#// genuinely trying to write short event replies and yet

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

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TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

           [17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.            [17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?            [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.            [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒            [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait            [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧            [18:03] You: was on a date            [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon            [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that            [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there            [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not            [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later            [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official             [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…            [18:10] You: considering… ya know            [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨            [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is            [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌            [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’???             [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this            [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp            [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000            [18:25] You: WOW            [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????            [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌            [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol             [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?            [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird            [18:57] You: but yes            [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why            [18:58] Mimi: 🤨            [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes            [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

            [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out             [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but            [18:58] Joonie: I told you so            [18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰            [18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁            [18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

[twistedisciple]

“Huh…” That had to be a joke. A fell dragon with that kind of sweet tooth? Griss’ eyes glimpsed the plate again, and how it looked nearly ready to give up beneath the mountain of dense, sugary confections. This couldn’t be anything but a joke. Then came the final nail to drive it home.

“Wait, what?” Startled by the order - neither the suddenness nor the order itself, but the content of it - Griss looked back at Rafal with wide-eyed confusion. “You can’t be serious.”

But the gleam of pride in ruby eyes said oh, I am completely serious, and stuck him between his loyalty and, for once, an inexperience he didn’t realize existed in the first place. He had been told all his life that fell dragons preferred offerings of spice, and had followed all the traditions accordingly. Then Rafal just flipped them over and shook them all out.

“OK, so you’re serious. Not exactly the kind of command I had in mind…” But he wasn’t going to say no. If he got it wrong, then maybe he’d get to feel the dragon’s flames. Or maybe Rafal would pick something more party-appropriate and throw him onto the table instead, breaking all that glass and ceramic under his back. Just the thought of it was enough to change Griss’ tune from reluctance to renewed enthusiasm.

“But it’s as good as done. Wait here.”

The table Rafal had directed him to had a fine spread, but Griss couldn’t tell the cakes from the fancy cheeses, much less the savory finger foods from the actual confections. So he picked one of each, as much as he could pile up, which wasn’t nearly as much as Rafal’s first plate. Griss didn’t have the same meticulousness or care when it came to space efficiency, but he did manage to grab at least eight sizable portions: Cubes of hardened icing, a figure cast in something that looked like chocolate, fruit tarts (those were easy to recognize), some sort of white, gooey bun, a miniature glass striped on the inside with a kind of colorful jelly, an amorphous red thing (it just looked fun), those little cubes on a stick he’d tried earlier that night, and a bowl of something he thought was a pudding, except it was dense and kind of lumpy. He carried back the whole selection and set it in front of Rafal.

“For each one you don't like, pluck off my fingernails, one by one,” Griss offered with ill-concealed excitement, already holding out a steel-laden hand. “Or bash one of those bottles over my head. I’m not picky.”

"There you are!" Spying the head of fine white hair, Griss calls over three other students milling around the refreshments, then pushes past them, eliciting a couple of startled grunts but little else. One glimpse of the metal that studs his rough-hewn jacket is enough to discourage them from making an issue out his etiquette, and Griss hardly notices them anyway, eyes fixed instead on the fell dragon that had accepted his loyalty in a world absent of both of his gods.

"You're harder to find than I thought in a place like this. Almost had me think you'd escaped the spell." He glances toward the table and its rows of decadent cakes, pies, and other pastries, and makes a face. He'd had enough hapless stumbling across sweets tonight to last him a lifetime. Rafal's plate tells another story though and Griss raises a brow as two pieces suddenly click together. If he'd been hovering around this table the whole time, then of course Griss wouldn't have seen him right away.

"Can't imagine the kid with enough guts to make a fell dragon serve their sweet tooth like this. Unless--" He makes eye contact with Rafal and the truth drops over him like a cold bucket of water. You have a sweet tooth.

[ // was actually going to be a prompt from the list but wound up being setup instead hahaha ]

He'd come to know the sound of that voice even with the few meetings that spanned their acquaintance in number. The Hound's approach was noted with a nod as he drew near, with a name made interchangeable with greeting, acknowledgement, and even some growing degree of welcome.

"Griss."

The other man's belated arrival meant that the passion of Rafal's foraging from moments prior was little suggested by his presently cool tone. A lightning fast scamper, knocking into elbows and fellow patrons in his timely gamble to seize the most choice desserts. Though, the two made for a humorous contrast to those aware of his. . .preferences. A porcelain plate packed with explosions of sweetness from rim to rim, center to edge, told that story quite handily, but to Rafal it was no guilty secret which words evaded.

Red meeting with red, he finished for the thought with a prideful smile. "You may state the obvious, or I shall do it plainly for you; I am fond of confections. Their comforts reign supreme for they are among the few things in this world that make life worth living."

Those who adjudged him dramatic for his claim would hold a false opinion. Rafal bespoke only his truth, and he dared to call it even a cardinal truth of this world! No flavor and no food was greater than that which was sweet, the highest call of luxury that lulled the taste-buds to heavenly bliss. Should this fell dragon abstain from sleep and drink in his journey of redemption he would never extend that lunacy to his cherished desserts. He would sooner perish.

"Now make yourself useful, Hound. If you are my faithful servant, then let this be my first order of command—" Little contested, there were at least some dramatics involved in the jab of his finger, bringing attention anew to the table behind Griss.

"Absolve me of judgment. Retrieve for me a second plate."

[snowcoffeee]

Thank you for the tag @rhodophoria!! :D This was fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just one (but there will be more soon ;))

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

127,025! I think Ashen Wishes is the longest story I've ever written (and it's still going, holy-)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Undertale. In fact, I haven't written for anything else in years ^^' I need to have a lot of passion for a fandom to get myself to write. Unless the characters live 24/7 in my mind rent-free, no ideas will pop up.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Yes.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yeah, I love to! I really appreciate when someone takes their time to leave a nice message :] I always try to reply as soon as possible, or at least within a day.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I currently have a few one-shot ideas that have rather angsty endings, but I couldn't bear writing a whole longfic that ends on a sad note. ...I think.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ashen Wishes will have a pretty happy, positive ending, so I suppose that counts (?)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, I never have :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well... not really. I've given it a shot a few times and I have a couple ideas, but I don't think I can bring myself to post anything too explicit at the moment.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written one! I've always found them too difficult to execute well.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so...? Though I never looked for it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I wonder what that would look like! Although when it comes to writing fics, I'm much more comfortable writing in English than my native language.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but it sounds fun. I have friends who help with brainstorming sometimes, if that counts :)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I've never been into shipping characters that much. Sometimes I come across a ship and I genuinely like it, but then I move on. My reader-insert craze just never left me enough, I guess.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I strive to finish everything I start, even though it might, uh, take a little more time. I really hope I won't ever abandon my fics.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues? Maybe? Those are usually the first things that pop up in my head when I'm trying to figure out a scene, and I build everything else around them. But I'm also really obsessed with pacing and trying to find a healthy balance between the events in a story. I'm not saying it's necessarily working, I just tend to pay more attention to it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm very, very slow. I can linger on a single sentence for ten minutes because I can't get over how awkward a sentence feels, so I just stare at the screen trying to figure out how to fix it. Also, describing environments. I can't make them sound fun for the life of me. I feel like they always end up being very dry and unimaginative :/

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't run into them often, but I think they can spice up a dialogue sometimes. I especially like special short phrases that give the conversation a deeper meaning.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oof, uh, Hollow Knight, if I remember correctly. I don't plan to post any of my older works though ^^'

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Ashen Wishes is probably the fic I've put the most effort in so far, and it's currently my favorite, too!

@imtrashraccoon if you'd like to join, but as always, no pressure! :D

[ejzah]

Loved your fic We Swear it’s Not Real. Would you consider making it a multi-chapter? Would love to see an expansion from the beginning of their fake dating.

Hi anon! Sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long. As always, time escapes me very easily. I’m not sure if I can commit to an entire multi-chapter fic since I already have so many other long fics in progress. However, I’ll try write a few ficlets highlighting key moments. As with the original story, this is set in season 7 when Kat’s wedding was originally mentioned.

***

A Not So Indecent Proposal

Kensi rubbed her hands over her thighs. She could do this, it would be easy. All she had to do was ask Deeks to be her fake boyfriend. No big deal.

She took a hesitant step towards the bullpen, her eyes zeroing in on Deeks’ bent head. She studied his blonde mass of curls, her stomach squeezing sickeningly with nerves, and she nearly turned back around, stopping herself at the last second.

This exact process had gone on the past three days. Each morning, Kensi came in early, waited for Deeks to arrive, and then engineered a few moments when she could talk to him in private. And each day she’d chickened out before ever saying a word.

Squaring her shoulder, Kensi reminded herself that this was Deeks. She trusted him more than just about anyone, he owed her a favor, and more importantly, she was quickly running out of time.

“Morning Deeks,” she greeted him, making a show like she’d just come in.

“Morning Kensalina.” He stopped working long enough to flash her a short, yet genuine smile, then resumed writing what Kensi recognized as an LAPD form, even from a distance.

“You got a minute?”

“For my partner? Anytime,” Deeks replied, tucking his pen behind his ear, and turning to give Kensi his full attention as she took Sam’s chair.

Folding her hands together over her crossed knees, Kensi drew in a long, calming breath.

“Ok. So, you know my friend Kat is getting married—”

“You mean Kat of the much talked about show ponies and teal decor?”

“Yes. Anyway, um, so there’s been a couple questions about my plus one, or lack of one,” Kensi continued, chuckling nervously. “So, I was wondering if you would, um, consider taking on that role for me.”

Deeks’ face had slowly morphed from intrigued to confused as she spoke. Screwing up one side of his face, he slowly asked,

“Let me get this straight. You want me to be your date to a close friend’s wedding?”

“Shhh!” Waving her hands in a hushing motion, Kensi looked over her shoulder, anticipating one of the team standing within in hearing distance. No one was there, but she lowered her voice all the same.

“No, I’m asking you to pretend to be my plus one,” she corrected.

“Oh, my mistake, big difference,” Deeks teased. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair, mouth spreading in a delighted grin. “So, what exactly made you pick me? My dazzling social skills, my expertise on the dance floor?” He snapped his fingers. “Ooh, I’ve got it. You know how amazing I look in a tux.”

“You know what, if you’re just going to make fun of this, forget it.” Kensi raised her hands, and pushed away from the desk. Before she could get up, Deeks tugged her back down.

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m just messing with you, Kens. I’m sorry.”

Considering him a for a moment, Kensi decided that he seemed genuinely contrite, and rolled her chair back in place.

“I guess I’m a little on edge,” she admitted. “All this wedding planning is more stressful than I anticipated. And as much as I love her, Kat is a total bridezilla.” Deeks chuckled sympathetically as Kensi groaned, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “The woman seems to think that her wedding is the event of the century and needs to outdo Katherine and William’s.”

“Good thing she comes from money and her fiancé is rich,” Deeks commented. He tapped her knee with the back of his hand. “What exactly would my duties be as your prospective plus-one?”

“Accompanying me to any major wedding events,” Kensi told him. “Kat’s calling it her wedding season, so there’s sure to be more than your typical number of events.” She tilted her head slyly. “And of course, you’d expertly play the part of the doting boyfriend so I don’t have to deal with annoying questions, pitying looks, or, most importantly, getting set up with any of Kat’s numerous cousins or single friends.”

“That sounds pretty easy.” Rubbing his bottom lip, Deeks considered her, any teasing absent from his expression. It made Kensi feel more uncomfortable than asking him to be her plus one. “Just one more question. Why me?”

Kensi dipped her head; that was a question she’d dreaded. Not because she thought Deeks would hold the information over her, but rather because it felt like it would be giving too much away. He deserved to know though, so she answered honestly.

“I trust you.” She focused on slightly uneven spot on her jeans. “I trust you to pull me out of laser filled room, have my back when my a bunch of goons with guns are firing at us, and,” she paused. “I trust you with this.”

What she left unsaid was that she trusted Deeks to guard her dignity and play his part without crossing any lines.

“Ok. I’ll do it,” Deeks agreed.

“What—you will?” Kensi blurted out in surprise.

“Yeah. Anything for my partner.”

***

Thanks for the prompt!

[hey-kae]

A Gift from the Ferrari Gods

Part 1: 20 Minutes to Spare

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: Hello! Love your writing!!! I don’t know if you take requests, but I was wondering if you would maybe write a Sequel to 20 mins to spare where Charles brought home one of the race suits? And then sexy shenanigans follow 😈😈 If not, totally understand, and I hope you keep putting up content!!

