#Hope in my heart bc I remember back in the old days I used to have trouble making ref sheets and now I have pumped out a ton | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year

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Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back?

You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job.

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes.

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you.

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope.

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street.

The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone.

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch.

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs.

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.”

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk.

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work.

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work.

This is not new.

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone.

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead.

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..”

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are?

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I��m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!”

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?”

“Uh-”

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor.

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?”

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.”

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike.

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets.

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie.

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits.

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone.

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.”

He leaves.

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead. _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done.

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead.

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that.

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not.

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back.

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today.

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this.

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!”

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers.

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin.

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.”

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes.

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-”

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks.

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight.

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again.

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.

Eventually, he lets you go.

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”

His hands run up and down your sides.

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He does take care of you.

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.”

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?”

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.

“Okay. C’mere then.”

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.

“Come ride me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You catch your breaths.

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”

He tilts his head teasingly.

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

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watchmegetobsessed · 9 months

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MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening.

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised.

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you.

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own.

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so.

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body.

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from.

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man.

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!”

“No, it’s alri–”

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat.

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out.

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help.

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there.

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help.

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment.

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop.

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help.

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you.

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult.

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back.

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those.

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice.

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!”

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own.

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet.

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else.

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting.

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this.

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to.

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness.

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head.

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along.

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation.

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist.

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you.

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again.

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier.

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily.

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice.

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier.

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him.

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate.

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry.

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably.

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him.

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive.

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him.

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public.

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow.

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather.

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours.

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside.

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you.

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen.

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else.

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic.

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future.

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good.

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana.

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had.

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery.

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips.

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement.

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies.

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second.

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time.

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery.

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit.

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him.

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms.

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal.

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention.

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you.

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white.

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one.

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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causenessus · 8 months

Text

Love Languages. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, tecchou, jouno

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: do you love by trish toledo & baby bash

word count: 2324 words

pretty sure everything is written in lowercase except for names if they didn't look ugly capitalized bc aesthetics !!! had tons of fun writing this I apologize, this is barely proofread and for literally every character I got too caught up in specific examples and scenarios and just kept building off of it but I think they're kind of sweet so I hope u enjoy <3

dazai osamu - acts of service

“she peels an orange for us in the morning / she woke me up to give me half” golden girl - frank ocean

he’s terrible at taking care of himself, so someone who takes the time to care for him just makes every wall crumble

he’s probably horrible at remembering to eat as well, so if you make something for him he’ll treasure it forever

bonus points if your job requires you to wake up earlier than him (which isn’t hard, he def comes in a little later than his coworkers) and you leave something for him to eat when he wakes up or to take with him to work (or both <3)

he’ll start to look forward to waking up in the mornings in hope that you’ve made him something

never asks you if you’ll make something in specific or if you’ll even make him something at all. he adores anything you make and doesn’t want to make you feel obliged to do something if you happen to be tired and don’t want to cook tomorrow

voices all his appreciation for you when you both have laid down to go to sleep

“bella, I can’t tell you how much it means to me, all that you do. you really don’t have to make me anything if it’s a hassle in the morning or when you get home. you already work so hard.”

you turned onto your other side to face him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear as you smiled, “I do it because I want to, ‘Samu. and because I love you. if I can’t spend the day with you because we’re both at work, at least I can take care of you.”

his chest buzzed with so much happiness his eyes stung for a moment. he held himself back from saying that he didn’t deserve you. saying something like that wouldn’t solve anything. instead, he’d make himself worthy of you by helping out as well

he probably can’t cook very well but he finds other ways to help, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning the place so that there’s less on your plate

ask him to do anything and he’ll get it done for you as soon as possible <3

I think that for him, receiving such sweet love without any words is foreign to him but is just what he needs. he’d rather show how much he loves you than say it (although he loves to tell you it as well). getting out of bed could be so difficult for him some days, yet having a goal for himself has motivated him to become a better person. he wakes up, excited for what you may have made him and ready to do whatever he can for you

nakahara chuuya - gift giving

“they asked, ‘do you love her to death?’ I said, ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’” - mahmoud darwish

it’s easier for him to express how much you mean to him by giving you everything you want and everything he thinks you would like

he still tells you that he loves you every chance he gets, but oftentimes it is accompanied by a gift, no matter how small it may be, from just a single rose to a whole garden

for him, it gives a new purpose in his work; he’s working in order to get you whatever your pretty heart desires

he’s proud to use his hard-earned money to buy you things (rather than spending it all on wine <3 ily chuuya)

the easiest thing he can always get you is a favorite snack or drink and he’s got a whole system for it

he knows every store it’s available at and many of the clerks are familiar with him from the sheer amount of times he’s visited them to buy something for you. it never grows old for him, his favorite thing to do is buy you something on his way home from work or during the day when he’s planning to surprise you with a visit

he keeps a mental list of what your favorite things are. you’ll tell him about something you like without thinking anything of it but he’s already planned out when and how to give the item to you. it’s always on his mind what he’ll buy you each day, and it’s always worth it seeing you enjoy whatever he’s bought you

sometimes it’s as simple as a coffee and he’ll drop by your work to give it to you in person

“hanging in there, Angel? need a little pick-me-up?” he has the biggest smile on his face every time he sees you, and bringing a gift for you with him only adds to his excitement

“you spoil me, Chuuya,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning further into him as he holds you in his arms.

“what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” he responds, rubbing your back as you sigh.

receiving gifts from you is just as sweet. no one has ever given him as many gifts as he’s given others–which is fine with him–it’s not about what he’ll get in return and he knows that not everyone expresses their love the way he does

but he’s touched whenever you get him something. since giving gifts is so meaningful to him, it means even more that someone would go through the trouble to give something back to him

he’ll keep whatever you get him close to him at all times and smile every time he sees it or remembers it

once, you bought him a new chain for his hat and he hasn’t changed it since. it only made the hat more special to him now that it reflects two people that had changed his life

akutagawa ryunosuke - words of affirmation

“my love, you are worth it all.”

we all know how the boy responded to dazai’s praise or even simply just the words “dazai wants to talk to you”

to hear a person who has persisted through his stubborn, aggressive defense say they still love him causes him to start to soften for you

he’s been surrounded by harsh words and people who have exploited him and brushed him to the side whenever he wasn’t needed all his life, so it stirs his heart to hear someone notice things about him and who tells him that they want to stay with him

it’s something reserved for solitary moments just between the two of you for sure, but that makes the time all the more special because he can let down his guard and just be with you

his past has made it hard for him to believe he is worthy of anything other than the murderous skills he’s harnessed in order to get him to where he is in the Mafia, but you’ve shown him that there’s more to him than just how well he can use Rashomon

he never bothers to try and listen to what other people are saying but he always gives his full attention to anything you have to say

he doesn’t even like to hear compliments from anyone else, he doesn’t trust them at all but he trusts and believes anything you tell him, knowing you have the purest intentions of loving and supporting him

after a job, all he wants to do is go home. by the end of the day, he’s sick of everyone around him so on the rare occasion that you decide to visit him, he won’t even notice until you call out to him

he had just finished a job, it was successful, but it had gotten messy. Mori had already told him off and he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else. he stormed past every piece of vermin that had decided to get in his way, their whispers just barely reaching his ears

“Ryu!” you called out from amongst them, waiting by a door.

“What?” he hadn’t meant to snap, especially when he realized it was you talking to him and his face immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“oh, [y/n].” he immediately started to make his way towards you, the pounding in his head slowly starting to disappear the closer

“I came to pick you up, I’m glad I had good timing,” you smiled, offering your hand.

he took it gently, giving it a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry I responded so rudely, I didn’t–”

“you’re okay, Ryu,” you placed your other hand on top of it, looking him straight in the eyes, keeping a loving smile on your face, “you don’t ever have to be sorry. you’re doing just fine. even better, actually. I’m so proud of all your work and I’m sure you’re tired after everything today. it looked busy.”

the words erased every memory of Mori’s scolding that his head had latched on to in order to beat himself down later on. he felt his cheeks warm a little as he looked away, “you’re too kind to me, [y/n].”

tries his best to also put into words his appreciation but it’s so hard for him to verbally say it; sometimes it comes out wrong

instead, he’s opted for notes most of the time, leaving them on your bedside or in your bag, telling you how thankful he is for you and that he loves you

suehiro tecchou - quality time

“on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.” - mahmoud darwish

my boy is always so busy

as soon as he’s off work he just wants to be wherever you’re at

he’d doesn’t mind silence and doesn’t care where he is as long as he’s with you

sometimes gets off work and if you’re not home yet just sneaks into your workplace to be around you

adores following you around and doesn’t always know exactly what you’re doing but he’s just happy to tag along

grocery store dates are some of his favorite moments with you

he loves everything about convenience stores

he loves food and the endless aisles of colorful packages and choices

(it gives him ideas for new food combinations <3)

once bought a himalayan salt shaker simply because

“look [y/n]! they make pink salt :0”

later put said pink salt on top of strawberry ice cream bc they were both pink

he also loves getting to look around the store all the while following you. he admires your organized grocery lists and how you’ve already planned out what you’re going to buy

once you tried to send him out to grab something in an area you’d already passed so that you could continue going down the list

“can you go grab some carrots for me, love? sorry, I forgot to pick them up when we were in the produce section.”

“of course 🙂” his heart is shattering inside of him at the thought of being separated from you.

“do you want to stay with me and we’ll go back later?” you ask, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

“yes pls”

groceries stores are not the only place you guys go tho i promise

if you’re still in school, he’ll accompany you on study dates

never bothers you under any circumstances and if he is and you tell him he’ll stop right away

he could spend all day looking at your pretty face even if you never once looked at him <3

jouno saigiku - physical touch

“you kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry / the sun has come this close, only the sun” “GPS” - Shauan Barbosa

although he can’t see you, he knows your body by heart <3

he’s spent so much time tracing it over and over with his hands

i think his favorite thing to do, especially after a long day at work is flop onto you and just listen to your heartbeat. probably also intertwines one of his hands with yours, often runs other across your skin

loves when you touch him just as much

if he’s lying on top of you and you decide to run a hand through his hair, all of his problems have just melted away

you both have definitely fallen asleep like that countless times no matter what time of day it is

he’s always finding ways to be in close contact with you, making sure that you’re safe and near him

again, he loves loves loves to hold your hand, he’ll reach for it any chance he gets

will also settle for an arm around your shoulder though as long as you’re close to him

definitely the type to also rest his head on top of yours or on your shoulder every chance he gets

if he needs to fidget he won’t even play with his own fingers he’ll just play with yours

i think that with the loss of one sense, the other senses hold so much meaning for him

it’s easier and more meaningful for him to show his love and how much he trusts you through touch rather than just saying it out loud

comes up from behind you to hug you a lot, especially in the kitchen or when you’ve just come home he’s there immediately, hugging you to recharge

“how was your day, my love?”

you always relax in his arms, turning your head slightly to kiss his face which he’s let rest on your shoulder, “it was missing you.”

he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, “i’ll make it all up to you now, darling.”

there was one time that he let you do his hair

he’s never told you how much he enjoyed it; he didn’t even know what you had done to it, but being near your warmth is all he needs and can ask for <3

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #tecchou x reader #tecchou suehiro x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiki x reader #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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faefictions · 8 months

Text

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie,

Does it Snow in Indiana?”

