#which would mean a lot less strain on his heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywoozi · 5 months

Text

One More | Woojin x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.5k | Pairing: woojin x reader | Genre: romance, smut

Woojin has been your personal trainer for the last six months. He would be lying if he said that's all he wants to be.

Suggested by: an anon 💖

Warnings: food, oral (both receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina; physique is not specified, just that they’ve grown stronger; it’s mentioned that woojin can squat their body weight but this is fiction so he can squat anything we want him to; woojin lifts reader mmmmmultiple times; wap

“One more,” Woojin instructs, watching as you strain to lift the dumbbells over your head for the last time. It’s been six months since he started training you, six months since he felt his heart somersault in his chest at first glance, six months since this crush started growing. Now, it’s bigger than his biceps, bigger than his calves, even.

Now, he can barely stand to look at you in your cute little workout gear. Can barely stand to listen to you huff and grunt with the exercises he puts you through. Can barely stand to smell your sweet perfume, tinged by the salt of well-earned sweat. It all makes him think of having a relationship with you beyond being your personal trainer.

Which is why he’s ecstatic that today is the last day of your contract. It means he can finally ask you out, finally see if you think of him as more than someone who bosses you around in the gym. Maybe it’ll even be your turn to boss him around.

You seem the opposite though. You seem more lethargic than normal, less excited to follow his instruction, less interested in proving your strength, very unlike your past sessions. He wonders if you think this will be the last you see of him, and can’t help the little smile that rises to his lips at the idea of you preemptively missing him.

“Good job, Y/N, perfect last set,” he praises you, watching as you slowly lower the dumbbells and drop them on the ground, bending at the waist to catch your breath.

He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the wall instead of your shapely ass, unwilling to indulge his baser urges so long as you’re his client. Even if you weren’t, he’d still try to focus on your gains instead of your assets, though it would be a lot easier to let his gaze stray down if you weren’t currently paying him to train you.

That will be over soon enough, and he’ll be able to do the one thing he’s been dreaming of since he first got to know you - ask you out on a date.

Sure, he’s dreamed of other things with you, things that include naked bodies and messed up sheets and ruffling the perfect image you always seem to maintain. But before any of that, he really just wants to take you out on a date.

He’s already got the perfect place in mind, his favorite spicy stir-fried pork joint, and he knows exactly what he would wear and exactly what he would say.

Things like:

“So, did you know that I can squat your bodyweight?”

“I also have my own apartment.”

“I’m great with kids, I used to be a kindergarten PE teacher!”

Before any of that, he says, “Great work, Y/N, I’ve really enjoyed watching you grow over the past six months.”

You smile shyly and thank him, saying that you never would have picked up the weights if it weren’t for him encouraging you. He doesn’t know that that’s true, you seem to be someone who can do anything once you’ve got it set in your mind, but he’s happy to accept your gratitude nonetheless.

He’s even happier as he walks with you to the front desk of the gym, knowing that at this point, you’d usually say goodbye and, “See you next session.”

This time, he sidles up a bit closer to you than normal, watching as you fill out the end of service survey and waiting for the right moment. You dot your last i, cross your last t, and hand over the paperwork with a smile. That’s when he strikes.

“So… what are your plans now?” He asks as casually as he can, looking around the gym before letting his eyes meet yours apprehensively.

“Taking your teachings and trying to work out on my own, I guess,” you say with a shrug, your gaze darting between his face and his pecs.

“Well, just because I'm not your trainer anymore doesn’t mean you have to be alone. We could always work out together,” he offers, continuing, “We could even go grab something to eat, if you wanted. I know a place with the best spicy pork you’ll ever eat.”

His heart pounds, every muscle in his body tense as he waits for your response.

“Really? I didn’t think we’d get to keep in touch after the contract ended.”

He can’t tell how you’re feeling from your voice, can only go off of the interactions he’s had with you in the past and the soft expression on your face as he formulates an answer.

“That’s usually how it goes,” he agrees. “But I… I want to see more of you. I don’t want this to be the end.”

You light up, a sweet smile stretching your lips as you bounce in your sneakers in the cutest expression of excitement he’s ever seen.

“Could we go get that spicy pork now?” You ask, before the sweat has even cooled on your skin.

And he can’t feel anything but happiness, can’t say anything but, “Yeah, yeah, we can. Let me bring the car around.”

The date is everything. Conversation flows the whole time, alternating between you getting so excited to tell him something you almost can’t pace yourself and him getting so excited to respond he almost can’t stop from saying, “Hey, while we’re at it, be my girlfriend and maybe also marry me?”

He learns more about you, about what you get up to when you’re not in the gym, where your interests lie and how you like to live, and you learn more about him. You learn about his time in the Marines and Geonwoo and all that happened before he decided to put boxing on the backburner. You learn everything, and you tell him everything, and by the time your plates are empty and your stomachs are full, he feels like he knows you inside and out.

He wants to know you better though, wants to really know you, in every sense of the word. And the only way to do that is to ask you back to his place. Sure, he only has a twin bed, and sure, his apartment is messy as all hell, but he wants you to see him as he is, and this is the first step.

“Do you think maybe you’d want to… come back to mine? No pressure, of course, I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

You beam, breathe, “Let’s go,” and stand gracefully, pushing your chair in and fixing your chopsticks when they fall off the plate. He leads you from the restaurant to his car, his hand tingling at his side with the desire to tangle his fingers with yours. He pulls the passenger side door open and stays until you climb in, closing the door and jogging around to his side when he hears your seatbelt click.

The drive is short, his apartment isn’t far from the spicy pork place, and all he can think about on the way there is resting his hand on your thigh.

He doesn’t feel that bold yet, so instead he holds your hand as he tugs you up the stairs to his apartment, his heart racing in his chest as he unlocks the door and ushers you inside.

He intends to give you time to look around but you don’t seem to need it, stepping into his space and making him gasp before he reminds himself that he’s a Marine and he can adapt to anything, including having you so close he can feel your breasts pressing against his chest.

His hands settle on your hips, holding you to him as he leans in, his lips just a breath from yours. He can almost feel you, almost taste you, and it’s taking everything he has to hold himself back.

He doesn’t want you thinking this is just a hookup though, that all he wants you for is your body, the body he’s been working out for six months.

“I really like you, can I kiss you?” he breathes, grinning when you murmur back, “I really, really like you, Woojin. Please do.”

That’s enough for him to press his lips to yours in a kiss that only gets deeper and deeper, one that warms him from his head to his toes, one that stokes the fire that’s been simmering in his belly since he first set eyes on you.

He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip and delves inside when you open up for him, his tongue tangling with yours as you sigh into his mouth, the sensation making him want to kiss you for all the rest of time.

He has other plans though, plans that include laying you out on his twin bed and showing you his hands are good for something other than spotting you. So he walks you to his bedroom, keeping his lips locked with yours and spinning to press you up against his bedroom door as soon as he has it closed.

His hands are firm on your hips, his grip tight as he all but pants into your mouth, his need pulling him even closer to you until his hardening cock is digging into your stomach. He knows you can feel it but he doesn’t care, can’t care about anything but keeping his lips on yours and your body under his palms for as long as you’ll allow it.

“Bed,” you gasp against his lips, pushing at his chest with hands that linger, that trail down to drag over the ridges of his abdomen before you remember your goal and use some of your newfound strength to push him away and onto the bed. The mattress dips with his weight and drops further when he pulls you into his lap, spreading his legs to make a good seat for you as he leans back on his hands and stares.

You’re so gorgeous on top of him like this, your confidence shining through in the way you drag your hands over your body, pushing your tits up and together in your tight sports tank. He fights to keep a whine from escaping at the sight of you, but you’re a fucking wet dream come to life and Woojin is weak.

Entranced as he is, he still snaps to attention when you go still as a statue on top of him. There’s a look of alarm on your face, and he immediately sits up and asks, “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“Um, nothing is wrong, per se. It’s just that… I got all sweaty earlier and it would be one thing if you were sweaty too but you’re not so I’m-”

“We could do it in the shower!” He rushes to accommodate you, cringing at the way he cut you off and whispering, “Sorry.”

“No, no! The shower works!” You agree with a grin, sliding to one side and biting your lip as your center brushes over his thigh. He shudders under you, his eyes slipping closed at the heat between your legs, and he has to take you by the hips and lift you off of him to stop himself from dragging you right back into his lap.

Instead, he directs you to the bathroom, gets the shower going, and settles back against the sink, pulling you into his chest and leaning in for another kiss. You meet him in the middle, pressing your lips to his and winding your arms around his neck. One of your hands slips into his hair and he moans when you scratch your nails against his scalp, then you take a handful and pull.

You don’t tug hard, just enough to give him a full body shiver, but it still makes his hips buck into you without his permission. The pressure feels so good on his aching cock, and he can’t help but grind into your stomach as your lips move against his.

Steam fogs up the bathroom but neither of you notice, too wrapped up in each other to realize the shower is more than hot enough for you to get in. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you until his lips are sore and his dick is too, and when he finally finds the will to break away from you, he’s utterly bewitched.

Your lips are swollen, your beautiful eyes closed, and there’s a glow to you that makes him want to drop to his knees and make you shine. But he can’t forget why you stopped him before, and the last thing he wants to do is make you feel self conscious, so he nods his cloud-filled head to the shower and lets you go when you step away.

You undress in tandem, Woojin’s eyes involuntarily snapping to your breasts when your top clears your head. They’re yours so they’re perfect, and it takes all the restraint he has not to lean in and see how much of one he can fit in his mouth. Then his eyes drop to your cute tummy, and your squeezable hips, and-

Fuck, oh fuck. You’re taking off your yoga pants and your panties come right with them, and before he knows it, you’re completely bare before him. He’s so distracted, he stops all movement, just gazing at your goddess-like form as if he’ll never get to look at you again.

You step closer to him, tuck your fingers in the waistband of his gym shorts and boxer-briefs, and ask, “Can I?”

“Please,” he breathes, his eyes finally on your face again as you pull his lower layers off, his rock hard cock springing up between your body and his. You sink to the floor along with his clothing, your head tilting to keep eye contact as you settle on your knees.

“Baby, you can’t. I’ll fucking cum,” he begs, shaking his head and cupping your cheek when you pout.

“You can’t get hard again? For me?” You flutter your eyelashes at him and let your tongue sweep over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, and he’s a goner.

“Fuck, for you? Of course I can,” he gives up and gives in, watching as your lips stretch in a pleased, slightly evil grin before you press them to the head of his cock in a soft kiss. The sight you make is one he’ll never forget, his eyes trailing over you and committing every inch to memory, until they land on your knees.

You’re kneeling on the cold tile, and they’ll probably hurt when you stand up, and Woojin just can’t have that.

“Hold on, babe,” he says, shuddering when you take hold of his cock and lick a thick stripe up the side.

You pull away, letting go of his dick and staring up at him with concerned eyes.

He turns around and dips into the cabinet for a towel, laying it out and gesturing for you to rest your knees on the fabric instead of the floor. Seemingly endeared, you smile sweetly and shuffle onto the towel before grabbing his cock and swallowing half of it in one go.

A sharp moan punches out of his chest and he has to brace himself against the counter, the wet heat of your mouth enough to make his head spin and his knees weak as you start to bob up and down on his dick. This feels better than any other head ever has, and maybe that’s because it’s been a while, but he thinks it’s because it’s you.

You, who brought him protein rich desserts when he mentioned missing sweets. You, who held his hand when he got teary talking about everything he and Geonwoo went through. You, who regularly makes him laugh so much his stomach hurts.

You, the only person he’s wanted for the last six months.

And now he finally has you, and you’re on your knees for him, and his cock is halfway down your throat.

Woojin is the luckiest bastard on this planet.

“You’re so good, baby. You make me feel so fucking good,” he whines, aching to let his head fall back and his eyes fall closed. He wants to watch you more, needs to see your lips stretched around his dick as you move up and down on him.

You start to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth, your hand warm and soft on him and also, unfortunately, exactly enough to push him over the edge. He was so captivatedby you that he didn’t even notice he was getting close, and just when his dick starts jumping and leaking precum in your mouth, he tries to pull back.

Only you don’t let him, tightening your grip on his cock and sucking harder, your watering eyes staring into his as you moan plaintively.

“You want me to cum in your mouth? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, letting the wave overtake him and not even trying to stay afloat.

There’s a roaring in his ears and a rush of pure bliss when he cums, his balls drawing up tight as they start to empty in your throat. You swallow around him, moaning like you love the taste, and Woojin can only whimper in response, the vibrations echoing throughout his entire body and intensifying every sharp burst of pleasure.

When it’s over, his voice is hoarse and his head is vacant, every rational thought sucked out of his brain through his dick. He wonders if you swallowed them too.

Before he gets too sensitive, you release him and sit back with a satisfied smirk, licking away any traces of white left on your lips. He wants to drop to his own knees and lay you out on his bathroom floor but he has a sneaking suspicion you’d think that’s unsanitary so instead, he hauls you up to stand in front of him and kisses you until you’re as brainless as he is.

He can taste himself but he’s not afraid of that, maybe even likes it when it’s on your tongue, and just when he’s starting to get carried away, he remembers the mission here. He needs to get you in the shower so you can feel comfortable, and he only has so much hot water to waste.

So he walks forward, holding onto your hips to steady you as you take step after step backwards before opening the door and murmuring into your mouth, “Step up, there we go,” as he helps you over the threshold of the shower.

It feels like a different world in the small, steamy cubicle. It’s barely big enough for Woojin alone and with you, there’s even less room, but he doesn’t mind when it means he gets to feel your naked body pressed against his. He’s not sure if you want to get your hair wet so he blocks the spray for now, the hot water pounding on his back like a massage.

“Can I wash you?” He asks, knowing it’s an intimate request and hoping you’ll say yes.

You nod and smile softly, and he switches the handheld on so he can control the stream of water. He lets it lay at your feet as he lathers up his hands and starts to trail them over you methodically, beginning with your arms and moving inward. His cock twitches when he glides his hands over your tits, the image of them all soapy and shiny something he wants embossed on his brain for the rest of his life.

He presses a kiss to your stomach before he covers it in body wash too, slowly dropping to his knees as he travels down your body, leaving nothing untouched. Your eyes are closed but he can tell you’re relaxing, the remaining tension in your bones seeping out as he washes down your legs, gently scrubbing one foot and then the other.

He doesn’t have anything unscented to wash your more delicate parts with so he rinses the rest of your body with the handheld before offering it to you and turning to give you some privacy.

He knows you’re done when he feels you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against him in a hug. He switches off the handheld, folds his arms over yours, and starts to sway on his feet, until the water hitting him suddenly turns to ice.

“Shit,” he swears, fumbling to turn the shower off and failing only three times before he finally gets it. You giggle at his back, shielded from the chill thanks to his big body, and take the opportunity to rub your hands up and down his chest to both warm him up and feel him up.

He’s appreciative of both, but the cold shocked him out of the slow, syrupy state he found himself in and now all he can think about is getting his mouth on you. He turns in your arms, reaches for the towel he keeps hanging off the shower door, and wraps it around you, carefully patting you dry before picking you up and stepping out of the cubicle.

You gasp when he lifts you, shiver when he sets you down on his bathroom counter, whimper when he sinks to his knees again. Sucking kisses up your inner thighs, he whispers, “I wanna taste you so fucking bad, will you let me?”

“Yes, Woojin, yes,” you breathe, spreading your legs to make room for him as he lifts one thigh then the other onto his shoulders. He doesn’t waste any time, licking right into you and groaning at the arousal he finds. Sure, you’re a little damp with water but water doesn’t taste this fucking good, doesn’t coat his tongue like this or elicit a sigh of pleasure or make his dick hard. That’s all you, and all he can do is cover your cunt with his mouth and breathe you in.

In his dreams, he gets right to making you feel good, brings you up to the edge of an orgasm with ease, pushes you over before you even get your hands on him. Now, he’s selfish. He wants to taste every square centimeter of you, wants you dripping down his chin, wants to lick his lips tomorrow and still find traces of your wetness. It should be about you but he just can’t help himself when you’re this hot, this drenched, this delicious.

It must still feel good though, because you’re moaning and squirming and clutching his hair, getting wetter and wetter by the minute. His tongue dips into your entrance and he’s in paradise, your taste so much headier at the source. He can feel your walls squeezing down on his tongue, feel how bad you want to cum for him, and finally, finally, he overcomes his greed to put you first.

One of his arms wraps around your thigh so he can reach your clit with his fingers, starting to rub circles into the swollen bundle of nerves as he shoves his tongue as deep inside of you as it can go. He fucks you with it, swirling over your clit all the while, until you begin to tremble and gasp above him. You must be getting close, so he doesn’t change anything except for involuntarily moaning into you on repeat, the taste and texture of your pussy pulling sound after sound from him.

He’s getting hard again, he can feel it, feel the blood rushing from his head down to his dick, feel his cock resting against his thigh as it grows, feel his balls start to fill up as he slides his tongue in and out of you. Already, he’s thinking about replacing his tongue with his cock, but he wants to make you cum first because you deserve that and more, damnit.

You deserve softness and sweetness and love, and maybe that’s what this is for Woojin, maybe he’s soft and sweet just for you, maybe he is in love. The thought draws a sharp groan from him, his heart clenching with the idea of loving you and actually getting to have you like he’s wanted for half the year.

It’s enough to push you over the edge, or perhaps it’s the quickening circles he’s rubbing into your clit, or the tongue that won’t stop spreading your walls. Either way, he feels your orgasm like it’s his own, his cock twitching and jerking and leaking precum as you shake and whimper and gush onto his face.

He only pulls away when you drag him by the hair, sparking a whine from deep in his chest both at the sensation and at the thought of leaving your perfect cunt.

Then you whimper, “Fuck me, Woojin. I want you inside of me.”

Fucking hell.

He springs to his feet, his dick bouncing with the movement, and steps into the space between your thighs, pulling one of your legs up around his waist as he presses closer. “Do we need a condom?”

“I’m on birth control and I tested negative at my last checkup.”

“Same. Well, not the birth control but the-”

“Woojin, please, get in me. We’ve waited long enough,” you beg, your hips wiggling and your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Right, right, right,” he gasps, lining himself up with your entrance and starting to push inside.

He’s so fucking thankful you made him cum before because there’s no way he would have lasted, even through this. The feeling of your cunt forming to him, wrapping around him, hugging him, is enough to bring tears to his eyes, and when he finally bottoms out inside of you? It’s like nothing he’s ever felt, like heaven and sin and pure indulgence, and instantly, he knows no one else will ever feel this good, will ever make him feel this good.

“How is it?” He forces out, holding his breath as he holds himself back, needing to hear that you’re alright before he lets himself go.

“Fucking perfect. God, I’m so full,” you cry out, your muscles clenching around him as you adjust to his thickness.