Warnings: Thigh riding, fingering, oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation (kinda), cockwarming(kinda), slight praise kink i think, begging and orgasm control. (Buckle up ig)

Sidenote: Did i google the french translation for “i’m gonna cum” and never used it because it made me uncomfortable? Yeah i did… Also, this is long and it’s pure filth. Read at your own risk!

It was already past ten in the morning when your deep slumber was knocked out of its place by that weird phase of half-sleeping where you can hear everything around you. An obnoxious bird outside was loudly contributing to the process of waking you up and any chance of falling back asleep was eliminated when you sensed a figure standing by the side of the bed, shadowing you as if it was waiting for you to open your eyes.

It would’ve been creepy if you didn’t know who it was. Charles.

“What do you want?” You groaned in annoyance, turning onto your back and covering your face with a pillow so you wouldn’t have to face the sunlight just yet.

You waited a few seconds, awaiting a reply but you received none, what weirded you out.

Throwing the pillow away, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes then propped yourself up on your elbows, looking up to find a bright flash of Ferrari red blocking your view. The color was too much to take, considering the fact that you had just woken up.

Once your vision adjusted to the intrusion, you realized that Charles was just casually wearing a race suit, minus the shoes and gloves, and standing still-as-stone with a stupidly big smile on his face.

“You’re going somewhere?” You asked, wondering if you had forgotten about some event he told you about.

“Non.” He chuckled.

“Is this some sort of a suit fitting or something?” You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out why he was just wearing his suit in the house.

“Also no.”

“Then, what the hell is going on?” You frowned, now genuinely confused.

“C’mon. Think a little!” He teased, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The wheels in your mind started spinning, trying to find any memory that would point you to the reason behind your boyfriend’s current attire.

“It’s still too early for this, Charles.” You gave up, “Why are you wearing the suit?”

“You forgot about Canada already?” He smirked, pulling the sheets off your body and placing his hand on your leg.

“What? What does that-“ then the conversation that happened after you had sex in the bathroom resurfaced in your mind, “Oh my god, Charles! I was joking!” You gasped.

You were wide awake now and fully sat up in the bed, your eyes glued on Charles as he laughed full-heartedly.

“Does that mean it doesn’t turn you on?” He teasingly asked after his laughter died down, already knowing the honest answer to his question.

“Viens ici, mon amour.” Come here, my love. He held out his hand and you took it, allowing him to help you onto his lap, the pajama shorts you were wearing doing barely anything to shield your skin from the rough material of his suit.

“Réponds-moi, chérie.” Answer me, darling. He slipped his hands under your shirt, resting them firmly on your waist. “It doesn’t turn you on?” His eyes studied your expression attentively, not wanting to miss any of your reactions to his words and his touch.

“I never said that.” You shortly replied, you walls clenching as you realized where this was going.

“Good.” He fiddled with the hem of your shirt, silently asking for permission to take it off.

With newfound eagerness, you quickly nodded and he pulled the material over your head, cursing under his breath when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He pulled you closer, eliminating the remaining distance between you two and kissing you with pure hunger. His hands moved up your body painfully slow until they reached your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers and rubbing them with his thumbs.

When it came to Charles, that was enough to have you moaning into his mouth, that was all it took for you to start rocking against his crotch, desperate for any friction as you felt the wetness start to pool between your legs.

Charles then broke the kiss, moving down to nibble on your neck instead, leaving small marks on your collarbones.

“Wanna hear you, baby.” He spoke against your skin, the vibrations of his voice making you shiver.

His hands went back to your nipples and he pinched them with just enough force that you let out a high pitched moan and arched your body into him.

“Encore.” More.

He trailed his mouth down until his lips wrapped around the sensitive bud of nerves, his teeth carefully grazing the sensitive skin there. The feeling left you desperately aching for more, for stronger pleasure. It made you want anything he was willing to give, not caring if it was his fingers, his tongue or his dick.

“Charles, please.” You pleaded, you hand tugging on his hair to relieve some tension.

“Please what, ma belle?” He looked at you, clearly wanting an answer but not just any answer. He wanted an explicit one that would describe everything that’s on your mind in the filthiest way possible.

“Fuck… Please fuck me, Charles.” You begged, ending the sentence with a peck to his lips.

“Tsk,” he kissed your lips, “pas encore au moins.” Not yet at least, then his lips met the spot under your ear, “Il y a beaucoup de choses que je veux te faire d'abord.” There’s a lot of things i wanna do to you first. He clarified before he kissed the base of your neck then proceeded to suck a hickey there, the light stinging making you whimper.

Once he was satisfied with the mark he left, his fingers hooked onto the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging on them demandingly.

“I want these off.”

You frowned at him as you realized that would leave you fully naked while he’s still completely covered up.

“You’re still fully dressed.” You pointed out, moving your hands to try to unzip the suit. However, he stopped your movements, grabbing your hand in his and bringing it up to kiss it.

“I wanna make the most out of the suit, mon amour.”

You didn’t really know what he meant but it didn’t matter because you trusted him, so you got up and slipped your shorts off, your panties immediately following.

You went back to straddle Charles but his hands immediately found your waist and he guided you into a sitting position different than the previous one. Much to your delight, you were now straddling his thigh, the contact between your clit and the suit material already making it difficult to breath steadily. It clicked in your mind, what Charles wanted and you almost moaned at the thought.

“Ride my thigh, ma belle. Make a mess on the suit for me.” You let out a shaky breath as his hands guided you to move. Your eyes squeezed shut, the amount of pleasure the friction was giving you being quite surprising.

“Non, ma cherie. Keep your eyes on me or I won’t let you cum. D’accord?” Okay? He instructed, one of his hands intertwining with yours. He started moving both your hands down your body until he reached his destination, one of his fingers slipping between your folds to rub your clit as he made sure to keep the rest interlaced with your fingers. You struggled to keep your eyes open as the pleasure intensified but you managed to keep them locked with Charles’ lust-filled ones. The way he was looking at you was sending electric sparks through you veins, effortlessly electrifying you. His eyes seemed to study every reaction you made and he payed attention to every breath you let out and every pleading whimper that slipped past your lips. He had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he watched you ride his thigh, your eyes dark with lust and hooded from the pleasure, your cheeks already red as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Charles.” You whined, fighting the urge to just throw your head back and shut your eyes, letting the pleasure take over you. You found yourself searching for any support, your free hand eventually reaching for Charles chest, clutching onto the red material of the suit as you continued rocking your hips on his thigh.

“Merde, comme j’adore te voire comme ça.” Shit, how i adore seeing you like this. He said, your leg brushing against against his boner repeatedly driving him mad. His moved his hands back to your hips, gripping onto you so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it left marks, forcing you to move faster. A string of profanities spilled out of your mouth as a result. Meanwhile, his strong gaze was making this experience ten times more erotic. It made you shake with pleasure as his eyes bored into yours with bone-chilling intensity.

“Oh god, i’m gonna-“ A load moan cut you off as your body begged you to release.

“Let it go, baby.” Charles reassured you, placing a kiss onto your chest. That was all it took for your head to fall backwards, the pressure in your stomach exploding as you whimpered in sensitivity. Your whole body shook as you released onto your boyfriend’s clothed thigh.

After that, and without any warning, Charles hoisted you up, turned around and laid you down on the bed while you were still panting, struggling to recover from such an intense orgasm. His lips immediately found yours as he hovered above you. The kiss held so much passion, desperation and lust, his teeth nibbling on your lips, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and pushing to freely discover your mouth. He kissed you like he was desperate to memorize the curve of your lips.

Little did you know that it was just a distraction since Charles wanted to catch you off guard. His plan seemed to have worked perfectly and he was greatly satisfied to hear you gasp when two of his fingers pushed into you without any warning. Your back arched in pleasure as your mind caught onto what was happening.

“Oh my god, Charles.” You moaned against his lips and you literally felt him smirk in satisfaction. He then moved down to l leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck and chest, simultaneously curling his fingers inside of you, rubbing all the right spots that have you whining in ecstasy under him. You reaction encouraged him to make it a point to curl them every few thrusts, loving how you reacted when he did.

Wanting to admire you as usual, Charles sat up a bit straighter, his eyes taking in every curve of your body and settling down onto your pussy where his fingers repeatedly disappeared inside of you.

“So fucking pretty with my fingers inside of you.” He praised, “Do you like it, ma belle? Does it feel good?” He asked in a dazed voice, getting lost in the sight of you so vulnerable under him, writhing on your shared bed as his fingers fucked you.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t muster an answer even if your life depended on it. You cried out his name in response, knowing Charles loved it when you did that. Other people might want clear answers and words, but he lived for the idea that you were too far gone to reply, that he was giving you so much pleasure that your brain couldn’t think of any words other than his name.

Your legs were starting to shake and close shut as another wave of pleasure built up inside of you but Charles was quick to force them apart with his knees while simultaneously increasing the speed he was moving his hand at. You didn’t really expect any less from him, given the fast reactions he was trained to have and all. It took seconds after that for him to feel your walls tightening against his digits. Once again, the pleasure took over your mind and you hand fisted the bedsheet as your moans increased. Another orgasm shook your body and you came for the second time, whimpering Charles’ name over and over.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning your arousal off of them with his tongue. He groaned once he realized you were watching, wanting you to know how much he enjoyed tasting you. His little show was the direct cause behind your inability to catch your breath.

“You should get a side job as a professional torturer. You’d do great in that field.” You joked, catching a glimpse of entertainment in his eyes.

“You taste so good, mon amour. Ça me donne l’envie d’en avoir plus.” It makes me want to have more. He suggested, already pushing your legs back apart. However, this time, you were quick to sit up, pushing him back by the shoulders.

“Take the suit off, for fuck’s sake. I might have said i like it but nothing comes close to being as attractive as your naked body.” You told him, giving his lips a small kiss and sliding your hand down to cup his erection, figuring that it might help your case. You were just craving the feeling of his bare skin against yours.

He seemed to be thinking his options through for a few seconds before he finally pulled you closer and breathed the words into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine: “Do it yourself if you are so desperate to see me naked, ma chérie.”

That was all it took for you to push him back so that he was laying with his back against the mattress. You climbed on top of him, your legs on either side of his body, your pussy right on top of crotch.

While it seemed unfair to tease him after the two mind blowing orgasms he gave you, you just couldn’t resist the urge to. You rocked your hips against him and smiled when he whined your name pleadingly.

You started off by kissing him, making sure to keep moving against his cock, feeling how hard he was for you. Then, you bit his lower lip, pulling on it a little before moving down to his neck, kissing it all the way down until you reached the collar of the race suit. You hands rushed to undo all the velcro tape that secured the zipper and once that part was done, you took the zipper’s slider between your teeth and started dragging it down slowly while looking up at Charles who was closely watching you with hunger, his lips parted open and lust written all over his face. You maintained eye contact and continued undressing him.

Once the race suit was completely unzipped, he pulled his arms out of the sleeves and you pulled the item of clothing completely off, leaving him in his boxers. It was a pleasant surprise that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath it like he normally did.

“You’ve taken such good care of me, mon amour, now let me take care of you.” You said, kissing his chest, his abs down his v-line, finally pulling his boxers off when you reached them, freeing his hard length. Charles immediately groaned in relief.

You stroked him a few time, rubbing your thumb along his tip, hearing him gasp as you licked his length all the way down to the base. You looked up to find him already watching you so you locked eyes with him, knowing he loved that.

A euphoric whimper left his mouth as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him, finally promising him a much needed relief.

Charles kept lifting his head off the mattress so he can watch you while you had your lips wrapped around him. You met his eyes right away, taking him deeper as he watched.

“Fuck.” He groaned when you looked up at him through your lashes just as he hit the back of your throat. You started moving your head up and down, basking in the noises Charles was making as you hollowed your cheeks around him, taking as much of him as possible into your mouth while moving your fingers around what you couldn’t take. His hands were forcefully tugging on the sheets, turning his knuckles white as your teeth very lightly grazed his length. Once you noticed his need to hold onto something, you brought your free hand up to one of his, intertwining your fingers. You immediately felt the pressure as he squeezed your hand, swearing left and right when you swirled your tongue on his tip.

No matter how good and natural Charles’ English became, he always referred back to his first language in these kinds of moments. You loved it. You loved hearing him curse in french and you loved it even more when he whispered filthy french remarks in you ear.

“Merde… Mon dieu, y/n. Je vais-“ Shit… My god, y/n. I’m gonna- He moaned, his hips bucking up, pushing himself further down your throat, making your eyes water. You could tell he was close. Seconds later, he finally let go, releasing into your mouth as he panted from his orgasm. You swallowed and sat up, smiling at him after wiping you mouth.

