit the icy top of the hardwood floor, you whipped your head around as a warm hand encased your wrist in a loose grip. Beneath messy bed head that could barely be seen from underneath the comforter that you had pulled back on top of him, you see the glimpse of tired eyes clouded with confusion peering out from underneath.

“Angel?” The deep grumble muttered underneath his breath almost made you throw all your plans to the wind and crawl right back into the fluffy clouds you longed to once again get lost in. Huffing out a sigh you slowly turned around, pulling your hand from his grasp only to bury it in the dark locks buried among the pillows. You leaned down softly, pushing your hands through his hair to reveal soft pleading eyes staring back at you, doing nothing but making your heart ache for having to leave so soon. Trancing your thumb along his eyebrow to try and smooth the small furrow that had made its home between them, you sighed softly.

“It’s Thursday, gotta stream puppy.” You watched as a small flash of recognition passed across his bleary eyes, a puff escaping his lips from under the comforter as you watched his chest fall slightly. Pulling his head up from the comforter, you smiled as you felt chapped lips press a small kiss to the inside of your wrist in understanding. Allowing yourself a bit of fun you leaned down pressing your lips to his briefly, giggling softly as a whine escaped his mouth as you pulled away. “Promise I won’t be long, I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

“Too late for that.”

>>>

Smiling as you glanced up at your monitor that held your live chat, you watched as your viewers lost it with your threat to an animated shopkeeper. Times like this are what remind you of how grateful you are to your subscribers, they were practically family at this point and you felt you couldn’t be luckier to have such genuine, warm-hearted people that wanted to watch; even when you were cussing out characters that did nothing to you. You were laughing as you read some of the chat replies out loud when you saw your phone light up with a text from where it was sitting on your desk. Excusing yourself for a moment from the stream you grabbed your phone seeing a message from Corpse.

Corpsie💞💞: did you order coffee? someone knocked on the door and there’s a paper bag on the step

Cursing to yourself quietly for forgetting, you answered him quickly saying that you just needed to cut to a break on stream and you’d be out in a minute to grab it. He was wary of even opening the front door these days, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. The last time you had driven out to pick up whatever was sent into his P.O. Box, there were people waiting outside the building. When you went inside to grab everything, you asked the teller what exactly they were waiting for, to which he told you that they were hoping to catch a glimpse of this faceless internet star as this is where he’d go to get his mail. You don’t think you’ve ever walked faster to your car— trying your best to not grab their attention though your body was shaking with adrenaline, knowing they might’ve seen him while he was waiting there for you. Practically throwing open the driver's door, you tossed everything haphazardly into the back seat, telling Corpse to pull up his hood and mask as you started the car and peeled out of there. That was the last time he left the house.

You sighed, dropping your phone back on your desk as well as the switch that had been sitting in your lap, beginning to explain that you needed a quick break to get your coffee and starting to click through the settings to set up your break screen when you saw your phone light up again.

Corpsie💞💞: nah don’t worry i got it

You barely had time to sit back in your chair as you stared at your phone in disbelief before there was a soft knocking on your office door.

“Just kidding guys, apparently we have a kind guest who’s bringing it to me instead.”

Corpse hearing your voice from behind the door, it swung open to reveal your mop-headed lover sporting his cute plaid pyjama pants and yesterday’s hoodie as he held your coffees and bag in his hand. You grinned to yourself, moving out of the frame of the webcam as you reached out to grab everything, placing it on your desk before turning back to him with a wide smile. Reaching back for his hand, you pulled it down toward you, his body following as your other hand reached up to bury itself in his bedhead. You leaned forward and pressed a small peck onto his lips, mumbling a soft thank you against them as you kissed him once more. While this may have looked like the most simple gesture you knew how difficult it must have been for him, almost wanting to cry at how sweet he was to go to those lengths to do something a little special for you. As you pulled away, you smiled as his face mirrored yours, those soft rosy lips pulled into the sweetest grin you’d ever seen. Resting his forehead against yours, he mumbled back a small “anything for you princess,” the deep rumble of his morning voice sending a chill up your spine as you leaned forward again to steal another sweet kiss. Finally pulling away from you he stood up to his full height, a yawn escaping his mouth; though as he looked back toward the door you could sense his hesitation and grinned widely up at him.

“Do you wanna sit with me for a bit? I can just turn off the camera.” Giggling softly, you watched his head practically whip back toward you nodding a yes as he squeezed your hand, still intertwined with his. Reluctantly pulling it from his grasp, you pulled yourself back toward your monitors as you began to click through your stream settings.

“Well, your favourite guest has decided to grace us with his presence for a little so I’m gonna have to turn off face-cam, but I don’t think you guys will have a problem with that.” You laughed out, watching as your chat began to surge with messages about him. Making sure there was no way you could accidentally turn on the webcam again, you gestured him over to you starting to stand from your chair to grab the other one sitting in the corner of the office when a hand grasped yours, a strong tug pulling you completely off it with; a small yelp escaped your lips as you fell clumsily into your boyfriend's chest. You could hear his laugh from above you as he maneuvered you around in his arms before falling back onto your chair and pulling you into his lap, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck where you could feel that smug grin that was surely painted on his face. With his arms wrapped around you completely, holding you securely to his chest you knew you weren’t going anywhere. Looking up at the chat a laugh was pulled from your lips as your watchers conspired against you, message after message accusing you of doing something unspeakable behind the camera as being the reason you turned it off.

“Guys, literally nothing is happening.” You laughed out, watching as the chat passed so fast you couldn’t even read a full sentence. “Corpse just decided he wanted to share a chair instead of getting his own.”

“Yeah, my bad.” With no trace of any remorse in his monotone answer, another laugh escaped from your lips. Leaning forward to grab your switch and actually start playing again, you settled back into Corpse’s lap knowing this is exactly where you wanted to be. You were only a few minutes back into the game, Corpse and you occasionally reading out some live chat comments excited about his surprise appearance as viewers slowly climbed— his own watchers joining to watch the stream, when he inevitably started to fuck with you. A chill snaked up your spine as you began to feel small kisses trailing up your neck, you should’ve known this was one of the reasons he wanted to have you in his lap— it was easier to get your attention this way. You could feel that smug little smile drift back onto his face as he heard your voice start to shake slightly; at those moments he’d pull away and start replying to messages before turning back and starting all over again. It was the fourth time he began to press those soft lips to the base of your throat when you shrugged him off and shoved the breakfast sandwich you were snacking on into his face.

“Okay, if you want to share a chair you’re gonna have to behave.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry baby, sorry.” Corpse laughed out, voice muffled from behind the sandwich; taking a bite of it and placing it back in front of you, his chest still shaking with laughter. Deciding to hook his chin over your shoulder instead, he went back to watching the live chat, chatting and answering questions— that is before he came across a certain comment that had him furrowing his brows in confusion.

“What’s this about you folding Tom Nook like a panini?”

>>>

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #corpse imagine #corpse husband x y/n

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chanandlersstuff · 3 years

Text

Tell me if it's mutual

Pairing: MGK x Reader.

Summary: A concert, one specific song, memories flowing and you realise something important.

Word count: 2.521

Author’s note: I had this idea in my brain sience the album came up and now I got the time to make it happend. Also I inspired in this post and this song.

Colson and you had been a couple since a while but neither of you felt the need to come clean with the fans. He didn't have the best reputation with relationships and you were new to all that famous stuff, so keep a low profile just for now it was for the best.

Colson had invited you to the first concert of his last album and you were thrilled. All the gang was there, Casie too. You were looking at him shining just like the star he was, he was in his happiest time. Rocking with his friends, with his fans. He runs on the stage like a free animal, jumping from here to there, yelling all the lyrics with his fans and you just admire him with a big smile on your face. Seeing him happy made you happy. You still remember the bundle of nerves that he was when the album came out, the tears of joy when the album got the recognition it deserved, you were every step of the way.

“It's amazing isn't it? ”- Casie said and you nod with your head. He was singing Jawbreaker and he was smiling and singing from the top of his lungs.

“Yeah, he is his true self. I love that.”- Casie looks at you and smiles.

The song finished and the lights changed color and he was silent looking around. You frown your eyebrows and look at Casie but she was smiling.

“Where are you?” He said and you don't understand anything, Casie looked at you and she raised your arm and made you wave. You see him through the big screens on the stage and he was smiling. “There you are. Hello.”- You smile and wave, although you're not sure if he sees you. “Guys, this next song means so much to me because the person that inspired it is someone very special to me. You were with me when this album was just an idea and you are here now, I hope you stay by my side for the rest of my life.”- You open your mouth surprised. You had no idea that he was planning this. “Sing it like that day in the car babe. This is your song.”

The song starts and you smile like an idiot, all the memories that that simple song helds means the world to you. Every verse had its own memory.