“Can I move?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

The threat shouldn’t make him hotter but it does, makes him want to pull out and bend you over the counter so he can really pound into you. So he does, drawing his hips back and pulling out of you completely, much to your obvious and vocal disapproval.

You quiet down when he picks you up off the vanity and spins you around, draping the hand towel over the sharp edge of the linoleum so it doesn’t dig into your hips as he presses his palm to the center of your back and pushes you down.

You go easily, arching your back and spreading your legs for him when he drags the head of his cock through your folds. He didn’t expect you to get so pliant when he bent you over but he’s absolutely not complaining, especially when you’re making it even easier for him to fuck you brainless.

He sinks back in, filling you in one thrust, and takes hold of your hips for leverage as he begins to pound into you. The sounds are obscene, the slapping of skin on skin and squelching of his cock pushing into your tight, wet cunt making his whole body flush. He can’t look away from the place where you’re connected, where he’s splitting you open, where you’re letting him inside of you, until he realizes he can watch your face in the mirror.

He looks up, only to find you already watching him, your eyes heavy lidded and full of heat. Your eyelashes are fluttering just like your pussy is, and little gasps and moans escape your parted lips with every buck of his hips into yours. He feels himself melt, feels all of his strength and willpower and restraint evaporate away as he gazes at you, at the masterpiece you are.

He wants to talk to you but he can’t find the words, can’t make his mouth form around anything but your name, can’t force his vocal cords to make any sound but broken moans and whines. He lets his eyes do the talking instead, locking them with yours in the mirror and letting you see everything.

The gentleness, the passion, the love he feels for you, he lets you see it all, and as he fucks you into the counter, he starts to see the same things reflected back at him in your eyes. It seems neither of you need words, six months of working together allowing you to read each other like a book.

He hopes you can read how fucking close he’s getting, because it’s not like he can warn you. All he can do is wriggle a hand between your hips and the counter and get his fingers on your clit, thrumming the little bud as he starts rutting into you, too desperate for your pussy to even think of pulling out enough to thrust.

He pushes up on his toes so he can angle his cock down, grinding the head into your g-spot and hoping it’ll all be enough to push you over the edge. He’s gasping for air now, his head spinning and his dick like steel inside of you as he starts to leak precum. You shudder beneath him and tense up, one continuous moan leaving you as you break for him.

The second your walls seize up around his cock, he’s a goner, his hips jerking into yours as he fills you with spurt after spurt of white hot cum. He can’t look away from your face even as stars dot his gaze, utterly entranced by the way your perfect mouth has fallen open and your beautiful eyes have fallen closed.

You’re still clenching down on him, still so tight and hot and wet that he can’t help but fuck his cum deeper into you, his hand on your hip pulling you back onto his slowly softening cock. He’s so sensitive, the pleasure of it almost burns in his stomach, but the way you’re squeezing him makes him wonder if you could go one more time.

His fingers paused on your clit while he was cumming so he starts up gentle little circles, feeling you writhe and buck in overstimulation as he builds you up again, sinking in deep and staying there while he rubs harder and faster. His voice finally comes back to him, and once he starts talking, he finds he can’t stop.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, full of my cock and full of my cum.”

“God, I want to have you all the time, I just wanna do this forever.”

“Six months I’ve been jerking off to the thought of you and now here we are, I can’t fucking believe it.”

You just whimper and whine beneath him, your swollen clit throbbing under his fingertips as he fucks you into one final orgasm, your clenching walls and sweet sounds enough to pull the last little bit of cum from his aching cock.

He pulls out slowly, the heat and pressure of your cunt too much for his hypersensitive dick, and his eyes finally leave your face to watch as his cum spills out of your stretched pussy. It’s a gorgeous sight, one he’s only ever dreamed of, and before he knows it, he’s sinking down to his knees again, spreading your cheeks with his hands, and burying his tongue inside of you. He avoids your clit, doesn’t want to push you too far, but his tongue is relentless as he licks and sucks and slurps his cum out of your entrance. There’s no hot water left anyway, he figures his mouth is the best way to tidy you up.

You’re trembling, your face pressed into the arms you have folded on the counter, when he finally deems you clean and rises to his feet. He rubs your back with a gentle hand, leaning down over you and murmuring, “Let’s get you to bed, hm? It’s small but you can sleep on top of me.”

You nod but don’t speak or move, and Woojin grins a proud, pleased little smile when he realizes you’re waiting for him to help you. He lifts you with care, turning you around so you’re facing him and crouching to pick you up bridal-style so he can carry you to his bedroom. His heart swells when you rest your head on his chest and curl your hand up on his pec, dropping into sleep before he even gets to the bed.

Later, he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend. For now, he’ll let you rest.

And if you happen to become his new favorite weighted blanket, he’ll just keep that to himself.

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays 💖

Posted first on my Patreon

My Masterlist

#hong woo jin #hong woojin #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds imagines #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds netflix #hong woojin smut #hong woo jin smut #hong woojin x reader #hong woo jin x reader

427 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 2 months

Text

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam golbach #nate hardy #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating #x reader

131 notes · View notes

local-crying-boy · 2 months

Note

Pls do sfw alphabet with Victor from Arcane!!!!!

You asked and I shall provide

[SFW alphabet template by: @benkeibear

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

SFW Alphabet Viktor ~ Arcane

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Our sweet scientist is usually busy, but he usually shows his affection by spending quality time with you. Even if it isn’t often, he’d much prefer to spend time with you then pampering you with gifts or being overly affective.

He isn’t one for a lot of affection in public, so don’t expect an abundance of PDA from him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As a best friend, he’d be a good listener, not much to talk so much about his feelings (I mean, we see this in the series, he’s working so much that he ignoring his own deteriorating health, mf never talks about that)

Trust him to keep any and all secrets that you trust to tell him about.

The friendship would start out slowly, more so if you met him after he started working with Jayce and, therefore, throwing himself head first into tiresome work

However, if you're lucky enough for him to take notice to and actually end up talking to a she does to Jayce

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

When he isn’t working, he will gladly cuddle with you

If he’s been working for a long period of time (which is most of the time), then he will want to cuddle up to you with his head on your chest and your arms around him

Play with this man’s hair!!!

He would melt into your touch regardless of not having his hair played with or not, but he would definitely enjoy cuddling 1000 times more if your fingers were fiddling with his hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Viktor wasn't one to think that he would ever settle down with someone, he always thought too little of himself due to his disability and, after meeting Jayce, he busied himself with endless piles of work

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Maybe because he works too often

The two of you would grow far and he would realise it maybe even before you

He'd realise it would be bad for the two of you if you continued like this, but he's too dedicated to his work to leave it - even for you

If you can't understand that and want him to spend less of his time on it, he would definitely dislike that and it might even strain your relationship with him

So he would decide to break up with you. You'd find someone you could meet your needs and he would no longer feel pressured to show his love more often and would be left to his own devices within the lab (quite literally).

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment?

He never though he would be in a relationship, let alone be in one long enough that settling down / marriage would even be a consideration

He'd take a while to make his mind up about it

He's so dedicated to his work with hextech that he doesn't want to strain his relationship because of how much time he spends on it

He'd have to be 100% sure that you are happy with the amount of time he spends with his work and be 100% sure ten fold to even think about pop the question

To shorten it: you happy with how he is = marriage. You not happy with how he is = no marriage

He just wants to make sure that he can have you by his side, he doesn't want to strain you relationship.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

A gentle soul indeed.

He may be a little blunt when it comes to talking, but he means no harm in what he says and you will have to come to learn that if you take what has been said to heart too quickly

He's gentle with his actions too, he will never be too harsh while holding you or kissing you. It will always be soft kisses and calm hugs/cuddles no matter what

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugs when he's exhausted and stressed out from the work he's done

Those hugs are what starts with him just wrapping his arms around you and his head either by your neck or on your chest, which then result in a lot cuddle where he can destress.

If it you who needs a hug, the rolls will be reversed and it will be you who has your head on his chest and he who rests his chin on the top of your head.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He falls in love within one, two or three months with dating you, but it takes much longer to say that he loves you.

He wants to be sure that you feel the same as he does. He doesn't want you to feel pressured into saying it back

He is super afraid of saying it and then you just saying 'thanks...'

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's less jealous and more insecure

I mean, the man practically puts you on a pedestal, not so much that it is too a 'you are elite and amazing and no one can ever stand to your level, you do no wrong yada yada...'

It's more to an extent that he just loves everything that you do. You are mesmerising to him.

Partnered with him... he often wonders if there is someone better out there for you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He likes to kiss your lips and your cheeks

He won't often kiss your neck unless the two of you are being intimate

When he kisses you though, it is always light and gentle

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He isn't extremely well with children

He can feed them cool and interesting facts that he has stored up in his head, but if they aren't interested in such things he's a little bit at a lost

If you and he were to interact with children (perhaps little ones in your family since we don't have much information on Viktor's family), he's solely rely on you leading the whole interaction

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with him is rare, he gets up early to work

However, there is an off day where you will be able to wake up with him, simply cuddled up together

Those mornings are sweet, because it is the warmest feeling you will ever feel and it is also the best way to wake up

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Most nights result in him coming home exhausted.

Some nights this mf doesn't even come home (don't stress he just is sleeping in his silly little lab)

The nights he does come home, however, he just wanst sleep at this point and he's no doubt dragging you into bed with him because he's gotten so used to having you by his side as he sleeps.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

In a friendship, he would reluctantly share a few things about his childhood in the Undercity. Though, they were extremely vague and something that you expected any child to go through.

However, he started to open up a little more further in your relationship

It was when you two started dating that he was much more comfortable telling you more details about himself

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

His patience can vary, more so on how stressed he is

He typically has a very good patience, if someone isn't getting something he can explain again and try and dumb it down as much as he can. Though, it can only last a little when it is someone who does not share the same scientific knowledge as he does.

His patience when explaining such scientific things to you is better, though. He's happy to explain these things with you because then he'd finally have someone else to talk to about it aside from Jayce

If he's extremely stressed out, he's more likely to snap or rudely say to leave him alone

He doesn't want to be rude, but with his patience being tested enough throughout the day, he simple cannot handle the smallest thing

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He's got an extremely good memory, with his work and his smarts, there's no doubt that he taught himself to keep certain things drilled into that brilliant mind of his

He'd be able to remember the small things about you, he was observant like that. He's more likely similar to Jayce (of course, not as much as he was with you).

At first it was mostly how you liked your coffee/tea, how often you needed reminding of certain tasks, things that only extremly close friends would know - even early into your friendship.

When you two start dating, he learns all the smaller details of you. The small shifts if body language/ facial expressions when your emotions change. If you scratch yourself/ bite or pick your nails/ shake your leg when your nervous, ect:

Like it to Viktor to figure these things out within moments.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite memory of yours and his relationship would definitely be your first date

He was a nervous wreck, but he didn't fail to meet all your standards

He went to your house, even got you a little gift (something he knew that you would like)

You two had a lovely dinner first date and the two of you were hitting it off brilliantly

He even managed to make you laugh, so loud in this restuarnt that the poor people around you had looked a little pissed off.

You quickly quietened yourself and tried to calm down, but he could hear the little giggles coming from your lips

It was one of his favourite memories of your early days in the relationship because he loves hearing you stupid little laughs when you're trying to be quiet.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is protective, but when he is feeling protective over you (perhaps you are talking to someone and they make a few too many hints at you), he'd come over and remind you of an up coming date of yours or ask if you're coming by the lab later.

He wouldn't suggest or say anything lewd, that is for you and him and you and him alone.

He secretly likes it if you are protective over him.

He wouldn't want you to get violent, he doesn't like the idea of you getting hurt (fuck the other guy, yk we don't care about them). However, he doesn't dislike the whole idea of you getting protective over him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

With gifts and ideas with dates and anniversaries, he's thinking out every single possible outcome of getting it for you or doing it with you.

A gift he has to weigh out the ideas of how much you would use it and if it would last long enough for you to use it however many times, alongside trying to figure out how excited or grateful you would be if he got it for you

A date would have to someplace you two could have meaningful conversation. There's no point being someplace crowded where neither of you would enjoy, get separated from each other or even are restricted from having a proper conversation.

A dinner perhaps or a date? A picnic? Somewhere secluded and calm where you could easily navigate through and talk to one another

An anniversary he would definitely have to take you someplace where it had a deep meaning for the both of you. Somewhere you said your first 'I love you', or where you had your first date or kiss. If you're married then a first anniversary might be where he proposed.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It's mostly his sleep that is a bad habit of his, he relies so much on coffee to stay awake that instead of 70% water in his body it's more like coffee.

Another habit of his would most definitely keeping a few of deeper feelings hidden from you. He wouldn't want to bother you with what he has going on, and would, without a single doubt, head head on into his work more than usual.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He isn't at all concerned with his physical looks like his face or his hair, however he can be a little bit insecure about his leg

We can see how he views himself due to his disability in the series. Even if he may seem fine with it now in his adulthood, he can still feel a little bit insecure and down about it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He might feel a bit incomplete without you by his side, but he also believes it to be impractical to rely on someone to that extent that he would feel 'incomplete' without them

Well, he'd say that at first, but it is only a matter of time before he starts to realise that he isn't quite as motivated as he usually is without your smile or your laughter to cheer him up or get him through the day.

Really it is a 50/50 on how 'incomplete' or 'complete' he feels without you. It might just be a mixture depending on the day.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He was a star student throughout his school days, especially in the academy in Piltover. However, he would sometimes figure our how to find the answers to a few tests.

He wasn't cheating, oh no, no. But he wanted to see if he got the answers corrects and, of course, he did.

He was never caught once.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

A big one is if you saw him differently or thought of him differently because of his leg.

He ain't gonna like you, let alone want to be with you if you're ableist

Another one is if you never understood the importance of what he work would be doing for the world like he or Jayce did.

If you don't see how important his and Jayce's work is, and won't even try to see how important it is, you might as well have zero luck with him

He needs someone who can support him on this. He needs someone to see how important his work is, just as anything else.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Has such a shitty sleep schedule, this mf barely ever sleeps and mostly lives of coffee in hopes that it keeps him alive at this point

You'd have to drag this man away from his work for him to actually go to bed

I mean, it's not like he doesn't sleep ,it just isn't regular.

You'd, without doubt, find him asleep in the lab if you wen in early/late enough.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

#arcane #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x yn #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane league of legends fanfiction #arcane league of legends fanfic #arcane netflix fanfic #arcane netflix fanfiction #Viktor headcannons #viktor arcane headcannons

65 notes · View notes

onlinekitsune · 3 months

Text

LET ME IN: SAEYOUNG CHOI (PART TWO)

"make your way to me through the waves"

PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS ─ saeyoung choi x gnc!reader, not proofread, this is mostly comfort?? kinda just on saeyoung's side sorrryyy

SYNOPSIS ─ after a bit of an argument played out, between you. saeyoung returns back inside of the bedroom. unaware that you're actually awake, he begins to talk out his feelings.

WRITER’S NOTE ─ a handful of people requested a part two of the original!! which i honored and very gratful for!! i have a hard time liking my content, so when others tell me they enjoyed it, it means a lot! i tried my best with this but, kinda lost where i was going with it. again, a bit of dialogue is taken directly from the game. (day 8/9 iirc) i hope you enjoy! and again, thank you for all your kind words and support! i know i am off and on about posting content on here, but know that your words aren't just ignored!! so erm... anyways. do you think i could do a part three lmao

Your dreams were hard to recall as you continued to lay still in bed. Perhaps that was for the better, a dream about the argument prior or even recalling happier times in the chatroom would haunt you. You took a deep breath, not bothering to even open your eyes or get up. You felt exhausted, mentally and physically. It was ironic to you how crying provided the same effects as if you were to actually do something straining. Your hand slid through your sheets, blindingly guiding you to your phone. Before you could even reach it, you hear the door creak open. You laid completely still, unsure of what to do. Footsteps gently got closer, stopping as they reached right in front of you. The sound of fabric brushing against each other filled the room. Your heart raced, not sure what to expect. But you continued to stay still.

“You’re… asleep? Good.” Seven sighed, breaking the silence. He reached out his hand, brushing against the sheets. "You’re really quiet while you’re sleeping...” The room returned to its silence for a moment. You felt him lean his upper body on the bed, only being able to assume that he was kneeling before you. “You’re something, you know? I… must have hurt you by saying all those things, but you somehow manage to still be so bright. Even now. You remind me of the 707 I pretend to be in the chatroom. You have more in common with him than… Saeyoung.”

Your face slightly furrowed, hearing his voice become soft and vulnerable. You so desperately wanted to sit up and comfort him. But, you knew that if you did he’d immediately retreat. You continued pretending to be asleep, allowing him to continue.

“Saeyoung is dark and pessimistic. His cold and complicated personality is the true me. I-I can’t wear the mask of the happy-go-lucky 707. I want you to realize that and be disappointed. I’m not a fun and cool person. I can put you in danger. So, don’t waste your feelings on me. I know telling you this won’t stop you. You’re so strange.” He continued. Hearing him talk bad about himself made your heart ache. If only he knew. If only he could see himself from your perspective. His hand hovered over yours before gently placing it on top, dissipating your thoughts. His touch was gentle, as if any friction could cause you to crumble beneath his fingers. “No, it's not you that's strange. It’s me. You’re actually… so nice and warm. You know, I… I sometimes dream about you accepting the real me. It’s a ridiculous dream, I know. But, thank you for allowing me to dream, at the very least.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand before slipping away.

The silence filled the room again, accompanied by your heartbeat in your ears. The weight on the bed returns to how it was, as he gets up. “Please, remember in your dreams that you can’t trust V… or even me. Be less nice to me, so that when I disappear, you won’t be hurt. Don’t trust anyone, and promise me you’ll stay safe. Allowing me to protect you is more than enough. It’s more than I deserve. It’s enough for Saeyoung.” He uttered, slowly turning away from you. You snuck a glance, seeing that he was now facing away from you but stood still.

“Saeyoung.” You let out, softly. You shifted from the bed, sitting up against the headboard.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just leaving-”

“Saeyoung. Please. Just wait a second.” You pleaded, looking up at him with soft eyes. He winced, hearing his name come from you a second time. He took a deep breath, and turned around to face you. He kept a straight face, but you could see the ache in his eyes. “Can we sit and talk?” You added. He hesitated, but ultimately gave in. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“So, I can assume you heard everything?”

“I…Yes, I did. I didn’t want to pretend to be asleep but, also didn’t want you to run off.” you answered, grabbing onto your wrist. Your gaze met him as he turned his head to look at you. “Listen, I know how you feel. Pretending to be this happy-go-lucky person. I have experience with that, clearly. I don’t know how much you actually found out about me but… just know we have that in common, okay? I like yo-”

“Even if you say you like me, my life can’t embrace anything. You don’t know how it feels to live this kind of life. You shouldn’t be nice to me when you don’t know anything. The person you truly like is the 707 in the chatroom, just… forget about me. About this.” he interrupted, turning away from you. He was mere moments from leaving out the door, you felt it. And if he did, it’d return you back to where you were. In a moment of desperation, you bolted forward, hugging him from behind.