He smiled back and pulled you on top of him, kissing you passionately, but you knew him so well and you could tell there was still something on his mind. Therefore, it didn’t come as no surprise when he started mumbling against your lips.

“Still wanna taste you, chérie.” He said and quickly flipped you over so you were laying on your back. He kneeled by the bed and pulled you down so your legs were dangling off the edge.

“Spread your legs for me.” He asked and you happily complied.

“Si belle comme ça. Je t’adore,” So beautiful like this. I adore you, he kissed your inner thigh, “et j’adore ton corps.” And i adore your body. You felt his kisses turn into soft bites as he inched higher, coming closer to your wet core.

With no further warning, his tongue met your clit, flat against the nerve bundle.

“Spécialement cette partie de ton corps, chérie.” Especially this part of your body, darling. Contrasting his first move, he started giving you small licks, moving his tongue between your clit and your entrance.

“Charles, please.” You whined. Your body was ready to beg Charles for anything more.

“Quoi, mon amour? T’aime m’avoir entre tes jambes? Dis-moi combien tu aime ma langue, et je te donnerai ce que tu veux, chérie.” What, my love? Do you love having me between your legs? Tell me how much you love my tongue and i’ll give you what you want, darling. He told you then went back to teasing you.

“Please… Charles, please. Oh my god.” You moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Dis-moi, ma belle.” Tell me, my beautiful. He still insisted, not backing down.

“Fuck. I love having you between my legs, i love it so much, i fucking adore your tongue and it makes me feel so fucking good. Fuck, Charles. Please, please do something.”

Having gotten what he wanted, he dived right in, pushing his tongue into you and licking you like he’s hungry for it. Your hands quickly got lost in his hair and he pulled your legs to rest on his shoulders, giving him better access to your pussy.

“So wet for me, ma belle.” Charles spoke against your entrance, sending the vibrations of his voice through your body. You felt his tongue stroking you in all the right places, making you arch your back. Charles’ hands immediately pressed against your stomach, pushing you back down to lay flat against the mattress.

“Un peu de patience, chérie.” A little bit of patience, darling. He taunted, guiding his fingers to rub your clit as his tongue lapped on your wetness.

It took barely any time for your orgasm to build up since you were still sensitive from his teasing and your two previous ones.

“I’m gonna cum.” You warned him before letting go while gasping his name, feeling his comforting hand rub circles on your thigh as you tugged on his hair.

“You’re doing such a good job, mon amour.” He praised and watched you get flustered over his comment. It made him grin.

He then laid beside you, held your hand and waited for you to recover, comfortingly kissing your knuckles and wrist for a couple minutes before pitching in the idea of him fucking you.

“Think you can still handle that?” He asked, pushing back the hair from your damp forehead.

You quickly nodded, desperately wanting to feel him fill you up even after three orgasms.

“T’es completement sûr?” You’re completely sure? He questioned.

Instead of a reply, you pulled him towards you and he quickly got the memo.

Charles got back on top of you, lodging himself between your legs, his mouth covering yours in loving kisses. His hand wrapped around his cock, repeatedly moving his tip from your clit to your entrance teasingly.

“Charles, s’il te plais…” Charles, please… you whined, not feeling appreciative of his teasing.

“Que veux tu, mon amour?” What do you want, my love? He smirked, pushing his tip into you little before moving it back to your clit.

“I want you. Fuck me. Please. I want to feel you filling me up so bad.” You begged in desperation and he thrust into you all at once, making your mouth fall open. He started moving inside of you almost immediately, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him making him feel so desperate for a second release.

“Always so good and warm around me.” He praised, pounding into you with increased spead, his hips meeting yours perfectly with every movement.

He knew your body like the back of his hand. He memorized all your cues, all your curves and all your features, but most importantly, he knew just what leaves you writhing and moaning beneath him. He knew that the spot he was hitting inside of you would make you whimper from the pleasure and he was right, your cries of ecstasy feeling like his own personal reward. He loved his effect on you and how responsive to him you were.

As the pleasure intensified, you decided that he was too far from you, that you needed him closer. Therefore, you reached up for him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer to your chest.

“I love you so much, Charles.” You breathed the words before meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss he happily welcomed.

“Je t’aime aussi, ma belle.” I love you too, my beautiful. He said the words back between kisses as he made sure to push deeper into you. Your hips subconsciously lifted to meet his thrusts, proving that your bodies were in full sync. The feeling made you release a high pitched moan that got muffled by Charles’ lips.

For many minutes, he moved inside you repeatedly, every thrust feeling better than the previous one and every move bringing you closer to your orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t last long since the sensitivity from your previous releases was still in effect. You were already struggling to steady your legs so you wrapped them around Charles, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

“More, please.” You managed to say, desperate for him to give you everything he has to give.

“More what, babe?” He sounded breathless but you were busy admiring how swollen his lips looked to acknowledge that.

“More everything, Charles.” You rushed then quickly pushed your lips against his again.

He moaned into your mouth and started thrusting faster and harder like you asked, one of his hands moving down your body, pulling one of your legs up by the thigh, giving him better access for a deeper angle as the other limb remained wrapped around him.

He could literally feel the vibrations in your legs as he felt you clenching onto his dick.

“Fuck, i swear i’ll never get used to this.” He groaned then leaned down to kiss your neck, “Tu es si parfaite, mon amour.” You are so perfect, my love. The words were whispered right into your ear, igniting goosebumps on your skin as you felt the pleasure build up. Charles immediately noticed it by how hard your walls were squeezing him.

“You wanna cum, babe?” He asked.

“Yes. Oh god, fuck yes. I don’t think i can hold it, Charles.” You stated the obvious as your body shuddered with pent up pleasure.

“Then let go for me, chérie. Cum all over my cock.”

And you did let go. The intensity of such a strong orgasm blinded you, made you lose control over your body as Charles stilled inside of you. You brain seemed to have forgotten all the words it knew, settling down on repeatedly whining Charles’ name like a broken player, while he lightly caressed your thigh.

He patiently waited for your breathing to go back to normal and for you to open you eyes and when you did, you were met with his caring gaze and a soft smile on his lips.

“Tout va bien?” Is everything okay? He asked. You only nodded in response.

“I don’t want to push you too hard but can you handle one more? I wanna cum inside you so bad.”

You barely thought his words through before accepting. That’s the thing about sex with Charles: too much still never felt like enough.

“Wanna ride you though.” You slurred, suddenly feeling the need for control.

Charles gladly nodded.

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, kissing your temples.

You both then adjusted your positions so he was sat against the headboard with you on top of him, taking his dick inside of you as deep as it can go.

Sure, you were so incredibly sensitive that every move doubled in intensity but you were enjoying these moments of vulnerability with Charles.

You started moving, bouncing on his length and watching as his eyes closed and his head fell back against the headboard, exposing his neck. You leaned in closer and planted small kisses against his jaw. You debated giving him a love bite, calculating if it would fade before the Silverstone grand prix. Giving into your thoughts, you started sucking and biting onto the skin under his ear until you saw a bruise form. You made sure to keep the hickey small so it would fade just in time for his trip to Britain.

Meanwhile, Charles’ hands moved down your back and clawed at you ass as you alternated between bouncing on him and rolling your hips.

“Oh mon dieu. Oui chérie, juste comme ça.” Oh my god. Yes darling, just like that. He whined with a weak voice.

“J'aurais dû te faire supplier comme t’as fait à moi.” I should’ve made you beg like you did with me. You pointed out just to get a reaction out of him.

“Tu crois?” You think? He immediately replied in a challenging tone. You hummed in confirmation.

“Alright then.” His hands firmly gripped your waist, ending your brief moment of power by controlling your movements. The lazy and mellow pace quickly transformed back to a fast and rough one as he moved you faster against his dick, bringing out more frequent moans and whimpers from the both of you. The sensitivity of your clit from the preceding actions was starting to get to you as it rubbed against Charles’ crotch. It even increased as he started thrusting his hips up, making your breath catch in your throat at how deep in your stomach you felt him.

By now, you were feeling too weak to hold yourself up so you just collapsed on his chest, your lips parted and your eyes teary from the overwhelming pleasure. For the fifth time today, you felt your orgasm nearing, only this time it felt way more intense. This wasn’t a wave of pleasure, this was a fucking tsunami.

“I’m gonna cum.”

Charles’ hand briefly left your waist. He raked it through your hair, brushing it behind your ear so he could whisper to you.

“Pas encore, y/n. Attends un peu.” Not yet, y/n. Wait a little.

“What?” You mind was too hazy to comprehend that this was his reaction to you suggesting you make him beg.

“Beg for it, babe.” He smirked through his moans.

You immediately obeyed since you felt like you couldn’t hold it in for long, your shaking legs doing nothing but proving your point.

“Please, Charles, I need to cum so bad, please let me.” The brief sentence was all you managed to say.

“Oh c’mon, ma belle. Je suis certain que tu peux faire mieu que ça.” I’m sure you can do better than that.

“I need to cum so fucking bad. You feel so good so deep inside of me, i really need to cum all over your cock, Charles. Please, i’m begging you. I can’t hold it in anymore.” You blurted out, not understanding how you managed so much words in this state.

You got no reply from Charles. You just noticed him move you faster, making you shake and struggle more. Then you felt him twitch inside of you.

“Let go now.” He finally said and you both came together, cursing and whimpering each other’s names as you finally released. Tears spilled from your eyes as you felt the relief wash over you, the overstimulation making this feel way more sensual and intense than usual.

However, it worried Charles when he felt a teardrop fall onto his chest.

“Look at me, ma belle.” He lifted your chin up so he could see your face.

“Did i take it too far? Was it too much?” He asked with genuine worry once he saw your tear streaked cheeks. He wiped your face while waiting for a response.

“Oh my god, no! Not at all, mon amour. That was the best orgasm of my life.” You gave him a drunken smile and kissed his jaw since you didn’t have the energy to pull yourself up to kiss his lips yet. “It was perfect and you are beyond perfect.”

“You worried me for a second there, ma chérie.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close. Your arms imitated his and wrapped around his torso as well while you smiled at his concern.

“Is it a day off today?” You hopefully asked seconds later, desperately craving a lazy day of cuddling with him after so much action this morning.

He hummed in confirmation, resting his head on top of yours and closing his eyes.

Your heart did a little dance at his response. You were more than delighted that you had him all to yourself the whole day.

“Then let me just get up and-“ you started to pull yourself up so he can pull out but Charles groaned in objection and held you closer.

“Not yet.” He objected, “This is easier than cleaning ourselves up anyway and it’s comfortable as fuck too.” He smiled.

There wasn’t a single bone in your body that was fighting to resist this offer so you just relaxed against him.

“Merci.” He thanked you for not arguing with him before reaching over to pull the covers on top of you.

The movement caused some friction down where your bodies were still joint together, making you hiss since you felt unable to handle even this slight friction.

“Sorry, babe.” He quickly apologized and covered the two of you up. You sat there in comfortable, much needed silence until he started speaking again.

“I would just like to take a moment to thank all the Ferrari gods for gifting us such a magical suit. It is truly a gift to be appreciated.” You looked up at Charles and saw him dramatically looking up, speaking like he was actually thanking a god of some sort with an adorable, playful grin on his face.

It made you chuckle against his chest and the sound immediately attracted his attention. He looked down at you with an adoring, delighted smile and kissed your forehead with so much emotion if felt like the physical form of “i love you”.

It barely took a couple minutes until the exhaustion of the morning’s events caught up to you two and you fell back asleep in each others’ arms with small, peaceful smiles painted on your lips.

[starxluv]

||Kaede and Kokichi with a crush on a Bitchy G/N Reader

—it seems like I can’t create an OC without making them a bitch or at least a bully. So, I’ve done this concept for almost every time I write.

Kaede Akamatsu🎹

She didn’t understand why you were so upset with everyone.

Everybody had tried being nice to you on the first day, well excluding Miu and Kokichi.

Yet, after they showed you nothing but kindness and you showed aggression back, so most of your classmates avoided you.

Though, Kaede didn’t want to exclude you from activities or hangouts since that would just be cruel.

Whenever paired events would take place, nobody would want to be your partner because of your rude attitude, so in a attempt to make you feel welcomed, she’d always be your partner whether she really wanted to be with you or not.

That caused you and her to start bonding and hanging out outside of when you two are paired.

( I made a ‘little’ scenario of you and Kaede in a three-legged race )

“Y/N! Wanna be partners for the race?”

Kaede had run up to you while you were standing all alone looking down at your phone, feeling bored.

“Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

You said rather quickly, not thinking of your answer and just wanting to be left alone by Kaede.