Wake up, still drunk from last night

The first dates are always uncomfortable

Stayed up, I couldn't sleep last night

I'll admit, I'm a little dysfunctional

Are you okay with the fact I'm a little off track, to be honest

I've been through relationships, I've never been in love, but I want this

You remember your first date, oh god it was a disaster. You meet him thanks to your clumsiness. You were filming your first movie and in your enthusiasm for finally living your dream you entered the wrong truck, his truck.

He was stepping out of the shower and he was like naked, he thought that you were a crazy fan and called security. All that mess finishes with the director of your movie telling him that you indeed were an actress and not a stalker. In a way of apologizing both of you invite the other for coffee, at the same time. But at the time both of you were done filming that day it was late at night and instead of coffee you went out for drinks. One drink leads to another and both of you end up wasted.

At first the “date” was really uncomfortable because of the past events, but with a drink or two the night hit it off and was a very fun night. After that day both of you bring coffee to the other and take lunch together. One day you wake up brave enough to ask him on a date and he said yes. He tells you that he was a little rusty in that area but he hoped not to make you regret asking him out. And you didn't regret it, at all.

Ever since you walked away, I can't wait to taste your breath

Sunset on my black parade, and I can't wait to see what's next

When the clothes are off and the phones are off

And the lights are on 'cause you turn me on

He didn't kiss you at the end of that night, but he didn't regret it. He wants to do things the right way. All of you were a ray of sunshine, funny, sassy, a little bit clumsy and childish. Everyday you come to set with a new crazy idea in that brain of yours. He remembers perfectly that one day you came to set wearing a PJ of a unicorn, with the horn, tail and with a lot of shine. All of that because you were cold. Oh god the way he laughed when he saw you. You were like a minion beside him, so seeing you like that was funny and cute.

But oh boy that image was nothing compared to the image of you in a sexy red dress dancing in a nightclub on one of the days off you two got. Just the two of you dancing and partying, singing from the tops of your lungs. Sex drive by him playing in the background and lust and desire in both of your eyes was too much, the heat from the bodies and the huge need to kiss until you brains explote was too much to handle.

So you took his hand, rushed from the nightclub and got the hell out of there. In your hotel room, clothes gather on the floor, the light letting you see every part of him, every tattoo, every scar, every little thing. He sees every centimeter of your skin, every little mark and imperfection, according to you but to him you were a goddess.

Pick up, pick up your phone

I know you just gave me your number but I wanna know

What's up with us because I got a feeling

Tell me if it's mutual

Are you with anybody right now?

Or could you step out and talk to me?

I'd text you but it's better to call

'Cause tomorrow there'll be less that I have to delete

The film that Colson was working on ended before yours, so now he dont see you more often and that was killing him. He was used to seeing you everyday, and spent time with you. He was in his house with his friends partying but you weren't there and he was drunk.

So he did the first thing that crossed his mind. Call you. You give him your number the day before he finishes the movie. It may sound rare but all the time he knew you he didn't ask for your number because all the talking was in person. It was two a.m and he was praying that you were up. When your voice, fresh as a lettuce, appeared on the other side of the line he was relieved because he didn't wake you up. The voice in the background made him panicked and the first thing in his mind was that maybe you were on a date.

When you ask him why he called and if everything was fine, he started to ramble about god knows what. In his drunk state he declared his love for you but told you that was totally fine if you didn't feel the same. It was obvious that you were with someone else that was way better than him and started to number all his defects. You tried to stop him and tell him that you were filming a night scene and that's why all the voices were in the background, not a date. You tried to tell him that you like him too, that his so-called “defects” don't matter to you but he ended the call before you could open your mouth.

Cover my mouth with yourself, there's nothing to say

After that incident he didn't call you anymore so you take the matter in your own hands. In the moment that you had days off you took the first flight to his house and made things right.

You had to talk to so many people to have his address and prove that you weren't a stalker and in fact knew him. But after all that you were standing at his door re-thinking if that was a good idea. The sky looks like it may be falling in any minute, the rain didn't stop even for a second. Maybe not, maybe yes but you only live once so fuck it. Maybe you will catch pneumonia but that doesn't matter right now.

His face when he saw you in front of him was priceless. He was so fucking confuse and surprice. You did the same thing that he made you, you didn't let him talk.

“You call me in the middle of the night and scare the shit out of me. And assume that I was on a date and feel sorry for yourself, underestimate you and on top of that you hang up. So now you are gonna shut up and listen to me Baker.”- She always calls him Cols or Kells or MGK but never for his last name. “You assume that you weren't enough for me and put me on a pedestal. You were so fucking blind to see that I was drooling like a fool for you. The day we got drunk I knew that there was a 95% chance that I will fall in love and I was alright with that because you were worth it. And look at me, I don't know how many month later, stadinding at your door telling you that I’m so fucking in love with you that thats all that is in my brain, that I cant even count the months. So never ever in your life Baker take for granted my feelings again.”

Said that he was shocked was an understatement. “And the other 5%?”

“What?”

“The other 5%, what about that?”- The water soaked the clothes and the rain was falling harder.

“From all the things I told you. You hold on to that?”- She was looking at him like he was fucking nuts. And he simply nodded.

“The other five porcent scream to me that I was being a fool and that you will never love me back. But I choose to ignore her because she is a little unhappy bitch.”- He laughs and kisses you. Like in a fucking romantic movie.

And all the doubts that both of you had, disappeared. None of that matters now that all the cards were on the table. The music and screams from inside the house were louder.

“Are you having a party or what?”- Your hands were in his neck and his in your waist. Those blue eyes were shining and his smile was beautiful.

“No, the boys are having a game night.”- He was looking at your eyes and he lost it in them.

“Okay. I'm gonna go to my hotel and let you go back to your game night.”- You peck his lips and walk from him but his fingers intertwine with yours and he shakes his head.

“No no, you are going to come to my house, shower because you are gonna catch a cold and you are gonna tell me everything that I miss from set, missy.”- You smile and kiss him again.

This time he lifts you from the ground and makes you intertwine your legs in his waist. One hand in your ass and the other in the doorknob, both enter the house and his friends look at you.

“Col stop eating her face and introduce her, dude”

“Boys this Y/N. Y/N the boys. Later you can meet her, now we gotta go. Bye.” He didn't let you say anything that he was climbing the stairs to his room you assume.

And that's how you spend your days off, with him. Talking with him, watching movies, getting to know his friends and sometimes in his studio, just sitting there because you like to see him working.

Even the silence that I have with you’s okay

Let's do it like it's the first time, like it's the first time

One time when the house was too noisy and his head too he just held your hand, climbed to one of his cars and drove nowhere in particular and just parked the car, rolled the windows down letting the hot air of Cali and the sun hit your skin and didn't talk at all. Your head in his lap, legs out of the window and looking at him. The way the sun glows in his skin, his features, his perfect nose and jawline, his perfect face.

Later that day he told you that he sometimes needs to go to some quiet place and just enjoy the silence, but he needs you there because you bring him peace.

When he finished the album and his management hadn't listened yet. He made you climb to his car in the middle of the night, it was a usual thing by now, and listen to the whole album, even the songs that will be in the deluxe version.

Of course you listened to some parts when he was in the studio but seeing the hope and fear in his eyes when he looked at you in his car seat thinking every word, every melody, everything, made you realise how important you were in his life.

You spent all the night listening over and over the whole album. By the time dawn comen both of you were screaming at the tops of your lungs every word. You tell him what was your favorite song and what you think about every lyric. The first time you listened to “Hangover cure” you looked at him with tears in your eyes and a smile on your face. By the second time you tried to memorise every word and by the third you were singing and dancing in the car making him laugh. You even make him get out of the car to close his eyes, let go and listen to his own music. And that was how at 6 am in the middle of nowhere a langy 6 ft 3.5 blond boy and a minion were jumping and playing invisible instruments like mad people.

When the song ended you were crying tears of joy and screaming from the top of your lungs, that was a thing you have done since you met him. He was wearing that smile that you like so much, but he tried so hard to cover, glossy eyes and a loving look in his eyes. In that moment you knew he was your ride or died, that you wanted him for the long run, that he made you the happiest person in the world, that you actually and truly loved him.

#colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #colson x reader #mgk fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #Spotify

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 1

Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4 Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Violence and Death

Author's Note: I have edited this story so it's nicer. Love me for this, please because I fought the cringe for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham looked bleak in the wake of the militia’s arrival. Even the thugs that were rioting in the street seemed to avoid the armored tanks and patrols as they passed, and GCPD had withdrawn most of their officers to stay at the precinct. He’d never claim he couldn’t do it on his own. He had to keep going. He had to save Gotham. He had to—

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.” He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who was speaking. She walked up beside him, leaning on the ledge he was perched on.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his eyes still trained on the city before him. “You should still be resting. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

She chuckled and turned, looking out at the spotlights shining. “They’re healed enough.” She side-eyed him. “Besides, this is becoming a lot more than you can handle.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can handle thi—” He looked down when he felt a hand curl around his wrist, then he looked back up, seeing the solemn stare in her gaze.