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time.

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.”

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well.

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.”

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles.

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes.

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends.

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years.

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day.

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up.

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore.

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now.

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account.

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion.

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain.

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner.

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching.

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold.

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper.

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way.

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office.

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?”

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room.

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.”

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.”

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.”

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?”

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.”

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you.

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left.

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.”

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place.

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.”

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice.

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.”

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind.

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on.

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van.

“Left out of the lot?”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.”

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him.

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet.

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh.

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow.

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights.

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door.

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.”

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van.

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging.

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it.

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat.

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face.

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize.

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment.

“Everything ok?”

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought.

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky.

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving.

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.”

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy.

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.”

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.”

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it.

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so.

“That good huh?” you laughed.

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.”

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.”

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie.

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you.

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.”

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.”

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process.

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.”

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke.

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face.

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side.

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma.

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house.

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you.

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.”

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.”

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him.

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.”

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head.

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way.

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long.

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him.

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more.

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal.

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall.

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much.

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face.

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.”

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding.

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded.

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes.

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard.

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I told you she’d like it here”

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it.

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was.

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking.

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped.

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke.

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply.

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment.

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions.

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought.

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it.

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself.

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb.

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away.

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you.

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth.

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #line cook!eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine

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anadiasmount · 7 months

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what do you think an ideal date with jude be like?

a love for the books - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: request above!

wc: 1.3k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

HIII MY LOVE!! i’m so sorry this was delayed but i’m posting this in honor of valentine’s day 😣🤍 ik this might be a little over the top, but knowning how jude is...🤭 HERE’S THISSS FOR YOU AND ANYONE READING!! like always, hope you enjoy bc it’s pure fluff 🤍🤍

“look so pretty for me darling,” jude said coming up behind you where you shyly looked away as you finished clasping your earrings on. “seriously, like how did i get this lucky,” jude kisses your temple and sighed in relief as he hugged your waist.

you smelled his familiar cologne, kissing his bicep that was bare as he wore a simple black button-up and some jeans. looking more boyfriend than ever. “i don’t know jude, you tell me. i’m the lucky one for being able to spend my weekend away with my boyfriend for the first time in weeks,” you say teasingly.

“you’re right. but i have a girlfriend who is patient, loves and cares for me, and planned this evening for the two of us. don’t worry i have something special in store for you later,” jude leans down and pecks your lips in a loving manner, a groan stuck in his throat as he tastes your sweet taste.

“cmon i wanna eat, i’ve been dying to eat for hours,” jude says pulling you to the door hand to hand. “jude wait hold, wait jude! i need my shoes and my purse,” you say giggling and rushed. jude sits impatiently as you finish final details, sighing in relief once you finished.

jude opens the passenger door for you, refusing to let you do anything and let him be the gentleman he is. he keeps a hand on your thigh but from time and time, he'll interlock hands and kiss the back of it gently, giving you a cheeky smile as he sang to his music.

he led you to your table at the exclusive and private restaurant, never letting go until he grabbed your chair and helped you get seated. his brows pulled in as he scanned through the menu, telling you different options of what he saw or what he was in the mood for.

"we'll take the roscatto red wine in a bottle, and bread rolls for starters," jude spoke kindly, his thumb rubbing your skin as you continued to scan in the menu, thanking the waiter when they brought and filled your glass.

"what's the surprise you mentioned," you asked curiously, leaning your head on your hand that rested on your table. "it won't be a surprise if i tell you," jude snickered, grabbing a small bite of the golden warm bread. "yes but i'm impatient and want to know," you moaned. "if you keep whining i'll blindfold you and won't let you see the entire ride there," jude raised his brow testing you.

"fine, now what are you thinking of getting?" you asked taking a sip of the red wine carefully. "maybe the honey garlic salmon with a side of stirred veggies?" he said slowly as he read the menu. you winced in a disgusted manner, shaking your head at the thought of seafood, "ew..."

"oh please," jude laughed at you, "i bet you'll order pasta or noodles of some sort knowing how you are," jude teased earning a dramatic gasp from you. "for your information, i was thinking of it... BUT i'm going to go with the steak with a side garlic parm zucchini bites and stuffed rolls," you poke your tongue out.

jude and you speak quietly among yourselves, laughing loudly as you remember old memories and remince those times where you first met, last minute dates because you had missed each other. going to random gas stations to get snacks, or stay up all night on facetime.

you could remember it all, write all the memories down on sheets of papers and turn them into a book if you wanted to. jude always tells you the day you have kids, and once they’re bigger, he couldn’t wait to tell them just exactly how you met. how his heart bang out his chest and saw everyone blurry and just you standing in the room.

how nervous he was trying to approach you. the eagerness inside him to hear you laugh or make you smile. how determined he was to get your number or any sort of contact because he knew. how much off a stuttered mess he was once he finally asked you if you want to go inside for a drink. how he felt like the luckiest man on earth, almost cried, when you told him the three words.

through think and thin. you were it for him. and he’ll never ever let go of you.

“cmon… we’re almost there baby…” jude said as he dragged you along the gravel road down into a wet trail. “jude when you mentioned surprise i though a movie night with a fort and a game off poker, not this! i just ate and all this walking is gonna make me throw up,” you laughed nervously, almost misplaced your step any a giant rock.

“funny you say movie night… what if we have a movie night here,” jude closed your eyes, then revealed the open setting. “we can star and moon gaze if we get bored, but we can have a movie night here with all these snacks surrounding us,” jude kisses your forehead, watching your mouth agape as you saw the laid out pillows and sheets, a small table containing the snacks and jude’s ipad.

“jude… this is so CUTE. I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! you’re the best boyfriend i could ever ask for,” you squeal hugging him so tight he’s afraid you’ll break his bones. “only boyfriend you’ll have,” jude states in a possessive manner making you roll your eyes playfully.

“only boyfriend i know, unless for some reason henry cavil turns up single?” you shrug pouting your bottom lip, jude immediately frowning as he followed your steps into the sheets laid out. “uhm first off all were both english. second of all that won’t ever happen, i’ll make sure if it. third of all, you say all this after i do this for my lovely girlfriend?” jude speaks as hoe watches you set up the pillows and open bags of chips.

“i was just kidding… you’re the only hero in my life, and i can’t wait to make more of these memories with you,” you say after nagging an upset jude to lay down. he has one hand under his head, as the other one strokes your back, the bringing it up to tuck a curl back, brushing your cheek and leaning up to capture your lips.

you melt inside, feeling a burn sensation as he kiss your lips. this felt different than past times, the way he holds you, kissing you like a starved man, hands brushing and pulling you on top of him so he can further the kiss even more. your hearts beat quicker, not once pulling away, just in your own world with jude.

“as much as i want to fuck you against these sheets… i want to watch the movie with you,” jude pulls away breathless, smears of your lipstick all over his lips as he closes his eyes trying to calm down. “and what if i say i don’t want to watch the movie… that i’ll take that offer right now,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, making jude shiver.

“if you’re a good girl and do what i’ll say, i’ll gladly grant the wish, so turn around for me and press play…” jude’s voice then deep nudging to the ipad and watching you slowly turn and lay on his arm, feeling your nails gaze onto his skin as you traced his veins.

after a couple minutes of silence and just your breaths and watching the movie, you feel jude pull the strap of your dress down and pepper kisses all over your bare shoulder. “stay still, gonna give my girl the love and care she deserves…”

your love was definitely a story for the books.

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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adamsrcnan · 5 months

Text

i'm thinking about jean and his magnets and postcards again and it seriously breaks my heart. the way he pulled out that first postcard and his heart sank when he saw the writing was blotted out and how he desperately spread them all out trying to find any still salvageable. and then the bear missing a piece and the hope that maybe the missing bit was at the bottom of the box but there was nothing there so it would never be fixed. like they knew it was his favourite and purposely left it irreparable.

and i need to know so many things!!! like when was the first time kevin gave him each of them?? what made him think of jean and pick them up?? what had he written on the back of the postcards??

what did jean think and feel when kevin first gave him them??? did he clutch them desperately in his hand?? bc it had been so long since anyone had given him anything after he'd been snatched from his home and come to the nest empty handed and reduced to a number. did he immediately display them proudly in his room?? or did he keep them hidden at first?? afraid that riko or someone else would take them away from him.

why was the bear with the beret his favourite??? what if it's because kevin handed it to him a stupid smile on his face saying "this one reminded me of you" and jean looks at it skeptically and says "why?? bc of the beret and i'm french?" and kevin just snickers a little and jean rolls his eyes and kevin says something teasingly in french newly taught by jean and jean feels something pull at his chest and he clutches the magnet tighter and says a curt thank you but every time he looks at it he'll remember how kevin smiled at him and how for a second they felt like normal kids and not helpless caged animals. and then he gets them back and they're broken and ruined but they're the only thing he's truly owned in so long so of course he will keep then forever even if he can't bear to look at them anymore. even if the thought of them damaged and destroyed makes him sick to his stomach.

and then!! and then there's jeremy who notices when jean's gaze lingers on the magnets on cat and laila's fridge and gets all excited when he spots jean's collection and tells him they can make room on the fridge and isn't aware of the sadness jean probably has to force down when he tells him they don't stick anymore and how jeremy automatically assumes it's because they were well-worn and sentimental bc he has no idea how much they meant to jean and how they were used as a way to get to him to hurt him.

my heart hurts it really hurts thinking about it. i really hope the trojan's start gifting him some and he starts a new collection and idk maybe jeremy learns the truth about what happened to them and tries his best to fix them up again or even searches desperately to find the same ones and maybe kevin hears about it too and starts sending jean new ones whenever he travels so that one day jean will think of those old ones or even see them up on his fridge or in a drawer and he won't feel an ache in his chest anymore.