“Well, you need a partner to participate in the game. I was just making sure that everyone has a complete pair.”

“To be completely honest, I don’t want to do your stupid race!” You had slightly snapped at Kaede from her not giving you the alone time that you craved.

Kaede had gone slient, trying to think of a good reply to not come off as rude. She was doing her best to stay kind to you, but you were pissing her off.

“How about this, you do the three-legged race with me and if you don’t have fun, I’ll never ask you to join me again. Deal?”

Kaede held her hand out towards you, gesturing for a handshake.

You had thought about it for a bit, and came to the conclusion that it was a good deal. So, you accepted her offer, feeling slightly defeated.

Kaede had tied her left leg to your right leg securely with a pink ribbon representing ‘team pink’

You two stood at the start line, Kaede smiling at you to hopefully make you feel like she genuinely likes you, while you stared at her with an annoyed face.

“Aw come on, turn that frown upside down! We’re gonna have so much fun.”

You gave her a sarcastic smile for a moment before going back to your bored expression. “There, happy?”

“Eheh….sure.” She tried to do a good fake giggle but ultimately failed.

The faculty member hosting the event started the race, everyone ran off, though a lot of them fell on the track floor.

You sped off towards the finish line, you may not be in the mood for a race, but you’re not in the mood for losing.

“Y-Y/N! Slow down, I might fall!” Kaede was trying to keep up with you, originally she wasn’t going to run very fast but since you were, she was forced to sprint or she’ll probably bleed from falling on the hard track.

“ Pfft! First one to fall is a little bitch!” You said jokingly, not actually expecting any of you to slip.

Jokes on you, immediately after you said that Kaede fell face first onto the track. It hurt like hell but Kaede expected you to stop to make sure she was fine.

But you didn’t stop, you just laughed while dragging Kaede’s body across the track.

“Hahahahaha! You’re like a little floppy ragdoll!”

She felt like she should have been mad at you for your ignorance, but she just couldn’t get mad when you seemed so happy.

Kaede thought your laugh was adorable ( even if it was an extremely ugly laugh )

A bright pink blush spread across her face as she laughed along with you.

Long story short, team pink finished in 2nd place! Kaede had a small nosebleed but laughing made it better.

Kokichi Ouma 🎬

Kokichi was interested in you ever since the first day he met you.

Though, he did think you were quite annoying because of your unnecessary attitude.

He thought that you were just being a bitch to get all of the attention, but little did he know, you just wanted to be left alone.

So, he began pestering you for fun, thinking that you were just a Miu wannabe.

It was fun to see you get red and mad, even when you threaten to kick his ass.

He liked how your insults were creative, they made him laugh because of how stupid they were.

time for the scenario, might be a bit shorter than kaede’s

“Dayum Y/N! I didn’t even know that a human can be as bitchy as you are, that level of bitchy-ness has to be a world record. Congratulations!”

Kokichi said with an enthusiastic smile on his face, watching you get even more annoyed by him was so goddamn entertaining.

“I’m sick of your stupid lies! I get it, you don’t like me! Just say what you want to actually say instead of adding some fake ass congratulations.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated by Kokichi’s shenanigans.

“How do you know if I was lying, hmmm?? I’m telling the stone cold truth! Didn’t your mom teach you any better than to falsely accuse?”

You started getting mad at him, he was so annoying that he was making your skin fade red.

“Yeah, well at least I have a mom! Didn’t you tell everyone that you had no parents?”

He paused his constant effort to annoy for moment to process what you just said to him.

“Wow, that wasn’t very nice nor funny.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

Kokichi pulled out his crocodile tears and began whining loudly.

“Waaaahhhhh!! I just wanted to be friendsss!!”

You felt slightly bad, mainly because you didn’t know he was fake crying.

“K-Kokichi….fine…I didn’t mean it.”

*sniffle* *sniffle* “You’re lyingggg!!”

“No, I’m not!”

“If your reeeaaallly sorry then say that I’m so hot and I always tell the truth.”

You groaned audibly, not believing that you were actually going to say what he wanted you to.

“Fine…You’re so hot and you always tell the truth.”

“No! Say Kokichi is hot!”

“Do I really have to use your name..?”

“If you don’t I’ll never ever ever forgive you!”

“Ugh, Kokichi is so hot and….he always tells the truth.”

He quickly stopped sobbing once you finished the sentence as he got up and cheered.

“Sooo, you think i’m hot?”

“You’re living proof that even ugly people have sex.”

“Nishishishi, thank you for thinking that I’m sexually active!”

The room got silent for a second.

“What?”

(dang that sucked)

[sheetsonfire]

First Date

Fandom: Chicago PD

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

Genre: fluff, romance

Word Count: 2389

Requested By Anon: Hey hon! Love you’re writing! Can we get a Hank Voight x reader & it’s their first date, but plot twist it’s at a wedding and he’s her guest 😱

A/N: Just so we're clear, the reader is written to be 25+, there's nothing too explicit in this but I just wanted a defined age.

-

“I can’t believe you let me talk you into this, Hank.” You exhale with a huffed laugh, trying to rid yourself of the anxiety in your chest and stomach, fingers fidgeting with a strand of stray cotton on your outfit.

Hank’s gruff chuckle makes you smile, you glance at the Sergeant as he shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. You would be approaching the wedding venue soon, this is what had you in a last-minute freakout.

“It was either this or wait even longer for the first date with you, and quite frankly I was not looking to wait another week or two to have a good time with you. You look beautiful, the sun’s out, it’s a day of love - your family will too busy with the happy couple to even notice us.”

He reaches out a hand to squeeze your arm softly, and you melt a little bit. You snort with amusement, however, at his surprisingly naive assumption.

“It’s very kind of you to try and make me feel better, but besides my mom and her sisters, I can think of at least 5 cousins and various elderly onlookers that will have something to say about this combination. They mean well, but my love life has been a topic since I was like...10, and now I'm almost 30, and I'm just not sure what they're going to make of us.”

Hank grunts in amusement, and though he doesn’t seem bothered you suddenly feel like you may have made him feel unwanted, or an embarrassment to you - which he was far from. The age gap had been a topic of discussion between you, with an agreement to simply approach any issue or hiccup as openly as possible. That had worked for both of you just fine, and you had invited Hank today without a second thought.

“God that sounded so rude, just so you know it’s no reflection on you, my family are just gossipers is all. I’m sorry-”

Before you know what’s happening, Hank pulls the SUV to the side of the road, just short of the winding lane that would take you to the church. “Y/N,” Hank says your name firmly yet fondly, and you turn to look at him. There’s teasing in his eyes, and you visibly relax under his gaze. Without so much as a word, you understood what he was saying. 

“I deal with the absolute worst this world has to offer on a daily basis, and you deal with the likes of me coming to the Ivory Tower. I think between us we can handle some gossipy cousins and grandmas, hm?”

You look at him for a moment, already feeling yourself fall quicker and quicker for him now that you had him around in a completely social setting. Though this was technically your “first” date, there had been a fair few coffees and quick lunches at the Ivory Tower that had been shared between you. 

You had not shied away from Hank’s barbed demeanour, seemingly finding it easier than your colleagues to get him to crack a smile or even laugh, even on his most tempestuous days you could keep him cooler than most. So much so that even your bosses preferred you to handle Hank’s inquiries or demands over other people.

This kind of rapport had built over months until eventually, you plucked up the courage to ask Hank out for a drink with some other colleagues. Then before you knew it you had somehow felt comfortable asking him to come to your cousin’s wedding, and now here you were. 

Shaking yourself out of your stressing spiral you flash Hank a renewed confident smile, one that you genuinely felt as you could see Hank was not in the least bit worried, offended or phased by today’s events.

“We can definitely handle it.” You reply assuredly, patting the Sergeant’s arm to signal that you were ready to continue on to the church.

-

Hank finds a spot to park and then comes to the passenger side to help you out, ensuring you don’t scuff your shoes too much on the uneven gravelled ground. You took a second to admire him in his sunglasses and his suit, he looked handsome to you usually but this was really working for you. Deep navy pants and a matching jacket with a powder blue shirt, complete with a powder blue pocket square, the buttons on his shirt were undone a little to show some chest. Something you tried not to focus on too much lest you start getting distracted.

He takes in the sight of you too, it was wonderful to see you outside of the pressurised work setting, and you looked radiant in the sun. Though he tried to keep his expectations and hopes in check when it came to new relationships, he felt he already had such a good thing going with you, he just hoped he could make this a first date to really make the impression he wanted to.

“May I?” He asks, extending his arm to you to link with him, 

You laugh, “You may, Sergeant.” Looping your arm through his to gently grasp the crook of his elbow, close to holding onto his bicep. You started off towards the stone building, following the scattered flow of other guests, recognising a few faces here and there, offering polite smiles or a “Hey, nice to see you” if they spotted you too. You were sure there would be more in-depth reunions at the reception later on.

-

As you approached the church you could see your parents milling around outside, talking to aunts and uncles you hadn’t seen in a while. You swallow, clutching Hank’s arm a little more the closer you get. He glances at you, murmuring comfortingly, 

“It’s gonna be fine, take a breath.” 

You nod, inhaling deeply and then exhaling, the sound of your footsteps catching the attention of the group.

“Ah, Y/N!” Your mother exclaims excitedly, tottering over in heels to get to you, you reluctantly release the safety hold you have on Hank and wrap your mother in a hug.

“Hey, mom.” You say sweetly, trying to will the blush on your cheeks away as your mother cooed over you like you were still little.

As you release from the embrace you catch your mother smiling at Hank, looking to you for an explanation.

“Uh, mom, this is Henry, he’s my… plus one.” You smile again, hoping no sense of apprehension would betray your face.

“Oh, Henry, lovely to meet you! You look dashing in that suit.” She brings him in for a brief hug and for the first time your fear is replaced with amusement. You knew Hank wasn’t big on hugging unless he really knew you.

“Nice to meet you Mrs Y/L/N, you look lovely.” Hank’s eyes twinkled, and your jaw could have dropped for all the charm he was oozing currently, you hadn’t realised how easily it came to him when the mood or situation called for it. Even more amusing still was watching your mother become a giggling mess in your date’s presence, you would have to tease her later for it.

Your dad gave Hank a firm handshake, and if either of your parents thought your date was an odd choice they didn’t let on to you or Hank.

Once the niceties were over you made your way into the church with your date, linking your arm once again with his as you went to find your seats in the pews. You caught the eye of various cousins, neighbours and so on, some of them couldn’t hide their surprise at your date but you found with each passing moment that you didn’t care. 

Hank made you feel good, he made you feel safe, he made you laugh and though this was your first official outing together you felt like you’d had this for years. You gently release your grip from him and shimmy your way down the pew until you’re sat next to one of your younger cousins, smiling warmly at them as they wave excitedly at you and at Hank who winks in return. They don’t eye you with suspicion, or disdain, they simply are happy to meet a new friend.

During the officiating ceremony, you could feel your eyes welling up with tears, so happy for the love and connection that your cousin had found. A small sniff caught Hank’s attention, and he subtly handed you a tissue from his pocket and dared to link his fingers with yours, briefly checking that it was okay with you. You gave him a watery-eyed smile and leaned your head on his shoulder as the ceremony continued, butterflies swarming merrily in your stomach.

-

Hank was definitely good with kids, you discovered. Though you hadn't really ever wanted children, it was nice to see that he could get along with the younger members of your family too. After the service curious little minds came to ask who Hank was, their eyes lit up in wonder when he said he was a police sergeant, mostly because that meant he drove a car that could go fast and make loud noises, that’s all that mattered to them.

He had graciously offered to let them come and see the 21st District some time, to sit in one of the big patrol cars and wear a cool hat. To which you had been forced to promise that you would make it happen soon.

His son, Justin, had come up in conversation a few times in your previous meetings, as well as his grandson, the two precious boys in his life who he couldn’t see. Olive rarely came back to visit these days, and Justin had passed on, it was something Hank didn’t talk about too much but you were sure to let him know that it was okay to do so if he wanted to.

You knew it was entirely too early in your knowing Hank to feel such a deep-seated affection and admiration, but you couldn’t help it, with each passing interaction you watched a usually gruff and stand-offish man show just how much grace and heart he also possessed. 

-

The afternoon sun was finally beginning to set, the air was still humid and a lot of the wraps, shawls and cardigans had been relegated to the backs of the white wicker chairs in the reception tent. The suit jackets had also met the same fate, including Hank’s jacket, which meant that now your date was roaming in the powder blue shirt, with the buttons undone at the top and his sleeves rolled halfway. To put it simply, he was killing you. 