“Then please, help me understand the person in front of me…” You muttered, resting your head on his back. Saeyoung didn’t pull away, or even try to. He stood frozen, unable to comprehend what his mind was going through.

“You!” He let out, stunned. His eyes shut, slowly giving in to your affection. “Why are you doing this to me? You’re making this harder than it should. I live a dangerous life, one you don’t need to be involved in. I couldn't even protect my own brother… I have to abandon the person I adore. My life is good for nothing.”

“I’ve been through a bomb and a hacker, it’s a little too late for me to not be involved. I like the you that’s in front of me. Regardless of how complicated anything else is, I want to know you.”

Saeyoung shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I… cherish you. I want to make you happy, but I can't! Why do you want to be with me when my life is so dangerous? Why do you… even like me?” He asked, his voice trailing off ever so subtly. You break off the hug, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

“It’s more complicated than that. I can’t give a simple answer. I just like you, Saeyoung.”

“You’re impossible. What are you going to do if something happens to you because of me? What then?”

You gave him a soft smile, before reaching out to grab his hand. He didn’t bother to stop you, or even pull away. “No matter what happens, I won’t regret my feelings for you.” you uttered, now brushing your thumb across his hand. Another sigh, and again he shut his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t know anymore. You’re so strange. I.. feel like i’m going strange too. No matter what I do… I can't seem to get rid of your feelings for me. Nothing good will happen by being close to me, you know. It’ll be too late to regret it later.” He muttered. You let go of his hand, placing it on his shoulder. You slightly tugged at him to turn. You two faced each other directly. You saw the sadness, the despair, the anguish in his eyes. Up close this time.

“There’s no way I'll regret being with you, Saeyoung.” you softly replied, gently cupping his face. He stood there, as if he was afraid to touch you. To give into the affection.

“You shouldn’t say that too easily. Ugh. I always told myself that I wouldn’t ever want to grow close to someone. But you’re making that so… complicated. I- I can’t believe you’re getting to me. Gods, what am I supposed to do now?” He asked, reaching to hold your forearms. You let out a soft breath, before leaning closer to him.

“First, just take some time and think about accepting my feelings. We can figure out the rest from there, alright?.” you answered, tilting your head slightly. You wanted to be his light, especially now.

“Alright… I’ll need some time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger oneshot #mysmes fanfic #mysmes oneshot #saeyoung choi #707 mystic messenger #707 mysmes #luciel choi #saeyoung choi x reader #saeyoung choi x mc #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #707 x reader #saeyoung choi angst #mysmes angst #mysmes

85 notes · View notes

tokkias · 11 months

Note

Listen listen Lucy carrying Natsu princess style , I know for a fact Natsu would be smug as F!

Natsu can tank a hit. Thus far, nothing and no one has dished out anything he couldn’t take. This has, of course, built up a lot of perhaps unwarranted confidence on his part, that is not good for Lucy’s heart.

In his true, genuine belief that he is, in fact, invincible, he is often the first to run headfirst into fights that require a little bit more tact than he has, much to Lucy’s grief.

Unsurprisingly, that is what has got him in his current predicament: lying prone on the ground, body paralysed from the waist down. He’s in no immediate danger, thanks to his much more restrained teammates, who had managed to take out the enemy forces before they had managed to take him out, but that didn’t mean he was getting out unscathed.

Lucy looks incredibly unimpressed when she comes to his rescue, hands on her hips as she looks down at him.

"What did I tell you?"

"Not to run in without a plan?"

"And what did you do?"

He doesn’t reply because she knows the answer, and she knows he knows the answer, but he doesn’t find it in himself to feel too bad about it. Instead, he offers her a bright grin, knowing exactly what she’s here for.

At his lack of response, she rolls her eyes but squats down next to him none the less, not willing to let her partner stay out here while injured. One arm slips under his knees while the other hooks under his shoulders, and Natsu picks up the message and wraps his own around her neck. She lets out an unrestrained grunt as she lifts him off the floor, not bothering to hide how much energy she has to exert doing so, which is only exacerbated by the dead weight of his lower half.

She makes sure to lift with her knees and not with her back (because, lord knows, she already complains about her back problems enough), and aside from the initial strain, she doesn’t have much trouble holding him up. She adjusts her grip slightly once she has him in her arms, but after that, Natsu knows he can make himself comfortable.

He likes this much more than when she used to lug him over her shoulder. It’s much more comfortable, for one, but also just for the novelty of it. No one else wants to carry him around like a princess, but Lucy will do it, if not just because he would do the same to her.

It’s a little slow getting back to the rest of the team because, as capable as she is, Lucy’s biggest strengths do not lie in her physical capabilities, and Natsu is a heavy guy, but she keeps going regardless.

Natsu doesn’t care how long it takes them because he’s enjoying himself far too much to complain. He’s resting his head on her shoulder, nuzzling up to the crook of her neck, appreciating the familiar comfort of her scent (even if she is a little sweaty from the fight). Being able to catch a glimpse of the muscle she’s built up in her arms from years of working as a guild wizard is a bonus too.

He's almost disappointed when the rest of their team comes into view, where they’re waiting for the two of them. Wendy’s with them, which is a relief because the numb feeling in his legs has gone from weird to unsettling, and Lucy is clearly having a hard time carrying him like it, but he’s not looking forward to when she’ll put him down.

"Here comes the princess and his knight," Gray snarks at their approach, clearly a directed insult at Natsu. "Good job getting your legs mangled, idiot."

Natsu doesn’t even feel like fighting back, still running off the high of being carried by Lucy and also maybe something in whatever magic it was that turned his legs like this in the first place.

"You wish you were me," he spits back, grin plastered across his face, too busy being smug about his woman carrying him back to base to care what Gray has to say about it.

The grin doesn’t even go away when Lucy ungracefully drops him to the floor at Wendy’s feet, exhausted from being his ride over here and falls to her knees besides him.

If this is what he gets for it, he might have to get himself injured on the battlefield more often.

#mya writes things #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fanfiction #fan fiction

175 notes · View notes

wordy-little-witch · 1 month

Note

I absolutely adore your thoughts on Buggy and Sea Shanties. So I'd like to share an inspiration and a thought, Tale of the Shadow by Sail North.

What if that's the treasure Buggy seaked when he was younger and just as the lyrics he found it but the crew he put together was not loyal like his cannon lot so they where killed but the Shadow took a liking to Buggy after he survived. I'm imagining him flirting with the ship helped in that regard. Buggy captain of the Shadow.

Okay but that would he SUCH a good take. ((I love Sail North honestly you are fueling my obsession yesss)).

Consider maybe instead of Buggy actively SEARCHING for it, he stumbled across it. And the Shadow being less of a Prize To Be Sought and more of a grim omen, a harbinger of sea stories, among the many Buggy knows by heart.

His first crew, the ones cobbled together so soon after his first abandoned him - I'm honestly thinking they were sort of thrown together and Buggy took charge as he tends to do. And the rest fall in line at a surface level but only insofar as completing their goals. Buggy knows, he can see it, but really the only people he's ever had in his life who took him and his wants semi-seriously are dead or dead-to-him at that point. He doesn't care. It's a means to an end, he tells himself. He's using them as much as they're using him - no, he's using them more! In the flashiest of ways!!

And then they happen across a fog. And Buggy can Feel something out there that's Looking and Searching and Calling. He is absolutely not about that, no sir. He gives the orders to sail westward, navigating by the stars and not the log pose which is wobbling steadily to that Other Presence. The crew, if they can even be called that, are not happy with the order.

Buggy by this point is young still, maybe sixteen thereabouts at most, and he is the youngest on the ship. And the smallest. And seems the weakest.

He is not, the group learns terrifyingly quickly. He is thin, fast, skilled with a blade and smarter than he pretends to be. He's got experience under his belt and on his side against opponents bigger, stronger, better than him - and he's used to being outnumbered too.

The fight takes time and Buggy soon gets hit with a lucky shot, sending him sprawling to the deck and nearly crushed beneath ratty boots and cruel laughter. He is panting against the wood, straining to get up, to move, to fight or flee-

And he freezes.

The Presence is back and it's stronger than ever, right on top of them. It's only his resistance to Conquerors Haki which keeps him from so much as fluttering an eyelid under the sudden pressure choking the men and women alike on his ship.

Not many have the nerve to approach my hull with so little awareness.

Buggy goes still at the soft voice while the other's scatter, scramble, search for the interloper. They shout demands for the person to show themselves. Buggy merely pushes himself up enough to bow properly. That is no person, he knows, not in the way these bozos think.

There's a sudden whirl of air, rigging springing into motion, ropes and sails unwinding to snatch bodies and cut voices into choked gargling frenzies.

Buggy does not move. His head aches, his body sore, but his mind is racing over contingency after contingency. He needs to think, needs to figure out a way to survive this unholy clusterfuck of a situation-

He freezes as he catches a black intangible hem from his periphery.

A hand touches his head, soft despite the carnage swaying above by their will.

So small you are, little star, and yet so brightly you shine in the gloom...

A hand takes his chin, tilts his head up. Buggy squeezes his eyes shut.

Look upon me, star child.

"N-No," he declares decisively, though not impolitely. "It is disrespectful for mortals to meet the gaze of Spirits."

Ohhh, how bright you are, little star. What say the waves to my hull, what say the winds to my sails, that by which you are known?

He thinks for a moment, carefully, then answers. "I am called Buggy."

Oh, my sweet, my darling, how interesting you are, how clever, how wise for your sweet short years. By what means have the Fates forged a mind and soul like this? Such a gift to my heart, so intriguing.

"... what..." He licks his lips. "What say the sea, the winds, to that which you are called?"

... I am called many things, my junebug. But now? This Era knows me as The Shadow... but you knew that, didn't you?

"..."

Hm~ Yes. You will do nicely.

"What- aAA-!!"

Shhh, sleep, my sweet, let my love fill your pores and lungs. Dream sweetly under my spells and carry the blackened blessing of my Self with you into the Beginning and End. You, sweet Buggy, are destined for great things. I will carry you there, so long as you carry me in turn...

Buggy screamed into the wooden planks as blackness swallowed his senses, burning and baptizing his cells. The only thing he was aware of was the soft hand in his hair, the whispered assurances like dripping ink, and the pain.

Buggy was swallowed whole on a ship in the fog, cradled by a faceless being and guarded by corpses.

He awakens some time later on his ship, battered and damaged, dirty but warm under the warm, blazing sun. The rigging is damaged, the bodies gone. Buggy is alone, but, he finds sometime later, not unscathed. Staring back from the backs of his hands are two inky stylized emblems. The eyes stare into the air and space, offset by his skin.

He shudders.

He takes to wearing gloves.

He doesn't notice until weeks later that sometimes his shadow will smile at him, warm, loving, intelligent.

He learns more in the ensuing time, but not a word of it is ever breathed to another person.

One does not speak of deals with the fae, after all.

#buggy the clown #thank you for the ask ilysm #i maaaay have gotten too into it whoopsies~#buggy baby beloved #one piece #shaking the bars of my cage #i love he #witchy answers!!#my bean #buggy d clown #pirates pirates pirates #sea shanties

27 notes · View notes

shit-taster-connoisseur · 2 months

Note

fav ship / character and least fav ship / character? 🙏🙏🙏

favorite ship:

who couldve seen this coming?/j

read more as it's just me taking any excuse to yap BDJD

honestly, how talk abt them to friends sometimes arent my actual characterizations of their dynamic/relationship. But really they're spinning in my head like a microwave everyday, so my interpretation of them of them generally change depending on settings, aus, or just my mood.

The thing that draws me to them is the fact that Fanny seems like a loyal solider(quite literally), but to where she'd definitely throw herself off a cliff for her leader/command(for rachel only really.) Meanwhile Rachel is pretty oblivious to the length Fanny would go for her – and visa versa. They're devoted to each other, yet are scared to repair their fractured friendship at the same time(mostly on fanny's side).

Honestly idk how to explain it xjsb

also the fact Fanny was Rachel's runner up for her GOT fuels me everyday, cause besides this moment, we don't really get too many moments where rachel isn't pissed at fanny for reasons.

could just be her being harsh as it comes with a leader, cause welp, fanny does fuck up a lot. But with these interactions you'd think Rachel wouldve considered ANYBODY else – besides nigel – for her second choice. so 1000000000% rachel had to have ALOT of trust in Fanny to place her as a second in command of an entire global organization, despite her trackrecord of botched missions(which, honestly i believe is why Nigel had been Rachel's first choice, because while nigel had seen mostly sucess in his teams' mission, fanny had gotten the short end of the stick and just faces failure after failure from what we've seen.)

uhhh anyways!! Fanny fell first(unknowingly) amd by the time they become teenagers, Rachel ends up falling harder and depressingly misses her GOT while she's suffering in TND orientation.

TLDR: a shitty anaylsis(barely) on how loyal moonbabes are to one another and they have trust!! I'm not normal about them

If ur curious abt my ranking for ships than here ya go:

1. Moonbabes

2. Lizzie/10

3. Wally/Kuki

4. Kuki/Fanny(or alternatively; Fanny/Kuki/Rachel)

Favorite character?

It's technically split down the middle between Rachel and Fanny, but my focus usually flipflops. So this week we got:

1. Rachel

2. Fanny

3. Chad

4. Cree

5. Negative 362 and Negative 86

Rachel: for reasons, honestly, I loved her since i was a kid. There's a lot to disect about her, and i love that, love her position, her personality, the kind of the role she plays, etc etc idk how to explain any of jt, or the specfics so you get this short ass summary instead

-also headcanon: her relationship with Harvey is rather strained, so Rachel tries to make it up to him by favoring him when it comes to mission assignments when he joined the KND, he also struggles to get her approval by completing them

Fanny: ashamed to admit, i cannot sit through a fanny episode withoht needing to pause and pace around – but like rachel, i like pretty much everything about her, she's interesing to disect as so much of her background is left up for interpretation. Like why did ahe join ths decommissioning squad? Why is she the way she is? Because of the decom squad or her time as a nurse, or just life in general bxns?

-headcanon: Her real name is Francine, and Fanny's a nickname because she thought it sounded less mature and didnt put too much thought in it's meaning in Ireland cuz she didnt live there that long (also her mother didnt have the heart to sit her down and explain it to her at her young age)

other global ops dont bat an eye to it, unfortunately Irish operatives cringe everytime they hear her name.

3. Chad is a loser. A failure. And i love him for that/j but actually, his entire character is interesting, and so much is left in the air for me to dig my teeth into and make up shit for him. One major headcanon i've convinced myself of for him is that he's related to rachel/harvey (cousins???)

-another hc: he's on the aromatic spectrum(shout to friend Amber for the idea cmdb)

4. Cree love her. I can forgive a woman of her crimes always xmsn one reason she's high up on the my list this week is she's interesting(duh), but like all the others she has so much character/info on her but little bits not filled to where i can just make up shit- canonically, i love her role, hsr character, she's an amazing villian/antagonist steals the show everytime - i'd pay warburton with my own money to write what she was like as a KND operative, she is quite skilled from the bits we've witnessed in flashbacks and in the present. One thing that runs through my mind is that Warburton in a Q&A, hinted that Cree probably wouldnt have scouted by the TND, that she was already trekking on a dark path while in the KND. BSJDB

-Headcanon: her and chad and steve have nights where they just hangs out and they watch stuff on Adult Swim. She probably likes South park

5. -362 and -86, got nothing to abt thene beyond they're silly(and possibly evil)

Least favorite Character/Ship

To be honest, i got no hate towards any of the characters in KND, they're all really interesting in their own way.

If i had make a tier list tho-

He'd be at the bottom. Only because he'd definitely call me a slur/j

And for ships, i'm not a multi shipper but i'm neutral to most.

tho fanny x a man will kill me, Cuz man, idk how you can look me straight in the eyes and tell me she's not lesbian,

Just LOOK AT HER

Thank you for the ask!!

#knd #kids next door #moonbabes #cree lincoln #chad dickson #rachel mckenzie #fanny fulbright #six's thingies

27 notes · View notes

bp-zb1fics · 1 year

Note

hello !! i just binge watched the bridgerton and i was wondering if you could write something with lee jeonghyeon ! like the reader (it would be a girl but you can change it as nonbinary if you prefer) is secretly dating jeonghyeon, they have a dance/bal and someone is flirting with the reader, you can add whatever you want for the following part like smut or fluff or wtv haha !! btw could the reader be really kind and a bit blunt

Fill your heart with me

pairing: leejeong x fem reader ft. twin brother ricky

genre: regency/bridgerton era au, fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: regency etiquette, gossiping aunties, ricky is lowkey unbothered i guess, except when you call his full christian name, gyuvin is a gorgeous mess as usual, dancing, unwanted attention from some unnamed man, leejeong ex machina, banter, many "improper" kisses, leejeong simp lives on

wc: 1825

summary: your favoured suitor and soon-to-be fiance comes to the ball unexpectedly.

a/n ty anon for this! this is really so late but I really do love this req and i wanted to do it justice so I hope you enjoy~ also! there's a lot of like etiquette at play so this is the source i based it off if anyone's interested! also also xiǎo mèi means little sister (reader is the younger twin lol)

check my pinned for more fics!

“Miss Shen is indeed one of the jewels of the season”

“Certainly, she is of fair face and has many virtues.”

“I’ve been told that she is quite skilled in the art of languages, she plays the pianoforte quite well and her deportment is incomparable.”

“And the Shen family is quite wealthy, any gentleman would consider himself lucky to have her as his bride.”

You pointedly ignore the aunties whispering among themselves as you make your way across the floor. Your mother has taken ill this evening, leaving your brother to escort you around. It wasn’t too bad. If an overeager suitor was not to your liking, all Ricky had to do was stand tall and look down his nose at them. Unfortunately, that also went for the suitors that weren’t too bad as well.

“I didn’t like him, Xiǎo Mèi” He says to you as you both watch the poor man make his way back into the crowd, proverbial tail between his legs.

“Richard,” You hiss, drawing yourself to your full height which doesn’t really do anything since your brother is disgustingly vertically gifted. “You need to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me Richard.”

“It’s what’s proper.”

“And I care because?”

“Ugh, you are infuriating.”

“And you have feathers in your hair.”

If you weren’t wearing one of your best gowns, low cut, splendidly embroidered white satin, trimmed with hideously expensive silver thread, you would have lunged at him already. Instead you settle for squeezing the arm you’re holding a little too hard, glad that your gloves would conceal how your knuckles strain. To your chagrin, you get nothing more than a slight wince.

Fortunately, someone else decides to barrel into him and if your brother was any less steady, he would have been knocked clean off his feet. Meanwhile, you’re fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. Kim Gyuvin may have half the ladies in the room falling over themselves for him but he possessed the grace of a newborn foal and the personality of a rambunctious puppy.