#this is such a ramble-y post but UGH #i can't stop thinking about jean and his magnets and postcards #it physically hurts my chest #jean moreau bby you deserve all the pretty magnets and postcards !!!!#jean moreau #kevin day #jeremy knox #the sunshine court spoilers #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #tsc #all for the game #aftg

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hwasoup · 5 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time

@kit-and-wolfe drew this for me in the server so, now imma use it :') Omg hi guys, Ik its been a while since I last updated but it's mainly bc I'm not ready to say goodbye to this series yet TT there's about 2 chapters left guysss so I hope you guys understand how much I'm edging it. Anywho the chapter is finally here !! I hope you enjoy !!

warnings: fearmongering, manipulation words: 1.8k

ch.6 | next

Chapter 7: The Mob

The days have passed since y/n traveled back to the village

Eddie was simply lounging around nearby Y/N’s home, as per Ben’s instruction from a couple of days ago to alert him if Y/N was home. He was just sitting by a bush minding his own business until he looked up and saw in the distance, a woman riding on a horse as fast as the animal could take her. He squinted a bit and realized it was Y/N. Immediately he got up and ran to where Ben was located, obviously in his tavern.

Eventually after a bit of running, he manages to catch Ben before he leaves on a hunt. Gasping for air, he holds onto the cuff of his sweater. “She’s…. She’s back…” Ben stops in his tracks and smirks to himself “well then…. it's time to initiate the plan…” On the other hand, back at the humble inventor’s cottage. Y/N swiftly made her way back home and immediately into her father’s room. She looked at him and gasped at how sickly he looked. His eyes looked sunken, and it was clear that he hasn’t exactly been able to take a bite of food in a couple of hours. Y/N quickly walked to his bedside and grabbed the nearest towel and dunked it in some cool water that was in a bucket in the corner of his room. She wrings it out and proceeds to approach him and wipe his face, hoping that his fever would subside a bit. Mauricio’s eyes slightly flutter at the feeling of cool water drying on his face, he looks up groggily and mumbled “Mija?” Y/N’s heart melted, and she whispered “shhh, no te preocupes…I’m home.”

Mauricio took a minute to process her words. His eyes widened when he fully registered that his precious daughter was sitting right before him. He immediately adjusts his posture and tries to sit up to the best of his ability "…. I thought I would never see you again...” Mauricio immediately leans in for a hug. Y/N happily returns it to him and rests her chin on his shoulder “I missed you so much…” Mauricio tightened his hug with his daughter until he remembered a specific detail... “But…but the beast. How…how did you even escape!”

“Papa, I didn’t escape…he let me go..” She says fondly. Mauricio looked at her shocked “what? The Beast did ??” Y/N unknowingly smiles fondly at the thought of the man… “yes…Miguel let me go...” Mauricio raised some eyebrows “MIGU-” he started furiously coughing. Y/N patted his back to help him ease his lungs from all of his coughing. His voice was strained from his coughs, and he cleared his voice a bit. “That…ese monstruo ?” Y/N immediately shook her head “not a monster…he’s different…he’s quirky, silly, and incredibly gentle..he’s…. he’s changed…” She bites her lip and looks up at her father until she hears a knock on the door. “I’ll be back papa.” She stands up from sitting on the edge of the bed and goes to attend the door. A man stood at the door with a menacing grin “erm…con que te puedo ayudar..” she says hesitantly. “Vine a recoger a tu padre” he says with an eerie voice. “Wait…my papa ??” she says in surprise. Y/N stands there looking at the man with confusion in her eyes, as well as worry as she hopes that her father didn’t do anything to further tarnish the broken reputation he has in the village.

“Don’t worry senorita..we’ll take care of him” the man says as he moves from her sight and shows her a locked wooden carriage, on the side saying Psiquiátrico de alocado. Surrounding the carriage, she noticed the villagers all surrounding it, with torches and pitchforks ready to use them as weapons if it comes to that point. Y/N immediately registered what was happening and immediately protected her father “MI PAPA NO ES UN LOCO” she said with fierceness in her voice. She was pushed aside by two villagers who barged into her home and forcibly dragged-out Mauricio and threw him inside the carriage. Y/N got up immediately and tried her best to try and get him out, but all she could do was just be pushed away. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as everything suddenly started to look hopeless. “Poor Y/N…it really is a shame about your father...” “Ben!” Y/N looked at him desperately as she held onto the hem of his shirt “please, you know he’s not crazy” Ben hummed as he played faux innocence “but you see Y/N your father… he’s been making absurd claims, but….I am able to…well clear up this small misunderstanding…if…” Y/N looks up at him desperately “If what!” Ben chuckles and grabs her by the waist making her body be pushed against his. “If you marry me” he says with a grin. Ben leans down and tries to sniff her soft hair “one small word Y/N that’s all it takes…” Anger bubbled in Y/N’s body, and she pushes him away, her nonverbal actions speaking in volumes as to her response to his manipulation tactic. Ben scowls at her and gruffly says “Have it your way then...” and he walks away to the crowd until Y/N yells “WAIT”

“WHAT CLAIMS WAS MY FATHER EVEN MAKING” she yelled out. Ben turned to her and chuckled “oh…why about a Beast..” Y/N in that moment remembered she had the magic mirror in the pocket of her apron and she pulls it out “PLEASE ITS TRUE… I HAVE PROOF.” She looks down at the mirror and softly spoke to it “Show me The Beast”

The mirror glowed a green color and rose into the air, a bright flashing light arose and projected an image on its reflective glass surface and revealed Miguel and his beastly appearance. Every villager, including Ben gasped at his ghastly sight. Even Eddie stepped back a bit after seeing it

In awe Ben ripped the mirror out of the air and approached the villagers “look at this sorcery, look at this BEAST!” He turned the mirror around to show the villagers “LOOK AT HIS FANGS, HIS CLAWS!”

Y/N’s heart broke at how people saw him and tried her best to defend him “No..please…don't be afraid…He’s gentle…and kind” Murmurs were heard throughout the crowd…but Ben…he was appalled…the woman he desired so much to be his wife…was calling the Beast KIND….words that she had never said to him. He turns to her in anger, anger that the Beast has clearly won her affections and in an accusatory tone pointed at her

“The monster has her under his spell…. IF I DIDN'T”T KNOW BETTER I CAN SAY SHE CARES FOR HIM” “HE'S NOT A MONSTER BEN…YOU ARE” Ben’s face grimaced, but he had to mask it in front of the villagers “I’ve heard of the effects of Dark Magic, but never like this…” Ben decided on what to do. “THIS IS A THREAT TO THE BANE OF OUR EXISTENCE” The villagers cheered in agreement as they truly believed that Y/N was under a spell and that she is now a danger. “WE CAN'T HAVE HER WARNING THE CREATURE, LOCK HER UP TOO !”

Y/N’s heart shattered as she was immediately grabbed by the arms of Ben, the man of the carriage opened the doors and allowed Ben to throw her inside the wooden box alongside her father as well and closed the doors of it as well. His face was filled with fury, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Eddie.. “Ben… with all due respect but-”

“SHUT IT OR YOU'LL BE WITH THEM TOO, AND FETCH MY HORSE”

Eddie’s voice reduced to a whimper and he looked down…He knew this was wrong…what was originally a menacing plan had now become just pure cruelty. He knew he couldn’t fight against an angry Ben so he stayed silent and left to do what he was instructed.

Ben then proceeded to initiate a riot with the villagers, to prepare to fight, to encourage them to kill the Beast. Each villager went into their homes and brought out muskets, pitchforks, knives, torches, anything that could be used as a weapon. After what seemed minutes, Ben led a mob of angry villagers and used the magic mirror to find where the castle was located and led them out and directly into the woods.

______________________________________________________________ Inside the carriage however Y/N was huddled beside her father as she tried to check on his health despite the severe conditions they were in. Y/N was scared for Miguel…she wanted to warn him desperately, but she also needed to watch her father. She thought long and hard until she decided that she needed to warn Miguel.

“Papa…I need to warn him..” Mauricio looked up at her and coughed “Ay Mija..but…I- I’m scared for you…It will be dangerous” Y/N crouched beside him and nodded “yes…it will be..but, he did everything for me…he even gifted me his library..” Mauricio’s eyes widened “a library ? How many books are there ?” Y/N chuckled “more than what this village can even hold, Papa..trust me…he saved me from the wolves and now..I must repay him..” Mauricio looked into her eyes and saw a look that he had never seen in his precious daughter’s eyes. He used to have that look when he was younger and when his wife was alive. He then smiled softly knowing that well…his daughter is all grown up now, even if she hasn’t realized it herself. “If it what your heart desires…then…I could try and pick the lock” Y/N smiled as she listened to her father ramble “After all, it's only just gears and springs” he reached his hand outside the bars of the carriage to get a hold of the lock. “ But..I would need something..” he turns to look at her “shar…p” Y/N was already holding a hair pin on the palm of her hand. Mauricio chuckled and took it into his hands “perfect” He then placed his hands back out of the bars and took a hold of the lock again and used the pin to start picking at it. He eventually finally opened the lock and pushed the doors of the carriage open, quickly getting himself out as well as y/n. He turned to her and ran with her to the stables and whispered to her “take Felipe as well as this coat and go warn your friend” Y/N nodded and whispered a small thank you to him as she quickly packed everything and immediately got on Felipe and rode on him, holding onto the reins as she prayed that the trusty steed would gallop as quickly as possible to the castle.

Maurico watched as she disappeared back into the forest and smiled softly, reiterating the thoughts he had before…

his daughter was in love…even if she hasn’t realized or admitted it yet.

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm, @keendreamknight, @texanadmirer, @stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm,@jadeloverxd @pinkmistart, kishimiest,

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv

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bindeds · 5 months

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𝑯𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔—𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒎. — DISSONANT REVERIE; ZEROSASHES ON AO3. ( RADIOSTATIC. )

welcome to a series that probably will not continue because i am so bad at finding fics to stick by :,) hazbin ao3 fics i’m recommending on this blog!

tags. (my own, not the author’s just to give a brief summary of the overall tone of this fic) enemies to lovers-esque , blood and violence , but they still want each other BAD , pretty prose !!!! , radiosilence-esque

i wrote my favorite lines from 2 of the chapters in the comments if you’d like to see my anecdotes, but besides the excellent metaphors and imagery the author uses, they also write vox and alastor’s dynamic SO WELL. there’s always a hint of yearning in each sentence they exchange but also so much vile things waiting to be hurled at each other, it’s so delicious. let me gather my favorite lines!