You caught yourself staring more than a few times, you and he had been separated by aunt Barbara who had slotted herself in between to get to know your date better. Aunt Barb was the type to somehow make it impossible to interject or escape a conversation, so you had no choice but to let your date deal with it. 

In your ogling of him, Hank had started to catch you out too, between sips of champagne and eating the canapés he’d wink at you or give you a knowing smile which made your cheeks heat up. You couldn’t believe how good he was at flirting, especially in a tent full of your closest family. 

Finally, when aunt Barbara had worn herself out and gone in search of uncle Harry, you were able to slot yourself back in next to Hank, enjoying the sound of the live acoustic band that was playing at the front of the tent as you felt an arm wrap around you, your knee brushing against his under the table. It was comfortable, it was exciting. 

In easy silence you simply enjoyed Hank’s proximity, almost jumping when he murmured low in your ear, “I love aunt Barb, she’s a character, but damn if I couldn’t take my eyes off the prettiest woman here.” 

You snort, trying to recover from your giddiness, “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?”

“It’s not my strong suit, but…You bring it out in me.” You shake your head, feeling affectionate towards him all the more.

Resting a hand on his arm with a small squeeze, “You’ve been amazing today, thank you for coming.”

“It’s been my absolute pleasure, thank you for inviting me, sunshine.” He grins, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, relishing the smile that both the nickname and kiss elicited from you. 

You’re about to say something else when the music quietens, and the singer speaks over the microphone.

“Okay, everyone, it’s been a day of love and laughter, and now it’s time for a couples’ dance, any sweethearts out there get on up, join the newlyweds and celebrate what you’ve got going on!” 

Almost immediately all the older couples, your cousins and their partners get to their feet to take to the floor. The bride and groom are in the spotlight in the middle. 

You turn to Hank, getting the courage to ask him to dance when you’re already met with an offered hand. 

“Would you like to?” He asks softly, 

You nod, “More than I can even say” 

You had been to plenty of parties for family occasions, for some of those you had dates, and none of those occasions had felt more special or endearing than the moment you were sharing with Hank right now.

It all felt like it had fit into place, his hand grasps yours, the other on your waist, and you rest a hand on his shoulder. You begin to sway to the soft romantic melody, sighing with content as you rest your head on Hank’s shoulder. He tucks his face into your neck and holds you close, you truly feel like it’s just you and him as you move.

When the song ends you eventually pull back, still holding Hank’s hand with joy thrumming through you, 

“So, do I get a second date?” He queries, smiling knowingly. 

You nod and he breathes a mock sigh of relief, making you roll your eyes with a giggle, slipping back into his embrace as a new song starts.

“I think you’ve sealed dates for the foreseeable future, sergeant Voight, there’s no doubt about that.” 

-

Fin.

[thefanficmonster]

Casual

Ranboo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None, unless talking about the future counts

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the arrival of the dreadful invitation to his cousin’s wedding Ranboo turns to the only cover-up he can think of to keep his still-single status hidden from his family.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so glad you sent your idea to me and I’m so glad you were my first official Ranboo request. I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to write it but I still hope you’ll come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Heyyy, so Y/N, I have a favor to ask you...um yeah, call me back, it’s awkward sending it via voicemail. Bye“

Huh - that’s the first thought that goes through my head when I listen to the voicemail left after a missed call from my best friend Ranboo. The favors he usually asks for consist of requesting assistance for his videos in which I also appear with a mask and sunglasses to keep the brand running. I genuinely have nothing against my face being shown but when I think about it, I’m honestly a bit glad people can’t identify me.

Anyways, back to the favors, Ranboo is no stranger to asking me for them but they’ve never been considered too awkward for a voicemail which is why I’m no slightly concerned. I’ve been swamped with work for school and studies for the graduation finals for the past two weeks and it seems like I’ll never get on top of it and I know Ranboo’s been in a similar situation too, so maybe he needs help with that? He’s not used to asking help for school stuff, he sometimes even has a hard time accepting it when I openly offer it to him.

I eventually sigh, decide that playing this guessing game will not get me anywhere and settle on giving him a call as I make my way home from the gym with my legs barely putting up with the task of carrying me around.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! Wh-...“

“Would you pretend to be my girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding next weekend?!“

My legs take that opportunity to stop moving in the middle of the sidewalk which is luckily void of any people at the moment. It’s not my fault my body’s first reaction was to freeze up at the question that came flying at me like an out-of-control jet, almost as though he’s been dying to say it and get it over with.

“Um...run that by me again please, I think I misunderstood.“ I say, blinking blankly as though awoken from a fever dream. No, actually as though I’m IN a fever dream right now.

“Ok, now that the cat’s out of the bag, wanna grab some coffee and talk about it face-to-face. I need to see your facial expressions to gauge what response to expect.“ He says, the previous nervousness gone and his voice calm as regularly once again.

I’m this close to face-palming but I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and bring myself to utter a reply, “Our usual spot. Be there in ten minutes.”

                                                             *  *  *

“No freaking way.“ I shake my head, folding my arms over my chest as I lean back in my seat in the booth we picked when we arrived. Good thing I got an iced coffee cause even a hot one would’ve gone cold by now considering I haven’t yet taken the time to have even a sip of it. I’ve been too busy listening to the long and short of the explanation and begging speech Ranboo probably made last night to try and convince me to agree to this nonsense. “Dude, we’ve been friends since middle school-...“

“Exactly! Who else was I gonna ask?“ He cuts me off, pleading gaze meeting my unimpressed one.

I huff before continuing my previous statement, “We’ve been friends since middle school so you know my opinion on weddings.” I put extra emphasis on the word ‘opinion’, giving him the clear hint at the distaste I’ve expressed on the topic multiple times before.

“And you know we’re on the same page there but there’s no way I can avoid going unless someone kidnaps me.“ He too now gets in the same stance as me, his coffee forgotten too.

I can’t help but snort out a little laugh, “I’d be more than happy to kidnap you considering the other option is far less appealing to me.“

He, of course, rolls his eyes at me as though he didn’t offer to do the same thing so I could avoid an exam but anyways. “So you’re gonna choose to fake a kidnapping that has the potential of landing you in jail over coming to eat some great food and maybe even have some fun at a wedding with your best friend? I’m hurt.“ He says, frowning to cover up the smile that’s fighting its way onto his face.

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “I’d be kidnapping you, dummy...” I cut myself off to let out a long sigh and calm down before I go off at him. His smirk isn’t helping me much with the task either. I’ve known Ranboo long enough to know he’ll eventually convince me and he’s known me long enough to know how to do that exactly. With that in mind, there’s really no point in getting so worked up and wasting my energy. And so, despite my own rationality, I cave. “Fine, but I’m not staying the whole wedding.“

His eyes immediately light up and almost makes me feel the compromise was worth it. Almost. I mean, when you’ve been best friends with someone for so long, seeing them happy is worth more to you than your own comfort sometimes.

And he knows it too. Which is exactly why he outstretches his hand for me to shake and says: “Just one dance and you’re free to go. Deal?”

I take his hand without hesitations. That’s a better offer than I could’ve ever imagined. “Damn straight it’s a deal.“

                                                            *  *  *

“How long until you kick the heels off?“ Ranboo asks, bringing me a non-alcoholic cocktail and sitting down next to me.

I take a sip and giggle, “You kidding? I already kicked them off and replaced them with flats. I need mobility if we dance. They also lower the risk of me severing off a toe of yours if I step on you on accident.”

He laughs, clinking his glass against mine before he gets a bit more serious, “By the way, thanks for handling my family’s attack so well. I know it might’ve been a bit much but you handled it like a pro. Still, I’m sorry on their behalf.”

I shake my head and wave my hand dismissively, “Don’t mention it. I’d probably react the same way if my brother or cousin brought a date to an important family event like this.” I instinctively turn to look in the direction of where the majority of his family has gathered around, chatting with guests, smiling brightly. It’s hard not to immediately take a liking towards these people. They’ve been a second family to me ever since Ranboo and I started hanging out so I completely understand why they were so shocked to see me in the role of his ‘girlfriend’.

“I’ll tell my parents the truth later, our extended family is the ones I wanted to fool to be perfectly honest.“ He looks around as do I and we catch more than a few pairs of eyes fixated on us that turn away when they realize they’ve been spotted, “Mission accomplished by the looks of it.“

I chuckle. I’ve never felt so comfortable at a wedding before. I don’t feel stressed nor anxious despite knowing that there’s quite the number of eyes on me and there are whispers going around about my ‘relationship’ with Ranboo. It’s oddly calming and relaxing to be surrounded by some familiar and some unfamiliar faces. This cocktail is pretty great too.

Speaking of which, if it had any alcohol in it I’d blame it for the decision I’m about to make but this one’s entirely on me: I tap Ranboo with one hand while taking out my phone with the other. “If we’re already the talk of the wedding, let’s give them something to talk about.“ I say as I put up my phone, pretending to be taking a selfie leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

When I pull away I can clearly see that he’s still processing what just happened. I can’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter as I reach out to wipe the lipstick stain I left on his cheek. He looks like a lost, clueless puppy with the question: ‘what on Earth just happened???’ replaying in his head and it’s so freaking cute!

Wait....what was that? Since when do I use the adjective cute to describe Ranboo? Didn’t I think he looks handsome in a suit earlier too? The hell is with me today?

Then it hits me - the feeling isn’t foreign. Like, I know I’ve felt it before but I never analyzed it or even bothered to acknowledge it. But now that I do, I’m afraid of what it might be.

“There!“ I say, desperately trying to push the thoughts away along with this little firework show in my stomach, “Now you have pinker cheeks. Well, cheek, singular.“

As if snapping out of his state of confusion, he returns to Earth with a smirk, “Kiss the other to even it?”

Alright, his blush might not be even but mine now is and it’s ten times as intense and very much apparent but I don’t let the feeling shine through anything else as I proceed to actually kiss his other cheek too, wiping the lipstick stain.

“Thanks. You’re the best.” And just like that, as though it’s no big deal, he kisses my forehead.

See, that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be a big deal! It’s never been! This is far from the first time I’ve kissed him on the cheek or the first time he’s given me a forehead kiss. These are regular occurrences after years of this lovely friendship we have. Why do they feel so different now?

Then, much to my relief, the music starts and the lights turn off leaving only one spotlight for the groom and bride to have their first dance. They look absolutely astonishing and I can certainly say I’ve never before stopped to think that about any newly weds of the weddings I’ve preciously been to. I don’t know if it has something to do with the company I have for this particular wedding or it’s maybe the fact that my mindset’s changed over the years without me realizing.

Then I automatically look at Ranboo who just so happens to be looking at me too and all I can say is: my mindset hasn’t changed.

A loud applause takes over when the couple finish their dance, officially opening the dancefloor for any other pairs who’d like to occupy it and I’m happy to see how many people are eager to rush up with their partner.

 Ranboo gets up, putting the glass down and offers me his hand, “So, wanna dance? Don’t take this as a sign to leave though, we said one dance and you CAN leave, not SHOULD.” He says, giving me a warning look.

I roll my eyes and am about to give him some sass right back but he takes my hand and picks me up from my seat, leading me to the dancefloor.  And I gotta admit maybe it’s a good thing he did. If he left it to me I would’ve probably said no to the dance and ran the hell away. Why? - Cause I’m freaking terrified of this new mindset and point of view and these intense emotions I never used to pay any mind to before in regards to my best friend.

Friends don’t feel that way about friends. Friends don’t look at friends that way. What’s happening to me?

When I gotta look him in the eyes like this, not for the first time might I add, I can finally understand how the friends-to-lovers trope works: it’s all meaningless until it starts to mean so much to you. It’s all platonic until it reminds you of a romantic movie moment. It ‘best friends’ until it’s ‘I wish we were more than that’. It’s all casual, until it’s not.

And, unfortunately, it’s irreversible.

Damn do I wish I ran away now...

[woniepop]

feel special ༉‧₊˚✧

➜ the three times you didn’t want to be Karl’s best friend any more and the one time you weren’t

Pairing: Karl Jacob’s x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, best friends to lovers au, enemies to lovers au

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, cursing

Word Count: 2.0k words

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first time writing for a mcyt streamer, but unfortunately I will not be writing works for more streamers anytime soon. This is for my lovely friend basil Ly and losingvienna’s follower event, which you should definitely check out of you are in to mcyt streamers!!

I highly recommend checking @basilly and @losingvienna out if you haven’t already!!