“Ricky-ah!” He greets your brother effusively before turning to you and playfully dipping his head into a pseudo-bow. “Miss Shen.”

“Mr. Kim.” You reply with your own little curtsey.

There’s nothing more enjoyable than the look on your brother’s face right now. All the eligible ladies on your side of the room are giggling and whispering among themselves, definitely charmed by two of the season’s most eligible bachelors. You would be too, except one of them’s your brother and the other one is just as good as that in everything but name. None of them know about the time Kim Gyuvin threw a fit after your brother called his beloved lapdog something he probably shouldn’t have. You do. It sort of ruined any semblance of his image for you.

“As much as I know your brother makes delightful company,” Gyuvin begins.

You stifle a giggle beneath your gloved hand. If the whole of polite society wasn’t watching, Ricky would’ve definitely punched him by now. You resist the urge to make an unladylike snort as Gyuvin extends his unnervingly large hand towards you.

“May I have this dance, Miss Shen?”

“You may.”

You let Gyuvin lead you across the floor. For all of his awkward deportment, you know he has proven time and time again that he is an excellent dancer.

“Is there any lucky gentleman that you have your eye on tonight, Miss Shen?” He asks as you make smooth circles around the room.

“Not particularly, Mr. Kim.” You spin once, the light fabric of your skirt almost floating. “And you? Is there any lucky lady that has caught your attention?”

If Gyuvin had not been a childhood playmate and old friend, then perhaps you would not be so improper. But alas, you’ve known each other from the moment you could toddle. He graces you with a secretive smile.

“Perhaps, we shall see.”

The dance comes to an end a moment later and you give each other a courtesy bow. Gyuvin means to escort you back to your brother but some nosey mother pulls him away, likely to try and introduce her daughter to him. Thus, you are left alone, searching for your brother’s blond head. Unfortunately for you, it seems that your lonesome state has caught the attention of some gentlemen on the hunt.

“Miss Shen, what a pleasure.” A particularly bold one comes up to you. You greet him in kind, although you are well aware that his eyes have fixated themselves on your chest, ogling the low cut of your dress. Still, you must make conversation although you curse the rules of propriety in your head.

“My mother has taken ill this evening unfortunately.” You say trying your best to angle yourself away from his uncomfortable stare and excuse yourself. “So it is my brother who is escorting me this evening. I need to get back to him actually.”

“Oh well he seems to have stepped out, might I keep you company in his stead?”

You’re about to outrightly tell him to leave you be when a familiar voice speaks up first.

“My apologies but I will be accompanying Miss Shen in the meantime.”

Both you and the man turn. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face when you see your soon-to-be betrothed.

“Mr. Lee, I didn’t know you were joining us tonight.”

“I’m glad that Miss Shen is delighted to see me.” You move forward and take the arm he offers as he turns to the other man who has quite a sour look on his face. “Excuse me, good sir.”

Both of you watch as he leaves with a huff. The ladies and their mamas whisper but you pay them no mind. Soon they would all know anyway.

Lee Jeonghyeon has been courting you since the season started. He was 2 years your senior, good friends with Ricky and from a family that your parents approved of. Everything had been very private up until now as both your families finally began to talk about a public engagement and an even more public wedding. It was to be expected with both of you coming from aristocracy.

“May you do me a favour of having your next dance, Miss Shen?” He asks you as the quartet hints at the beginning of a waltz.

“You always have my favour, Mr. Lee.”

You’re already facing him, one of his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you towards him, perhaps a bit closer than the dance called for but with enough space between you to keep it appropriate for the many discerning eyes on you. His other hand holds yours, almost hiding it completely in his grasp. And he looks nowhere but at your face and you would almost feel shy as if his eyes hadn’t traced over your features so many times before. Still, you can’t help but blush at how brazen he is in such a public space.

“In the upcoming events this season,” he murmurs quietly, almost intimate in such a crowded room. “I hope that you could give me the privilege of having your first dance.”

He can have all of them, you would have told him plainly but you need not scandalise the ladies even more. So instead, you say.

“Then that privilege is yours.” The way he looks at you definitely holds almost too much passion for others to look upon.

Later, when you’ve found your brother and Gyuvin again, sharing a drink by the refreshments table, he asks another favour that makes you go completely and unattractively red.

“I heard that the garden is lovely at night, would Miss Shen like to accompany me for a walk outside?”

It’s a bold request. And you’re glad he spoke quietly enough that only your brother and Gyuvin are within earshot. Nevermind that the latter very nearly chokes on his drink. It’s surprising that he’s this shocked considering both of them had the misfortune of walking in on you in the back parlour doing things that were at the height of impropriety (you were just kissing…rather passionately).

Still, you’re suddenly glad your mother is not here but perhaps that is exactly the reason why Jeonghyeon asked. Ricky exchanges glances with you before he speaks.

“If my sister desires it.”

You weigh out the consequences before producing a beatific smile.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, perhaps some air would do us all some good.”

So as the crowd falls into another dance, you slip out, your brother and Gyuvin trailing behind you as a semblance of a chaperone. The garden is indeed beautiful at night. Even better, the foliage is grown enough for both of you to slip behind it, creating a little corner of your own. Meanwhile, your supposed chaperones linger a respectable distance, conversing quietly and letting you have your privacy. Finally, Jeonghyeon’s hands slide to your waist, holding you as closer than earlier. You allow yourself a little impropriety, pouting at him, just a bit.

“You should have informed that you would be attending, Mr. Lee.”

“If it pleases my Lady, I shall give her prior notice on the next occasion.”

Boldly, you stand on your toes and give him the lightest peck, your lips barely brushing his. This time, he flushes, ducking his head like a bashful schoolboy.

“It would please me very much.” You beam up at him. He leans down and catches you in a longer kiss, leaving you breathless as you shove at him gently. “We shouldn’t be so hasty here with so many around.”

“Very well,” he says, looking at you so intimately as if you were the only star in the vast dark sky. “Grant me one last favour this evening then, Miss Shen.”

“And what is it that you desire, Mr. Lee?” His face is still so close to yours that you feel faint.

“My name,” he whispers. “If you could call me by my name this evening, just once, I would be most happy.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. It feels almost illicit to utter something that you’ve only ever addressed him in writing, have murmured in the most quiet of moments. Here, in the garden, where your willingly oblivious chaperones chat among themselves, with the crowd but a doorway apart, with the stars hanging above you to witness. Still you grant him his favour.

“Jeonghyeon.”

It is but an almost silent breath. Yet the way his eyes slowly shut, as if relishing in the moment, makes it feel like so much more. And oh, your heart flutters as he looks at you again, breathes your name into the air between you because it is for you and you alone.

His hands grasp yours gently and everything fades into the background. It’s only him.

“My darling.”

And you let him kiss you again.

108 notes · View notes

imayfeel · 7 months

Text

Of the same fabric (were we crafted).

;; Yandere! Murderer. Light NSFW (?)(Masturbation/Vulgar Language). Paranoia. Stalker Behaviour.

You would rush past the corners of every street, every building and every small store so forcefully towering— collapsing on top of you, lungs heaving as you block out the faces of passerby, hoping for something to rescue you at last—

But it will not come. Your haven will not arrive to someone undeserving of it; what sinner deserves a suited seat in heaven, having therefore stolen it from someone of piety and thrust them into Hell? None, you will not make the exception, though the constant pounding of your chest may deem you different.

The faces blur together, and the simple strained unwanted and subconscious decision of knowing blares throbbingly in your mind. Each desperate promise of reward plastered on the side posts does not go unnoticed— so many you may drown yourself in them, so many you feel yourself further wanting to be either separated from your body or finding somewhere you will be freed of this burden of creation.

In your peripherals, it is all you see— nor do you escape it in your dreams, the little of those you even are blessed to have when you succumb to the tire of your mind and being. Slumber is both your biggest weapon and vulnerability, will it leave you open to the predator or will the prey find solace in the emptiness of their thoughts? More so— which party beholds which title?

Your home is no longer your home. The small apartment of the rough looking building, cheap and creaky— but was your attempt of another life, one which was now taken away from you. You have dragged yourself up the stairs with haste, too aware of the blood rushing to your head, pumping and pumping and your heart too heavy for your chest to handle, it is all too much, all of a sudden feeling too many veins beneath your skin and too many teeth in your mouth—

And it all smells like him.

The apartment, the objects within (what little of them there were), the scent now sticking to your clothes, to you, to your so priceless flesh in his eyes, just when you thought it was finally leaving. Times were not advancing so fast for forensic evidence, and nothing plain to the eye had been left.

But this all felt much too familiar.

He blamed you. So beloved and so constantly paranoid, but you created him. You breathed life into him, so lovely you were, so lovely you are— with your small words and hidden meanings from so long ago, but not long enough for him to forget the undertone to your words and how although they were so little, they weighed so much. He could not. He would not. How you do play the distressed and anxious part, but he knows you more than that. He knows you far past how they all see you, worried and concerned for the inconveniences occurring. Cruel and vindictive you were, you are, and he does not fail to still see you now as so pretty in the way you tremble like a rat, in the way your eyes grow wide at the slightest hint of his night activities, though he is aware it is all ephemeral. He enjoys it nonetheless.

People did not see you the way he does, and he was aware you were written off by the little friends or family you had contact with as simply afraid due to these little outbursts caught by the newspaper. It ran much deeper than that— you played a part. Not willingly perhaps, but all the same, your existence made it so. More than a scared civilian, less than an accomplice.

It took a lot for him to find you, to pinpoint your exact locations and daily routines. You settled into a quiet town, one where you would be allowed a second chance of living, but not one where he would be unable to find you. That was not an option he had ever allowed. In a small building, a dreary town, with a job which did not seem to appreciate your efforts at all— he would give you so much more if you so allowed him the pleasure of it, you could use your carefully crafted words and wring out his deepest emotions as much as you would like, so long as it was only you and him and it stayed as such.

In the nights he misses you most (near to all) it is your name on his lips, your picture engraved in his mind. He tires of watching you from afar, but it would be dangerous having you in front of him. He is unsure of his capability of control if the time ever arose, the careful sense of holding back he had tried to develop would come down crashing in mere moments of your eyes locking. He would drown in those eyes, he would tear them out and keep them for him to stare at on dark evenings. The idea of doing so has been in his mind before, but each part of you was held in such regard by him that adding or taking away a feature or characteristic from you would seem to be an insult to your carefully crafted perfection.

In this world, he and you believe it is only the two of you in existence. It seems right for him to believe as he was a useless body without a soul before fate brought you close, for you in turn are forced with the realisation he is the only thing constantly surrounding you without him physically being present.

He is filled with nothing but warmth at the thought of you. At the thought of what he would do, what he could do, once he finally became able to set his plans in place to make you and him one. The so-called pleasures of flesh disgust him, as does humanity in its whole, but those feelings are different once they elude to you and him. His hand crawls down, and he imagines it to be you. For it to be your hand instead of his rougher, tainted one. His cock is already weeping when his thumb brushes over the sensitive slit, his hips bucking into the slight touch. How would you do it? He wonders. Would you be shy and unsure of your actions, or would you know what to do and how to do it?

He mimicks the actions he would imagine for you to do, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed together. His fingers trail down his shaft, over each vein when it finally grasps firmly at the base. Emerging into such a debaucherous act of lust was not something he would have ever expected of himself, but soon, it would be you instead of his hand. He would fuck you in the most primal way, raw and cruel. He would not grant you any mercy in the act, to reward himself for his perseverance in catching you so smooth and thoroughly. It would be your body he would run his hands over, trace and bite hard enough to make you bleed so his tongue could dutifully slide over the dots of crimson— not some placeholder from a whorehouse he would have to pretend was you. He would not fuck them though; his first would be with you and so would his others be.

With tensed muscles and a vigorous hand, these thoughts pile up and so does his pleasure— his essence stains the palm of his hand. He stares at the evidence of his dirty pleasures, but even so, all his mind held was you. He would soon get his grasp onto you, but patience brings the sweetest rewards— he could not wait for it to rippen.

You remember how you had created this game of cat and mouse initially, you often wonder how you would be living now if you had never spoken the words you did, or perhaps simply never spared him a glance. More often than not, the memories blur together due to you having not wanted to face them for such a long duration of time, but he would not forget. He was a lone and troubled child, with a rarely present set of parents. A whorish and vain mother paired with a egotistical and cold father, he spent a majority of his childhood in the large premises of his home— which always felt as anything else but. He had nothing else to compare it with.

Intelligent and silent, though prone to violent outbursts of rage towards other children, was how he continued through schooling until he eventually reached seventeen. Another "outburst" had occurred, and he was placed in a selection of students with such issues. He never paid much attention to the others among them, having never cared even since childhood to make friends with his peers— false friendlihoods was not a blessing he would be granted, nor would he grant. You were among the selection, for reasons he had not known until after the first time the two of you had spoken. Messy incidents had occurred all over the school grounds, and names spill out— and had seemed to have reached you.

"An act done slowly and with precision will not turn its back on its creator, especially not when made blind to others." His breath hitched, the words were like honey from your tongue—

They now haunt you, having him used the sly advice against you.

Said with a smile, a playful glint in your eyes, but the knowingness was something he could decipher that put you past the other irrelevant faces in his mind. Him being capable of deciphering put him past them in yours. He craved after you, the one thing he could not have now that he had truly hungered for something. Despite the first encounter— seared into his mind— he found much interest and pleasure in your quiet and overthinking nature. Enamoured and facinated was what he was, never had he wanted to split open and pick apart someone in so much detail ever before. It only lead to one singular explaination; you are him and he is you.

He at last found something worthy of making his own.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #murderer oc #stalker oc #murderer x reader #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere boy x reader #obsession #yandere oc

46 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-riley · 3 months

Text

Sleeping With Ghosts (Prologue)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

Placebo - Sleeping With Ghosts

Hush

It's okay

Dry your eyes

Soulmate dry your eyes

Dry your eyes

Soulmate dry your eyes

Cause soulmates never die

Price walked up the driveway, his heart hammering away behind his ribs. He’d faced a lot of things in his life and his line of work, yet nothing shook him quite like this did. Nothing made him panic quite like the task he was about to do, which was laughable given he wasn't in any danger. He blew out a shaky breath, removing his hat as he fisted it anxiously. He’d agonised over what to wear to this, wondering if more casual clothes would have been appropriate. He decided against it though, wearing some dark camo pants and a dark green t-shirt. He wanted to look the part, unsure of how he’d be received here.

He knocked firmly, straightening up and trying to will some confidence within himself. He wasn't sure just what was eating at him but he knew if this went badly, Simon wouldn't be happy at all and he didn't want to let him down. Not with this. It was a big deal and part of him thought Simon should have come here himself, but he understood why he couldn't, not yet. It was better this way. Price just hoped the news would be received well.

He heard shuffling behind the door before it swung open, revealing a petite and pretty woman with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. Before he got a word out, he saw her eyes flit over his uniform, her whole demeanour turning tense as she narrowed her eyes, gripping the door in the death grip. He’d never seen the woman in person but he found himself thinking how lucky a man his Lieutenant was. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but she beat him to it.

“Why are you here? He's been dead for five years,” she bit out, voice strained and he felt a pang in his chest as he saw her eyes glaze over with unshed tears.

“Mrs Riley… I’m Captain John Price. I don't mean to intrude but I really need a word. Can I come inside?” he asked politely, practically expecting the door to be slammed in his face. She looked conflicted and he could see the grief all over her, even after all this time. It was then he noticed she was still wearing her rings on her left ring finger, could see the chain of dog tags around her neck and he just knew what name would be on them. Fuckin’ hell, Simon, you arsehole.

“Please,” he added softly, his face imploring. He didn't want to deliver this news on her bloody doorstep. She pursed her lips before nodding tensely, moving away to let him in. He shut the door behind him and followed her into the living area.

It looked cosy and his eyes drifted to the fireplace, noticing the framed picture on the centre of it. It was strange to see his second in command this way, unmasked and smiling on his wedding day. He looked younger, less jaded and beat down. Less scarred. The couple were something to behold together, Charlotte in her wedding dress as she grinned up at her new husband with nothing but pure unadulterated love on her face. He couldn't imagine how she’d taken the news when she’d been told Simon was dead. It must have crushed her.

She moved to sit in one of the armchairs and he took a seat on the couch, perching on the edge, feeling tightly wound. He licked his lower lip, wondering how best to phrase what he needed to say as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“Simon told me alot about you,” he murmured awkwardly, wincing as she looked away quickly, folding her arms over herself like she was trying to create a barrier to protect herself. She was clearly still affected by it which didn’t bode well for what he was about to tell her. He knew she'd be relieved but mighty pissed. He knew he would be.

“Charlotte-” he started, only to be interrupted.

“Mummy, who’s this?” a small voice asked and his head snapped to the stairs so fast, he thought he might break his bloody neck. A small girl was coming down the stairs in her little pyjamas with bunnies on them. A mass of blonde curls coming to her shoulders and deep, dark brown eyes he knew all too well.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispered, eyes wide as he stared at the clone of his lieutenent in miniature as she toddled down the stairs. She walked over to her mum, standing between her legs as Charlotte cupped her cheeks, stroking them gently.

“What are you doing up, sweet pea?” she asked softly.

“I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep,” the girl pouted before she turned her dark eyes to him. “Hello!” she grinned cheerfully and he suddenly felt like he’d had a hole punched right through his chest.

“Hello, sweetie. What's your name?” he asked with a tentative smile.

“Elizabeth, but people call me Beth,” she replied and her smile rivalled the sun. Beth.

“That's a very pretty name,” he smiled back at her and it made her smile widen.

“What's your name?” she asked curiously, tilting her head.

“My name is John,” he answered softly,

“Hello, Mr John!” she beamed and his throat closed up at how sweet she was. He suddenly found himself wondering how Simon was going to take the news. He’d missed out on so much, wasn’t even aware he had a fucking kid. He was completely lost in thought, only brought out when the little girl spoke again.

“It's almost my birthday! I’m gonna be five!” she grinned, holding up five fingers and almost dancing on the spot with excitement. He couldn't help the smile that graced his face.

“Wow, that's a big number. You're gonna be a big girl,” he replied with a grin and she giggled. The sound felt like it filled up his hollow chest and he didn’t know how to process it. This little girl wasn't just Simon’s family, she was his family too. She was family to the 141.

“I didn't know I was pregnant. I found out two weeks after…” Charlotte trailed off, looking away and stroking the girl's soft curls as if to ground herself. He couldn’t imagine going through all of that alone after such news and he feared her reaction even more now. He didn't want to mention it in front of Elizabeth though.

“Are you an army man? Like daddy?” she asked excitedly, catching him off guard again. He wasn't sure why it shocked him that Charlotte had told her about Simon, of course she would. Yet it stunned him anyway.