“Their laughter danced like music notes in the air, mingling with the sweet scent of whiskey and the gentle hum of jazz.”

“It’s an old dance. They wield their past like weapons, knowing precisely how to hurt each other.”

— chapter 1.

“Vox’s heart feels like a bird, throwing itself madly against the cage of his chest.”

“This constant dance, each twist etching new scars into each other.”

— chapter 2.

“Alastor's relentless taunts reverberate, echoing in the hollow spaces between them. His restraint shatters like glass as he backhands Alastor across the face.”

“The way they collide, the way they entwine: an unending performance. So well-rehearsed that each step, each touch, feels destined, inevitable, as they twist themselves to fill their roles.”

“but it’s the reluctant hope that is worse than the fear.”

“They frame Alastor like a regal crown of shadows, the colossal horns a burden he carries with the grace of a titan perched on his dais.”

— chapter 4.

i didn’t write anything for chapter 3 sadly as i was quite tired when reading it but i might update this if i go back to reread that chapter because i DO remember having more lines from that chapter that stuck with me.

anyway, zerosashes, if you’re reading this, i’ll have you know that i only quote specific parts bc i can’t just throw the entire chapter into the comments when i quote your fic, but i would if i could BECAUSE YOUR WRITING IS THAT GOOD. AGH. i am ill. this is the cure i do not care.

ANYWAY GO CHECK THIS FIC OUT!!

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magicalmischel · 3 months

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WIP TAG GAME 🌿

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips

thanks for tagging me @regulusrules ! 💖

I have a lot of wips too 😂 most of these are for BBC Merlin, a few are for classic who. I hope I don't forget anything, I keep a list but I haven't updated it in like a year 😂

BBC MERLIN WIPS

The Crystal Hunters; 45k

a canon era time travel fic with merthur and morgwen, set during the Great Purge. There's lots of plot, magic, crystals, old castles and running.

Layers of Dusk; 17k

a darker fic where Arthur dies and so Merlin tries his hand at necromancy

Give Me Your Hand, I'll Give You Mine; 1300 words

canon era, merthur, magical injuries caused by the great purge and a magic reveal.

"the medieval roommates valentine fic" (untitled); 2500 words

merlin is forced to stay in arthur's chambers 24/7 bc of plot. Not sure if I'll ever finish this one tbh

Rhythm of Love; ??k

glastonbury festival fic where arthur returns + musician!merlin. I have no idea how many years ago I started this, definitely pre-2018 though. Idek if I still have the draft somewhere ;-;

Suddenly Flames Everywhere; 77k

;-; i think abt this fic every day and try to work on it at least once a week ;-; i wanted to post it for acbb 2023 but i ran out of time, and then once the deadline was gone, so was most of my motivation 😂 it's a merthur enemies to lovers dragon!merlin soulmate canon au that I care about very very much. pls ask me abt it if you want maybe it'll kick me into working on it more 😂

The Light of Knowledge; ?????k

oof this is an old one. started it way back in 2014 and I'm honestly not sure if I still have the draft saved somewhere. All I remember is a big maze, lots of bad poems that I wrote in like the 9th grade and merthur 😂

Falling into Empty Space (??); 400 words lmao

basically a s1!merlin vs s5!merlin epic fight with time travel to 1x08 bc obviously killing kid!mordred is wrong, right? Right??

"ghost!merlin canon au fic" (untitled); 9k

exactly what it says in the title. damn i need to return to this ;-;

"cat!merlin fic" (untitled), 1000 words

canon era, merthur, magic reveal. Merlin transforms himself into a cat bc of course that is the absolute best way to get arthur to accept magic. it only makes sense in his head lmao

Burn Us Away (But Keep Me in Your Heart); 11.8k

canon soulmate au with a LOT of angst and a magic reveal

"the bird!merlin fic"; 1000 words

first written for merlin bingo 2021 but I never finished it ;-;

No Doubt in My Mind Where You Belong; 12k

a canon era trans!merlin fic with established relationship merthur

"cuddle fic" (untitled); 1300 words

written for fluffalooza 2023 but never finished ;-;

"one bed fic" (untitled); 1900 words

also written for fluffalooza but never finished bc it felt too ridiculous/cracky/ooc, but it might be worth reworking

"the weird tarot crack fic" (untitled); 2.8k

written for tarot fest 2023 but abandoned bc i came up with a better idea for the fest. I remember it was very cracky, I might return to it. Canon era merthur.

i might be forgetting some tbh, I've written a lot of drabbles that I later wanted to expand but never did ;-;

CLASSIC DOCTOR WHO WIPS

"jamie/10 + 11 fic" (untitled); 3.5k

the 10th doctor visits all his companions before regenerating into 11 including jamie <3

"twojamie war games "make it worse" fic" (untitled); 849 words

this is theoretically a fix-it but also i make it much worse first lmao, and i'm not sure yet how it ends either, so is it really a fix-it??

ok and I think that's it!! ;-; i did write a little something for each of the titles but hopefully not too much so if anyone sees this and wants to know more feel free to dm me

i'm not gonna tag 18 people though that's way too many 😂 I'll tag @insane-ohwhyfandoms (good luck) @lair-of-the-dragon @lesbianlefay @invisibility-superiority @queerofthedagger @wolfiery @haventacluewhatimdoing and @twojamie-o-clock <3

absolutely no pressure to do this though of course! 💖

#tag game #fandom #wip #fanfiction

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romanarose · 9 months

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Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

#romana personal posts #cw suicide #cw self harm #cw csa #cw sa

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mikareo · 10 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ post of gratitude ! <3

⊹ ⠀⠀ hi guys! on my old blog, i'd make a post every november to spread gratitude for the mutuals i interact w most n wanted to carry that tradition onto this blog! ily all and hope that your day was wonderful today (unless ur a nanami stan bc that was rlly rough im so sorry abt that ep ajskl)

psa; if u weren't tagged in this post, pls know that i appreciate u very much and would love to interact w u more!! msg me anytime n i'll try my best to visit ur inbox in the near future!

꒰ . . to my readers ꒱

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ thank u so much for supporting my work by reading, liking, sharing, or commenting on any of my writing! i love reading through reblogs and seeing what u guys think of my ideas,, it's so motivating n i appreciate it so much like omg sometimes u got my kickin my feet reading thru ur comments ajskl i hope to post quality content for ur enjoyment n i luv u all,, much more to come as time goes on !!!

꒰ . . to my mutuals ꒱ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ in alphabetical order

⌗ @chigirizzz ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ hi val! just wanted to say that i love how supportive u are of other creators on the site,, i feel like whenever i see u on the dash ur always hyping someone up or making their day brighter! ALSO i cant believe u also know the voltage otome games bc i feel like i'm crazy sometimes bc no one know what they are LMFAO i hope u had an amazing day !!!

⌗ @doobea ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ dooby!!! i love the bright energy u bring to my dash n i think ur absolutely gorgeous (u ate that choso costume up omg ajskdlf) ur always such a pleasure to interact w n i think ur writing is amazing,, i rlly need to just binge it all one night ESP the choso fics u post bc ur writing rlly captures how much u love him LOL my fav choso worshipper <3 hope yall get married!

⌗ @hesthermay ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ hi pookie teehee,, i haven't answered ur text yet bc i was trying to figure out how to fry chicken (3 of them were raw ajsklf) but i will after i post this lol. ilyvm and i can't wait for u to stay w me,, i'm gonna take u to the mall n treat u to some canes chicken fingers *heart eyes* (i'm typing on my laptop forgive me) you've been w me since my org blog from sept 2020 n i act can't believe how long we've known each other now (3 years!) ur so old like ur my granny but that's ok bc ur my favorite granny ever,, sorry for violating u #ageism is not okay,, i miss u so much n i miss ur bf bc ur my mom n dad (legally) i even miss ur roommate who i actually can't rlly remember the name of but that's not the point i'm trying to make so forget i said that part,, i definitely know his name!!! also i decided that kingsley is my favorite dog u have bc he's tiny n reminds me of my doggie,, luv ya! text u in a bit!

⌗ @itadorey ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ omg hi inez, remember these? no u probably don't bc i got rlly lazy w my blog in the late days (rip aitarose) i love all of the tiktoks u send me n i love ur instagram stories bc they make me laugh n i love how much u love snoopy,, he's literally my idol n there are so many statues of him in my city it's so funny n they always make me think of u. ur my yung gravy queen,, i love u so much n i'm so glad hq tumblr let me meet u even tho it was lowkey traumatizing (yikes) our mudae days were so fun,, esp the night i let that person put the roleplay bot into my server jkals so grateful for u !!!

⌗ @kitorin ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ hiiii souta!!!! i just wanted to say that i LOVE seeing u comment first on my writing posts,, like it motivates me so much bc i know i have such a large support system coming from u n ur so sweet n talented AJSJJJ u were (i think?) my first new mutual on this blog when i first made it,, n you've made coming back to tumblr such a welcoming n amazing experience! i'm so grateful to be ur mutual n i hope you've had an absolutely amazing day!

⌗ @mymegumi ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ firstly BITCH ANSWER MY TEXT. secondly, happy thanksgiving! <3 wish we were spending it together but distance is real n it hates us :( miss u and can't wait to see u whenever that is lmfao like whenever plane tickets decide to stop being so expensive,, so glad we aren't beefing anymore haha that was so silly of us... anyways... whenever i do see u, i'm going to give u a big hug n then we're going to gossip abt everything that's happened since we were last together n it's going to be great bc i'm going to make u watch twice videos n ur gonna love them as much as i do bc i'm ur sister n u have no choice but to love what i love! hahaha... i love you so much n i'm so glad ur my sister #meimei n jiajia 4ever <- that's actually approved by me n that's all that matters bc i'm actually the president of the world and ur my favorite person on it jaklsdf ANSWER MY TEXT BITCH

⌗ @pokkomi ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ chiu u r genuinely one of the most positive ppl i've ever met on tumblr n i love u sm for it like jaskdlfjdkl u always make my day when u reblog a post n reading ur tags is so heartwarming n it makes me want to write a million more pieces just to see what u think of them,, ur theme is absolutely adorable n i love ur alpha wolf pfp bc it's so funny n i was literally giggling when u were answering asks abt it n i saw them on my dash,, i hope that every day is an amazing day for u n if u ever need anything u can come in my pms to chat or my inbox (i will def be saying hi later in urs LOL) have an amazing amazing day n i can't wait for u to post any kind of writing in the future!