Ever since you met Karl, you’ve hated everything about him. He was sweet, he was caring, he was everything you’ve ever wanted in anyone. From the moment he stepped foot in your kindergarten your life had become a living hell. He was great! You on the other hand, had never felt more miserable in your life. It had never occurred to you that being different was a bad thing, but apparently, to your whole kindergarten class of 26 kids, it was terrible. But, somehow, amidst the screaming kids and the poorly colored art projects, Karl only saw you.

Your fellow kindergarten classmates stared at you, perhaps a bit too judgingly, as you sat down in your seat. Feeling super excited to come to school today, your grandma has recently gotten you your very own pink sundress, equipped with a pink satin ribbon to tie a cute little bow in the back. You wanted your classmates to like you, so you had to be the prettiest you could ever be. 

“Why are you wearing a dress to school? Do you think you’re a princess?” one of the children say, rather, shout across the room. And with that, the whole class starts laughing, except you. 

“What? Are you trying to impress someone?”

“OOO Y/N HAS A CRUSH!”

“I bet it’s Karl”

“Of course it is. She just wants to daaaaaaate him, doesn’t she?”

With tears welling up in your eyes and boogers dripping down your nose, you quickly stand up just to take the hall pass and run to the nearest bathroom. It was humiliating, feeling like you had tried so hard to make friends just to get laughed at. It felt terrible. 

You were NOT excited for your first day of high school. Why would you be? It was just another year of “light hearted” jokes about you and how you were “so different.” Settling with a seat in the back, you tilt your head down only for the teacher to walk in right after. 

“Good morning, students! Welcome to your first day of Freshman Year! I’m sure you’re all very excited for these next four years, but before that why don’t we all introduce ourselves to each other!” The teacher says, in a high pitch, peppy voice. You had stopped listening to her after that. You already knew what was going to happen, you were going to be paired up with some immature male football player looking for a tall, hot, and blonde cheerleader girlfriend, then he was going to say something stupid like, “Girls like you aren’t really my type.” No shit you weren’t his type. It happened every year. Feeling a light tap on your shoulder, you force your head up, preparing yourself for the dreadful introduction. 

“Hi! I believe we’re partners for the All About Me project. May I sit here?” he says, pointing to the chair beside you. He, as in Karl Jacobs. The Karl Jacobs. The man, the myth, the legend, the boy that filled your entire life with “She just wants to date Karl. She’s such an attention whore.” With that, your eyes widen. You weren’t expecting him, nor were you ever this mad about anything in your life. You didn’t want to know anything about him, let alone do a whole project learning about him. 

“Yeah, you can sit there.” You answer through clenched teeth. 

“Thanks! I’m pretty sure we’re not going to be able to finish this within the period considering there are like 30 questions, so did you want to work on this in the library after school?” he asks.

“Sure.” You say promptly, not even bothering to make eye contact with him. 

“I believe we went to the same elementary school, but I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to you, so I’m glad we got to be partners for this project. I’m excited to get to know you.” He says, a glint of hope in his eyes. You hated it. Was he actually being nice? To you? 

The rest of the period would have been answering all the questions on the list, but instead you guys had been side tracked, going off topic and talking about anything and everything. Putting aside your hatred for the boy, Karl seemed like a genuinely nice person. You had learned he loved gaming, which he was surprised you had a knack for as well. 

“Well, Y/n, I’m sorry we couldn’t get a lot done this period. But, I’ll see you at the library later, and maybe we can even try out that new game you talked about tonight.” He says, standing up out of his chair and leaving the classroom. Maybe today wouldn’t be too bad after all.

ONE “Move!” you say, playfully shoving Karl off of you. It was the summer before your senior year, and you would have never guessed that you, Y/n L/n, would be spending your whole high school career with the boy you loathed most, Karl Jacobs. If there was ever anything you'd ever looked forward to, it was spending every Friday night with Karl Jacobs. That fateful day at the library was the start of the best tradition ever known to man. 

“But we’re watching a movie!” Karl exclaims. 

“So? You don’t need to watch it while squishing me half to death.”

“What do you mean? Have you ever heard of CUDDLING?” 

“Cuddling has never consisted of MURDER.” 

It was always like this. Every Friday night Karl would come to your house, your mom would gush at how handsome he was while she set a plate down of whatever food he wanted, and him telling her that she was the best cook ever. This is what you’ve always wanted, right? You had a best friend, who accepted you as you were, and you him. Despite always having heartwarming and laughter filled moments with your best friend, your heart hurt. A lot. Maybe the moment was just too heartwarming, or maybe this was the universe telling you that you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. 

TWO “Hey, Karl!” she says. Ah, yes. Her. Karl’s childhood crush since what? Fourth grade? 

“Oh, um, Hi!” He replies. There it was. That dreadful pain in your chest that only grew bigger as she sat down right next to him, disregarding the fact that you were sitting right there. The way she twirled her long blonde hair, the way she leaned over to show all of her cleavage, the way she wore skirts so short you could almost see her underwear, and the way it made your blood boil and your heart hurt until you couldn’t handle it anymore. You wanted to walk away so bad, but as Karl’s best friend you should support him in his romantic interests, even if you didn’t like them. 

“So… I’m sure you’ve heard already. I broke up with my boyfriend.” she says, tracing her finger up and down his arm, making him noticeably very nervous.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always here.” You hear him say. Of course he was always here. He was there for everyone, and he would never try to exclude anyone from his kindness. 

“I broke up with him because of you!”

“W-what”

“I want to be with you, silly!” she says. And with that, you felt your whole world go black and white. Did you hear her correctly? She wanted to be with him?

“I- I’m sorry, I can’t be with you.” 

“WHAT?!? BUT I BROKE UP WITH MY BOYFRIEND JUST TO BE WITH YOU!”

“Well I’m sorry, but I love someone else. You should’ve consulted me before you threw away your relationship.”

Did you hear HIM correctly? He loves someone? You couldn’t take it anymore and excused yourself. Yet again, you ran to the bathroom feeling the same pain in your chest only 10 times worse. You didn’t want to be Karl’s friend anymore. Not like this.

THREE “I can’t believe you’re moving to California, Y/n” Karl says as he pushes his hair back, sighing in disbelief. “You’re really going to leave me?” He continues, tears welling up in his eyes as he turns to look at you with his signature puppy eyes. 

“I have to! It’s always been my dream to go to college there!” You reply, feeling guilty for leaving behind everything for your dream. 

“But I’ll miss you!” he says, fully knowing facetime exists, and you would always visit him during breaks. 

“I’ll miss you too! But, I need to do this. Can you stay strong? For me?” you ask, cupping his face with your left hand. You had gone on one of your late night drives again, parking in an empty parking lot as you have deep late night conversations. Today’s topic happened to be college, and while it had been always known you were moving across the country after high school, the day was coming closer and it all felt too real.

 As Karl leans his face into your hand, he lets out a yawn. “I guess it’s time to go back then.” you say.

“No, I don’t want to. I have to spend every second with you until you leave.” he whines. You wanted to as well, but then, there it was. The stinging in the back of your heart. You were tired of it. You hated feeling this way. You didn’t want to be Karl’s friend anymore.

THE END The warm summer air blew past you as you and Karl sit atop your roof, staring into the distance in the comfortable silence that was there from the moment Karl got to your house. Neither of you had spoken a word but neither of you cared. You just wanted to be with him. What would’ve made the night perfect was if you weren’t getting on the plane the very next morning, moving across the country. 

Building up as much courage as you could, you said the three words you’ve been wanting to say ever since you had become friends. You were leaving, but before that you wanted more than anything else to let him know this. “I love you.” You say, causing his eyes to go wide. You… loved him? That was impossible. 

“Yeah, I love you too.” He says casually. 

“No. I love you more than in a friendly way.” You reply.

“Really? Why?” He asks in disbelief.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was because you were my first friend, but it’s definitely because you’re you. I’ve been bullied almost my whole life, and you know that. But, no matter how the world brings me down, and even when hurtful words stab me, I can smile again. Because you’re there.” You say, tears rolling down your face. You pause, before continuing on about how much he means to you. “I mean, my whole life, one moment I feel like I’m nothing at all. Like no one would notice if I were gone. But then you came! And I was so happy. Or maybe it’s cause you make me feel loved. But when I’m with you, I feel so special.” 

And with that, Karl makes no hesitation in cupping your cheeks, silently wiping away your tears. In that moment, he decides that he doesn't want to be your friend anymore either. Leaning in, he whispers, “I love you too.” before he crashes his lips onto yours.

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it’s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[ptersparkers]

put your head on my shoulder

summary: jake virtanen’s got his eye on a certain friend of his. 

notes: uh, hey! this isn’t meant to be long but i had an idea and needed to get it out of my system. this is an x reader insert but i wanted to try writing from a different perspective and challenge myself. enjoy!! 

warnings: mentions of alcohol and general dumbassery from brock <3

masterlist n stuff + add yourself to my taglist 

(as a reminder, im NOT writing for outer banks anymore so please don’t add yourself to a specific list. you’re gonna be disappointed lol.) 

***

The girl who had Jake’s attention at the beginning of the night was slowly losing her patience when she noticed his eyes wander instead of focusing on her.

Jessica, in her prim little black dress that was short enough for her liking, came to the house party with the intention to have her dress taken off by none other than Jake Virtanen after one of her friends had mentioned how easy it was for her to do it. The girl wrapped her lips around the beer bottle seductively every time she went to take a sip, watching as his Adam’s apple moved with every syllable as he spoke.

She knew the host of the party and knew he was friends with some of the Canucks players, and knew it would be easy to get lost in the crowd of other Vancouver locals and visitors who were there to celebrate a successful week of wins. Jessica was sure to arrive fashionably late with her best friend by her side and paid no attention to the gazes of other men down her body, her own mission to find Jake more prevalent than lustful stares from drunk men.

Jake entertained the girl when she spotted one of their mutual friends, who was standing next to him, and made her presence known when she said hello over the loud music. Their mutual friend adopted her into the conversation and she put herself right next to the player, tucking herself by his side in an attempt to distance herself from the other partygoers beside her. She didn’t think Jake minded after seeing him give her a close-mouthed smile and licked her lips.

If Jessica could remember correctly, her friend had hooked up with Jake a few months back and, to her knowledge, was still single. She tried to remember how her friend had managed to seduce him with a few drinks in both of their systems and little conversation. Jessica was itching to leave the party with Jake’s hand in hers (or find the nearest unoccupied bedroom because she wasn’t picky) but the pleasant conversation between Jake and their mutual friend seemed to keep him preoccupied, leaving Jessica no room to interject.

After a while, their mutual friend excused themselves to say hello to another individual at the party and the group that had gathered to talk began to disperse or left to grab another drink. Jessica considered the best way to seduce Jake without being completely upfront and forward.

But when her eyes looked at his face, she could see his mind was elsewhere.

They continued the conversation from before but she steered the discussion to get to know him; where he was from, what he did in his free time, and how he knew the host of the party, all of which she knew but wanted to hear anyway. Jake spoke to Jessica nonchalantly and seemed to reciprocate the kindness Jessica was showing him. To her, it seemed as if he was genuinely interested in her advances because he didn’t shrug off her hand that she put on his bicep nor flinched when she swatted his chest whenever he made her laugh.

Jake’s eyes began to wander a few minutes into their conversation and she was wondering if he was looking for someone in particular. His tattoos were on full display and all Jessica could think about was his arms wrapped tightly around her, encouraging her to continue the mission she set herself on. She licked her lips more, tried to fix her posture to make herself look more appealing in the moment, and made intense eye contact with the hopes that he’d pick up what she was putting down.

However, her efforts would be unrewarded when he excused himself from their conversation, leaving Jessica standing alone. One of her friends had pulled her into their circle but she watched from her place as Jake traveled to the front of the house and could make out his white shirt until he stopped near the front door. She couldn’t see much past the bodies in front of her but saw a pair of arms—that looked to be from a woman—wrap themselves around his torso for a brief moment before letting him go.

Jessica wondered who the girl was and did her best to listen to her friends speaking but watched from the corner of her eye as Jake arrived with you, a girl she had never met before.

Jake walked behind you as you approached where Jessica was standing and waved hello to the people in the group Jessica was standing with. She looked at Jake and saw that his gaze wasn’t on her anymore but on you as you introduced yourself to those you didn’t know, including Jessica herself.

“God, it’s loud in here, huh?” you said, laughing at your own comment.

“Maybe a little too loud,” one of Jessica’s friends chimed in. “I can feel my ears ringing.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you said, giving Jessica a friendly wave.

“Jessica,” she replied with a nod and reciprocated your smile, though not as genuine. “How do you know the host?” 

“Work friend! He invites me to these things and I’m not one to go out every weekend but Jake convinced me to go.” Jessica watched as Jake looked down to your smaller figure and grinned.