“I am,” he replied carefully and her eyes lit up for a moment.

“Mummy said he was a hero! He saved people! But now he's an angel in heaven. He keeps me safe,” she murmured, a slight sadness now overtaking her voice that John hated more than anything. The poor girl thought her dad was fucking dead and he cursed Simon for sending him here.

“Are you a hero too, Mr John?” she asked curiously and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“I try to be, sweetheart,” he replied, trying to give her a smile.

“Sweetie, you need to go back to bed, okay? Let me speak to Mr John and I’ll come up and read you a story. You go up and pick one,” Charlotte instructed softly and Beth grinned with a nod.

“Okay! Bye Mr John!” she beamed, waving at him before she ran off, trotting up the stairs once more. His chest ached, his head pounding with the situation he found himself in.

“I don't mean to be rude John, but why are you here?” Charlotte asked. She looked worn down and he felt another pang in his chest as he looked at her. Girl looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“I… fuckin’ hell…” he trailed off, wringing the hat in his hands anxiously. She watched him expectantly and he couldn't meet her eyes.

“Simon’s not dead,” he blurted, needing to get it out of his mouth like poison. Silence overtook the room then and he felt nerves well up inside of him, eyes glancing over to her as she blinked dumbly for a long moment. But then a wave of grief washed over her face before it hardened and she glared at him.

“Is this some idea of a sick joke? You come into my house, talk to my fucking daughter and you come to fuck with my head like this?” she hissed at him and he shook his head vehemently.

“I’m not… I’m tellin’ the truth, Charlotte. He’s alive,” he implored, watching as a myriad of emotions crossed her face. She looked lost, like she was being swept out to sea and he found himself standing, moving to crouch in front of her and take her trembling hands in his own.

“How… he can’t... they told me he was dead,” she mumbled tearfully, a dazed look to her face as she frowned and shook her head.

“It’s complicated. He went through…- Some shit happened on a mission and it followed him home, they thought he was dead. On paper he was killed, but he’s still alive. He's on my task force and he sent me here,” he explained, squeezing her hands softly hoping to help ground her.

“He’s alive? And he didn't… he didn’t contact me?” she asked, her voice now small and distraught at the idea. She looked so confused and Price swallowed thickly.

“He wanted to keep you safe, he thought it was best. That’s… that's a conversation you need to have with him, I’m afraid. But I’m not just there for this,” he muttered with a wince, looking at her sheepishly as her tear stricken face turned to him. He knew he'd already dropped a bomb on her and she looked like she didn’t know which way was up.

“You need to come with me, back to our base,” he explained, feeling like he was ready to face an explosion. She blinked at him for a long moment before a laugh bubbled from her lips, but it wasn't one of amusement. She sounded delirious.

“What? I just found out my husband isn't actually dead and purposely fucked off and left me on my own to raise our kid, and now we need to move? Am I having a stroke or something?” she asked, eyes wild and incredulous as she looked at him. He let her hands go, moving back to sit on the sofa, wiping a hand over his face. He really wished Simon had come here himself, he was going to fucking kill him.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but his identity’s been compromised. Some bad people know he isn’t dead and it isn't hard to trace you back to him. You're not safe and neither is Beth. Simon wants you on the base so you’ll be protected, just until the threat is dealt with.”

“Oh, he wants us on the base now our lives are in danger? Fucking fantastic,” she huffed, wiping her face angrily before blowing out a deep breath, hanging her head. He left her alone for a moment to process the information and after a few long moments she looked at him once more, a defeated look across her face. He knew she didn't want to, but knowing her daughter wasn't safe would force her to go with him.

“When do we need to leave?” she asked with a heavy sigh.

“Now, preferably,” he explained sheepishly, watching her take another deep inhale, her eyes closed.

“Let me pack some stuff,” she muttered and he nodded, watching uncomfortably as she stood.

He sat on the couch for a long while as she packed the stuff for both her and Beth and his mind drifted to his second once more. Simon was in for a shock when they turned up, an addition he wasn't aware of in tow. Not to mention his very pissed off and hurt wife. He wasn't sure if Simon had prepared himself for the wrath Price knew was coming. Maybe he thought she’d just be grateful he was alive. He had no doubt she was but he’d seen the hurt on her face when she found out he'd been avoiding her for all these years. There had been so much she’d had to do by herself, the pregnancy, the birth, raising the girl. All of it alone, thinking her husband was dead.

He knew from Simon that she had no family. His family had become her family but then they were all gone and he fucked off. Maybe it was an easier pill to swallow to think he was dead, that it hadn't been his choice to leave. Knowing he'd made this choice, that he’d left willingly, well he knew that had to leave a bad taste in her mouth. He thought of the small blonde then, looking so much like her father it was almost scary. She thought her daddy was an angel in heaven and now she was going to meet him. He couldn’t imagine how that would fuck with her head.

“I’m just gonna step outside to make a phone call,” he murmured awkwardly as he stood, looking over to where she was stuffing some teddies into a backpack. She glanced over at him but didn't stop what she was doing.

“Tell him to go fuck himself while you're at it,” she huffed, her wobbly voice betraying how upset she was even if she was trying to seem more angry than hurt. He gave her a sad but wry smile as he nodded, moving to leave the house and walk to his car. He couldn't just turn up with a child like that, his Lieutenant was likely to have a fucking aneurysm if he did. He needed to let him know, at least warn him of the tiny whirlwind that would be coming back to base.

He knew it would be a lot to deal with but he didn't want the small girl's feelings to get hurt if her dad acted like a right arsehole with her in his shocked stupor. The ride back to base would take around two hours so he hoped it would be enough time for Simon to get his head in gear for what was coming for him. Some might have called it karma.

The phone rang twice before the gruff voice came through the other end.

“Price, is she alright?” he rushed out, not even bothering to hide the fear in his voice. This past week since all this came to a head had been tense for the entire team. He was the only one who knew of Charlotte since he’d met Simon when they were together. He'd worked with Simon once before he faked his death, before the Mexico bullshit happened. Then after, he'd been the one to take the man in after the hell he'd been through, been there when he'd made the choice to lie to her.

He’d never met the girl but he knew the masked soldier was head over heels in love with her. He’d tried to convince him not to be a dick and play dead but he couldn't get through to the man. He was too pig headed for his own good sometimes and in a way, John got why he did what he did. But now seeing the damage that was done, well, he was starting to rethink his position on it.

Once Simon realised his wife wasn't safe, he came to the terrifying realisation he needed to let her know he was very much alive because he needed to bring her to the base. The fucker was going to get Price to bring her there while he fucked off elsewhere so he could keep the charade up, but that was where Price firmly drew the line. His Lieutenant had been a wreck since and it hadn't been made any better when the rest of the 141, including Ale and Rudy who were honorary members and currently helping with their situation, hadn’t shut up about the fact that Ghost had a fucking secret wife. They were all in for a fucking treat now, weren't they?

“She’s pretty upset, I don't know what the fuck you were expectin’. She’s taken it pretty badly that you left her willingly,” he bit out with a sigh, wiping a hand over his tired face. He heard a shaky exhale down the line that stretched onto an uncomfortable silence. He knew Ghost was dealing with a lot of emotions right now, something he wasn't used to. Not anymore. Ghost was known for being stoic, for being emotionless, empty like a shell. He was always as cool as a cucumber, unflappable, unable to be ruffled. The entire team had seen a side to him only Price had been privy to before with all the emotions this had brought up for the man.

“Simon… I need to tell you somethin’ before we get there,” he murmured hesitantly. He felt a twisting in his gut and he tried to ignore it.

“What is it?” he asked carefully, apprehension bleeding through his tone. John inhaled a deep breath, blowing it out of his nose slowly.

“When you left… fuckin’ hell… Charlotte was pregnant. You’ve got a daughter,” he admitted quietly and he heard nothing but dead silence on the other end that made that twisting in his gut even worse.

“Hey, Cap, the fuck ye say to LT? I think ye broke him,” Soap snorted down the line.

“Where's Ghost?” Price bit out, panic settling in his bones. The idea of him freaking out over this to the point of rejecting his child made him feel sick. He never knew with Ghost. He wasn't the same as Simon, the two were very separate in the way they dealt with things.

“Dunno, he just shoved the phone at me and fucked off. What's goin’ on?” Soap asked curiously.

“I need you to get him, make sure he’s alright,” John sighed.

“Cap?” he asked worriedly.

“He’s got a fuckin’ kid, Johnny. Charlotte didn't find out until just after she was told he was dead,” John swallowed thickly.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap whispered and John could just imagine his wide blue eyes at the news.

“I can't have him losin’ it. I don’t give a shit what he’s dealin’ with, this is his mess and he needs to deal with it. He needs to get his head out of his arse before this little girl gets here or I’ll fuckin’ have him,” John growled, already protective of the sweet tiny Riley.

“Aye, I’ll talk with him, try to get his head on right,” Soap affirmed and he knew Johnny would do his best. As much as Ghost liked to pretend otherwise, the two were best mates and if anyone could talk some sense into him, it would be Johnny.

“Tell him… tell him she’s called Beth. Elizabeth,” John murmured softly and he heard Soap’s intake of breath over the line. They didn't need to voice the emotion they both felt.

“Will do,” he replied somberly.

His ears were ringing, eyes unseeing as he sat on his bed. He felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe and he ripped the mask off his face, letting it fall to the floor as he tried desperately to inhale air. A kid. He had a fucking daughter. His brain couldn't quite wrap his head around it, emotions not kicking in yet as all he felt was blind panic. A child. How the fuck was he gonna manage that? Was he even capable of being a good father now? He’d already fucked up, already missed out on almost five years of her fucking life and left Charlotte to do it all herself.

He knew deep down that faking his death was a mistake. Fucking hell, he’d known that long ago but had been too much of a coward to rectify it. And if he’d have known she was carrying his child then he’d never have done it. Never have left her alone to raise a child by herself. Never have abandoned his own kid. It made him feel sick. He was already dealing with the deep shame and regret of hurting Charlotte. He could only imagine how hurt she was right now and he knew he’d deserve whatever she threw at him when she got here.

He wished he could take it back, he really did, but it was too late now. He’d fucked up and now his ghosts were coming to haunt him. He knew he was in a state of shock and he dreaded to think what he’d feel once he had the capacity. He had to switch it off, had to be Ghost because he couldn’t have a fucking mental breakdown when they both got here. It wouldn't be fair to Charlotte, wouldn't be fair to his little girl. He had to be strong, had to bottle it all up until he could deal with it later on his own. He just had to get through this first meeting, maybe it would be easier after.

There was a knock at his door and before he could tell whoever it was to fuck off, it opened. Johnny came in, a sympathetic smile on his face that let him know Price had told him.

“I hear congrats are in order,” he murmured wryly and Simon’s heart thudded dully in his chest, not even managing a smile back or a witty retort. Johnny moved over to sit next to him on the bed, leaning his arms on his thighs as he leaned forward.

“I… I know ye goin’ through a lot, Si. I cannae even imagine how fucked yer head must be…” he trailed off softly, as if he was talking to a spooked animal. He was.

“I’m not gonna freak out,” Ghost bit out, running his hands through his hair in agitation. He hated that he had to wait. He’d rather get it all over with, rip it off like a fucking plaster. Soap gave him a look with a raised brow, one that told him he didn’t believe him in the least and Ghost blew out a breath and shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. Get this over with and then… I don’t fuckin’ know,” he frowned, a pain in his chest blooming and radiating throughout his entire being. The thought of Charlotte's tearful face made him feel sick. He'd always hated seeing her cry, especially when it had been his fault. He wasn't proud that he’d made her cry a fair few times over the years ‘cause he was a right fucking bastard when he wanted to be. But knowing she would be hurt more than ever made him feel like he wanted to throw up.

“She uh… She’s called Elizabeth… Beth… by the way,” Johnny murmured carefully, his voice thick. Beth. Tommy. Joseph. Mum. Elizabeth Riley. Fuck. His chest tightened again, a lump in his throat growing until it felt the size of his fist. His hands shook as he balled them up, pressing them into his thighs as he inhaled shakily.

He flinched when he felt Johnny’s large hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. If his head wasn't so fucked, he’d have made a comment about it. As it was, it was taking all of his willpower not to break down. After a few more shaky deep breaths, he nodded resolutely and stood, slipping his mask back on, literally and figuratively.

“Let’s go to the gym, spar for a bit,” he suggested, his voice firm and not giving the Sergeant an option. He needed a distraction. The waiting would kill him.

“Aye. whatever ye want, LT,” Soap replied, giving him a sad smile as he stood too. Maybe beating the shit out of his best mate would help him feel a little better. He doubted it but it wouldn't hurt to try. He needed to stuff Simon back in his box, lock him up tightly and just get through the day.

A child. Fucking hell, he was fucked. Just another person to add to the list of those he let down. Another person for him to hurt. He had a wife he didn't deserve and a child he'd never met. He cursed Price for not letting him run off like he wanted and he cursed himself for being such a fucking coward, for being such a piece of shit. He was a Riley through and through. He really was his father's son.

#simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc

29 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Note

Hi! Hope I wasn't bothering you. I have a question for you that might seem odd(?):

How do you think the boys who don't really mention their families relationships with their relatives are like? For example: Does Cater have a good relationship with his sisters and vice versa or nah?

We actually know quite a bit about the TWST boys’ relationships with their family members (with a few exceptions, and with varying degrees of detail). It’s one of the benefits of being ahead in the JP version and having read up on a lot of the characters’ lore, I guess 🤣 So I’m not sure which characters you mean by those who “don’t really mention [what] their family relationships are like”?

I feel bad leaving the question unanswered though, so here’s a rundown of each main TWST boy and their various familial relationships (most of the things here can be easily deduced or is outright confirmed canon across the main story, vignettes, character lines, events, and/or other official TWST media):

***PLEASE NOTE: THERE WILL BE MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD.***

Riddle

Riddle’s mother is a well-known medical healer in their hometown. However, she is also a very strict parent and controlled Riddle’s diet and day-to-day schedule down to the minute, losing her temper at those that would question her rules and parenting. Young Riddle saw his mother as an example to follow, even if her decisions made him unhappy. Modern day Riddle (particularly following the events of episode 1) has recognized how toxic his mother’s parenting methods were. In episode 4, he resolves to confront her about this, but we never get to hear about the outcome. It is to be noted that his demeanor changes when he speaks about his mother--he appears much less sure of himself and adopts a different expression than usual. We can deduce that his present relationship with her is very strained.

Riddle has a father who is also a magical healer, but Riddle’s relationship with his him is largely unknown.

Riddle implies that his parents may have a poor relationship with one another, as he says in one of his Groom-for-a-Day lines that he wishes the Queen of Hearts would share the secret to having a happy marriage with his parents.

Trey

Trey’s a normal guy coming from a normal family that runs a normal bakery. His mother and father run Patisserie Clover, and he helps them with its operation when he’s not busy. (In fact, Trey started playing soccer because his parents thought it would help him be fit for the heavy-lifting duties at the bakery.)

He has one younger sister and a younger brother that he helps his parents look after. It’s said by some of Trey’s underclassmen that he probably got into the habit of taking care of others because he already has the experience caring for his own siblings. Trey confirms that he has to tell his little brother to brush his teeth before bed.

The Clover siblings often bug Trey to make sweets for them. They also love Trey’s hamburger steak, which is prepared with Walrus-brand oyster sauce and a sunny-side egg on top.

Trey’s parents would get upset with him for eating the candied violets they prepare for their cakes. They also got upset with him for trying to eat random flowers and weeds to sate his cravings.

The Clovers send Trey care packages which contain candied violets. He snacks on them while studying.

Cater

Cater doesn’t mention his mom; it’s not clear if she’s gone or if she’s still around and he just doesn’t talk about her.

His father is a banker. Because the bank he works at has branches all over Twisted Wonderland, the Diamond family moves every 1-2 years to accommodate for his job. Cater’s relationship with his father is never further elaborated on in canon.

Cater has two older sisters who are very into the idea of everything they do or own being "cute". From the way he speaks about them, it seems that he thinks they’re annoying to deal with, as they are said to boss Cater around and force him to do things he doesn’t care for (such as eating sweets and dressing up in clothes that they prefer) in their youth.

His mom and sisters used to really enjoy making homemade sweets. They (especially the sisters) would always make Cater eat their desserts by using puppy dog eyes. Because of this, Cater can no longer stomach sweets.

He used to cook simple, light meals for his older sisters.

Cater does mention that his sisters have gotten a little nicer to him over time. He says they don’t have bad intentions and more, recently, have been asking him ahead of time what he would like to do rather than deciding for him.

Ace

The only family member we’ve heard Ace mention significantly is his older brother, who is a graduate of NRC and has told Ace how to kill time on campus (they seem to both be slackers). Trappola-nii is 7 years older than Ace and is employed in the field of entertainment (he also interned for the same company during his fourth year).

The Trappola bros are close with each other, with the older brother pulling pranks on Ace (such as buying a fancy watch with his first paycheck, posing it like a birthday present to Ace, but then going, “oh, it’s actually for myself”, blowing out the candles on Ace's birthday cake, or giving Ace an empty box as a gift and then filling it with candy). They are also on the phone at night with one another often.

It was his older brother that showed Ace how to do magic tricks (Ace learned by watching him) and how to lie effectively. He also loves movies.

Ace's brother appears to be a skilled Magift player (which is, perhaps, in part why Ace was so eager to play the sport in episode 2); Trappola-nii led Heartslabyul for the Magift opening ceremony during his school years, and there is a picture of this near a staff room.

Trappola-nii was happier than even their parents when he learned Ace got into NRC.

Even though they fight sometimes, Ace describes his brother as being light-hearted and easy to get along with. He thinks there are advantages to having an older brother, as he can rely on them for help and for advice. Ace sometimes has long phone calls into the night with his brother.

Ace has mentioned that though his father is not a mage, he is able to do simple card tricks.

His mother has yet to be mentioned in any kind of prominent manner.

His grandmother read the story of The Little Mermaid to him when he was younger. She's also the one who told Ace about the Ghost Camera.

Deuce

Deuce comes from a single parent household in Clock Town (a town in the southern are of the Queendom of Roses). It is not known what happened to his dad, or what Deuce’s relationship with his father was like.

He has a grandma, but we don’t have many details about her or Deuce’s relationship with her.

His mom often takes him to limited time grocery store sales. She tends to buy a lot, so Deuce, as the only man of the household, helps her with the bags and other hard labor.

His mother, Dylla, works as a truck driver for the famous White Rabbit Deliveries, a delivery company in the Queendom of Roses. She and Deuce share a love for vehicles.

Deuce often talks with her over the phone about school and his friends Yuu, Ace, and Grim.

Dylla and Deuce used to not get along during his delinquent phase. Deuce would spend time in public parks to be out of the house and away from confronting her.