“Dad. You almost died at the ACE plant,” she interjected with a shake of her head. “We’ve got this ‘Arkham Knight’ teaming up with Scarecrow, and you’ve got Tim locked in the theater synthesizing a cure.” She squeezed his wrist lightly.

“Ican handle the smaller things, while you handle the militia and Scarecrow.”

He stared at his daughter for a moment, wanting to argue, but he knew it was pointless. Finally, he nodded, pulling away and pushing a few buttons on his wrist screen. “I need someone to help Dick with Penguin, and I need to handle the Man-Bat flying around.”

She nodded as she glanced at her screen, taking in the information he’d sent. “Do you know where it came from?”

“The DNA matches that of Doctor Kirk Langstrom,” he said. “He owns a lab on Bleake Island. Here’s the coordinates.”

Humming, she slid a wave-marker into the cowl’s visor to give her direction before stepping up on the ledge. “I’ll go to the lab, then help out Dick.” He stared at her as she turned to face him, her feet nearing the edge. “Be careful, dad…I don’t want to lose you.” She didn’t give him time to respond, falling backwards over the ledge.

A few seconds later, she was gliding through the sky; a faint smile came to his lips as he watched her, then he turned, heading in the direction of the other island.

***

When she finally found the lab, she was alarmed to see what had happened. Her eyes focused on the screen, replaying the last moments of the experiment, then she put a finger to her ear. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

A few moments later, his voice came over the line. “What happened at the lab?”

She grimaced as she looked at the body of Francine Langstrom. “Apparently Langstrom was trying to find a cure to his deafness by mixing in vampire bat DNA with his. Something went horribly wrong, and he mutated into the giant bat thingy flying around Gotham.” She paused, her voice mournful. “His wife’s dead.”

There was a slight pause from her father then he murmured, “Can you get to a computer to synthesize a cure?”

She glanced around, trying to find a working computer amongst the shattered screens. When she found one, she moved to it, typing away at it.

After a few moments, she pulled the cure out and put it into the injector she carried. “Alright. I’ve got the cure. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s on Bleake now. Find him in the skies.”

She nodded, moving to the door. “Will do.”

***

When she arrived back in the city, she climbed up the clocktower and waited. Once she saw him darting across the sky in a hulking mass of gray flesh and black talons, she acted, kicking off the ledge to glide across the sky until she was above him; she dove, tackling him to the ground and injecting him, but he fought her, viciously slicing at her with his claws until she rolled away. He screeched at her and flew off.

She grunted as she clambered to her feet, dusting off the dirt they’d rolled in and a voice came over the comm. “Did you find him?”

A huff escaped her, and she explained, “I did…but he wrestled with me and took off the second I injected him.” She looked down at the injector, still holding the remaining cure. “We’re gonna have to go another round.”

“Watch the skies then. In the meantime, go find Dick. He’s somewhere on Miagani.”

She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling out her grapple and aiming it towards the roof of an adjacent building. “Alright. Will do.”

The crinkle of her father’s communicator faded out and she pulled the trigger, letting her body go weightless as she shot up towards the ledge. Holstering the grapple gun, she climbed over the ledge and paused, glancing down at her screen as she stood on the roof. A few moments had passed, and she looked at the city, seeing the chaos that had enveloped it within the few hours that had gone by. Riots littered the boulevards and the militia had begun putting mines in the roads as they started barricading the avenues and main streets. Something akin to hopelessness rose in her chest, but she shoved it down, reminding herself that with her, Dick, Tim, and her dad, they could save Gotham. It was just going to take some more time.

“Are you thinking about how Batman let the city go to hell?”

She couldn’t fight the gasp that escaped her as she spun around, taking in the image of the Arkham Knight before her. His stance was nonthreatening, in fact it was almost curious, but she stood on her guard anyway, her voice and eyes cold.

“There’s only two people to blame for this city going to hell. Scarecrow…” She pointed at him, her voice frosty. “And you.” He gave her no reaction, other than taking a step towards her, heavy metaled boot making a thump against the concrete roof.

Reaching down, she pulled the Ka-Bar from her thigh and warned, “I’d be careful how close you come, pal. I’m one person you don’t wanna tango with.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Look around you, Batgirl. This is what Gotham City truly is. Chaotic and beyond saving.”

She tipped her head back, her tone becoming challenging. “Is that what you’ve been conditioned to believe? Or did Scarecrow just feed you something to change your mind.”

That seemed to irritate him because he snapped harshly, “You have no idea what I’ve been conditioned to believe.”

“I know you’ve got a petty grudge against Batman, and you believe that inciting chaos amongst people is the best way to deal with it.”

His anger seemed to cool as his voice turned to ice, and she almost shivered at how the temperature seemed to chill around them a few degrees. “My grudge with Batman is more than petty.” He pointed at her, the holographs on his mask shifting with every word. “He deserves to die.”

She flipped the knife into the air and caught it, raising it defensively as she reached out with the other out and beckoned him. “You want Batman?” she challenged. “Then you come through me.”

The Arkham Knight didn’t move until she jerked forward, stabbing out with the knife. He dodged her easily enough, sliding beside her and she twisted, following him with a well-rounded kick aimed for his torso. Instead of evading, he grabbed her foot and yanked her. Hard. Her breath caught in her throat as she was hauled forward and cursing inwardly, she brought the knife down, hoping to catch him as she fell. His gauntleted hand shot out and caught hers, and when she reached out with the other, he caught it too. Not wasting any time, he kicked her feet out from beneath her and dropped them to the ground, putting all his weight onto her hips to stop her from moving as he slammed her hands beside her head against the rooftop.

Her eyes widened in shock at how quickly everything had happened. No one had ever been able to take her down that fast, and the reality that she might meet her end caught up with her. She began to squirm, trying to rise up enough to catch him with a shoulder but with her wrists in his grip it wasn’t likely, and with all his weight on her legs, she couldn’t kick out or try to flip him off.

“Stop moving,” he suddenly commanded, but it didn’t sound as harsh as his earlier words.

She glared at him and spat, “You wanna kill me, go ahead. But he’s still gonna take you down.”

There was a pause, then he shifted her hands until he held them both in one hand, and he reached towards her face. She reacted like anyone would subdued by an enemy, emitting a warning in her throat as she tried to avoid the oncoming touch. When his hand came into contact with her cheek, she flinched at the chill of the titanium, but his touch was…kind and gentle.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N),” he promised softly. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you.”

She stilled at the mention of her name, shock etching across her features. His fingers brushed her cheek once more, this time a loving caress, his thumb brushing over her lips.

“How…how do you know my name?” (Y/N) questioned and his hand halted, then he reached up and pressed a button below his jaw.

She watched the mask rise and when his face came into view, she felt her heart stop and she blinked, breathing, “…Jason?”

At the mention of his name and the recognition, he let go of her hands and reached down, removing the gloves from his hands. He reached back down to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones then to her eyebrows, like he was trying to remember how her skin felt underneath his calloused hands.

She could see the long-withheld emotions fighting inside him as choked, “God, I’ve wanted to see you for so long.” His hands felt warm against her face, and she reached up to touch him, but stopped as she saw the “J” burned onto his face. He must’ve realized she was staring at it, because he pulled one of his hands away and covered it, muttering, “The Joker…he did it.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting, anger, fury, disgust, it wasn’t the one she gave him, as she let out a sob and jerked forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. His entire body went rigid, then slowly, his arms wound around her waist, pulling her to him until there was no space between them, and even then, he tried to pull her closer, squeezing with all his strength. She began to shake in his arms, and he quietly shushed her.

After a few moments, she pulled back and took off her cowl, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes; she swallowed thickly before murmuring, “…We thought you were dead, Jason.”

His expression turned dark as he muttered, “Joker kept me locked in the asylum all that time.”

(Y/N) had no idea what to say. What could she? She figured she could apologize for not looking in the asylum. Or that she failed him. Instead, she said nothing and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and a shuddering breath left him as he gently grasped her forearms, trying to ground himself. Some time had passed before he pulled away and helped her to her feet. (Y/N) stared into the eyes of her lover and readied herself for what she was about to say.

She took a deep breath and bent over, picking up the knife to put it back in its sheath. “I…I can’t even begin to imagine what happened to you, Jason,” she said as she gazed at him. “And I’m sorry it did…I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to find you.”