“Hey, everyone needs a good Friday night,” he said.

“Amen to that!” Jessica’s best friend exclaimed before finishing her drink. 

“How do you know Jake?” someone asked. Jessica was relieved that she didn’t ask the question because she felt like she would’ve been invasive if she did.

“We met through Brock and Elias,” Jake explained. “She used to work at this coffee place they go to and I guess they stayed in touch after she left. The rest is history.”

Jessica witnessed Jake put his arm around her shoulder, letting his hand fall and watched as you leaned into his side. She watched as his grin stayed painted on his lips and sighed.

Eventually, the conversation took a turn and the small group that gathered for a while had dispersed throughout the gargantuan house. Jessica followed her friend to the spacious balcony and was pleased when Jake made the executive decision to do the same. But her hopes lessened when she saw Jake lead you to a less crowded part of the balcony.

Jessica watched as he used his right hand to squish your cheeks, laughing at your contorted expression and your pouted lips. She watched as he put his arms on your waist and moved your body to the beat of the song as you spoke. She watched as you took his hands and began examining them as if you’d never seen his body before and witnessed as Jake grinned at the sight of you comparing the size of your hands to his.

She could hear you two speak in the hum of the night despite the volume of the music inside and the chatter of people on the balcony.

“Your hands are so soft,” you commented, toying with his fingers and clasping them with yours. Jake laughed and used this to his advantage, pulling your body flush against his. “You’re so soft.”

“I’m not soft,” Jake mumbled in the crook of your neck, hiding his face from view as you feel his breaths on your neck.

Your hand was still wrapped in his and Jake made no effort to let go. He maneuvered so that your body was in front of his with your back flush against his chest and when he heard you laugh, Jake’s cheeks deepened into a rose blush. His hands clasped around the front of your body and moved the two of you as if a slow along was echoing through the balcony and he watched as you bit your lip. He let his cheek rest against the top of your head, a content smile resting on his lips.

“Are they together?” Jessica asked Brock, who came outside with the girl she came with. The blond looked at her before glancing at where you two stood, grinning knowingly.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Yet?”

Brock looked at Jessica, who he knew in passing and saw only at public events and parties, and shrugged.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” he explained. “They’ve been friends for a while but he’s very gentle with her.”

“So they’re dating, then?” she asked.

“Like I said, not yet.” Brock smiled politely and left her standing on the ledge in favor of speaking with another friend.

Jessica watched as Jake spun you around to face him once more and used his hands to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as your eyes fluttered close in pure delight. He murmured what Jessica could make out as “I want to kiss you” and watched as Jake waited for your consent before keeping his hands steady and pressing his lips to yours.

Jessica couldn’t watch anymore without feeling invasive so she left the balcony to find another drink.

“You. Are. So. Cute,” Jake said in between kisses while squishing your cheeks between his palms. He laughed as he watched your eyes widened in surprise at his actions before removing his hands to slip by your waist once more, pulling you closer to him.

“We aren’t just friends, are we?” you asked him as you put your hands on his chest, toying with the chain around his neck.

“You’ve always been my girl,” he confessed. “I haven’t thought about being with another girl for a few months now but I think I’ve felt this way ever since you chewed Brock out for standing on a swivel chair.”

You laughed at the memory and tugged on his chain mindlessly and Jake watched as your fingers wrapped themselves around the gold material and dug his fingers into your hips. You squealed and Jake laughed at your reaction.

“Come home with me,” you mumbled before widening your eyes. “I mean, not like that. I just want to go home and watch a movie.”

“Mm,” he replied, dipping his head to pepper kisses along your jawline. “That sounds nice. Stop to buy snacks on the way home?”

“You are the perfect person.”

Jake laughed and pulled away, holding your hand in his as he made his rounds. The both of you said goodbye to mutual friends and both Brock and Elias gave you two thumbs up.

His hand was on your thigh on the drive home and he kissed the back of your hand when your eyes were fluttering shut.

“Don’t sleep on me yet, pretty girl,” he said gently, squeezing your thigh. “You can sleep when we get home.”

True to his word, Jake let you sleep, wrapped up in a blanket with your head on his chest.

+++

taglist: 

@thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood​ @kerwritesthings @oc3an-vib3s @kaitieskidmore1​ @becihadshawn @storiesbymads​. 

[utilitycaster]

Actual Play: How it works

This is a collection of how I think of actual play as a medium, because TTRPG actual play is a unique one - a combination of improvisation, a rule set, and randomizing elements. This isn’t fully comprehensive, and I may add to it in the future as I come up with more ideas. I’m also thinking of providing some examples/more in-depth stuff for the items in separate posts, so please let me know if that’s something you would want.

Most of the observations here heavily skew towards D&D and Pathfinder actual play, as they are what I know best. Other systems I’ve listened to (PbtA, Cortex, Savage Worlds) fit in here as well, but this may not apply to all actual play, particularly GM-less games or games that are primarily played as one-shots.

Finally, and I say this only because it is a recurring problem on the social media that I happen to find incredibly irritating: you are also welcome and encouraged to have other opinions, disagree with me, dislike all of this, etc. If you have things to say, my inbox is the best place; this is too long for multiple reblogs and this is a sideblog so replies are tricky. However, if you are the kind of person who is inclined to say things like “Actually, there was an exception to this rule! It’s in the backmasked audio at 06:59:32 in the outtakes of episode 192c of Dungeons and Discotheques! :)” I would like to provide you with this actual play line quote from Adaine Abernant in Fantasy High: I think that you feel like you have a lot to offer, and please take this the right way... you don't.

Onto the thoughts, below the jump!

On narrative devices and rules and the random element:

Foreshadowing is possible, but limited to specific circumstances. A GM can (and should) foreshadow! The point of foreshadowing is to set expectations, and GMs should have hints that indicate things about the world that the party may encounter later, provide potential plot hooks, or otherwise provide the party with information. Similarly, players can do things that nod towards as of yet unrevealed elements of their backstories. However, it is impossible to deliberately foreshadow plot resolutions, because it is unknown what they will be. That doesn’t mean that in retrospect things may happen that echo back to earlier events, but the intent to foreshadow was not there - it’s a happy accident.

I don’t want to say normal narrative rules don’t apply because what are the normal narrative rules, really? However, I think an important thing to emphasize is that narrative satisfaction is not guaranteed. This is especially true if the cast has agreed character death is an option, but even beyond that, an unlucky or lucky roll can seemingly cut an arc short or take things in a weird and unforeseen direction. Because there is an element of randomness, randomness will occur. This, along with the character agency I discuss later, is one of my favorite things about actual play. It strips out the need for a moral or message or specific beats - not that those can’t arise, but they can’t be forced - and as such it can make for unusual, creative, and very true-to-life stories even in a fantasy setting.

On character role, viewpoint and agency:

Actual play stories have an ensemble of viewpoint characters (the PCs). This is perhaps the clearest restriction that exists, at least in all of the game systems I’ve mentioned. There is no good way to depict NPCs acting on their own unless the PCs have a way to observe them, unseen (magical or mundane). It is extremely difficult to have one player play multiple PCs, and if a player leaves there is not a good way to recast their PC. This doesn’t mean NPCs can’t do things with each other offscreen that have implications for the story, nor that PCs can’t come and go or become NPCs, but it does mean a good GM is very careful about NPC interactions because it gets very boring and non-collaborative very quickly to watch someone talk with themselves.

The PCs hold a level of agency that characters in other media do not. Statements about how the characters have a mind of their own in original fiction aside (sidebar: I am team ‘they don’t, you just didn’t realize that the way you wrote their personality and the way you wrote your plot conflicted until you actually started writing it out, which is very understandable’) PCs do in fact have a mind of their own separate from the GM and from each other.

Something I like about this is that unless you are coming up with conspiracy theories regarding the interpersonal dynamics of the players themselves (in which case I think you’re both a creep and a weirdo (derogatory)) or if the GM is not respecting player agency (which I feel is usually very easy to see; see below for more on that) you do not get cases of “these characters are together simply because the author felt like pairing them off” as can happen in scripted media. Any romantic relationship is, inherently, a mutually agreed choice between the originators of these characters, and more generally any plot or relationship necessarily needs to have something that appeals to all characters involved. It may be as simple as “these are my friends and I want to keep hanging out”, but, despite this being improv, it’s a medium where saying “no” is always an option.

With that said there is still room for players to be uncooperative or selfish. It’s rare, but it does exist, and I’m personally of the opinion that it’s in part the GM’s responsibility to have a conversation with that player and to not play into their attention grabbing. That said, with one notable exception, all the accusations I’ve seen about this have seemed to me to be more “I don’t like this player/character/ship/arc and I am going to claim they are stealing focus, despite it being justified,” and not genuinely about a player being obnoxious.

Agency separate from the person who creates the world is perhaps the most unique element of actual play and at this point I’m going to talk a little about how a good GM fosters that.

I’ve said before that when a GM has things happen that are not at least mostly a direct response to character actions, they are typically either world-building or a hook, and can be both. I think of this sort of as a variant on Chekhov’s gun, actually; the gun doesn’t have to go off, ultimately, in actual play, but it is saying the following:

This is a world where there are guns hung on the wall sometimes.

Someone else might do something with this gun.

You can attempt to do something with this gun before they do.

And then the players decide how they want to interpret it and what they want to do, and the dice indicate the level of success in doing so.

A good GM should encourage the players to explore and be creative, and more than anything, reward agency. This doesn’t mean rewarding it with success; rather, it means if someone explicitly indicates they want to interact with an element of the world, you should give them the tools such that eventually, they can try to do so. You can also give them reasons in-game why they should change their mind, or make it so that it’s almost certain to fail if that is reasonable, but if you are trying to flat-out shut it down without providing an in-world reason why, the cracks will almost certainly show.

One important thing to remember about GM-ing: GMs will probably come into the game with some ideas of what’s going on in the world, and some level of understanding of what the world looks like. That will be influenced by the players, both in terms of the consequences of their actions and choices, and also by what the players are interested in. Which is to say: even if there is a session zero, and the GM states a specific premise, that can change! Characters develop, player interests change, dice rolls do weird things, and so a good GM absolutely must if not kill their darlings at least remove, recycle, and adapt them based on the direction of the game and motivations of the characters. Even in a plot-driven campaign, the players and GM and what makes them happy needs to drive the story, because fundamentally, this is a game that should be fun. Which brings us to...

On the Watsonian and the Doylist in actual play:

Stepping back for a second: the context in which people are creating fiction influences them. End of sentence. It’s ridiculous to think it doesn’t. This means everything from political events and worldwide trends, to the media the creator is consuming or has consumed, to personal life events. There are always going to be in- and out-of-universe explanations for choices in fiction.

In actual play, the players and GM know the underlying rules of the world, and it’s difficult to truly split the party and have everyone not involved leave in a way that feels fun, so everyone always has information that they can’t really use in-game. Also it’s a fully improvised medium that is primarily theater of the mind, so unconscious choices, misunderstandings, and accidents are frequently not edited out, and people are human. Which is to say I think it’s important to take this into consideration in one’s analysis; it’s not that you can’t incorporate a Watsonian reason for something that happened, but Doylist reasons are given a weight that they may not have in an edited work.

Three of the Doylist reasons beyond the misunderstandings and accidents I wanted to cover are metagaming, awareness that this is for an audience, and character knowledge.

Metagaming exists in many TTRPGs, and it’s not actually inherently bad. When a DM in D&D says “that just hits” you get an idea of the AC of the creature, and you know your own attack rolls, and you can make decisions based on that, when, in a ‘real’ fantasy battle scenario, you probably wouldn’t gain all that insight from a single hit. The rules of the TTRPG are considered part of normal acceptable metagaming. There’s also the more general one; if you start the first session in a tavern, there is an unspoken expectation that the PCs will interact and form an impromptu group and not just quietly drink their ale and leave - basically, the rules of improv still apply. This is a good thing. And finally, there’s the acknowledgement that you are people with feelings and this is a game and so if someone is upset you stop, or you have discussions about consent between sessions that inform actions in-game. Metagaming just gets obnoxious when someone rolls a nat 1 and then argues that this is obvious information and they should know, or looks up every monster in the manual when you encounter it instead of playing true to the character’s knowledge.

In actual play, the ‘hey fellow tavern-goers, would you like to be a group’ form of metagaming, the “oh right this is a story and we should move the story forward,” is even more important than in home D&D games. This is where I recommend listening or reading some Q&As or watching some after shows, because you’ll hear players talk about this. A 5-hour shopping episode or extensive foraging can get boring to watch or listen to (and unlike accidentally boring or frustrating things, are pretty easy to predict and avoid). On the flip side, a risky choice might seem more appealing when you know there’s an audience who would love the payoff.