Like her son, Dylla can be strong-willed, earnest, and stubborn. When she is pressured by a group of delinquents to pay for their laundry bill, she refuses and says it’s their own carelessness that got cream on their clothes.

He is amicable with his mother and appears to care deeply for her, even when he was still in his delinquent phase. It was in overhearing his mother blame herself for him going down a bad path that drove Deuce to change and set his sights on pursuing the goal of becoming an honors student. Everything he does is really driven by trying to improve himself to make his mother proud, even as early as the main story’s prologue, to events like Wish Upon a Star (in which he cries when his mom calls let Deuce know she’s proud of him).

Mrs. Spade openly talks about the cute clothes Deuce wore as a kid. She mentions that their family doesn’t have much money, so she asked coworkers for hand-me-down bc clothes, which she worked on to provide Deuce with a fancy outfit to wear for a holiday.

She makes omurice for Deuce’s birthday whenever he is home.

She cherishes spending time with her son; the White Rabbit Fest started the year Deuce was born and she’s been going with him every year (until he “grew up”). She misses those times and wishes he would come home more.

Dylla sometimes also took little Deuce into her work office; this was before his delinquent phase in middle school. Her coworkers recognize Deuce because of this (and are also aware of his middle school self and how different he is now, remarking that he has “really become a good boy”).

Deuce’s mom is not that good with operating electronics. This is perhaps part of why Deuce developed the talent of machine maintenance and tinkering (from helping his mom out).

Deuce is infamous in his hometown for causing a lot of trouble to others, including his neighbor. Dylla would constantly apologize for her son, and, in present day, often tells others about Deuce’s achievements and how he has turned over a new leaf. Unfortunately, some townspeople still refuse to believe her.

Of course, Dylla is very proud of how Deuce has earnestly turned over a new leaf.

Because Deuce loves eggs, Dylla has become good at preparing egg dishes. She says she is not as good at cooking anything else.

It's implied that Deuce and his mom have little in terms of free spending money, as he talks about taking advantage of supermarket sales, how little his allowance is, how his mom started gardening to help save on food costs, and how the money he wins in book 5 can really help out his family.

Leona

Farena/Falena is Leona’s older brother by 10 years. Leona’s father is ill, so Farena/Falena, is temporarily assuming the duties of king in his place. We don’t know about Leona’s mother, nor about his relationship with his parents.

Farena/Falena is shown to be supportive of Leona despite Leona’s dour and pessimistic behavior. He sends Leona expensive gifts and insists that Leona can do great things for their country, even if he is not crowned king. In spite of this, Leona does not return Farena/Falena’s love, instead thinking of his elder brother as carefree and not thinking of the Sunset Savanna’s future.

Leona is also annoyed by his nephew and brother’s son, 5-year-old Cheka, who is very eager to play with and learn from him. Cheka sends letters, calls, and even sneaks out to see his uncle, which irritates Leona to no end. He seems to try and avoid Cheka as much as possible, but has no choice but to return home or to take his calls from time to time.

Farena/Falena has a wife, making her Leona’s sister-in-law. Though she is not often mentioned, Leona usually does obey her requests (even if he doesn’t necessarily want to) as he “respects women”, as per the culture of the Sunset Savanna.

Ruggie

Ruggie’s father left “for work” one day and never came back, and it is not certain whether he is alive or not. Meanwhile, his mother “became a star” (she died after giving birth to him).

Ruggie’s legal guardian is his grandmother; they reside together in the slums of the Sunset Savanna. They don’t have a lot in terms of money or belongings, but they get along just fine with one another and do what they can to scrape together money and food to survive. Granny Bucchi is described by Ruggie to be “kind but tough”, scolding the neighborhood kids for misbehaving but also putting forth the effort to save ingredients so she can provide homemade donuts for her grandson on his birthday every year.

Granny Bucchi is great at cooking and taught Ruggie how to do it.

Ruggie sends pictures home to her.

Though Ruggie doesn’t have any siblings, it can be said that he treats the neighborhood kids as his brothers and sisters (even if he refers to them as “brats”). They are all struggling to get by, so he consciously gets leftovers and other tidbits from the cafeteria ghosts to bring home with him on winter break to share with everyone.

Jack

Jack mentions having a mother and father; it is assumed that they get along okay, as he doesn’t mention having any particular qualms with them. He also mentions grandparents.

Wolf beastmen only have one partner for life, and Jack says he suspects he will have a relationship like that similar to his parents and grandparents.

He also has a younger brother and a younger sister. His brother is 11, and his sister is 7. Jack says that he often does winter sports with them, particularly his brother, such as skiing.

When his brother was younger, he’d always used to follow Jack around the house like a puppy. However, now that he’s older, he “started to get really rude” to Jack, though Jack says that the attitude means he can have a healthy sibling rivalry with his brother. It is notable that Jack’s brother is a non-mage.

As for his sister, she is said to always nag her brothers to include her in their outings. Jack appears to worry for her safety, as he wants to include her and to experience the thrill of gliding down a mountain with her too, but that she doesn’t have the endurance yet at her age. Overall, both of Jack’s younger siblings really look up to him!

Azul

Azul’s mother runs a successful restaurant (which the Tweels visited in middle school). She provided Azul with many of his favorite foods and encouraged him to clean his plate. Azul extols her business acumen and culinary abilities, as now her restaurant is considered the “hottest” in the Coral Sea. He is delighted that they have shared vocations and interests.

His mom spoils him. One example is through food; she provides a lot for him.

We don’t know a lot about Azul’s biological father, only that Mama Ashengrotto met her current husband and Azul’s stepfather over the course of her divorce proceedings. Stepfather Ashengrotto is a lawyer, and Azul describes him as “soft hearted and sincere”, but a master at his craft. Azul picked up some knowledge about laws and contracts from him, and he is someone that Azul greatly admires. Additionally, Azul presents him as someone that his mother is quite happy with.

Another important figure in Azul’s family is his grandmother. He notes that everyone in is family is capable of using magic, with his grandmother being a particularly gifted mage. Like the Sea Witch, Grandma Ashengrotto uses her powers to help their neighbors. From his wording, it seems that Azul is also pleased that his grandma is just as benevolent as he is.

His grandma is strict and scary when she is angry. She wants Azul to grow up to be someone who is strong, independent, and willing to help others. Azul says that he loves his grandma a lot and has a strong bond with her. He attributes who he is today and his stance on compensation to his grandma.

Both of Azul’s (biological) parents are mages.

Azul says his mom got busy with the restaurant after her divorce, so his grandma often looked after him. Grandma Ashengrotto spoiled young Azul with lots of snacks every time he came home from school. He describes her as being too kind (though he learned of her strictness when she started instructing him on magic). Azul used to run away from lessons because of this, but once he started to find success in his magic, he enjoyed the compliments his grandma offered. He ultimately credits his being good at magic to his grandmother.

Jade and Floyd

Jade and Floyd are twins, with “neither being the older one or the younger one”. They have also said that they “chose” each other. This speaks to a popular fan theory which states that Jade and Floyd were the lone survivors (because they worked together) in a large group of Leech siblings that were not able to survive in the harsh environment of the Coral Sea. Jade often enables Floyd to act out (as it brings him a lot of entertainment), and, of the two, Floyd is the one that is concerned about not being treated as though he is “the same” as Jade. They know when to not get in each other’s way, but they do quarrel at times (which doesn’t necessarily mean they hate each other, they generally do, in fact, get long).

... Actually, you know what? I’d recommend just reading this long ass post I wrote about Jade and Floyd’s sibling dynamic, otherwise I’ll ramble here forever and ever.

Jade tells us that their mother contacts them nearly every day and seems to be a worrier. Mama Leech was also said to have taught Jade self-defense as a child, so she appears to be a protective parent as well. Floyd calls their mom “mama”, so some have taken this to mean that he in particular is a mama’s boy.

Papa Leech also taught the twins useful skills like lock picking and how to break out of binds.

Their father is influential in the Coral Sea and puts a strong emphasis on dressing well and how one presents themselves (which is why Floyd seems to take an interest in fashion, particularly shoes). Jade insists that their family business is very “normal”, but it seems very suspicious that their father’s business associates try to give gifts to curry favor with him.

More recently, we learned that Jade and Floyd also live with their grandmother, though not much else is known about her.

Kalim

Kalim’s father is a wealthy merchant. He made his money through innovation and by making use of the waterways in Silk City. Papa Asim always seems to be busy, but he also seems to be a jolly guy. He donated a lot of money to NRC to get Kalim in, as well as to build entirely new parts of the Scarabia dorm (including a storage room to keep the mountains of gold and jewels he sends Kalim), so it’s clear that Papa Asim wants to financially support his family and invest in its future.

Kalim often goes on business trips with his father; additionally, their home(s) is often used to host important guests. He likes seeing people happy at these functions!

Kalim describes his mother as a sweet lady that says nice things about him and rarely gets mad. Before him, his mom was the only one in his family capable of using magic.

Most notably, Kalim says he has roughly about 30-40 younger siblings (he has lost track of how many exactly; it's not clear if they are all from one mother or not), and he is the eldest. He says his siblings are very cute and he likes playing with them. Apparently, they can all play instruments and sometimes put on performances for their parents. Kalim says that he has a soft spot for those younger than him, perhaps because he has so many younger siblings.

Kalim has relatives that are royalty.

One of his cousins owns a tiger.

The previous dorm leader of Scarabia was also an Asim and recommended Kalim to be next in line.

Whenever the family gets together, they throw big, lavish parties and enjoy one another’s company. Kalim believes that it is very important to spend time with one's family.

Kalim's entire family plays a big role in the economy and the politics of Silk City. In fact, they developed a network of canals and first used those to do trade, which allowed the city to flourish. Kalim hopes that he can be as influential and helpful as his ancestors were.

Jamil

Jamil has a mother and a father which we learn about via his episode 4 post-OB flashback. The Viper family has been in servitude to the Asim family for several generations, and it seems that Mama and Papa Viper are very adamant in maintaining this relationship, and keeping Jamil in a place of subservience to Kalim (often reminding Jamil to never surpass or perform better than the young master). Because of this, Jamil is sometimes shown to be frustrated not only with his situation, but with his parents for not being willing to “understand” him.

He also has a 14-year old younger sister named Najma, whom we meet face-to-face in an event where we visit Silk City in the Scalding Sands. Previously, Jamil had mentioned Najma in a few lines, such as saying that his younger sister makes fun of the dishes he cooks and complains they look boring. They bicker with one another a fair bit, with Najma sharing embarrassing stories of Jamil in his youth to his classmates and cheekily eating Jamil’s food, and Jamil being annoyed at her for it and retaliating in reserved, sarcastic way. Still, it does appear that they care for one another, but just don’t act overt about it. For example, Jamil decides to give a VDC ticket to Najma when he could have chosen to not invite her at all, and Najma is happy and curious to learn about her big brother’s NRC friends.

Vil

We don’t know much about Vil’s family other than his father, who is a magicless and a famous actor that goes by the stage name “Eric Venue”. Eric is a very supportive father and encouraged young Vil in his acting endeavors (even when Vil kept being typecasted in exclusively villain roles), calling his son cute and talented.

They are not open with the public about being related, as Vil wants to be known for his own merits rather than for his connection with an already well-established figure in the entertainment industry.

Vil traveled around with his dad for work and he maintains a strong relationship with his father to this day; it seems that Eric keeps up with Vil’s gigs and often dotes on him. For example, his dad makes an active effort to try and make time in his schedule to hang out with his son (eating lunch, shopping, and seeing movies together).

Eric took Vil with him to his shoots since before Vil started elementary school. It was here that Vil's career started, as he was asked by the staff to participate.

Eric is okay with frankness + informalities and can be down-to-earth when he’s not working. He’s eager to meet Vil’s friends!! Eric gives off a very mature and charming aura.

Though they don’t make their status as father and son public, they do sometimes work together in productions. Vil can be stern with Eric, being blunt about his flaws and stubborn when it comes to negotiating professionally (like his father)

They laugh similarly and share a love for fashion, beauty, and health.

Eric does mostly of his own stunts rather than relying on a body double. Vil seems to really admire his father and his work, and someday wishes to join Eric among the ranks of the elites of the entertainment industry. For example, his father’s handprints are in the Legend Plaza and Vil aims for the same. Vil also dreams of being able to play a middle aged father character like Eric has before.

Eric worried about Vil's social life, as Vil was a child actor often absent from school for his work. Because of this, Vil did not have many friends in his childhood and usually spent time home alone with the family maid.

Eric had a period of time in which he was given only minor roles (thanks to a magazine declaring he was "third-rate" and was only successful because of his looks), but he continued to be so successful that he eventually returned to playing the star. He started his own production company and now stands at the top of the entertainment industry.

Eric is humble and declares that he has many faults. One of these faults is he is bad at housework, both cooking and cleaning. They have a maid that often scolds him for this.

Vil and Eric are often so busy they don't spend time living together. However, the little time they do spend in their home is described to be happy. They would take it easy and stay put, as going outside would just attract attention.

Vil and Eric made beauty treatments and supplements together at home for fun. Eric is apparently very knowledgeable about beauty products.

Eric works very hard, doing jobs that should be left to lower ranked staff members of his production company such as presentations. Vil has to remind him to rest and to take breaks sometimes.

Although Eric is a very kind and supportive father, Vil says that he is a "show biz demon" who will accept nothing less than perfection. Vil describes his father as someone with lofty goals and will not accept compromise during negotiations. Furthermore, he is willing to do anything to achieve his goals. If someone makes a mistake, they are taken off the set and told to leave on the spot. Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...

It appears that Vil inherited magic from his mother's side. However, he does not know who his mom is or where she came from, and he does not express any interest in investigating or learning these details.

Rook

Rook has a mother, a father, and five siblings (two older than him, and three younger than him). He says he used to have pajama parties with his siblings, but presumably they don’t anymore because they’re so busy.

Their family must be significantly influential, as the Hunts own villas all over Twisted Wonderland which are equipped with warp pads (which require special governmental clearance from various countries in order to build and use).

Rook states that it’s difficult to get his family together at the same time and in the same place. These usually occur only once a year, and they can get very lively. From this, we can infer that the Hunt family gets along pretty well.

Epel

Epel has a VERY large family. Neither of his parents are magicians, but his grandma and great grandma are.

He lives in a single house with his parents, grandparents, great grandma, uncle, aunt, and cousin. They all work together and pitch in to raise apples on the family farm.

When his grandma and grandpa fight, they make up with each other by baking an apple pie.

Epel's cousin is younger than him; he gifted his cousin his plushies. It's sometimes hard to relate with his cousin due to the large age gap.

Epel seems to really cherish his family, as he has developed apple carving skills to make blemished apples good to sell again, and worries in the main story about tourism going down and affecting the family business. He also mentions wanting to make a potion to strengthen apple trees, as this would make his grandpa happy.

We meet Epel’s grandma, Marja, when we visit Harveston for a sledding race. She can be very kind and caring, but is also tough, rough around the edges, and competitive. Through Marja, we can get a better sense of why Epel is the way that he is, and how he lovingly engages with those in his family and his hometown.

Epel has relatives that live near Clock Town.

Idia

Idia describes his parents as “[putting] results over the feelings of their son” when they pull him out of school to do blot research. He recalls being raised since he was a child to assume the position of STYX director following his father, granting him very little freedom of his own.

Idia’s grandmother, Aidne, was the previous director of STYX. His father currently occupies that position.

His mother is the current head of technical operations/engineering at STYX. She appears to be very loving and worried for her children. Mrs. Shroud has the ability to hack into her son’s files and devices. She refers to her husband as “papa”, and her presence seems to warm him up.

He gets his moments of hyperfixation and desire to prove others wrong from his mother.

Idia describes both his dad and his grandmother as negative/pessimistic and depressing people to be around. Indeed, his father seems to be stoic and formal.

His father describes Idia, Ortho, and his wife as geniuses, but implies that he himself is a normal person.

The Shrouds are said to be a branch of the even larger and more affluent Jupiter family. However, Idia appears to feel very alienated from the Jupiters, often saying things like he’s “not welcome” and that he “doesn’t belong” with them.

Idia was very close with Ortho, often playing video games with him and talking about all the adventures they’d go on someday. Because of this, his accidental involvement in Ortho’s death weighed particularly heavy on him, and to cope, Idia built an artificial intelligence and installed it in a humanoid robot to simulate “Ortho”. he views Robo!Ortho as nothing more than an AI until episode 6, where he is finally able to confront his trauma, accept Ortho’s death, and recognize Robo!Ortho as his own person and as his “little brother”.

Idia has a very positive view of Ortho, often doing things for his sake or going along with what Ortho asks of him. He is also protective of his little brother, usually encouraging Ortho to stay out of bad situations or worrying for his safety.

Book 7 implies that Idia also acknowledges Phantom!Ortho (ie the now dead Ortho) as his brother as well. Phantom!Ortho seems to care about his brother and wants him to be happy.

(Robo!)Ortho

Being modelled after the original Ortho and programmed to behave as such, Robo!Ortho’s initial personality very much revolved around his older brother and creator, Idia. He looks up to him and thinks that Idia is just the coolest guy around! In fact, he’ll go so far as to threaten to fire a laser at NRC if the other students don’t rescue Idia from a ghost bride for him! Robo!Ortho is also quick to intervene whenever he overhears people talk badly of Idia. It’s very clear that he loves and cares for his older brother a lot!

In episode 6, Robo!Ortho meets with OG!Ortho and they seem to merge into one being. I’m not sure if this counts as a sibling meeting a sibling, or if it’s someone just staring at their own reflection, but it’s something to note. Both Orthos care about Idia and want to help “free” him of the Shroud family’s “curse”, and of the burden of being chained to the Underworld--and they’re willing to go so far as to turn against the whole world to achieve that. If that isn’t a true, brotherly love, then I don’t know what is.

After Idia finally acknowledges Robo!Ortho as his own person, Ortho still maintains his respect and love for his brother, but also insists on developing himself and acting on his own without his brother or his assistance. It’s not that Ortho now “dislikes” Idia more, but that Ortho wants to now focus on creating his own identity. He’s maturing into something defined by his own volition, not someone else’s.

Ortho is accepted as a son by the Shroud parents, most notably the mother (who refers to him as “Or-kun”. Mrs. Shroud is described as “the strongest person” in the family by Ortho.

The original Ortho (for whom robo!Ortho’s memories derive) used to go out a lot to parks, mountains, and rivers with Idia and their parents. When Idia started to shut himself up in his room (following Ortho’s death), they stopped going out as a group—but more recently, he’s been going out with them again.

Malleus

His only living relative is his grandmother (Maleficia), who currently rules the Briar Valley. It seems that they are close, as his grandmother often sends him cards for special occasions, such as his birthday, and tried to make time in her busy schedule as queen to sit down and eat with her then young grandson. She is also said to be very strict in matters of invitation etiquette.