⌗ @rewh0re ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ hi hana!!! i'm so glad u popped into my inbox n said hi bc i always saw u interacting w ppl on the dash n i was too nervous to say hi jakfsdlkl i love interacting w u n talking abt whatever n whenever in inboxes or replies,, ur username always makes me giggle n i love it so much (i always read it as 'reo whore' for some reason asjfdkl but i love it) i send ur kuroo fics to my kuroo stan friend n she eats them up,, ur writing style is so beautiful n emotional,, i love the way u structure ur plots w metaphors n repetition n symbolism n everything u put into ur hard work it's all so amazing,, wishing u the very best day tmr ever!

⌗ @wishmemel ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAFI!!!! ik i alr said it but it never hurts to hear a million times n more! i associate u sm w sanrio like idk if mymelo is ur favorite but in my head u r the real life her ajsfkl,, ur so sweet n genuine i love interacting w u n seeing u all over my dash,, I HOPE UR BIRTHDAY WAS AMAZING !!!! ... fixing this bc im screaming bc i can't believe i mixed that up omg... anyways... LUV U

⌗ @yoisami ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ OKAY FIRST i literally LOVE ur theme like it's so cute n so fitting to ur personality i love it sm ajsfkdl saki ur so sweet n i'm so glad we're mutuals bc i always look forwards to seeing u on my dash or going to ur inbox (which i'm lacking on rn but i promise i'll visit it more soon jaskdl!!!!) the way u support ff writing on tumblr is so amazing w ur reblogs n tags,, n i look foward to reading more of ur writing in the future (hopefully i can live up to ur sweet tags!) !!! have an amazing amazing day saki !!!!!!

⌗ @y2kuromi ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ screaming bc i got ur bday mixed up w another mutual but HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LMFAO !!!! i hope that ur day was so amazing n that i'm not getting this wrong again (SORRY SAFI) !!! mimi ur so nice i'm like giggling so hard rn im so sorry,, happy happy birthday hope it was amazing!

⌗ all of my other loves <3 ₊ ˖ ་.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ i love being mutuals w all of u n being a part of such a supportive writing community! ur all so talented n ur blogs r beautiful, i hope ur day was absolutely amazing n that we can interact more in the future (i will be invading ur inboxes that's a promise ajfskdl) !!!! happy november!!!

#<3 gratitude #it’s so crazy posting this at 20 #i was 17 when i started this tradition 😭😭#IM SO OLD #ILY GUYS !!!

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johnmurphysgirl · 4 months

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Pair: Thorin Okenshield x FemOC! (Link to the Wattpad fic if you’d rather read it there.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, found family, heartbreak bc I’m secretly satan.

Word count; 5,239

A/N: To get myself back into my fic in hopes this will inspire me to write the mf third chapter already and quit stalling. — although a baggenshield fic is lowkey calling my name instead

NIENNA GREENWATER YEARNS FOR A DIFFERENT LIFE.

She yearns for a world deeper than the Shire; for adventures so vast and world-changing that she has no choice but to remember for the rest of her life. If Nienna tries hard enough she can almost taste freedom. She can hear the wind whizzing past her hair as she runs amongst the trees, the entire world at her fingertips. Nienna has spent her entire life dreaming; oftentimes her dreams entailed packing whatever she could in a knapsack and disappearing from her hobbit-hole by the river. To find a new life. One where Nienna is brave, fearless, and unapologetically herself.

Nienna has tried to let go of her silly little dreams, because that's all they are. Dreams. The others don't quite understand. In fact, she can count on one finger the only one in the Shire that even remotely understands. His name is Bilbo Baggins. The only one who has foolish little dreams of grandeur, – despite trying to deny it at every corner -- and her best friend in the entire universe. If it weren't for him, she would have said goodbye ages ago.

Their friendship itself is a bit of an odd union; for he is a Baggins who lives on The Hill, whereas she is a Greenwater from The Water. Where his family hold riches and a normal life filled with farming, and safety, hers longed for adventure and destiny and often took risks the others would not. Her ancestors used to travel to far away lands by ship, meeting Elves and Dwarves alike, and in truth, is a lot of reasons behind Nienna's call to adventure. Bilbo's problem is he refuses to acknowledge his Took ancestry and has taken up refuge as his father's son, mainly.

Nienna hums quietly to herself on this particular day, skipping past hobbit-holes and other little Hobbits milling about their days as they do in days past. It's a wonderful day for an adventure, she thinks and hobbles along. The sun hangs high in the sky without a cloud in sight as she makes her way past the Water's edge and bounds upwards towards The Hill. Bilbo won't be expecting her. He usually never is, but that hardly stunts Nienna. She's quite used to his blathering about unannounced visitors and how he would really love for her to come by at an appropriate hour and preferably after writing to schedule a specific time. Tea time, for example, or dinner, or some other boring activity.

Nienna doesn't like schedules. She thinks it takes away the air of mystery, and so, Bilbo's also gotten quite used to that.

"Good morning, Bilbo Baggins!" Nienna yells jovially as she just crosses up the Hill, noticing her very best friend perched atop his bench with his pipe in his hand. "Mind if I join you on this fine day?"

"A very good morning to you, Nienna Greenwater!" Bilbo says, a hearty laugh on the tip of his tongue as he mockingly bows his head. "To what does little old me have such privilege to be greeted by Nienna on this fine morning?"

"Probably for you to stop speaking so formally, Bilbo, my old friend." Nienna grins, and collapses on the seat next to him.

He shakes his head fondly at her. "Ah, yes, yes, of course. Silly me to have forgotten."

Nienna's sparkling eyes turn away from Bilbo, then, to look down the Hill, and past the Water. Her heart aching for places she's never seen, before she turns back to Bilbo just as he blew on his pipe to make one of his famous smoke-rings. Nienna laughs with delight, reaching her hand up to poke a finger through the ring of smoke, watching fascinatedly as the puff of smoke swirls around where her finger had been before disappearing into the wind.

Bilbo smiles at her. He's aware of just how much enjoyment Nienna gets out of his smoke-rings, and it's part of why he did it just now. To move her attention back to the Hill and the Shire and away from her dangerous thoughts of peril and adventure. He wouldn't admit that, of course. If he did, he would have to delve into the deep part of his psyche that craves the same wanderlust as Nienna; and he can't, because nobody on the Hill, or Bag-End ever goes on adventures, and especially not a Baggins.

The two Hobbits this morning were taken by complete surprise in the form of an old man, with a staff at his side, a tall pointed hat, a long and flowing grey cloak, and a flowing white beard that went all the way down below his waist.

"Good morning!" Nienna and Bilbo say in unison.

"What do you mean?" The man asks, looking at the two. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good on this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Personally, Nienna thinks her greeting was simply that; a greeting, and perhaps the last one. It is a good morning. According to her, anyway. She glances at the man, eyes sparkling in curiosity. His identity evades her, but she's fairly certain she's seen him before, maybe once long ago. His entire being evokes such a strong sense of yearning for the adventures that plague her every-waking thought. Too tired of doing the normal thing.

"All of them at once, I suppose," Bilbo answers for both of them, which Nienna appreciates. She doesn't quite know how to explain her thoughts at this precise minute, and is thankful the attention isn't on her directly. "If you have a pipe about you, sit and have a fill of mine!"

Nienna even moves and offers the man her seat, just as Bilbo makes another dashing smoke ring that has her face lighting up in seconds. But he does not sit. He watches the smoke without even an ounce of fascination.

"Very pretty! But I haven't the time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, but it is very difficult to find anyone."

Bilbo glances over at Nienna in horror, already seeing her head snap towards the man with such fervor, he's afraid her head's going to pop off. He's already shaking his head and standing back up. "I should think so — in these parts! We have no use for adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things! Makes you late for dinner! I can't think what anyone sees in them."

Meanwhile, Nienna glances back and forth between Bilbo and the stranger; her eyes dancing with delight at this revelation. Is this him? The one her mother used to tell her stories about, the Grey Wizard known by many names, and yet seems to be fond of one in particular; Gandalf the Grey. The wizard that had taken Yavanna Greenwater, Nienna's grandmother, to the isle of the blessed. A sacred place long past the city of Dale that is rumored not to exist anymore after Smaug destroyed it as he had done to Dale, before taking over Erebor.

"Speak for yourself," Nienna says at last, her hopeful gaze turning to the Wizard, while Bilbo pretends to be busy with his mail. "Nienna Greenwater at your service."

She tries to ignore the apprehension growing inside her chest with a vague sense of fear. She knows not what the adventure entails to offer such a service, and who is she, anyway? Nienna Greenwater has never done anything note-worthy in her entire life. She has no business parading her ancestry around like a warm blanket of comfort, when it was not her who has done extraordinary things. She yearns for adventure so badly, but why should she go on this? She's just a hobbit.

"I do know your name, Miss. Nienna Greenwater, as I know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you both know my name, and while Nienna is piecing it together, you, Bilbo don't remember me belonging to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think I should have been good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, and Yavanna Greenwater's granddaughter, as if I was selling buttons at the door!"

"Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering Wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered?"

"Don't forget he used to tell such extraordinary tales at parties," Nienna chimes in with a giddy smile at the wonder in Bilbo's voice. "He used to tell stories of Old; about dragons and goblins, the rescuing of princesses, adventures and dreams. Oh, Bilbo, don't you remember the story my mother told us? Yavanna Greenwater, sailing with Elves to the isle of the blessed, fighting hardship after hardship to protect it –"

Bilbo's eyes lit up. "Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks!" Bilbo cried, unapologetically interrupting Nienna's daydream. "I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! But I had no idea you were still around."

"Where else would I be?" Grumbles Gandalf, before waving a hand in the air. "At any rate, I am glad you both remember something about me. You seem to look on my stories and my fireworks kindly, for your grandfather and your grandmother, and poor Belladonna's sake, I will give you what you asked for."

"I beg your pardon, what?" Bilbo says, incredulously. "We haven't asked for anything."

"Yes you have – Twice. I will give you my pardon, and then you will go on an adventure – both of you."