Grasping the cowl, she pulled it back on then clenched her jaw and said, “You can go this time…but if I see you again…I will stop you.”

His eyes widened in shock for a split second, then they narrowed, and he tipped his head up, questioning, “So, this is how it’s going to be?”

She nodded despite the grief welling in her chest. “This is how it has to be.” (Y/N) explained as she turned away from him. “You’re trying to kill my dad and destroy Gotham…I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t care that he left me to die?”

She spun back around, her voice wrought with disbelief and resentment of the accusation. “That’s not what happened, and you know it!” she condemned. “You turned you comm and tracker off then went off on your own! We searched everywhere for you! None of us let you die!” She reached out and curled her fingers in the straps at his side. “We saw you die Jason! I watched my father fall into the deepest pit of depression I’ve ever witnessed!”

She let him go, her hands falling limply to her sides. “Don’t you dare say that he didn’t care that you died…it haunts him.” (Y/N)’s eyes met his and she lamented, “It haunts me.” He said nothing, and she shook her head, turning back around. “I don’t know what you expected from me. To help you destroy Gotham? To kill my father and everything he stands for?”

She paused, then admitted, “I love you, Jason. More than anything…but you’re dead wrong if you think I’d be on your side with this.”

The sound of mechanized armor echoed in her ears and his sarcastic laugh turned robotic as he ridiculed, “Guess there is life after love, huh?”

(Y/N) gave him no response, and a moment later, she was standing alone on the rooftop. A feeling of overwhelming numbness seeping out from her heart to her limbs as her lungs began to tighten.

“Yes…I guess there is.”

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boimgfrog · 3 years

Text

hey @pantoranprincess i uh. i wrote it <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139768

full fic under the cut

The two men were seated at a table, enjoying lunch despite the… cozy size of Luke’s office. Conversation flowed easily, albeit mostly one-sided.

“anyways, that’s when I saw Obi-Wan, my first master-” Luke paused, noticing Din’s helmet tilt slightly at the name, “you do know who Obi-Wan was, right?”

Din froze, not expecting the Jedi to pick up on his confusion, “the name sounds familiar… Bo-Katan mentioned him once,” he took a sip from his straw, “said he was a sister-seducing- man-whore? Was he some kind of escort?”

He waited as his words washed over Luke. The jedi blinked twice, a smile flickering past his lips.

“yes,” Luke nodded, “he was, excellent job,” he spooned more soup into his own bowl, hiding his smile behind its large spoon.

“and he was your master?” Din asked, tilting his head forward.

“mhmm,” Luke set the spoon back into the bowl, matching din’s gaze through his lashes, “taught me everything he knew,”

Din coughed, turning his attention back towards his lunch. he sipped at it, ignoring the blush that crept under his helmet.

The jedi huffed, eyes twinkling. Something told Din that maybe, just maybe, he’d lied about the Obi-wan thing.

-><-

The back of Luke’s head hit the ground, pulling a wheeze from his body. Above him, Din stood poised, cradling a very fussy green toddler. He extended a hand toward the fallen jedi, but Luke waved him off, leaning up on his elbows.

“’s nothing, no offense but,” he gestured to Grogu, who had calmed down some, “he’s no Vader, I’ll be fine,” this time, he accepted Din’s hand, hardly dwelling on how easily he pulled him up.

“Vader?” Din asked, shifting the baby to his hip, and pocketing the darksaber he’d previously been using.

Luke looked up at the Mandalorian, tilting his head with a smile, “Darth Vader? The emperor’s right-hand man?”

Din’s helmet betrayed to hint of recognition. Unbelievable. No way, there’s no way he was this clueless.

“big cape, scary helmet? Red lightsaber?” Luke tried, wracking his brain.

“oh, you mean like the guy on those old recruitment posters?”

“those- the recruitment posters?”

Din nodded, “I’d see ‘em plastered up in bars and stuff, back before the empire fell,”

Recruitment posters. Din, one of the best bounty hunters Luke had ever met, king of Mandalore himself, had only heard of Darth Vader via recruitment posters. Luke felt his chest flutter. He nodded along with whatever Din said next, mind elsewhere. If he hadn’t heard of Darth Vader… what else had he managed to miss?

-><-

“Din!” Luke called from down the hallway, footsteps tripping as he ran inside Din’s ship, “Din! My sister’s here,” he said, knocking on the solid metal hull, “She wants to meet you!” his voice made it sound like an important event, though Din could hardly see why exchanging niceties with the sister of a backwater jedi warranted such flare.

“mm,” Din pulled back the door, peering down at Luke who was bouncing on his toes, “why?”

Luke ignored him, grabbing Din by his gloved hand, and dragging him towards his office, “this could be a big opportunity for you,” he rattled on, eyes shining beneath his mess of dust-streaked hair, “it’s good for you to make connections like this, given your newly-found title-”

“connections?” Din interrupted, “what do you mean?”

Luke spared a confused glance back at the Mandalorian, still steadily walking him towards his sister, “my sister? Leia Organa?”

Din offered up no response, but Luke was enamored by it nonetheless. He could understand not knowing much about galactic history, after all, he was under the impression that Din lead a particularly... sheltered childhood. But things that were happening now? The new republic?

“she was the princess of Alderaan? She helps lead the New Republic?”

“Alderaan...” Din paused, “that’s the one that blew up, right?”

“yes,” Luke dropped Din’s hand, unhooking the tarp that shielded his office from view, “yes, it’s the one that blew up,”

“mm,” Din hummed thoughtfully, “is she a jedi too?”

“sort of, I’ve been helping her train,” Luke said, checking his hair in the gleam of Din’s helmet.

“must’ve been why they blew up Alderaan then,” Din held still, “they were trying to kill her before she got too powerful,”

Luke’s hands stilled. He stared up into the Mandalorian’s visor, “huh,” he said, unable to stop his lips from twitching, “maybe so,” Luke turned around, brushing the tarp aside for Din to enter, hiding his smile behind the fabric.

-><-

It was almost cute, how little Din seemed to know about the galaxy he lived in. it didn’t really matter, of course. Most of it was just history lessons, nothing that would seriously impede him on a mission or in battle. And he wasn’t stupid by any means. He could speak more languages than Luke could count on his hands, flesh and robotic, and had flight skills that could rival even the most trained X-wing pilot. Still, it was hard not to feel fond when the Mandalorian only just now realized that Luke and Leia were twins.

“how was I supposed to know!”

“Din, starlight, our father would’ve been found out the second one of us was born, how exactly did you think he managed to swerve the jedi code to have another baby?”

“listen-” Din huffed, biting back his argument when he saw how ecstatic Luke was over this whole ordeal. Luke only nodded along expectantly, crossing one leg over the other. He was nothing if not encouraging.

“to be fair,” Din started, scowling at Luke’s twinkling smile, “she’s a princess, and you grew up on Tatooine,” he huffed, “and you never mentioned your dad was a jedi,” he added quickly, hoping Luke would miss it in his euphoria. No such luck.

“Din,” Luke stood up, reaching to cradle the Mandalorian’s helmet in his hands, “Anakin Skywalker? Did you think that was a coincidence?”

“it’s a big galaxy, there’s like half a billion ‘Djarin’s out there,” Din answered, but the bite had left his voice. It was hard to be frustrated when Luke was so close, all soft smiles and saying “Din” like it was a prayer.

Din leaned into the jedi’s touch. He’d blame it on the weight of his helmet later, and Luke would play along, teasingly offering to hold the helmet if it ever got too heavy. It was only ever teasing though. Luke never asked for more than Din was willing to give.

-><-

They were pressed together, Din’s arm wrapped lazily around Luke’s waist, the jedi’s head leaning against his cold, armored shoulder. The beaches on Luke’s planet were nothing special, but the sunsets, oh the sunsets were spectacular. Grogu had been poking at Luke’s brain all day, playing memories of beach days on coruscant and building sandcastles with the crechemasters, until Luke finally caved and suited the baby up for a day in the water, inviting Din along.

Grogu had the time of his life, taking turns force-throwing sand at his dad and splashing his master until they joined in the fun. After a full day of entertaining the little gremlin, though, the two men had decided to impose Nap Time on the kiddo, sprawling out together on one of the many beach towels Luke had brought. (“you didn’t grow up on Tatooine, Din. Trust me, sand gets everywhere”)

The baby was fast asleep against Din’s armor, wrapped up so his head didn’t get bruised by the beskar.

“this was nice, huh?” Luke asked, shifting to look up at the Mandalorian. His eyes brushed over the thin stripe of exposed facial hair before he pulled his gaze away, embarrassed. Even the smallest of glimpses got his heart racing. Ridiculous, honestly.