Lilia, though not blood related, is responsible for mentoring Malleus. His comments also seem to be ones that Malleus often takes to heart, as Malleus gets upset when scolded by Lilia.

The queen and Lilia are described as being the ones who taught Malleus that humans feared them, creatures of the night. Malleus also really enjoys being praised and receiving head pats from those two.

Book 7 implies that his mother died fighting invading Silver Owls while his father went missing on a diplomatic mission.

Lilia describes both Malleus's grandmother and mother (the Draconias in general, really) as extremely stubborn people who always have to do things their own way. They never listen to advice, even when it comes from Lilia.

Malleus’s mom, Maleanor, is the princess of Briar Valley and Lilia describes her as tomboyish and “spitfire”, always wishing to do her own thing. He had to accompany her on trips outside the palace. Lilia also says she is strong, yet reckless, selfish, argumentative, and easily angered. She had a lot of the powers Malleus does, such as fire breathing and control over lightning. He has known his princess since they were kids several hundreds of years ago.

According to a voice line from Lilia, Malleus’s father is someone that he regards as his close friend. His name is Raverne, and it seems he is missing but basically considered deceased.

Maleanor is soft and fawning only to her husband.

Raverne is kind and careful, seeming to be more of a diplomat than his wife or Lilia. He and Lilia were described to be very close.

We don’t see Maleanor or Raverne interact with each other, but Maleanor says her husband is handsome. It’s funny to think about her being absolutely smitten with Raverne while she’s raging at everyone else… similar to how she is caring and gentle to her unborn baby while she’s simultaneously shooting lightning at Lilia…

Lilia

He doesn’t have any blood-related relatives that we know of.

Lilia himself is an orphan. He was taken in by Queen Maleficia, Malleus's grandmother, to be a ward.

He trained Silver, Sebek, and Malleus in both combat and survival.

Lilia asked Sebek’s dad for help raising a human child.

Lilia gave up a significant amount of his magic to help Malleus hatch from his egg. Malleus says that since he hatched, Lilia has always been by his side, typically serving as a mentor figure.

Lilia found Silver in the abandoned and thorn-covered Wild Rose castle. The day he found Silver became his birthday, and Lilia granted him a blessing which made Silver’s hair go from blonde to silver.

Silver is his adopted son. There are notable times when Lilia and Silver have butted heads (usually because Lilia acted in an insensitive way). For example, Lilia neglected to tell Silver about his and Malleus’s prank in Endless Halloween Night, which made Silver upset with him, as it put lives on both sides in danger. Lilia also informed Silver that he was adopted in a rather callous way (something like, ”you didn’t notice our ears were different until now?”), which resulted in Silver running away in the middle of a storm. Despite this, their relationship in the present is generally amicable, and it seems that Lilia cares a lot for Silver (especially given that he ran after him in the aforementioned storm to retrieve him, and even nursed him back to health when Silver came down with a fever).

Silver

Silver’s father is the Dawn Knight and his mother is princess Leah, meaning Silver is a prince of “the enemy”. He was cursed to sleep (and didn’t age during this period) for several hundred years to avoid the warring era he was born into, only awakening when he found “true love” (ie Lilia discovered him).

The Dawn Knight is also an orphan; he was taken in by Leah and Heinrick’s father, a sickly king.

Silver was apparently named for his hair color, but we later learn the silver is not natural. Lilia actually named silver after the guiding moonlight, hoping that he could be a light in the darkness.

Silver was adopted by Lilia as an infant. He seems to be very close with his adoptive father and highly respects him (though that doesn’t exempt Silver from getting annoyed with Lilia every now and again), as he mentions in various lines and vignettes that he cherishes his “dear father”, as well as the name that his “dear father” granted him.

Lilia brings Silver lots of souvenirs from his travels. Many of those souvenirs are books.

We learn in episode 7 that Silver is eternally indebted to Lilia; he absolutely wants to be by Lilia’s side until his dying breath and seems to be upset that he, as a human, cannot rival the lifespan or strength of a fae to endure alongside his father.

Silver made an acorn amulet (a symbol of good health and happiness) for Lilia, which Silver has since forgotten about. However, Lilia calls it his most precious treasure.

He’s friends with lots of animals!!

Sebek’s family would look after Silver when Lilia left for extended periods of time. Because of this and Sebek being of a similar age to him, Silver would often play with Sebek in their childhoods.

Sebek

Sebek’s father is a magicless human and a dentist. Sebek regards him as weak and someone who is difficult to understand, as Papa Zigvolt often dotes on his children, offers them candy, and acts impressed when he witnesses them use magic. Though Sebek seems to talk down to his father, he does also have a fondness for him that he won’t admit to (as, when asked who he would pick to be stranded on an island with, Sebek chooses Trey over everyone else. The reason Sebek provides is that Trey reminds him of his father, but he becomes embarrassed when his interviewer comments that he must really love his dad).

Mrs. Zigvolt is much older than Mr. Zigvolt, but she also looks much younger than he does.

Sebek describes his relationship with his dad as "not being bad", but that his dad smiles all the time and that irritates him. Additionally, Sebek is frustrated whenever he has to ask anything of his father.

Sebek’s mother is a powerful Nocturnal Fae and sports a strong bite (which is a trait of their bloodline). She appears to be very headstrong, as she married a magicless human despite significant social pressure against it. Sebek looks up to her and admires her, particularly for her prowess in magic, but does not understand what he sees in her husband.

Sebek's mom met his dad when she went in for a dental appointment at his clinic. She currently works as his dental assistant.

He has a grandpa (presumably on his mother’s side) who is a retired Captain of the Royal Guard. Grandpa Zigvolt (named Baal/Baul/Bal) immigrated to the Briar Valley from the Sunset Savanna. Despite being fae himself and having a disdain for humans in the past, he accepts Sebek (and presumably the other humans or half humans in his family) as they are.

Sebek seems to really like him, as he tells tales of spending time at his grandpa’s lakeside home fishing. (Baul lives next to his daughter and grandchildren.) Apparently, he doesn't approve of it when he sees Sebek eating sweets. Baal bought Sebek lots of books and fostered his love for reading

Sebek's grandfather is said to tell a lot of stories himself. Lilia describes him as "telling the same old stories" for many centuries. It also seems that Sebek has adopted his grandfather's narrow-minded attitude and manner of speaking.

Baul is also described as being stern, but seems very loving. He was proud of Sebek when told about his grandson's success in school and was happy when the Zigvolt siblings made him salmon carpaccio.

Baul initially thinks of Sebek as weak, so he asks Lilia to train him. Still, Baul thinks its important for his grandson to get a good education.

Sebek has an older brother and sister, but not much is known about them. He mentions that they took him to a contest where they use magic to try and match the color of a dress provided. All the Zigvolt siblings were impressed by the competition.

Sebek would often go to the park with his parents and siblings.

Sebek’s older brother also graduated from NRC.

Dire Crowley

No known family members.

Divus Crewel

No known family members.

Mozus Trein

Trein’s wife is deceased. However, they had a very loving relationship and he misses her. dearly. They went on dates in Fleur City/the City of Flowers, which he is embarrassed to talk about to his students.

He has two adult daughters who are all grown up and moved out of the house. They often worry about his health and ask Trein to call them if he ever needs any help.

Lucius is his familiar, but Trein also dotes on him as though Lucius is a beloved pet. He talks about his familiar very lovingly and gets into arguments with Crewel about whether cats and dogs are better.

Sam

No known family members.

Ashton Vargas

No known family members.

Grim

No known family members.

Grim does not remember anything about his past or where he comes from.

It can be said that he likely considers Yuu, Adeuce, and the Ramshackle Ghosts to be his family.

When he finds himself alone in book 6, Grim cries. He also becomes sad upon realizing that Yuu won’t be with him anymore once they return to their world.

Che’nya

He mentions his grandfather on a few occasions. According to Che’nya, his grandfather is a wise but carefree guy who loves to eat and play pranks.

Neige LeBlanche

He lives with the Seven Dwarves and helps them with housework when he’s not rehearsing. They seem to be good friends and help to support one another, both in performances and in life in general.

It’s not outright stated that he is an orphan, but the game says that Neige and his friends lived “without adults”.

He doesn’t share his personal history with the press and donates most his his pay to charities that specifically help “aid underprivileged children with their futures”.

Rollo Flamme

He had an unnamed little brother; this little brother acquired magic before Rollo did and loved to show magic tricks because it made Rollo smile. A fire spell went out of control and killed the younger Flamme in that blaze. It is implied that Rollo’s UM spawned from this incident.

Rollo’s disdain of magic originated from the loss of his brother.

He is still heavily conflicted about the event, trying to pass the blame onto the world and using that as motivation to rid Twisted Wonderland of magic.

Rollo’s parents are alive and well. They have worried a lot about Rollo ever since his little brother died. They write to him at NBC to check up on him, and Rollo responds to their letters, reassuring them that he is fine.

Fellow Honest & Gidel

No known family members.

Fellow and Gidel are not relates by blood, but Fellow seems to look after and take care of Gidel as though they were brothers.

Fellow is protective of Gidel and warns him to not listen to the NRC students when they ask Gidel if he is interested in getting an education. He wants to prevent his “little bro’s” hopes and dreams from getting crushed like his were.

Gidel follows Fellow’s orders with very little hesitation. There is a degree of trust between them.

622 notes · View notes

taraljc · 27 days

Text

Somehow despite having watched The Gentlemen all the way through and enjoying it tremendously and thinking about it non-stop for 2 days it only occurred to me just now that the whole reason Eddie is made Duke instead of Freddy is almost certainly because the Duke and Duchess knew that Eddie would be able to handle Susie. And I do kind of love how the whole family embraces their new enterprise in positive ways that will probably lengthen Freddy's life by several decades because instead of doing so many lines of coke his heart is going to explode, he is now smoking every new strain of ganja that Jimmy comes up with.

I really genuinely wanted Freddy to die a horrible death in the first episode, and then by the end of it I was like ok Fredward, you can stay.

Speaking of ridiculous posh people, the three posh siblings calling each other increasingly bizarre pet names is so hilarious in part because Jack and Susan are such normal non-gangster names. And all the way through the way that Susie alternates calling people by their chosen diminutive versus full name when she's cross (she is the one to call Jimmy 'James' that one time she found out that he was in fact telling his new girlfriend where her super secret apartment was).

Anyway I have been thinking about a wish list of what I would like to see if The Gentleman gets another series and I think mostly it is this:

Terence Stamp.

Geoff taking over training Jack and him and Charly getting on like a house on, which would result in the use of 'my sister and your brother' in two very different contexts.

Freddy takes over Henry Collins' club, and ends up in a very stable threesome with Tamsin and Gabrielle's cheeky bestie.

Johnston tells Bobby Glass where the money Keith nicked is stashed, and that becomes a whole big thing.

Every time we see Susie at home, it's a different home. she has given up her penthouse and is moving from place to place after the whole mess with Henry Collins.

More JP, and especially his cousin riding that horse possibly permanently seeing as how we saw JP on one of those gigantic draft horses so clearly they have the means and the knowledge to keep it.

Sabrina and Geoff come clean to the boys about Charly and possibly Geoff moving into the manor, or Sabrina moving into the cottage which would involve a lot of hilarity given his menagerie.

at least one episode about the network of servants who actually know everything about everything because rich people treat their staff like furniture and sales sorts of things in front of them and there's no way Lawrence doesn't know absolutely everything that's going on at all times.

The return of the Gospel, whom Bobby Glass paid off with £8 mil and the promise of a segment of his business in exchange for never touching a hair on Edward or Fredward's heads.

Collins' accountant Thick Rick moving in with Tibsy at the newly renovated and gangster-free Faringbourne, and quietly and efficiently reorganising the entire back end of the operation so that the money laundering is all done in house rather than via preferred vendors who go insane on social media now and then.

One of Eddie's exes who is entirely less flexible (morally speaking) than the princess is now at the head of the Europol task force currently investigating Susie Glass' weed operation.

We find out why Blanket is named Blanket

#the gentlemen #all the headcanons ever

9 notes · View notes

fox-moblin · 7 months

Text

Announcement

Because I changed it so that only registered users can view my works on Ao3 (due to AI scraping), I've decided to upload chapters of ATWEA to Tumblr as well for people w/o Ao3 accounts.

Chapters will be uploaded a day after their upload to Ao3 (other than the first three, which are already uploaded to Ao3 and will be uploaded today instead.) I'll have links to each chapter in my pinned post on my blog.

...So, anyways, here's Chapter 1. Rest of chapter under cut.

Comments and reblogs appreciated as always :V

***

And The World Ends Again

A Linked Universe AU set in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max-inspired world.

Chapter 1

Next Chapter, Read on Ao3

The day their mother dies, Time finds Twilight down by the old river bed, hiding beneath the fallen tree that’s been dead too long to remember what it once was.

He’s curled up in the shadow of its corpse, all gangly limbs and stifled sobs, clutching their mother’s handkerchief to his chest; when Time peaks around the mess of dry branches and meets his eyes, his younger brother buries his face into the worn yellow fabric and cries even harder.

The funeral procession is still going, carrying their mother’s body from their shabby little house to the top of the hill where she used to sit and sing, waiting on a husband that wouldn’t return and hoping for a day when the rain would come and stick around for more than just a few days a year. Except nobody’s singing now; Time thinks it’s a shame, because Mama always said that she’d want lots of singing at her funeral - singing and dancing and celebrating, because she’d finally be moving on from this dead world and onto the next, where there would be clean water and green grasses and nobody looking to raid their meager little village for all it was worth.

But the people of the village don’t sing when they carry her up the hill - there isn’t even all that much crying. Instead, their footsteps fall heavy on the dusty earth, a steady beat that doesn’t seem to match the racing of Time’s heart, and the village leader’s voice is the only other sound that cuts through the dry air, droning on about how this world takes everything from the living, so it’s good practice to cling to whatever you can.

Time crawls beneath the dead branches of the dead tree and curls around his little brother, closing his eyes against the feeling of tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt and straining to hear the fading footsteps of the funeral march. Nobody’ll come looking for them; not after they saw Twilight tear off under the midday sun, hollering like a mad dog and cursing the spoiled land beneath them.

Time can’t blame them; people have enough problems to worry about without two motherless boys weighing on their resources.

Still, it’ll be a hard few months; maybe not physically, because, as much as Time loathes to admit it, now there’s one less person taking up whatever meager funds he manages to collect working in the mines. Less people means more food to split between them, more blankets to share during the cold nights, more water to pass over cracked lips and dry tongues.

It’ll be hard, though, because their mother was just about the only good thing about this place and Time has a hard time imagining he can offer even half of the hope she managed to provide.

In his arms, Twilight has begun to quiet, heaving sobs turned to little hiccups and soft sniffles. Time presses a kiss to his hair, tasting the salt of his own tears, and attempts to remember the songs their mother used to sing when the dust storms blew in from the surrounding wastelands. His mind comes up empty, though, so instead he just hums nonsense tunes and rocks his little brother in the shade of the dead tree, staring out across the dried up river bed and trying to imagine the water that used to dwell in its cradle.

The world had already ended long before he was born, but Time can’t help but think that, today, it’s been destroyed all over again.

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

3,613 days after their mother dies (because that’s how Twilight has kept track of time since the worst day of his life), the second worst day of his life hits him like a wagon.

Literally.

There’s a shout behind him, the scream of a horse gone haywire, and then he’s lying on the ground, bleeding dark red all over the pale soil. He thinks he can hear someone calling for help - calling for Time, because his big brother’s still working down in the underground, where there’s barely any light and he comes home smelling like salt and shadows.

There’s hands on his chest and his face and his head, lifting and pulling at him until he cries out from the pain, and then the world tilts as he heaved onto someone’s back, his arms dangling limply; he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing back the bile that rises in his throat as he’s jostled, and tries to keep breathing - it’s getting hard, because his chest feels like someone’s pressing their whole weight down on him and every movement of the body beneath him makes his rib bones creak and groan.

Someone’s talking to him, telling him to stay awake. Twilight thinks they need to be quiet.

And then suddenly he’s lying on something soft. There’s still yelling all around him, a chorus of meaningless panic, but it’s muffled now, as if all the sound in the world has been smothered by a big blanket. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he can feel the darkness trying to creep in again. He tilts towards its welcoming numbness with a weak sigh.

“-light? Baby, open your eyes for me…”

A woman’s voice, warm and familiar, cuts through the din. Twilight lets out a low moan as something is pressed against his side, sending spikes of pain shooting through his abdomen and down his legs. He jolts, trying to get away, but soft hands hold him down with surprising strength.

“Baby, you gotta hold still for me, now… that’s it, that’s it. Now open your eyes, Twilight.”

“M’ma…” He murmurs, turning his face into the palm that cups his cheek. There’s a stuttered breath somewhere above him, before the voice comes again.

“No, baby. Open your eyes for me now, c’mon.”

The pressure in his side increases and he opens his mouth in a silent cry, jerking away from the pain as best he can. His eyes fly open of their own accord, unfocused, and through the haze of tears and what might be the beginnings of a fever, a face swims into view above him; red hair halos soft green eyes and Twilight feels a mixed rush of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“...M…lon…?”

The face breaks into a worried grin.

“Hi baby. You’re gonna be okay, okay? You just gotta keep breathin’ for me, yeah?”

“Hurts…”

“I know, baby,” Malon murmurs and swipes her thumb across his cheek. “Time’s gonna be here soon. They already sent someone to go get him.”

“Nnn…” Twilight tries to shake his head. “...e’s w’rkin’...”

“Honey, you’re more important.”

Twilight tries to object - they need supplies, dammit, and goddess knows he ain’t gonna be able to work for a while after this - but his brother’s wife just shushes him gently and presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she tells him and Twilight closes his eyes with a groan.

No, it’s not , he wants to say, but his chest is starting to hurt so bad his breath isn’t coming as easily and he can hear Malon starting to panic above him, calling his name and shaking him. Somewhere nearby, a door slams open and there’s more yelling, before two large hands are on either side of his face, palms worn and warm as they tilt his head up.

“Twilight! Twilight, you open your eyes right now !”

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t , but he knows that it’s Time holding him now, body blocking out the lantern light and bringing with him the smell of the underground. His face must be a picture, Twilight thinks, now covered in the soot of his brother’s hands, mixing with all his blood and sweat.

“Pup, you gotta open your eyes for me, y’hear - you gotta breathe- ”

It’s getting real dark now - darker than before, even though his eyes have been closed for a while. The kind of dark that comes when you’re on the verge of falling asleep. The kind of dark that only happens in the middle of a starless night, when the clouds are so heavy they block out all the light and leave only an endless void.

“-ake up-!”

Twilight thinks he might be drifting towards that void as more voices join in.

“...pressure buildin’... -is lungs…”

“...be able to breathe…”

“...we… to release it… gonna hurt…”

That’s the last thing he hears before something sharp is jabbed into his side, in between his ribs and into whatever soft stuff lies beneath, and his breath comes back to him in a rush of painful air; Twilight writhes, a howl bursting from the back of his throat as his chest finally finally expands the way it’s supposed to.