I am personally, perhaps unsurprisingly given what I said about player dynamic conspiracy theories and randomness (or, outside of this post, my strong dislike of certain popular fan theories), not a big fan of creators catering to audiences’ every whim...but it’s unavoidable that they will take the audience experience in mind.

Finally, character knowledge, which is the opposite of metagaming - when a character knows something the player doesn’t. This is sometimes covered with, for example, GM statements like “you would know, as a person with history proficiency, that this country is actually in a regency period.” If the character had, in improv, before the GM had a chance to say that, mentioned the king, that’s just because the player did not know that and had made an assumption.

Personally I find going deep down the rabbit hole with things like this - “why doesn’t this character, who CLAIMS to be from this country, not know this?”, or clearly OOC statements - tends not to actually spark any interesting theories, but that is, ultimately, an opinion.

A few final thoughts on different formats of actual play

True livestream/live-to-tape (Critical Role, Into the Motherlands, and the second season of Fantasy High): the main thing to keep in mind is Doylist explanations are even more important because there is quite literally no editing. Also, there will possibly be some of those more boring stretches or even a little OOC metagaming discussions within the structure of the game, because there’s no way around it.

Editing, but primarily just to remove long explanations/math and doing soundscaping (NADDPod, Rusty Quill Gaming): Pretty similar; a lot of them even make the choice to leave in OOC metagaming discussions, so it’s mostly that there are fewer cases of people slowly adding numbers.

More extensive editing and possibly some predefined other elements (TAZ, most Dimension 20 shows): this may fall into a more traditional story structure. It’s not to say that there won’t be surprises, because the players do still have agency, but the ‘rails’ might be a little more apparent; there might be some DM monologuing done after the fact (beyond just cleaning up the audio) or choices that were not scripted per se, but not exactly improvised either (think how D20 tends to have pre-set battle maps and earlier seasons had a pretty strict RP/Battle structure.

Somewhat relatedly there are broad story structures, which is more of a spectrum, ranging from sandbox (Critical Role) to very clearly GM-driven missions (TAZ Balance and, to an extent, Amnesty); nearly all of the other shows here fall into a structure of “here is your overall goal, how precisely you get there is up to you although, like any GM, I will provide in-story information on where it may make sense to go that will often funnel you towards specific places.”

I do have a theory that since TAZ Balance in particular was an entry point for so many people, it takes them time to adjust to the more sprawling, unpredictable, and difficult-to-organize stories other actual play can have, but ultimately it is a matter of personal preference and all of these still fall into the category of actual play.

[eileen-crys]

Hi hi and congratulations! 💓 How about... 5, 20, O and I? Plus

Suggest to me... a fic of yours to read if I'm not a huge Johnica fan. Either lull me into it or give me something different. ✨ (It's not that I don't like Johnica, I just haven't read a lot!)

Hi! Thank you so much dear! 🥺🥰🥰🥰

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I do! And I love it a lot 🥺💕 Though sometimes it happened that I wanted to reply but ended up forgetting about it and replied really late 😅 the longer the comment is the more I want to give a proper reply, so it might take a while but I always do my best to reply. It's always super inspiring and refreshing to know the readers' opinions and how they perceived the story, and I take care in letting them know I'm grateful for it 💕💕💕

20) What's something you'll never write? Ow, I'm very much sitting in my comfort zone so the list would be long... In general I wouldn't write disturbing themes or graphic scenes, I'm not into angst with bad endings, and I'm not a fan of big age gap or sugar daddy/mommy tropes. 💀 Speaking about Queen fandom/ships I'd simply say I wouldn't write crack ships (the closest I got to it was Tetzdealor which is basically "johnica + roger" hahah) but just because I like canon ships more 😊

O. Least shippable character? Hard to say 🤔 Probably John because personally I struggle to ship him with someone else than Veronica or - at most- Roger 😅🙈

I. What pairing would you try to write if given the occasion? Saroger! I love Sarina and Roger but I haven't had the occasion to write them yet! I hope to be able to write them one day 🥰 They're so underrated!

Fic suggestion for someone who didn't read lots of Johnica:

I'm genuinely torn between two of my fics, so here's both!

Dance with me? Is a short fluffy fic I wrote a while ago to lift my own mood and it features nowadays John and Veronica, while she tries to soothe him in a gloomy day.

Now it's time I'd make up my mind is a longer fic I split in shorter chapter, I wrote it for the 50 years of Queen event and it's written in John's 1st person POV. There is Johnica but it also features John developing his friendship with his bandmates.

[sunlit-squid]

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

[wtfsaidthefox]

Can’t sleep?

Duskwood - Jake x MC - 1779 words - Spoilers for Ep7!

Starts out with MC (who I randomly decided to name Sam) struggling after the events of Ep7, and Jake wanting to comfort her. Ends in self-indulgence fluff, because apparently that's the only way I can imagine Jake.

Under „read more" due to length~

Middle of the Night. She could hear rain coming down, beating against the open window of her bedroom. It wasn't all that cold, but she felt cold, even with her blanket pulled up halfway over her head. There was just a shiver going through her she couldn't shake. By now, she must have been lying in bed for a few hours, trying to find some sleep but dreading it all the same.

It had only been yesterday. Someone she had come to call a friend and care about in these last days… killed, right in front of her. It still didn't feel real. Then again, it felt like the only reality she had left. The pictures didn't leave her. Richy, coughing up blood. Richy, his face slowly growing still and lifeless. The panic taking over her, her heartbeat too loud and too fast in her own ears, that one thought hammering in her head, „do something, do something, do something".

If she'd try to recall her own actions right now, she barely could. She told the others. Desperate, incoherent syllabyles and half sentences. They went through disbelief, shock and denial all in a few seconds, but one of them managed to call the police. They had barely spoken since Richy's body was found, and on her end, she couldn't blame anything but guilt. Maybe they had pushed too much. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe she could have done something.

With a small, low groan she reached for her phone. Sleep wouldn’t come, and if, it would come with the same nightmares of last night, so she was tired of fighting for it. Anything else would do.

Opening her phone, she realized that she had an unread message.

Jake.

Between everything falling apart and coming undone, Jake had tried his best to stay calm. But it was even hard for him. ‚He must be so worried‘, she thought, ‚what this could mean for Hannah. Is Hannah dead already too, after all? Will everyone abandon the search for his sister?‘. In truth, he was worried for her.

„Hello Sam. You're probably asleep by now, at least I hope so. I just wanted to ask if you were alright. I mean, whenever you wake up. Please just let me know.“

A slight smile ghosted over her lips. Had someone told her after that first voice distorted phone call that the man under that hoodie would turn out to be such a sweetheart, she'd have laughed at them. But there was really no other word more fitting for Jake. Going through the best, most convincing „I'm all good" standard responses in her head, she noticed the little green dot next to his name. He was online. And just a few seconds later, another message popped up, he had seen her being online too.

„Can't sleep?“

„No. Do you ever sleep?“

„Some times?“

There was a bit of a break. She didn't know what to say, her thoughts a mess and her fingers shaky. Jake started typing. Stopped. Erased the Text. Then again.

„If you can't sleep Sam, I'm here for you.“

„You're sweet Jake.“

This was bittersweet, if she was honest. His care for her made her feel warm for the first time since she crawled under her blanket. But she was also at a loss for words. Shouldn't he focus on Hannah? Did she really deserve his support now? And most of all… how? How could he help her, far way, at some place she didn't even know. But she’d bite her tongue off before admitting to that thought.

„Do you want to talk?“

„You mean Smalltalk? 🤭“

Well, this sounded familiar.

„I would love to Jake, it's just…. I don't even know about what. Anything else would do, but I'm only coming up blank.“

„I'd know something.“

Oh? Now this was new. Curious, she asked him to go ahead.

„While I was in hiding, the only thing I could think of was you. How much I missed you. All the things I wanted to tell you. All the things you didn't know about me yet, but that I wanted to share. Even if I never shared them before, or couldn't even say why it suddenly meant so much to me to tell you. And more then that, all the things I didn‘t yet know about you. All the things I wanted to ask for no other reason then that I want to know you.“

He straightened up in front of his PC. Close to 2 in the night, he hadn't even moved away from his desk yet. Sleep, especially good sleep, had been a stranger to him for so long now, he had given up trying. There was always something on his mind, something to be done, one potential mistake to double check, one preparation more to make. If he was honest, most often, it was pointless. Nothing but his own ghosts from these last months on the run from the governement keeping him awake.

But this time was different. This time, the reason was right.

„You can ask me anything you want Jake“

„What makes you happy?“

Unexpected. Again. She furrowed her brows as she pondered the answer to his question.

„That's a hard one to answer"

„I know. I don't think I could have answered it myself just a short time ago.“

The implication was obvious enough, but still, she needed to hear it. Hear it spelled out.

„But you do now?“

„I do. You. You make me happy.“

She read those words a few times, with a smile on her face, aloud, or in her head in what she imagined his voice to sound like. Jake was normally not too good at reading other peoples emotions, but she couldn't help wondering if he knew how much she had needed to hear that. What those words meant, especially now, when all she was capable of was blaming and doubting herself.

„You make me happy too Jake“

„And that means more to me then I can say. But still, I'd love to hear what else does.“

„Are you planing to use that information against me?“

„Yes. Repeatedly and without fail :)“

How cute could he get? Laughing, she shoke her head and decided to just list everything randomly that would spring to mind.

„Well…. My neighbours, they have this little dog, and every time it sees me in the hallway it's all excited and overjoyed and adorable. That's just infectious. And the first flowers coming out in spring. Every year. Getting to sleep in on Sundays. Getting to hug my friends and family, especially if I haven't seen them for a long time. And seeing them smile. Oh, and you know what? Giving them a present that was just right. You know this horrible feeling of anxiety and impending failure every time you fret over what best to get a loved one for their birthday or on christmas? But then when you hit the nail on the head, and they love it – that has to be one of the best feelings in the world!“

„Of course you would", he answered to the last bit, before she could go on.

„I would what?“

„List giving others presents over receiving them.“

„Well, I'm not complaining about that either 😛 oh, and before I forget to add: parks, forest, beaches – just taking a walk through any of those. Or sitting down for a picnic and just watching the sky. It’s been way too long since I did that last. Have you done that before?“

„No, at least not for a very long time. But I would love to do that with you.“

„As a warning: I will tell you how every single cloud looks like a bunny, or a duck, or my old angry math teacher"

„What if I can identify those clouds first?“

„Then I'm impressed and you get points"

„And what do I get if I have more points then you and win?“

„An actual cloud. So cotton candy.“

She really was the only person that could still make him smile. Just like she was the only one that still made him feel like one day, he could be genuinely happy again himself. That there were people in this world he could trust, no second guessing, no double checking, no constant overthinking every word he said. Talking to her was easy. It made him feel weightless and light-headed, and he had no idea anymore how he had managed to fight those feelings for one second in the beginning.

He had started to tell her, trying to write down just what she meant to him, but in the most unfair contradiction, finding the right words for that was impossibly hard. And given what had just happened, was this really the right time?

Before he could finish debating on hitting send or not, another message popped up.

„Jake…. Is there really a chance for that? Can I really meet you, one day? Because… I wished you were here"

„I know. I wished that too. So I could be with you and support you, more then just with a few words. But I promise you, once this is all over, I'll find a way.“

Yes, he would. He had started to think about how while he had been on the run, and he knew he could make it happen. There was simply no other choice.

Realizing this again, he had deleted his previous attempt at telling her just what exactly she meant to him. Maybe the time wasn't wrong, but the how was. He’d tell her in person. He’d tell her in his own voice, looking into her eyes and seeing her reaction on his face after every single word. And then he‘d tell her again, until she was tired of hearing it.

Which she would probably never be. She felt herself exhaling, letting go of a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding in, as she read his answer to the question she had been so afraid to ask. Which she should have asked sooner, because his answer brought her more relief then she could have hoped. It was exactly how he could help her, more then anyone else, no matter where he was right now.

„Thank you Jake"

„:)“

„I'll reserve all the prettiest picnic places in all the nearby parks 😉“

„Well I hope there are a lot, so we get to spent a lot of time together.“

„There are! Though at some point we will probably also have to think of something else 🤭“

„Looking back at your previous reply, I guess I’d get you flowers next. Or hugs. Or a dog. I'll decide spontaneously :P“

[thefanficmonster]

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’. 

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered. 

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet? 

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia! 

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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