“mhmm,” Din absentmindedly rubbed circles on Grogu’s back with his thumb, “could’ve done without all the sand in my armor, though,”

Luke laughed, “ugh I know,” he shifted again, pulling his arms from the poncho he was wearing, “I always get so much sand and dust in my hand, it’s the worst,”

Din tilted his helmet, “in your hand?”

“yeah,” Luke fiddled with his glove, pulling it off before tugging on one of his fingers, revealing the intricate system of wires, “you didn’t know?”

Din knew he was staring, and he knew that wasn’t polite but he just- “you’re… part droid?”

Luke laughed at that, a full, hearty laugh, one that had him gasping for air and rolling on his back. Din reached for his hand, holding it up so that it didn’t hit the sand as Luke fell back.

“yes,” Luke said, catching his breath, “I suppose that’s one way to put it,” he flicked his finger again, closing the wiring hatch. Din hadn’t removed his hand, so Luke twisted their fingers together, “you really didn’t know?”

“how was I supposed to?”

“the lifting things six times my weight didn’t tip you off?”

Din sputtered, “you’re a jedi??? You lift things six times your weight all the time???”

That got Luke laughing again, eyes twinkling in the setting sun. He was teasing Din, yes, but he was also so, so deeply fond of him. This, Luke asking questions, Din answering truthfully even though it made him look silly, this was everything to Luke. Luke trusted the Mandalorian, of course he did, and this made Luke feel like Din trusted him as well. just the thought alone was enough to make the Jedi smile wider, letting his head fall against the Mandalorian’s shoulder once more.

-><-

Luke paced around Din’s ship. It was bigger than his last one, and somehow even harder to navigate.

“Din, where’s your holoprojector?” Luke had promised to tell Leia when they were getting close, and they’d be closing in on Coruscant within the hour.

“don’t have one,” came the response from the dashboard, stopping Luke in his tracks.

“don’t- do you at least have a data pad?” no holoprojector? Maybe Din was poorer than Luke thought.

“yeah,” Din shuffled around for a moment, before handing Luke a beat-up data pad that was at least a century old.

“Din this thing is ancient,” he said, frowning at the actual layer of crust on the screen, “does it even have holonet?”

“nope,”

“wh-“ Luke was dumbfounded, “how do you get your news? What if something big happens??”

“if I need to know it, someone will tell me,” Din said as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy, but the thought left Luke reeling.

“Din, starlight, you didn’t know who Darth Vader was,”

“I did so-”

“yeah, from recruitment posters-”

“it still counts-”

“no it doesn’t-”

They fought like that for a moment, back and forth, until it dawned on Luke.

“holy stars,” he said, cutting Din’s rant short, “Din, is this why you didn’t know about Obi-Wan? And Anakin being my father? And Leia and the new republic?” Luke sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, scooping up Grogu and setting him in his lap.

Din grumbled, turning his attention back to hyperspace, “it wasn’t important,”

“starlight it was Darth Vader-”

The two started arguing again, bickering in that old married couple kind of way. Luke couldn’t help but smile at the situation. All this time, all these silly little accidents and conversations, all because the Mandalorian hadn’t bothered to install a holoprojector in his ship. It was amazing, really.

“I don’t see what the big deal is, you don’t know anything about Mandalorian culture,”

“Din no one knows anything about Mandalorian culture,”

Din slumped in his seat, hands gripping loosely at the steering controls. Luke leaned forward, bumping the Mandalorian’s with his head until Din faced him, pressing their foreheads together softly.

“hey,” Luke said in hushed tones, “for the record, I thought it was kinda hot,”

Din let out a breathy laugh, pulling back slightly to look in the jedi’s eyes.

“that says more about you than it does me, Skywalker,”

Luke matched his laugh, Din joining in before resting his forehead against Luke’s again. They were gonna get an earful from Leia when they landed without a party to welcome them, but for now they would simply rest, all shiny armor and gentle curls, bathed in the glow of hyperspace.

#jay writes #is that the tag i use?#i dont remember #star wars #dinluke #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #luke skywalker #jay says a thing #i'm not in love w it but i do think it's cute so #baby yoda #grogu #he is also in this

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americxn · 3 years

Text

Promise (Tate x Reader)

word count: 1.2k warnings: noneee, just fluff (thank you @cleanup-aisle5 for the idea, you’re asleep right now but i said i would post something from my drafts tonight so here it is <3)

“Okay, there’s a step infront of you - yeah, that’s it.” You giggled as Tate guided you through the house, his hands tightly covering your eyes. “Almost there.” He murmured in your ear and you grinned, reaching your hands out to make sure that you didn’t walk into anything. “What? Don’t you trust me?” Tate asked, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. “Not really no,” you giggled, allowing Tate to manoeuvre you to the side slightly. “I could let you walk into a wall right now, be nice.” He whispered, his breath hot on your ear. “Are you excited?” He enquired as his hands fell onto your shoulders, halting your blind shuffling. “Yes, I am.” You squealed softly, your hands finding Tate’s and trying to pry them off your face. “Hold on - geez. Impatient.” Tate huffed, a smile obvious in his tone. “Alright, keep your eyes shut.” He ordered, his hands lifting off your face as he stepped away from you, the air at your back turning suddenly cold at the loss of his presence. You squeezed your eyes shut tight as slight shuffling sounded in front of you. “Okay. Open!” Tate said gleefully. You eyes fell open, a broad grin already spread across your face as you beheld your boyfriend and the room before you.

Your hands moved of their own accord to cover your mouth in awe as you surveyed Tate’s handiwork. You were stood in the small spare room on the top floor of the house, but it was nearly unrecognisable. The room was usually used for storage, a few cardboard boxes and old or broken pieces of furniture usually presiding here, but as you spun around in wonder you marvelled at how the room had been changed beyond recognition. The middle of the wooden floor was piled high with soft blankets, fluffy quilts and an impressive array of pillows and cushions. The walls were strung with an uncountable amount of fairy lights, all of them twinkling and softly flashing their golden light in sync. On the other side of the nest of blankets and pillows was a low table, stocked full of all your favourite snacks, two tall flutes of sparkling champagne completing the spread. You laughed, your hands moving to clasp beneath your chin, knowing full well that Tate absolutely hated champagne. On the wall directly behind the table, Tate had projected the Netflix homescreen onto the black space. You ginned, noticing the list of all your favourite movies that Tate had compiled on the screen, waiting for you to watch them. And in the middle, Tate stood smiling widely, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Oh my god.” You gushed, unable to find the words to express to Tate how lovely this was. Instead, you opted to hurriedly pick your way through the piles of fluffy blankets, throwing yourself onto your boyfriend with enough force that he barely caught you, collapsing to the side and sending the both of you sprawling onto the mercifully soft floor. Rolling quickly so that Tate was beneath you, you leaned down, raining little kisses all over his face. “Oh my god, Tate!” You repeated, sitting back to look at him. “This is so perfect, I can’t believe you did this for me.” You gushed, shifting off him and pulling him up by the hand so that you were sat cross-legged on the floor, your knees touching. “I’m glad you like it.” Tate replied, leaning in to land a proper kiss on your lips before you pulled away in excitement. “How long did this take you?” “I’ve been collecting everything for a few weeks,” he began, his beam as bright as yours, “it was hard setting it all up with everyone around. But it didn’t take too long.” When you fell silent, taking in the room around you once more, Tate ventured softly, “do you like it?” Your head snapped to his, nodding profusely. “Yes, of course I like it. I love it!” You proclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck once more and squeezing tightly. Tate giggled, pushing you away slightly so that he could look at you. “I don’t know if you know this,” he began, his tone becoming slightly more serious. “But, today marks one year since you died.” He explained, watching as your face lit up with surprise and understanding, then amusement. “We’re celebrating my death?” You exclaimed incredulously, laughter lacing your tone. “No! No,” Tate said hurriedly, his hands taking yours in earnest as he giggled slightly. “No, I mean more so that it’s been a year since we’ve spent every day together, y’know? I thought that it’s actually kinda special.” You nodded, your heart warming at his sincerity as he looked down at your joined hands, a little blush creeping onto his cheeks. Leaning in, your pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “I love it. I love you.” You expressed, resting your forehead on his, Tate sighing in contentment. “I love you, too.” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly and reaching into his back pocket, causing you to sit up straight and peer curiously at his hand that produced a small velvet black box. Your eyes shot to his, eyebrows raising in confusion and slight concern. “Relax.” Tate smiled, opening the lid of the box and holding it between you so that you could see inside. Inside was a ring, it’s silver band shining bright in the gleam of the fairy lights, a small tear-drop shaped diamond resting atop it. “It’s a promise ring.” You took the box from Tate, examining the jewellery closely, your mouth falling open at its simplistic beauty. “A promise ring?” You breathed mindlessly, your eyes filling with tears. “Yeah,” Tate plucked the ring out of the box, taking your left hand in his and sliding it onto your middle finger. “Just so that you know, and I hate being corny so give me a second,” he grinned as you titled your hand in awe, beaming at the way the light refracted off the stone, “that I am fully committed to you. I have been since you first set foot in this house.” You met his gaze, allowing your love to shine clear in your eyes. “I know one year may not seem that long to some, but I figured that since we’ve lasted in this house together for so long with minimal arguments, I doubt anything is going to happen that would tear us apart.” You nodded, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth and chewing it to stop it from wobbling as a few tears fell. “Thank you.” You whispered, pulling him into a gentle embrace. “It’s beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much.” Tate giggled, pushing you back by waist so that he could have access to your lips. His mouth was warm and soft on yours and you smiled into him, allowing Tate to manoeuvre you so that your back was pressed against the blankets, him coming to straddle you lightly, all the while keeping his lips connected to yours. You opened for him, allowing his tongue to make a lazy sweep of your mouth, your own tongue timidly roving against his. You forced yourself to pull away as Tate attempted to deepen the kiss, your own stomach fluttering in excitement. With a happy sigh, you took his face in your hands. “Later. I wanna watch a movie first.” You whispered sweetly up at him. Tate smiled softly as you reached with a thumb for his bottom lip, rubbing the pad of your thumb over its softness. “Of course, baby. Which one first?”