There’s more words, Time and Malon’s voices mixing together with someone else’s - the village healer, maybe - and then Twilight, for all that he can now breathe without feeling like their whole house is sitting on his chest, thinks that he’s still hurting pretty bad and his head feels like it’s stuffed with cloth and he doesn’t really want to be awake anymore.

So, when the voices start to fade and that darkness comes back, creeping in from the boundaries of his mind like the shadows that dance at the edge of firelight, Twilight takes one last big breath in and lets the pain wash over him. Time calls his name again, frantic, but he’s too far gone to even care.

The darkness beckons and Twilight goes willingly.

When he finally wakes, some hours later if the fading light from the window is anything to go by, he’s lying in his own bed and covered in the blanket their mother made when he was just a baby; it’s near threadbare at this point, but neither he nor Time had ever had the heart to get rid of it.

Time, who is currently sat at his bedside and bent at the waist, his head buried in Twilight’s stomach and face turned to reveal soot stains on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s asleep, brow forever furrowed by the weight of the world, and he grimaces when Twilight lifts a shaky hand to brush away the messy bangs that Time refuses to let Malon clip.

It’s a testament to the chaos of the day that Time doesn’t wake.

Instead, Malon eventually enters the room, another blanket in her arms and her hair done up in a messy bun; she lays the blanket across Time’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as she does.

Twilight watches the moment with lidded eyes, feeling like an intruder in his own sickbed, until Malon looks up and meets his tired gaze with her own; surprise overtakes her features when she sees he’s awake, before she gathers herself and places a gentle hand on his chest - her other palm she presses to his cheek, pursing her lips as she does.

“Hi baby,” she murmurs and Twilight feels his cheeks color, though he’s not sure if it’s from the endearment or the fever. He mouths ‘hi’ back, wincing when a jab of pain lances through his chest. Time’s head rocks with the movement, but his brother only mumbles something in his sleep before burrowing deeper into the blanket over Twilight’s body. Twilight lets his lip twitch upwards at the feeling.

Malon is watching them with a fond smile, though it’s tinged with worry. After a moment, she reaches for a bowl of water sat on a nearby table and brings it slowly to Twilight’s lips, tilting his head with her free hand and helping him to take careful sips.

The water is lukewarm from the heat of the day, metallic and bitter, but it feels like an oasis in the desert of his mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispers when she steps away and she gives him a look of such kindness that he can’t help but thank the goddess that Time finally got his shit together a few years back and actually asked for her hand.

She’d brought back a little bit of the light the two of them had been missing for a long while and Twilight doesn’t think either of them would have survived much longer without her in their lives.

He thinks today is probably a pretty good example of that.

It’s as Twilight is pondering the wonders of Malon and all her ‘magic,’ that his brother finally wakes - it is, unfortunately, not at all graceful. Time jerks in his sleep, sending a jab of pain through Twilight’s chest that travels down the length of his limbs and leaves him biting out a low whine. Malon is quick to pull her husband away, supporting him as he jolts awake with a yelp.

Were Twilight in any other situation, he might’ve laughed at the look of confusion on Time’s face. Instead, he’s too busy riding out the wave of agony that’s decided to take up residence in his body. He can vaguely feel Time’s hands on his shoulders, grounding him as he grips the blanket hard enough that his knuckles begin to turn white. By the time he’s able to regain control, he’s soaked in sweat and his chest is heaving - it aches something fierce, but at least it’s more manageable than the red hot burn that’s now slowly receding.

When the world finally comes back into focus, Time is staring at him with a look of horror, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pup,” he stammers, hands hovering uselessly over Twilight’s body. “Oh goddess, okay, okay, uh…”

He looks to Malon for help, but she’s too focused on dabbing Twilight’s forehead with an old rag to notice.

Twilight reaches an uncoordinated hand in Time’s direction; it ends up falling limply back onto the bed, but it’s enough to grab his brother’s attention. Time takes it in his own, holding it to his chest as he sits back down beside Twilight’s bed.

“S’fine,” Twilight mumbles. Above him, Malon rolls her eyes, but she steps back, allowing Time to lean in closer and press a shaky hand to Twilight’s forehead.

She looks at Twilight over Time’s shoulder, arching her eyebrow in a way that Twilight has yet to master for himself, and mouths the words ‘I’ll be back soon,’ before gathering up her rag and the water bowl and leaving the room.

In the quiet of her absence, Twilight closes his eyes and tries to center himself; Time is running his fingers through Twilight’s sweat-soaked hair, murmuring soft apologies. Outside, the wind is rustling the dry branches of whatever weeds manage to stake a claim in the dry soil.

“M’sorry,” he finally says, looking at Time. His brother shakes his head, moving his hand to cradle Twilight’s head and hold it steady as he brings them forehead to forehead.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he murmurs. Twilight sighs and does his best to press back. Time huffs out a quiet laugh, pulling away just enough to meet Twilight’s gaze. “Accidents happen, Pup.”

“Y’should be w’rkin’...”

“An’ you should be restin’, but here you are sayin’ things like ‘sorry,’ instead.”

Twilight does his best to roll his eyes, but it only makes the world spin, so he settles for looking up at the ceiling instead. It’s been patched over so many times it’s beginning to look like the quilt Malon brought with her when she first came to live with them.

“Papa traded our last cow for it,” she’d explained to Twilight once, holding it up to show him each of the patches - scraps of all different fabrics, from handkerchiefs to blankets to old shirts. “Got it off a scavenger from somewhere West of here.”

“Why’d he trade your cow for it?” Twilight had asked, still too young to catch the way Malon’s eyes had grown sad at the memory.

“He was a bit senile, by the end,” she’d finally said, and that had been the last they’d spoken about it.

“You still with me, Pup?”

Time’s voice draws him away from the memory, concern poorly concealed by a veil of calm. Twilight nods and takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his chest smarts at the action. Time gives him a sympathetic look, placing a hand on his sternum; Twilight smiles weakly.

Time rewards him with a smile of his own, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before sitting back with a sigh and looking out the window to where the sun is beginning to set. Twilight watches him for a moment, before shifting in bed in an attempt to get comfortable.

“Y’should… rest,” he says once he manages to get somewhat settled. “Gotta… be ready for work t’morrow…”

Time doesn’t look at him.

“I ain’t goin’ to the mines tomorrow.”

“Time,” Twilight says and tries to lift himself on shaking arms. Time pushes him back with a gentle sound of admonishment; Twilight goes willingly, but he fixes his brother with a glare nonetheless. “Y’need to go… I’ll be fine…”

“I said I ain’t goin’ to the mines tomorrow,” Time repeats and then looks away towards the door. “I ain’t goin’ at all… anymore.”

It takes a moment for Twilight to understand what his brother is saying, but once it sinks in, it’s only the pain and exhaustion that keeps him from leaping out of bed and shaking Time by the shoulders.

“...y’lost it… l’st the job…”

“More like I shoved it right back up the Overseer’s ass,” Time says out the side of his mouth, but Twilight is too preoccupied with the consequences his brother’s actions admire his sass.

“Nnoo, no nnoo,” he moans and throws an arm over his face; the movement pulls at the wound in his side, but he pays it little mind. “Why-”

“He wanted me to stay.” Time cuts him off sharply. “Wanted me to stick around an’ keep diggin’ while you were here, bleedin’ out.” He crosses his arms with a huff.

Twilight curls his lips in a snarl.

“Y’shoulda stayed…”

“Like Hell,” Time hisses. “You were dyin’-”

“Wasn’t dyin’,” Twilight bites out and then startles when Time stands so abruptly that his chair tips over and falls to the ground with a thud. Twilight stares up to where his brother is looking down at him with an anger that Twilight hasn’t seen in nearly a decade.

“You,” Time nearly spits. “Weren’t breathin’ when I finally made my way here. You were paler than a ghost and lyin’ so still I thought… I thought…” His voice breaks and he turns away suddenly, bringing a trembling hand to his mouth. Twilight watches, shocked.

Finally, Time seems to collect himself enough to speak again.

“I thought I was too late… you weren’t movin’ and Malon couldn’t get you to wake up and I… I thought I’d lost you…”

He doesn’t look at Twilight as he all but collapses onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he curls over himself.

“I cannot lose you,” Time whispers and finally looks at Twilight through the gaps in his fingers.

Twilight doesn’t speak - doesn’t know what to even say . He lays there, staring at Time and unable to come up with a proper response. Time just looks at him, tired eyes boring holes into Twilight’s very being.

The silence is broken by the bedroom door creaking open and both of them turn to see Malon peeking her head into the room.

“Just… checkin’ in…” she says, eyeing the fallen chair. Neither Time nor Twilight offer her a response and, after a moment, she hesitantly nods and then leaves, closing the door behind her.

This seems to break Time out of whatever stupor he’d been caught in, because he finally takes pity on Twilight and stands, knees cracking as he does. He’s looking at Twilight again, but all the anger is gone, replaced by a deep weariness that seems to pervade his entire being. He leans over to place a hand on Twilight’s head, leaving it there for a moment, before stepping away.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out,” he says as he picks the chair up off the floor, righting it with a grunt. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout it.”

“I worry,” Twilight responds quietly. He’s so tired.

Time graces him with a small smile.

“That’s my job,” he says. He makes his way to the door, before turning back one more time. “Rest, Pup. It’ll be okay.”

Then he’s blowing out the lantern as he leaves, casting Twilight into darkness once more.

Except this time, Twilight doesn’t fall into its embrace. Instead, he lays awake for a long while, exhausted beyond compare but unable to sleep; his mind races, trying to piece together some sort of survival plan. Without the rations from Time’s work in the mines, all they’ll be going off is whatever Malon is able to trade with passing scavengers. Despite her best efforts, the crops she manages to produce in her garden are small; the soil in this place was tainted long ago and, though Malon might have enough talent to pull some sort of goodness from the land here and her cuccos can provide some eggs (and meat, if things get truly desperate), it just isn’t enough for the three of them to get by.

Especially now that Twilight definitely won’t be out making trade runs or hauling supplies anytime soon.

He groans, pressing his palms into his eyes until they begin to hurt.

Goddess be damned , he thinks sullenly.

Sleep does not come easy.

Time leaves early the next morning; Twilight listens to him rush out the front door and down the dusty road towards the village, not even stopping to wish his old mare, Epona, a proper goodbye from where she watches at her post.

For a few hours, Twilight contents himself with believing that Time has come to his senses and is going to go and beg to work in the mines once more. The Overseer might be an ass at the best of the times, but Twilight has to believe that the man has some sort of kindness tucked away.

His hopes are dashed, though, when Time returns before midday, a small bag in hand.

“Bounty work,” he explains when he finally shows Twilight the handful of rations he’d received that morning. “This here’s the down payment. I go, finish the job, and I get triple what they’ve given me here when I return.”

Twilight objects at first, and so does Malon, but, to Twilight’s surprise and horror, she’s quick to give in. She frowns as Time explains his plan to return after each bounty, get his promised payment, and then head out again after some time at home, but finally nods.

“I still don’t like it,” she admits, biting her lip. “I don’t like the thought of you out there alone, huntin’ after dangerous people.”

“It ain’t all dangerous people,” Time says, taking her hands in his. “Love, one bounty alone’ll be worth more than what we could trade for in two months… you and Twilight’ll have more than enough to get by while I’m gone, and whatever is left over you can trade for… for anything you need! Anything you want!”

“Time,” Twilight calls from the bed, but the look in his brother’s eyes when Time turns to him kills whatever argument he’s got building.

“Pup, I promise I’ll be fine! I’ll be safe… and you two will be okay without me for a little while.”

I can’t lose you , Twilight wants to scream. Wants to throw his brother’s words right back in his face. But Time is looking at him with so much hope, so much determination, that Twilight simply closes his eyes and sighs, relenting.

“You better come back,” he says instead and nearly cries when Time nods with a small smile.

“Of course.”

“And you better come back in one piece,” Malon adds on. Time laughs, deep and rich, and Twilight tries to memorize the shape of the sound; the way his brother’s voice fills up the tiny bedroom and makes the whole house feel warm.

He clings to that memory the way he clings to Time the next day, digging his fingers into his brother’s tunic and burying his face into Time’s neck.

“Please,” he begs and feels Time press a kiss into his hair. “Please, come back.”

“I promise, Pup,” Time says and then he steps back, helping Twilight to lay back down into bed. “As long as you promise me that you’ll actually rest while I’m gone.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to come back,” Twilight responds and hates that way Time’s smile falls just a little. He’s dressed for travel, a bag slung across his shoulders and a hood fitted at his neck for when the wasteland sun becomes too much. He looks like one of the heroes from the stories their mother used to tell them; like one of the travelers from far away that appeared suddenly from the swirling sands, only to disappear like some sort of spirit or mirage.

Twilight desperately prays that Time won’t just disappear.

“I’ll come back,” Time reassures him again, his smile turned to something softer. And then he’s leaving - he says his goodbyes to Malon outside, their words too quiet for Twilight to make out, before he’s truly gone, his form fading slowly as he walks further and further off into the distance towards the village and whatever lies beyond.

Twilight watches him go from his bedroom window, staring out at the horizon long after he can no longer see his brother and long after the sun has climbed high into the sky. Malon comes and sits with him eventually, though she doesn’t speak.

The two share the silence together, waiting for something that definitely won’t come within the next few hours, before finally Malon leaves to finish her work for the day and Twilight lies back down and tries to keep his promise to Time.

That’s how the next year plays out; Time comes and goes, always returning with his promised rewards - sometimes it’s rations, sometimes it’s supplies - and a handful of new stories and scars, before heading off again on the next job. Twilight recovers, slowly but surely, and eventually he’s back to working where he can, picking up random jobs here and there and helping with trade runs when scavengers set up camp in the valley a few miles beyond the village. Malon gives him herbs and vegetables and eggs to trade for water and cloth and feed for Epona. When Time returns, they use his payments to trade for things like leather and dried meat.

That’s how it goes, for one year, until one day it all stops. One day, Twilight and Malon wait and wait and wait, and then the day turns into two. And then three. And then five and ten and twenty.

Twilight spends his evenings sitting on the sturdier parts of the roof of their house, eyes trained on the horizon, while Malon sets a third place at the table in their tiny kitchen. Still the days drag on.

One day, 34 days after Time last left, Malon finally trades the last of his rations for a jug of gray water.

182 days after Time last left, Twilight finds her sitting in her garden, tears carving tracks through the dust on her cheeks as she digs through the dry soil. She’s singing to herself.

370 days after Time last left, Twilight finally loses hope.

He finishes feeding the cuccos that morning and then goes out to the field, only to find Epona lying on her side, stiff and cold despite the heat of the day. The sound that tears itself from his throat reminds him distantly of the howling creatures he sometimes hears at night.

The world ends for a third time.

Twilight falls to his knees beside her, throwing himself over her body and cursing the goddess the way he used to when he was much younger. He feels like a child, helpless and lost, except this time, there’s no older brother to wrap him up and save him.

In the field here, he is alone with a dead horse.

It’s how Malon finds him hours later, only by then his sobs have subsided and he’s simply sitting beside what’s left of Time’s beloved steed, running his hands over her still flank and trying to commit the exact color of her mane to memory.

“She was all we had left of him,” he says when Malon sits beside him, a hand on his shoulder. They sit in silence for a long while.

“I still have you,” Malon finally whispers and Twilight feels his heart break just a little more.

Eventually they manage to bury Epona; they don’t drag her up to the hill where Twilight’s mother is buried, though he wants to. Instead, they lay her to rest a little ways away from the house, in the cradle of the dry riverbed, where Time used to ride her up and down its winding length. Twilight marks the spot with a large stone, doing his damndest to pound it into the ground as far as it can go, lest a dust storm come to tear it away.

He stays there, long after Malon leaves to go back to the house, staring at the stone and the mound of freshly moved dirt it sits upon.

There’s something building in his chest; it isn’t more tears - he thinks he’s spent all that he has of those - but some sort of terrible, wonderful feeling that reminds him of when that wagon first collided with him and crushed one of his ribs so horribly that it turned itself against him and pierced right through the thing it was meant to protect.

It reminds him of the hope that he saw in Time’s eyes over a year ago; of the determination that sent his brother off beyond the boundary of everything they had ever known.

It isn’t either of those things; Twilight thinks it must be some sort of desperation, strong and wild enough to burn brighter than any hope or determination that could ever exist.

It makes him dream of something so monumentally impossible that he forgets, for a moment, that the world has ended three times now.

He stands there, staring at the stone, until the sun sets.

When he finally returns to the house, Malon is sat alone at the table, her hands folded in front of her. She looks lost in thought and Twilight makes to simply pass her by and go to his room, but her voice stops him in his tracks.

“You ain’t goin’ to go lookin’ for him.”

Twilight doesn’t look at her, still staring at the door to his bedroom. Malon doesn’t seem to care. He can hear her stand from the table, slow and deliberate.

“Didja hear me?”

Something in her voice sends a shiver racing all the way down his spine and he finally turns, eyes trained on the ground.

“...yes.”

There’s footsteps and then a hand comes and tilts his chin up, so that he’s forced to meet Malon’s gaze.

“He’s dead, Twilight,” she says and there’s so much venom in the words that Twilight flinches. “He’s dead. I’ve lost him. I ain’t about to lose you, too.”

“Malon-”

“No!” This time, the force of her words has him stepping back, eyes wide. Malon’s face is hard as stone and she turns on her heel to make her way over the table, planting both her hands on its wooden surface. “No, Twilight. Just. No.”

She doesn’t turn back around and Twilight, still reeling, takes his leave, retreating to his room and collapsing into his bed, burying himself under his mother’s old blanket. It smells of dust and dirt and the many years it’s lived through; Twilight draws its tattered form around himself and tries to imagine his mother’s arms instead.

But it’s been a long time since she left this world and the last person to hold him so tightly was Time.

Somewhere outside, in the far off distance, something is baying and wailing into the night, its call echoing out over the barren wasteland and slipping through the window of Twilight’s room.

He thinks it sounds eternally desperate.

Beneath the tattered remains of his mother’s handiwork, wrapped in the ghost of a promise, Twilight makes up his mind.

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

Hark, hear the call Of the desperate creature The wailing and the howling Of the wonderful teacher Demonstrator of killing Of baying and bounding Whose beauty and grace Is not what’s astounding But instead it’s the writhing Of its prey in its claws And the gift it provides By snapping its jaws Down upon throats Of contemptuous beasts Who scour all the lands And use them as feasts Stripping all they could offer And devouring them whole But the desperate creature Returns what they stole Eating the bodies Of the greedy and proud And ridding the land Of their terrible cloud. - 'Desperate Creature' by Lem, Wasteland Traveler

23 notes · View notes