"Sorry, I don't want any adventures, thank you. Good morning – please come back for tea time tomorrow. Come tomorrow, bye!" Bilbo says, moving backwards towards his door, and slamming the door behind him, leaving Nienna alone with Gandalf. She blows out a puff of air, before turning in curiosity towards the Wizard, who does not move away as she suspected he would, but instead approaches Bilbo's door with his staff, carving something on the green door.

He turns to give Nienna a mischievous look, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. "Tomorrow," he whispers. "Come back tomorrow."

*⋆*❀��❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀*⋆*❀❁❀

Sleep evades her like a thief in the night, keeping her up till way past dawn. Her mind conjures up images of death; fire and brimstone. Which left Nienna a bit on edge, with, admittedly, a great deal of fear. For almost immediately after Gandalf the Grey disappeared from sight with the promise of tomorrow, the bravery melted out of the poor hobbit and right into the ground, leaving her with a heavy heart for her journey back home. Not a long journey; but a journey nonetheless.

Nienna is nothing but an absolute fool. A silly woman with grandiose dreams, and wanderlust which is surely on the right track of getting her killed. Dragons? Goblins? Possibly Orcs? What in all of Middle Earth was she thinking? Nienna wouldn't last a single day outside the Shire.

Those thoughts lingered long after she thought them. Nienna couldn't for the life of her understand why. An adventure was all she's ever really wanted, and yet now that's she's faced with what's surely to be a life-altering one, all she wants to do is hide in her hobbit-hole. She doesn't. Instead, she musters up whatever courage is dawdling in her brain, and hobbles along the path up the Hill. She can't shake the inkling that Bilbo is going to need her for what's to come. It's much too dangerous for any one hobbit to travel alone; so, if that means danger so be it.

The brunette sighs through her teeth. She hesitates for about five seconds, before knocking on the door twice. A minute later, the door swings open wildly and a bit desperately, revealing a very flustered Bilbo Baggins. Inside, the noise was so loud she nearly toppled backwards off the placemat. She covers her ears and tries and fails to cover up her grin. A noise such as that coming from the kitchen could only mean one thing; Dwarves.

"Nienna?" Bilbo cries after a moment of silence while the two stare at each other, over the noise from behind him. "Thank goodness you're here. Dwarves are in my kitchen. Dwarves. I don't know what's –" Just then, Bilbo pauses in word, his eyes narrowing at Nienna in slight suspicion. "What are you doing here, anyway?" She shows up right after a pack of dwarves show up out of the blue; no, this could be no ordinary visit. "Did you know about this?"

Bilbo jerks his thumb towards his kitchen as he asked the question, bringing Nienna to frown slightly. Her gaze softens, turning a tad bit sheepish. "Not… all of it? Gandalf told me to meet here at tea time, like you said, but not at all what any of this meant. I'm.. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you, Bilbo, honest, but this could be good for us! C'mon, can't you believe it? A real adventure. You and me. Even if we decide not to go; it's not everyday we see and meet dwarves." She pauses her spiel to giggle, nudging his shoulder with her own. "We're being terrible hosts. I'll help you."

Bilbo Baggins wants to scream and shake his head, and maybe stomp his feet like a naughty hobbit boy throwing a tantrum. He wants to shake Nienna's shoulders and tell her that no, he does not wish or have any business going on such an adventure, thank you very much, and that he'd much rather sit and enjoy his cakes and tea in peace; but the words or actions would not come. He knows good and well he would not be able to stand the flicker of hurt in her eyes. Whether it be by luck or the opposite, a steady knock followed by the doorbell was his saving grace. It kept him from saying anything he'd regret, at least. "Ah, that will be more dwarves, I imagine. Could you answer that, Nie? I really must have a drink or I'm afraid I'm going to fall down."

"Of course!" Nienna breaths, her steady grin growing wider if it was even possible. Bilbo sends her a grateful nod before he's disappearing towards the kitchen, leaving Nienna to turn and face the door. She opens it as gently as she could, but..

In fell four dwarves landing in a heap at her feet, with Gandalf shortly behind them. "Ah, Nienna Greenwater!" He booms good-natured, sending her a warm smile. "Might I introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur busy themselves with hanging up theirs and Thorin's hoods after a quick bow and a "at your service." Nienna was only half paying attention. Her eyes were drawn to Thorin, a very important dwarf. None other than Thorin Oakenshield himself stood not even five inches from Nienna. The Thorin; the one who hopefully one day be at his rightful throne as King under the Mountain. He does little to acknowledge her except to incline his head respectfully, although he doesn't exactly seem all that enthused by her presence.

"Now, then, that pleasantries are out of the way, would you accompany us to the kitchen Nienna, that is, if there's any left for us late arrivals. And where is our good friend, Bilbo Baggins?"

"He's in the kitchen, sir," Nienna says kindly, trying not to appear as excited as she feels.

She sends them all one last warm smile, before leading them towards the kitchen. Immediately upon reaching the destination, the early and late arrivals each had a list of demands of food and drink that they'd like; all aimed at poor Bilbo himself. Nienna shoots a longing look at one of the scones. She shakes her head and moves towards Bilbo, who had already departed towards the pantry, to help him with all the various requests.

The dwarves speak and look at her kindly, but it's fairly obvious they are all a bit weary by her presence. Not that Nienna could blame them. After all, they had probably only expected one hobbit, – if any at all – not two, and certainly not a female.

Ah, well. Nothing to worry about now, she supposes, while reaching for the wine on the shelf.

She passes by Bilbo, who is currently busy making Gandalf's eggs, and brings the wine to Thorin first. Nienna is careful while filling his cup to the brim to not over-fill or under-fill, and gives him a bow, before maneuvering around the other dwarves until she reaches Gandalf. She fills his cup next, and he thanks her graciously.

"Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!" Bilbo says aloud upon his return to the room, a deep scarlet tint to his face that she's never seen before; Nienna coming along the bend just as he did, carrying more spoons and knives. "Why don't they come and lend a hand?"

Nienna hasn't quite matched faces to a name yet, but if she was correct, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili came to their aid; as if they had been expecting those words eventually. Her eyes widen a fraction as they whisk trays and tables alike and lay everything afresh out on them in just a tiny blink of her eye. Nienna can't help but feel enamored by them all. They're absolutely fascinating, and despite being a bit demanding, it was mostly a good meeting. To her, anyway. She couldn't speak for Bilbo himself.

Soon enough, they're all finally gathered together around the table. Nienna takes a tiny bite of her score that she had finally acquired, before engaging Kili and Fili in a most exciting tale of their journey to the Shire. The way they described the paths and roads and large places outside Bree only fuel Nienna's need to see it for herself. She wasn't too enthralled with their stories of riches, though. Nienna doesn't need gold or money to be happy. Water and good company, and adventure now and again seems quite pleasant to her. To get married and have children, maybe. She hasn't thought about it a lot.

Bilbo sits at his stool alone by the fire nibbling on a biscuit, while the other dwarves and Gandalf continue to eat and talk excitedly amongst each other. This goes on for quite a while. Nienna doesn't mind. She could talk for hours and hours with Kili and Fili, as they were the most fun, she decided. Even with how weary they were, they spoke jovially and didn't seem to mind her pestering questions. But eventually, as is with most things, it was time to move on.

The shenanigans of dwarves once again fill her with awe. This won't be the last time. One by one, they all got up out of their seats and start stacking the dishes in a very large stack; while Bilbo trails after them nearly losing his mind shouting and pleading for them to be careful. After all, those are his mother's old valuables that had been handed down to him.

It was no surprise to her, but a great deal of a shock to Bilbo, when they all – minus Thorin and Gandalf who were busy in conversation – began to sing:

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

Blunt the knives and bend the forks!

That what Bilbo Baggins hates –

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!

Pour the milk on the pantry floor!

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;

Pound them up with a thumping pole;

And when you've finished, if any are whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!

So, carefully! Carefully with the plates!"

Nienna couldn't control herself; she claps and nods her head to the dwarves' song, laughing merrily and grinning over at a slightly unamused Bilbo. If they had done the things they sang about she would have not laughed; but they hadn't done any of it. In fact, they cleaned them all up nicely and put it back without a single scratch on them.

The thrill of today provides proof of the promise of tomorrow; and it has yet to leave Nienna. She slides next to Bilbo on the stool, grinning from ear to ear as she watches each dwarf leave the room, and then return with their musical instruments. For tea time was over. And with it, a new adventure of music before dinner.

"Isn't this wonderful, Bilbo?" Nienna asks him quietly as Balin leaves to retrieve his and Thorin's musical instruments that were left outside.

"I could think of a great deal more that is wonderful," Bilbo mutters under his breath; Although even he has to admit there is nothing quite like songs, especially one sung by a dwarf or elves.

Nienna doesn't pay much mind to Bilbo's words, however, and allows the excitement to keep running through her as she waits impatiently for the dwarves to return. Her waiting does not go in vain. Soon enough, the dwarves are all in their respective spots with their instruments.

One by one; they began to sing:

"Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep,

In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord

There many a gleaming golden hoard

They shaped and wrought, and light they caught

To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung

The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

The dragon-fire, in twisted wire

They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day,

To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves

And harps of gold; where no man delves

There lay they long, and many a song

Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale

And men looked up with faces pale;

The dragon's ire more fierce than fire

Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;

The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.

They fled their hall to dying fall

Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim

To dungeons deep and caverns dim

We must away, ere break of day,

To win our harps and gold from him!"

The hauntingly beautiful melody sends chills up Nienna's spine. Their voices mix together in perfect harmony, conveying the deep loss; and their undoubted determination to reclaim their home. She almost finds herself misty-eyed. The deep loss is almost like a pang in her gut, even if it is not her who has lost. Nienna understands now. Just exactly what this adventure means for Thorin and the dwarves, and for her and Bilbo, and just exactly what they plan on doing. Their determination is quite contagious.

For, Nienna is even more ready to go.

Nienna was so deeply invested in the dwarves' song, that she hadn't felt Bilbo moving away from them until Thorin broke the silence that followed their song; "where are you going?" He demanded, and Bilbo simply made some silly excuse about light. Although, the dwarves assured him they love the dark. Dark for dark business, that is, and while Nienna doesn't quite understand; she's still just ready to get on with this. She wants to know just what dangers they would face, should they accept the adventure. But most importantly; Nienna wants to know why Gandalf chose her and not just Bilbo. Why should he have invited her along on this quest? What has she got to offer besides an incredibly bubbly personality and a startling thirst for the World Beyond.

She will get her answer, but it won't be the one she's expecting.

Nienna sits quietly as a mouse, after Bilbo had made such a racket that she's afraid to breathe, let alone move in fear of being yelled at too; and waits with bated breath for Thorin to speak.