#american horror story #ahs #murder house #tate langdon #one shot #fluff #tate x reader

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 3 years

Text

Home is Where You Are

Din Djarin x Force Sensative!Reader, Gender Neutral, MANDALORIN SEASON 2 SPOILERS!

Summary: Din Djarin has been the rock keeping you grounded in the sea of uncertainty that is your life. How can you be expected to leave it, even when the Force is pulling you in another direction?

Word Count: 3.2K

You flinched as the pounding of metal on metal echoed through the bridge.

You were going to die. This was it. This was where it was going to happen. You closed your eyes, steeling yourself for the fear that was surely about to spread through your body.

Your instincts had always been to run and hide. It was what had kept you alive.

You weren’t a fighter; you were a mechanic for kriff’s sake. You were surrounded by Mandalorians, soldiers, assassins, and bounty hunters. You could barely fire a blaster without your hands shaking. And yet, you were here. You had fought Din to be here. Even as your end came closer with every scraping beat, you knew you made the right decision, because the fear never came.

You could feel Din through the force, his presence the same as ever; steady, strong, safe. No matter the danger you found yourselves in, you could always rely on that. It was why you decided to join him. It was why you had fought so hard to stay with him, no matter what. Leaning against it, you straighten up, raising your blaster for your final fight.

An alarm sounded.

You whipped your head to the windows to see an X-Wing approaching the hanger.

The moment your eyes landed on the ship, something deep inside you ignited in recognition, not of a face, but rather a feeling; like those moments when you see yourself reflected in a stranger, if only for a moment.

“It’s an X-Wing,” Reeves said.

“One X-Wing, great. We’re saved,” Cara responded, dryly.

You arm lowered, your blaster falling to your side as you watched the ship disappear from view.

Bo-Katan went to the comms. “In coming craft, identify yourself.”

There was no response, but that didn’t surprise you.

Your eyes followed the ship as it glided across the monitor.

You felt…something. It was faint, like a brush across the back of your hand.

Tentatively, you reached out searching for whoever was piloting the craft. A presence was there, distance and blurry around the edges, but unlike every other being you encountered it did not stay stagnant. It reached back, the brush against your hand turning to a comforting grip.

You instinctively pulled away, and it was only then you realized the room had gone completely silent.

“Why did they stop?” Fennec ask, giving voice to what you were all thinking.

You felt a tug, this one on your pants.

Looking down, you saw Grogu staring up at you. Moments like this, you wished you had better control of your abilities. Ahsoka had describe whole images, but all you got was hints of feeling; curiosity, uncertainty, and recognition.

You blinked, the last one hitting you squarely in the chest. Grogu recognized the pilot?

You turned back to the screen, your eyes going wide as you saw the soft glow of a lightsaber ignited on the small screen.

“A Jedi,” Bo-Katan whispered in awe.

You couldn’t look away. The dark figure moved with purpose, easily taking down each Dark Trooper as easily as a service droid. The image should have frightened you. But the strength of the Jedi’s presence only grew the closer they came. It wasn’t guarded like Ahsoka’s had been. Strangely, it felt like Din’s, not as solid, but determined and sure.

You jolted as the sound of blaster fire filled your eyes. Leaping back, a few sparks from Bo-Katan’s armor burned your skin as Gideon fired shot after shot into her.

Instinctively, you grabbed Grogu, kneeling down to his level and gathering him in your arms, your back facing the blaster fire.

A body fell beside you.

You turned, just catching the sight of Gideon brining his aim to bare.

Your breath caught. Your heart stopped. The trigger pulled.

Sparks flew as Din’s whole body stepped between you. He stumbled back with the impact, but didn’t, his arms spread wide to catch every blow.

“Drop it!” Fennec shouted, as every still standing gun turned towards Gideon.

You turned a little further, Grogu still buried in your arms as Gideon’s eyes darted between Fennec, Cara, and Reeves.

In a flash his blaster was under his chin. But, before he could fine, Cara knocked it out of his hands before knocking him out for good measure.

The moment Gideon fell to the floor, Din turned his attention to you. Silently, he helped you to your feet as his gaze turned between you and the child in your arms.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, your breath a little shaky, but getting there. You focused on the hand on your arm and the gentle concern of his voice.

Steady, strong, safe.

You breathed it in, allowing it to calm your heart before another presence drew your attention to the monitor.

Grogu wiggled in your arms, his hand reaching out the screen.

You put him down, allowing him a full view of the Jedi. There was no denying it now. Grogu recognized the Jedi and the Jedi could feel him.

You looked to Din, who was now staring at the pair of you. Even with his helmet on, you could see the question surely lining his face.

You nodded a yes.

Another tug, but not from Grogu.

You turned your head to the monitor, just as the Jedi entered the elevator to the bridge. The squeeze on your hand went to you shoulder. You felt a determined look and comforting smile. The words entered your mind, even if you could not hear a voice.

It’s alright. I’m here to help.

Somewhere you were aware of the elevator doors opening. You could see the Jedi destroy the Dark Troopers one by one.

But, even with the words of comfort in your mind and the threat on your lives disappearing in front of you, a different fear came; one you had never experience before in your life.

The Jedi wasn’t just here for Grogu. He was there for you.

The blaster fire ceased behind of the dented doors. Silence filled the room.

Movement caught your eye as you watched Grogu turn from the monitor and reach out to the person waiting on just the other side.

You looked to Din, who in turn was looking at Grogu.

Carefully, he took the child in his arms and began walking to the entrance.

Almost against your will, your feet followed after him.

“Open the doors,” Din said.

Nobody made a move.

“I said, open the doors.”

“Are you crazy,” replied Fennec.

He didn’t respond, but nobody moved to stop him as he approached the control panel.

You halted a pace behind him. You couldn’t look at him or Grogu. Your eyes were only on the door and what lay beyond it.

Holding your breath, you heard the familiar scrap of metal as the doors slowly slid open.

The figure remained shrouded in smoke as he walked toward the entrance. His dark hood covered his features. The only thing solid about him was the consistent buzzing glow of his lightsaber.

The entire room stood on edge as he finally passed through the doors.

His presence came into focus. It was brighter than you anticipated and more powerful than anything you had ever felt in your life.

The emotions of your companions flared around you, ranging from suspicion to fear to awe. In a strange way, it was a comfort to know you weren’t the only one who could feel it.

But there was no denying the tug in your mind was solely for you.

Don’t be afraid.

The Jedi raised his hands to his hood, finally giving you a full look at his face.

You knew him, but at the same time, he was a complete stranger.

He looked…kind. The power he held in the force didn’t diminish, but you couldn’t dismiss the calm you felt and the lightness in his blue eyes.

You had nothing to fear. So why couldn’t you move?

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked.

“I am,” the familiar man said. A silence fell. His eyes drifted to yours, pausing for just a moment before he turned his attention to Grogu. “Come, little one.”

A sting of uncertainty pricked you from outside your body.

Finally pulling your eyes away from the Jedi, you looked down to Grogu who’s eyes turned back and forth between you, Din, and the Jedi.

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Din said, the threat clear in his voice.

The Jedi, to his credit, remained unaffected.

“He wants your permission,” he said, calmly. “He is strong with the force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the child. But he will not be safe until he’s mastered his abilities.” He then looked to you with a pointed expression. “Both of you.”

The words cut. They were true. You needed to go with him, but it was only now the full weight of what that meant pressed down on top of you.

You looked to Din, who was staring right back.