"Gandalf, dwarves, Mr. Baggins, and Miss. Greenwater! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirators, these two most excellent and audacious Hobbits – all praise to their wine and ale and their gracious hosting! –" Thorin pauses, and Nienna smiles.

"We are lucky to be in your presence, Thorin, if you'll excuse my dear friend's lack of words. Your song and company is quite all we needed."

Bilbo's mouth widens in protest, although no noise comes out of it and all Nienna does is shake her head at him with a soft smile. She knows how hard this all is for him, the two sides of him fighting like some wild tennis match; but still. Thorin deserves some praise, after all, he hadn't made a big fuss about Nienna's presence, or about how mere Hobbits are not warriors and most have never really done anything wildly great, either.

Thorin surprises Nienna with a nod and a tight-lipped smile, before he continues: "We are here to talk about our plans, ways, our means, the policy and devices. The journey is a long one, a journey which many of us, save Gandalf, might never return —"

A loud squeak disrupts Thorin yet again, – A squeak Nienna has only heard twice in all the times she's known him – Bilbo having been the reason behind it, and he now cowers on the placemat shivering, and frantically calling out, "struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!"

"Oh, Bilbo," Nienna murmurs sadly as she hops off her stool and runs to assist her only friend. Guilt swirls around her chest, nearly suffocating her; she should have been a better friend, instead of getting all swept off her feet over the thought of an adventure. One that Bilbo has expressly said he did not want to go on. "Can somebody help m–"

Before Nienna could even get the words out, Fili and Kili assisted by Dwalin are at her side in an instant and hoisting Bilbo up in his chair just outside the parlour. Now, Nienna knows she should continue on with the dwarves in their conversation and stipulation, but she can't find it in herself to leave Bilbo's side. So, she sits on the floor beside his chair, keeping him company and humming slightly while trying to ignore the very real fact that the dwarves are in there right now with Gandalf, possibly talking about how neither she nor Bilbo has any business on this quest if all they were gonna do is bring about trouble by having episodes.

Her face turns a deep shade of velvet, their words rushing in her ears; she was so embarrassed that she didn't even feel Bilbo stand out of his chair, until his hand was in front of her face to pull her up. Nienna frowns a little. She shrugs and allows him to help her up, and it isn't until they're standing in front of the parlour door that she understands what he's ready to do. And that he wasn't going to do it alone, and hoped that Nienna was still as willing as she was before he fell flat. Her eyes light up and she nods, giddiness flooding through her as Bilbo finally pushes the door open and steps inside.

"Pardon me," Bilbo interrupts. "I don't pretend to understand what you are talking about, or your meaning of burglars and what in the world a beacon of light compass is, but I believe I'm right in my understanding that you think Nienna and I are no good. Let us show you – although I know there is no mark on my door I painted it myself a week ago, and I am quite sure you came to the wrong house – but tell us what you want done, and I'm sure Nienna feels as I do about it; we will try it. Even if we have to fight the greatest were-worms in the Last Desert."

"Um, Bilbo," Nienna pipes up from beside him, and nearly shrinks back as every pair of eyes turn towards her. "There *is* a mark. I watched Gandalf do it."

"Of course there is a mark," confirms Gandalf. "I put it there myself as surely as Nienna was my witness. For very good reasons, mind you. You asked me to find the fourteen man for your expedition, and I went ahead and threw in a fifteenth. I chose Mr. Baggins and Miss. Greenwater. Just let anyone say that I chose the wrong ones or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal."

Nienna has never seen someone scowl as angrily as Gandalf did in this moment; it was enough to render the room to silence as nobody dared to argue.

"That's right," continues Gandalf. "I have chosen Mr. Baggins and Miss. Greenwater, and that oughta be enough for all of you. If i say Bilbo is a burglar, then a burglar he is, or will be when the time comes. As for Nienna, she is as pure as they come in all of the Shire! When all hope feels like it is lost, she is the tip of the balance. You remember it as well as I do, Thorin. You may all live to thank me yet. Now, can we please get some light on this?"

Nienna frowns. When all hope is lost, she is the tip of the balance. Did Gandalf have to speak so vaguely all the time? He never gave any answers and when he does, it is not plain enough to understand. Nienna doesn't feel like a beacon of hope. Maybe a hopeless romanticizing woman with a thirst for adventure, but to be a tip in the balance? That's going a bit too far; but she isn't given the time to question it as Gandalf brings out a map.

"This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin," Gandalf explains. "It is a plan of the mountain."

"I don't see this helping us much," Thorin says after glancing at it. "I remember the mountain well enough and its lands. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."

"There's a red-marked dragon on the Mountain, but it'll be easy enough to find him without it," says Balin.

Nienna was growing quite tired as they spoke back and forth of maps and doors, a key and a dark past with Smaug the Dragon; and back and forth about burglaries and a hope tipping scale that she nearly cried in relief when Bilbo suggested an early start after breakfast and a goodnight's sleep.

After Nienna's head hit the pillow she was out like a light and was the only Hobbit to join the dwarves for breakfast; having been the one to make them.

Click here for chapter two —> CHAPTER TWO

#thorin oakenshield #fic #Thorin x femoc #Thorin x OC #the hobbit #Bilbo Baggins #fem oc #OC:Nienna greenwater #thorin #Tolkien #fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction

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bigtittybitch514 · 1 year

Text

Something in the Way

“If you're alive, raise your hands,” a male voice commanded. You obeyed, slowly lifting your arms in the air.

"Would it count if I said I was dead on the inside?"

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

This is my first fanfic, just felt compelled to write! :)

I’m probably going to make this a series, which will go all the way to RE4. There will be fluff! There will be angst! There will be smut! (eventually). I love slow burns and try to be lore accurate, and as non-ooc as possible. I haven’t actually played the game bc i get too scared, but I watch the hell out of gameplay and read wikis and blah blah. It’s hard to fully grasp locations admittedly when you haven’t played the game before, so I fully admit that it’ll be gray in that area. Anyway... enough about me.

(a little bit about you, I’ve given you a bit of a past just to correlate with the story, at the end of the day: I want you to think about yourself or your own characters)

no y/n

RE2, then RE4 later

she/her pronouns

you are 20+

TW there will be mentions of gore, violence, and blood!

3.3k words

You're headed to Raccoon City to search for your estranged mother, but little did you know that chaos awaits you. On the bright side, a charming rookie cop may just be a pleasant surprise along the way.

D-DAY/ CHAP 1.

"My darling daughter,

As I write this, I feel the end coming near. I'm so sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most. Life got in the way, and I made mistakes that I deeply regret. I hope you can forgive me. Please know that I love you more than words can express, and I'm so proud of the person you have become. You're strong, kind, and compassionate, and I know you will make the world a better place.

As I face the end, I need you to promise me something. Please do not go looking for me or try to find me. I need you to focus on your own safety and survival. You are strong, and I believe in you.

Remember that I will always love you, and I will always be with you in spirit. Please take care of yourself, my love.

With all my heart,

Mom"

That was the email you received in your Hotmail account this afternoon. You had read it over and over again until it burned into your memory, reciting it in your mind to ensure that you would never forget it. You tried to reply, asking your mother what was happening and what she meant, but there was no response.

Admittedly, you were not very close to your mother. After a nasty divorce, you went to live with your dad in Washington, and since then, she had faded in and out of your life like a distant memory. Some "Happy Birthday" calls, "How's school going?" emails, and "I miss you" letters were all you had of her since you were 13 years old. It hurt like utter hell.

But every time she called, you answered, and she gave you updates on her life. Whenever she wrote, you reciprocated. You went back and forth with yourself on whether or not you should respond until the aforementioned email popped up.

Unfortunately for you, "do not go looking for me" was enough to trigger your stubborn heart to do exactly what she didn't want you to do. You had always been headstrong, "got it from your father," your mom always used to say. You weren't sure what her email meant, and you sure as hell didn't like what it was implying. Was she dying? Dying from what? Why? Her email left you with nothing, no proper closure. Your chest ached.

Was it too late? Would you ever see her again? Would you ever reconcile? You never even got the chance to forgive her.

Even if you didn't remember much about her, you at least knew where she lived and what her job was. Mom was a pharmacist for the Umbrella Corporation in Raccoon City, over by the Arklay Mountains. She moved there not long after the divorce and has worked there ever since. She didn't speak much about her job, though you also never probed about it either.

What is there to question about a pharmacist job anyway? “Hey, you ever filled a months supply of Viagra?” Does Viagra even get prescribed? You’re not sure.

Soon after receiving the email, you made your way towards the industrial city as quickly as possible. The drive usually took about 10 hours, but you managed to make it in 7 ½ hours by driving like a madman. You were worried about getting pulled over, but luckily, it seemed like no police officers wanted to do their job today.

The drive through the mountains was breathtakingly beautiful, yet nerve-wracking. The twists and turns were treacherous enough during the day, but as dusk turned into the dark of night, they became even more terrifying. To make matters worse, rain began to fall in sheets, pounding the roof of your dad's beat-up old truck with an incessant din. You couldn't help but curse aloud at how this great scenic drive was being ruined.

Your old wipers were no match for this kind of weather, and as soon as you got close enough to the city, you decided to make a pit stop. Your ass was aching too, and the next exit sign indicated a gas station to the left of the freeway. You turned on your blinker and merged onto the exit intersection, eager to stretch your legs and relieve yourself. Your plan was to fill up your gas tank, grab a few snacks for the rest of the ride, and be on your way.

As you approached the gas station, the bright lights illuminated the area like a birthday cake in a dark room. You pulled up quickly, eager to get out of the rain. Parking your truck on the opposite side of a Jeep Wrangler, you found it strange that there was no one inside or outside the vehicle. But you didn't think much of it and stepped out of your jalopy, using your arm to shield your eyes from the downpour.

As you made your way to the pump, you noticed that the gas station was also empty, with no lights on inside. This was starting to feel a little fishy. You looked back at another car and saw that it too was empty. Something was definitely not right here.

And then you saw it.

Blood.

Dark red blood was splattered all over the concrete beneath your feet.

"What the fuck?!" you exclaimed in shock and horror.

In the distance, a piercing screech cried out like something straight out of a horror movie, and it made your blood run cold. Your heart was racing as you frantically looked around, trying to locate where the sound may have come from. Your mind raced with possibilities, but nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to see.