He couldn’t tell you to go. The decision was entirely up to you.

Fear pounded in your veins, but there was no instinct to run or hide. All you could do was stand there, frozen in the moment as the truth of your own feelings sounded in your mind.

You didn’t want to go. You never wanted to leave the feeling being with him gave you. But, what choice did you truly have? How long could you remain hidden now that you knew who you were? What danger would you put him in?

Indecision racked you. You had no choice but to look away.

To your relief, Din turned his gaze to the waiting child.

You watched as he took him in his arms, carrying him like he was made of spun glass.

“Go on,” he whispered. “That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind. I’ll see you again. I promise.”

Grogu stared up at him. You felt his pain. It rippled through the force, melding into your own.

He reached out, his tiny hand pressing against the beskar of Din’s helmet.

There was a small pause, and then something happened you could never had dreamed of.

Din’s hand reached beneath the shining metal and started to pull it off.

You averted your gaze, making a point to look at the floor. You blocked out the force, not daring to even let the image from Grogu’s mind enter your thoughts. This was between Din and his son, not you.

Even still, the rivers of emotions threatened to drown you; pain, loss, but also understanding and a warming love you couldn’t ignore.

“Alright pal,” Din murmured. “It’s time to go. Don’t be afraid.”

The swell of emotion in his voice made you ache, made worse by hearing them in his own unfiltered voice. This was goodbye, but not a pointless one. Din was willing to let Grogu go to protect him.

You paused. Din had always been the one to protect you and Grogu. Wasn’t it your turn?

A sense of peace damped the rising fear. It was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stepped forward, your new purposed guiding you as you kept your eyes low.

Din placed Grogu on the ground. The little guy didn’t move, keeping hold of his father’s leg a little while longer.

Taking a place beside Din, you slipped your hand into his, pressing a gentle squeeze around his fingers.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you kept your eyes down and your attention on the nervous child.

“It will be okay,” you promised. “You won’t be alone.”

Whether you were talking to Grogu or Din or yourself, you weren’t sure, but it was true and needed to be said. None of you would be truly alone. Never again.

Finally, you looked up to meet the Jedi’s gaze.

He nodded, a small understanding smile on his lips.

A small whirl caught your attention.

Looking down again, you saw Grogu and the Jedi’s R2 unit conversing with each other. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling an odd comfort that Grogu already seemed to have made a friend.

The child then turned from the droid and reached his arms out to the Jedi.

He gave a gentle look before taking the child carefully in his arms, just as Din had before. He then looked to you and reached out a silent hand.

Taking a breath, you gave Din’s fingers one last squeeze before taking your first true step forward.

You didn’t manage to take another as Din’s fingers took yours in their grip. It was a gentle touch; not a demand to stay, but a plea to wait.

You stopped, your ears straining to hear the scrap of metal or something else to indicate he had placed his helmet back where it was supposed to be.

All you got was another gentle tug, and a gloved finger lightly dancing across your knuckles.

Your breath left your body.

Slowly, you turned, finally allowing yourself to look at the man who you now realized held every part of you in the palm of his hand.

Dark brown eyes met yours, staring back at your with so much emotion it made your chest ache. You could barely take in the rest of his features. His eyes were too mesmerizing to part from.

You felt him silently pull your closer. You followed his lead, stopping only when you were practically chest to chest.

It was almost unfair. How could a man so kind and beautiful on the inside have an exterior to match?

He swallowed as he stared at you, his eyes taking in every part of your features as meticulously as you did his.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Either way, it couldn’t be helped.

You leaned forward allowing your foreheads to press against each other.

The warmth of his skin was addicting. How you settled for the cool metal of his armor you would never know. You breathed him in, taking in the smell of sweat and leather, but also the spice the subtle hint of shampoo. His presence wrapped itself around you, holding you secure in its embrace.

Solid, strong, safe…and love. Love most of all.

He whispered your name. You had heard him say it a hundred times before, to hear it now from his own unfiltered lips made it all the more bittersweet.

“I know,” you whispered. “I feel it too.”

He nodded, not quite able to fully pull away. He never was one for words, and now they seemed to be failing him more than ever.

You smiled in understanding.

“I’ll look after him,” you said, moving your head up enough to look him in the eye. “I promise.”

He stared at you for a long moment.

It was then you felt the rough leather of his glove against your cheek. Heat spread through your body and the simple touch. It would have been embarrassing, if it didn’t feel so good.

“You look after yourself too,” he said, softly.

Your lips pulled into a half smile. “I always do.”

Another pause, different from before. His gaze didn’t stay on your eyes. They traced your features, as if committing them to memory. They seemed to take particular interests in your lips, holding their focus until shyly meeting your eyes once more.

You knew who moved first this time. In a moment, you closed the small gap between you answering his silent question with a kiss.

It was chaste and soft but warm and filled with more emotion than you ever thought possible in such a tiny moment.

You pulled away, taking some small pride in his dazed expression.

A small noise from the child caught your attention, forcing you to take notice of the other people in the room.

The Jedi looked caught between wanting to laugh and the desire to look away. Strangely, that brought you more comfort than any of his words. Just that small acknowledgement that even a Jedi Master can get embarrassed sometimes.

“Are you ready,” he asked.

You nodded, straightening yourself up, and feeling braver than you had any right to be.

“Yes.”

He nodded, gesturing to a place beside him.

You took a step forward and then another and another, pulling further away from the safety and home of Din’s arms. But your steps didn’t faulter and he didn’t pull you back.

The child reached out to you, his little hands groping at the air.

You gave him your finger, the pair of you making a silent promise through the force.

Neither of you would ever be alone again.

The Jedi smiled softly, undoubtedly feeling the unspoken words before he turned his attention to Din.

“May the force be with you.”

You looked back, your heart clenching as Din’s eyes darted between you and the child and back again. Still, he nodded in acknowledgement knowing in his heart this was the right thing to do.

The Jedi then turned, taking Grogu with him down the hallway.

You followed, never looking back until you reached the elevator.

Even at a distance, you could still see the emotion in Din’s dark eyes. You could read every promise he silently made to you.

I’ll miss you. I love you. I’ll see you again.

You tried to give him a comforting look back, holding back your own tears. He was always strong for you, now you had to return the favor.

You didn’t break contact until the elevator doors slid closed and the ground lurched beneath your feet.

The further down you went, the steady thrum of his presence through the force became dimmer and dimmer until all was left was the memory.

“You’ll see him again,” the Jedi said, gently.

You blinked. It took you a moment to bring yourself back to the present moment. Warm tears streaked down your face. You hadn’t even realized you started crying.

“I know,” you said, wiping your tears away.

Grogu cooed in concern. You gave him a small smile, trying to show him you were fine.

You then looked at the Jedi and a thought struck you.

“I just realized; I don’t know your name.”

The Jedi smiled, almost sheepishly like it just occurred to him as well. “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said, deciding to level the playing field. “And this is Grogu.”

The child titled his head up giving Luke a bright little smile.

“Yes, we talked briefly,” Luke said, before turning back to you. “Can you understand him?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “It’s more feelings, I guess.”

He nodded in understanding. “That’s just something we’ll have to work on.”

You smiled in appreciation, but it faltered as another thought came to mind.

“Aren’t you going to say something like, I’m too old for training?”

Luke smiled, and you had the distinct impression you had just stumbled onto some private joke.

“No,” he assured. “As far as I’m concerned nobody is too old.”

Your smile turned a little brighter as a contentment settled in your heart. Luke was a good man. You and Grogu would be safe.

The future was ahead of you, and sooner or later, you would find your way home to Din. Of that you were certain.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #luke skywalker #grogu

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

seconds, hours, minutes, days | kenma k.

pairing: kenma kozume x gn!reader word count, genre: 2.2k words, fluff, university au, strangers to friends to lovers. summary: love is nothing more than just a fleeting feeling. until he meets you and suddenly, he finds himself looking forward to every moment he can spend with you. press play: blueming by iu, leo by bol4 ft. baekhyun

The door to the cafe opens, the addicting aroma of coffee beans travels through the air and greets Kenma when he steps inside. He scans the room, finding the familiar figure of his longtime friend who was currently chatting the barista by the counter. He’s walking towards Kuroo and he could already hear excited laughter coming from the front.

When he enters the scene, the stranger directs their friendly gaze to him and the second that their eyes meet, Kenma feels he’s in the middle of a meet-cute of some romcom movie.

The first thing he notices is the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the corners of your mouth turning upwards as you greet him. He hears your voice, but he couldn’t make out what you were saying—as if he was entranced by a spell, too busy to pay attention to anything else and finding it all too easy to become drawn to your aura.

Kuroo watches it all unfold before him: his best friend who was too stunned to do or say anything, and his other friend, you, who was too clueless to figure out their effect on him. He chuckles before putting his arm around Kenma, steering the situation to introduce you two to each other. Something about you was captivating and Kenma knows he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already bewitched by you.

As he stood in line with Kuroo, who was ordering the drinks they’d need for an all-nighter, his mind is occupied—thinking about how of all the things he’d expected to happen when he agreed to help out for a project, falling in love at first sight wasn’t on the list. You left a strong impression on him, and Kenma knows he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking of you in the days to come.

—

He encounters you for the second time when he attends a party organized by Kuroo’s college org. This wasn’t his usual scene, on a typical weekend, he’d much rather stay at home and catch up with either his studies and papers or his games. As he’s standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by loud and drunk college students, he considers going back to his dorm.

But the moment that he’s about to leave, he hears a familiar voice.

He stops in his tracks, because there you were—so full of life, so mesmerizing standing surrounded by different people. He could see a spotlight shining down on you, naturally attracting the attention of everyone in the room. He’s sure that this was the reason Kuroo had been persistent on getting him to go to the party (the boy spent days on end pestering him about it to the point that he had no other choice but to say yes).

Eventually, Kuroo finds him and they go around, with the former introducing Kenma to his classmates and acquaintances. The night draws on, and some time past midnight, he rests on the available seat on the couch. He takes deep breaths to calm himself before he spots your presence again in the corner of the room. It doesn’t surprise him that you were still full of energy and stories to tell your friends.

What surprises him is when your eyes meet his. His heart skips a beat when he sees that look of recognition and that knowing smile on your face. He watches as you apologize and leave the group, steadily making your way towards him and taking the empty space beside him.

You beam at him, “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“I remember you.” He watches you take a swig of the drink in your hand. “You’re Kuroo’s best friend, right?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you do.”

“Who wouldn’t? I think you’re cute.” Kenma was flustered. Your words sending his mind into a spiral, struggling to form a coherent reply to your straightforward statement.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here. Figured this,” you wave your hands in the air exaggeratedly. “…might not be your cup of tea.”

“Well, I had no choice.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me about it.” You scoot closer to him, knees almost touching at the reduced space between you two. “I want to get to know you, Kenma.”

Kenma couldn’t find it in himself to say no. And before he knew it, he’s openly sharing bits and pieces of his life. You ask him about his past with Kuroo and he’s eagerly taking you to a flashback of his childhood, narrating embarrassing moments (mostly of Kuroo) and he feels happy whenever you found it amusing.

You ask him about his interests, his hobbies, his pet peeves; he learns about you, the charming barista from the 24-hour cafe, a business management student who has too much bills and college loans to pay.

Every minute that passes, every minute he enjoys himself in your presence—with you, making him laugh like he had never before, lighting a spark in his heart and sending the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about, he finds himself falling head over heels for you.

—

For the weeks that passed after the party, people started noticing the two of you getting closer. The pair of you were inseparable. In breaks and lunches when it was only him and Kuroo, along with few of their friends, you’ve managed to sneak yourself in their social group, earning a permanent spot in their table right beside Kenma.

And often, the others would observe how his attention would solely be on you whenever you were present. It was a mystery to them, but also a source of amusement, how Kenma would become a different person—breaking out of his shell as he became more talkative and more teasing, exchanging playful banters from time to time.

But at the same time, there was something painful about watching the two of you as they become witnesses to the coming-to-life of a slow-burn romance.

And neither of you was admitting it: the push and pull, the undeniable tension that existed whenever the two of you were in the same room. The force of attraction was clear, and everyone had been wondering why neither you nor Kenma were making a move.

That all came to a head on a weekend when you visited him at his dorm.

“What are you doing here?” Kenma opens the door wider, giving you space to easily slip in his living area. His eyes follow you like a hawk as you settle your things on his floor, going from room to room and finally sitting down on his couch. You look at him excitedly, grinning from ear to ear as you wave him over to sit beside you.

“Movie night!” Kenma watches as you take out your laptop and a bag of his favorite snacks. “There’s a new crime thriller on Netflix and I figured we can binge it together.”

He throws you an incredulous look, “It’s 8 P.M. Shouldn’t you be at your dorms right now? Did you forget the curfew?”

“Oh, screw that!” You open the Macbook and place it on his center table. You cuddle to his side and Kenma instinctively adjusts, making you comfortable. He grabs the blanket that he’d taken out before you arrived and drapes it over the two of you. He studies you as you navigate the web, logging in to Netflix and pulling up the show you’ll watch for tonight.

“I can’t believe you would just appear in front of my doorstep and force me to watch this with you.”

You look at him playfully, “Don’t be such a killjoy.” Your gaze on him lingers for a second longer, the atmosphere shifting to something more intimate.

He clears his throat, quickly bringing his attention on the laptop screen. “Stop. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Kenma.”

He tries his best to focus on the show. But he couldn’t, not when he feels your soft hand cupping his face, turning him so you could get a good look at him.

“I like you.”

His mind goes blank, but one thing was certain: he was elated, and his heart was currently doing a somersault inside him. So, when he tries to reply, all he could give was a shy smile and an, “Okay.”

And that was enough. Because for the time that you’ve known Kenma, you’ve learned that he has always preferred actions over words.

You hum and wrap your arms around him. He reciprocates by pulling you closer to him, until all you could hear was the erratic beating of his heart drowning out the loud sounds from the show.

The hours flew by just like that. It doesn’t occur that the both of you have fallen sound asleep, leaving the laptop on. When Kenma awakens, the words Are you still watching? are now flashing on the screen. He feels something heavy on top of him and his eyes drop to your figure laying on his body. He feels overwhelmed with contentedness at the moment.

Maybe your barging in his door and inviting him to watch Netflix wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

—

If somebody were to ask Kenma when he had been the happiest in his life, he’d gladly say it was every second, minute, and hour that he has spent by your side. The boy couldn’t ask for a more fun, supportive, and kind-hearted partner when he already has you. You have given him so much, made him feel so loved and special, that he often asks himself if there was anything he could do to repay you.

The past few months with you has been nothing short of amazing, with every single day feeling like literal heaven in your presence. And now, he’s counting down the days to your birthday which coincidentally also marks the six months of his relationship with you. It was on this special day that Kenma decides to surprise you.

One of the things that you and Kenma have in common is how you both prefer the simple things. Where others favored to go outside for dates, sleepovers and movie nights in either his or your dorm has always been the norm in the relationship. You also didn’t mind small gifts, not one for flowers and plushies, as you always told him that it is the thought that matters the most.

And he thinks about it now as he’s standing outside the same cafe where his paths crossed and connected with yours for the first time.

He goes over his plan one more time when the automatic door slides open, and he goes inside. He finds you entertaining a customer, and he admires how hardworking you have always been. He joins the queue, nerves flying through the roof as he patiently waits to reach the front of the line.

“Kenma!” A look of genuine surprise takes over you when you finally see him. “What are you doing here?”

He does something you never thought he’d do: placing his hands on the counter, he leans and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you,” he says out of the blue and it sends your mind in a frenzy, your heart fluttering. His words don’t even register anymore when he says his order and tells you, “Your shift ends in ten, right? I’ll wait for you and we can get something to celebrate your birthday.”

Kenma keeps his gaze at you as he waits for your shift to end. He sighs of relief when he sees you come out of the staff room and meets you halfway. He intertwines his hands with yours and guides you out of the shop. The sun is setting coloring the streets in red orange hues and everything right now looks like a painting.

You walk in silence, stopping by your favorite Chinese takeout shop to buy something to eat when you arrive at his dorm. He orders for the both of you, and when he’s done, you pull him to the side and finally ask the question that has been bugging you.

“You said you loved me back there, right?

He chuckles, “Yeah, I did.” Kenma tugs you closer, arms encircling your waist and resting his head on your shoulders. “Should I have not said it?”

“I was just surprised.”

“It’s nothing to be surprised for.” He leans to your ear and his voice low when he whispers, “I just said the truth. I have been falling in love with you since the first day we met.”

You feel warm when you realize that Kenma beat you to saying those three magical words in the relationship. But it was another thing when he reveals to you how he’s been taken with you since your first meeting. And right now, all you could do was to thank your lucky stars for bringing you to him.

You look at him, reaching a hand to outline his features before returning his kiss with one of your own.

“Thank you. And I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

At your words, Kenma falls for you over again and he decides he wouldn’t mind spending more seconds, hours, minutes, and days with you.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kenma x reader #kenma imagines #hqradiostation #haikyuucreations #kozume kenma x reader #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu one shot #kenma x you #hq kenma #kenma kozume #haikyuu!!

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Note

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

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

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

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

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

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

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

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

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

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

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags💕 (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed) :

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @jessiembruno

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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