And then you saw them. Maybe ten of them. Dead bodies, shuffling towards you in a grotesque parody of life. Their flesh was rotting, their skin hanging off their exposed muscles in ragged strips. The stench of decay was overwhelming, and bile rose in your throat as you tried not to vomit.

As they drew closer, you could see the extent of their injuries. Some had chunks of flesh missing, exposing their bones and organs. Others had been shot or stabbed, leaving gaping wounds that oozed with pus and blood. And yet, despite their injuries, they kept coming towards you, their eyes fixed on you with a hunger that made your skin crawl.

You tried to back away, but your legs felt like they were made of stone. You were rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear as the undead creatures moved closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breaths coming in short gasps as you desperately tried to think of a way out. The zombies were moving closer, their decaying fingers reaching out to grab you, it felt like their rancid breath was almost hot on your face.

Holy fucking shit.

Suddenly, your body moved before you could think, hands shaking as you fumbled with the keys before finally jamming them into the ignition. "Come on, come on, come on," you muttered frantically to yourself. The engine roared to life, and you slammed the truck into reverse, feeling the impact as you hit a few of the undead behind you, their putrid flesh smearing across the back windshield.

Without hesitation, you hit the gas and plowed through the horde in front of you, sending limbs and gore flying in all directions. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed in terror, the sound muffled by the roar of the engine. It was all too much, too real. Your father's voice echoed in your head, telling you to be strong, not to cry.

But you couldn't help it. The sobs wracked your body, making it hard to breathe. You forced yourself to slow down, to take deep, shuddering breaths in and out, trying to regain control. The road ahead stretched out, empty and silent, and you drove on, heart pounding in your chest, praying that you would make it to Raccoon City alive.

---

The drive to Raccoon City was eerily silent. The usual sound of music blaring from the speakers was absent, and the only thing you could hear was the hum of the engine. Your hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You tried to shake off the fear that had gripped you earlier, but it was no use. Those things you encountered were like nothing you had ever seen before.

You desperately searched for a logical explanation to what you had witnessed. Was it a flash mob? A sick prank? But deep down, you knew those weren't plausible explanations. As your thoughts raced, your thumbs drummed nervously on the steering wheel. Was this what your mom was warning you about? Despite everything, you knew you had to find her. She was still your mother, and you were determined to reunite with her.

It was about a half an hour before you arrived in the city. It was a harrowing scene, a city in utter chaos. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some still smoking, as embers licked the sides of buildings. The once bustling city now looked like a warzone. And in the midst of it all were the undead, their groans and moans filling the air. A repeated message to survivors blared on speakers, urging them to head over to the police station as soon as possible. Your heart raced as you wondered if your mother was there.

As you drove through the chaos, your truck garnered much attention. Its engine roared and headlights pierced through the darkness and rain. You couldn't help but think back to your father's strict parenting and the basic combat and defensive training he instilled in you. He was an army veteran who raised you to be fearless, and you couldn't let him down now. Even though it had been years since you had thoroughly practiced, you knew how to defend yourself if necessary.

But as you drove through the chaotic streets, you couldn't shake off the feeling of terror that had gripped you since you first saw the walking dead. You were determined to find your mother, but the fear of not making it to the police station in one piece was starting to weigh on you.

You frantically scour the old truck for anything that could aid in your survival: a car jack, McDonald's wrappers, and your backpack. Nothing seems particularly helpful, except for the backpack. You realize that it might come in handy if you needed to carry supplies like water, herbs, or even a weapon while searching for your missing mother.

As the walking corpses pound and scratch at your vehicle, you feel the truck shake violently. You know it's time to make a run for it. Although you don't have a solid plan, you've had years of self-defense training and are confident in your ability to use your legs and elbows to fight off attackers.

You pray to God, if they exist, that you'll find something to defend yourself or that you'll have enough skill to make it out alive. You put on the backpack and with a swift kick, you shatter the back window and scramble onto the roof.

Now, you need to find the police department. But where the hell could it be?

As you shield your eyes from the pouring rain, you scan the area, thinking of heading north in the hopes of finding a clue to guide you in the right direction. To your surprise, your truck wasn't that far from the sanctuary. A large brick gate with the letters "RPD" above it caught your eye, the light shining behind the sign like an angel was paving the way for you. The fence was made of sturdy brick, and the gates were steel. You just hoped they were open for entry.

You bravely leap off the top of the vehicle and make a beeline for the gates, the creatures screeching and reaching their arms towards you. As they try to grab hold of you, you execute a swift and powerful kick, sending one of them flying into a nearby bus and breaking its neck at a disgustingly awkward angle.

Ew.

As you barely escape the grasps of the monsters, you finally reach the gates, but guess what?

They're fucking locked.

Shit! What are you supposed to do now?

You frantically search for an alternative entry point, dodging zombies left and right, shoving and kicking them aside as you go. Finally, you spot a fire escape on the adjacent side of the building that leads up to the second floor, which appears to be zombie-free from your current vantage point. However, the fire escape is not easily accessible as it's about 50 feet away and you're on solid ground. But just then, you notice a tree next to the window swaying in the wind, creating a potential opportunity for you to reach the fire escape.

You sprint towards the majestic tree, grateful for its existence as it becomes your savior in this moment of peril.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you desperately cling onto the slick wood with your fingertips, refusing to look back at the grotesque monsters that hungrily pursue you. Your muscles strain and ache as you haul yourself up through the slick and treacherous branches. Panic overtakes you as you inadvertently step on a brittle branch, causing it to snap beneath your weight. Time seems to slow as you teeter on the edge of disaster, but you manage to grab onto a sturdier branch just in the nick of time, your heart pounding in your chest as you gasp for air. As you climb further up the tree you see your opportunity to move towards the ledge of the fire escape.

Three…Two…One…Go!

You make a daring leap towards the fire escape, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as your eyes fixate on the dizzying drop beneath you. But your body moves on instinct, your fingers grappling for the metal bars with a desperate grip that tightens with the surge of pure adrenaline. You manage to catch hold of the bars, your fingers aching from the impact, but you cling on for dear life. You push your body forward, lifting yourself up and over the metal railing.

Before you know it, your knees give out as they hit the metal bars beneath you, your body succumbing to the intense exertion you just went through. Despite being accustomed to physical exhaustion, the experience of genuine fear was traumatic. You realize that your life could have ended in mere seconds if you had made one wrong move. Once you get back home, if you do, you'll definitely be discussing this with your therapist.

Your feet feel uncomfortably squishy in your Chuck Taylors, learning the hard way that the cloth shoes are definitely not made for running in this kind of weather. The rain is relentless, and you can feel your socks getting soaked through. You hope the powers that be don't bless you with trench foot by the end of this horrifying adventure.

---

You peer through the shattered window of the second floor, noticing the broken glass strewn about the darkened halls of the police station. The only source of illumination is the faint glow of moonlight. It's no surprise that the place looks abandoned. You take a moment to break off the remaining shards of glass, careful not to cut yourself on the sharp edges. With a roll of your jean jacket sleeve, you scrape off the remaining slivers of glass before cautiously sliding yourself through the window. As you land inside, you can't help but be hit by the putrid odor of death. The walls are adorned with blood and the lifeless bodies of the fallen, as if a deranged artist had been given free reign of the building.

You make every effort to remain silent, as the last thing you want is to alert any zombies that might be lurking inside the building.

As you scan the area, your eyes catch sight of wooden planks scattered on the ground, nails jutting out from their undersides. Someone must have tried to use them to barricade the windows, but it didn't seem to have worked out well. The darkness was all-encompassing, making it nearly impossible to see anything, despite your eyes adjusting to the dim environment. You do make out a staircase adjacent to the window, but the idea of ascending to the third floor seems uncertain given your lack of knowledge of the building's layout. You need to think fast and find a weapon.

Onwards then!

Silently navigating through the bloodied and cluttered halls, you cautiously avoid tripping over any obstacles that could give away your presence. Bodies of officers lay scattered on the floor, their once-protective uniforms now torn and blood-stained. Many of them had been infected and turned into zombies, their lifeless eyes staring off into the distance. As you survey the scene, you notice some of the bodies had gunshot wounds, while others had knives still embedded in their chests. It was clear that this area was now zombie-free only because someone had taken the time to exterminate them, but the question lingered in your mind: who could have done it?

After some time, you stumble upon a staircase leading downwards. You contemplate descending to the first floor, hoping to find something of use in the main hall. So far, you've scavenged through numerous bodies, but none of them had any usable firearms. However, you did find plenty of bullets, which could come in handy later on. Another curious detail you noticed was the abundance of red and green herbs scattered throughout the building. It was almost comical how many medicinal plants were growing in a police station, but in this apocalyptic world, you knew their healing properties could make all the difference.

As you searched a corpse, the beam of a flashlight suddenly appeared on the wall in front of you, casting your silhouette in the middle of it. Your heart racing, you froze, realizing someone was behind you. The sound of a gun being cocked only added to your anxiety.

“If you're alive, raise your hands,” a male voice commanded. You obeyed, slowly lifting your arms in the air.

You attempted to make light of the situation, hoping to ease the tension. "Would it count if I said I was dead on the inside?" you chuckled, but the fear still lingered.

You heard a small snort of laughter from the man behind you, which made you think that maybe he wasn't as serious as he seemed. It was a welcomed sound in a tense situation. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up.

"It's okay, you can turn around. I put away my gun. I'm an officer, well, I was supposed to be."

You noticed a hint of melancholy in his voice, but his tone was also encouraging. Still, you kept your hands up just to be cautious. When you finally turned around, the industrial flashlight shone in your eyes, causing discomfort. You shielded your eyes immediately.

"Ah, damn, sorry!" He scrambled to turn the flashlight away from you.

Despite the dim lighting, you could make out the silhouette of a man in front of you. He towered over you and was clad in a vest adorned with more pockets than you could count, like some sort of real-life action figure. His uniform looked like SWAT gear, vest emblazoned with the letters "RPD" that you assumed stood for the police department. As he drew closer, a musky scent mixed with the unmistakable metallic odor of blood wafted towards you, making you wrinkle your nose. You couldn't help but notice the dried blood and grime splattered across his torso, arms, and even the front of his legs. It was pretty clear that this guy was the one responsible for taking down the zombies that had been lurking around the station.

“My name is Leon, Leon Kennedy. And yours?”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 remake #re2 #leon x reader #leon x y/n #resident evil #re4 #fluff #re 4 remake #re 4 #hopefully one person will at least read this but most likely i'll still work on it if no one does LMAO #am gonna post this on ao3 too once i get approved for the invite

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