#I fit everyone who he saw the pasts of during the uh.... “The world is ending but at least your high” chapters plus Obrian and spencer

[clockworkreapers]

And then we found you. The child with the broken brain. The one insanity couldn't touch. Tales From The Gas Station Vol 4

[adrian-the-lonely-writer]

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Stupid//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Underaged drinking, drunk characters, Fred has a problem in his pants, undressing someone, one lil dirty joke, one horrible dad joke

Summary: Y/N decides to let loose one night at a Gryffindor party, making a slightly less drunk Fred resort to being her babysitter and hearing some confessions that sober Y/N would never dare say.

Prompts: Getting Drunk Together with dialogue prompts “I think I forgot how to breath,” and “were you dreaming of me again?”

Word Count: 1.8k just a lil shorty

A/N: Day 4 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge -- WAIT GUYS THIS ONE’S ACTUALLY LIKE ONE OF MY FAVS --

“Freddie catch me!” You launched yourself off the back of the velvet couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, arms and legs spread wide like you were a flying squirrel. Fred, who had his back turned to your antics, saw you right before your feet left the couch and he dove frantically toward you, catching you right before you would’ve broken your nose on the floor. “Again!”

Fred chuckled and continued to hold you much to your dismay. “I need to keep a better eye on you, don’t I?”

“Put me down!” you said, squirming in his hold. Fred decided to give you what you wanted, so he placed you down on the couch. And then he sat right on top of you. 

“Fred!” Your voice was muffled by his jumper, which you were now trying to spit out of your mouth. “Let me out, let me out you big stupid.”

“Oh I’m the big stupid?” he asked mockingly. “You almost just killed yourself for the third time tonight. I knew letting you get this wasted was a dumb idea.”

“T’was also your dumb idea,” you said, still trying to push him off of you to no avail. 

Fred glanced around the common room at who was still left. After the Quidditch match earlier and a great win for Gryffindor, Fred and George had thrown the best party that Hogwarts had ever seen, with music and food and dancing. And, of course, lots and lots of firewhisky. 

Most of the festivities had died down about an hour ago and only a handful of people remained downstairs, most either too wasted to move or babysitting those who were too wasted to move. Fred got the honor of being one of those babysitters.

He realized that he had probably pinned you down for long enough and he moved to let you have your space. You sat up gasping for air, wrapping your hands around your neck and leaning from side to side.

“I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Fred rolled his eyes and moved closer to you, grabbing your hands in his and removing them from your neck, placing them on your lap instead.  

“C’mon, stupid, it’s not that hard. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

You tried to do what he said but ended up doubling over in a coughing fit, small tufts from his jumper coming out of your mouth. 

“Bloody hell, did you inhale my jumper?!”

You giggled bashfully before sticking almost your entire hand in your mouth, pulling out a long thread and gagging in the process. 

“You’re disgusting,” he said, grabbing a nearby napkin to clean off your spit-covered hand. 

You stuck out your hand as if going in for a handshake. “Hi disgusting, I’m dad.”

“That’s not even how that joke works, dummy.” He wiped you down, grimacing as some of the spit got on his hand. Fred was not sober enough to deal with this. Earlier, when you had told him you’d never really been drunk before, only tipsy, Fred thought that tonight would be the perfect night to have you let loose if you wanted to. He promised he’d watch you and take care of his friend, which is why you finally let yourself go and had a wild time. Unfortunately, Fred had never been the responsible one before and you were good at being sneaky, so you had a lot more alcohol than he would have liked. 

His head buzzed with the firewhisky burning inside him, wishing he would’ve decided to stay sober instead of taking a handful of shots. But you just looked like you were having so much fun out there on the dance floor and he figured a few wouldn’t hurt. Now the both of you were drunk and only one of you knew how to handle their alcohol. The other now had their head laying in their best friend’s crotch. 

“Y/N!” he hissed, hoping no one was looking at the two of you, but they were all either too drunk or too distracted to notice. “Get up, what is your head doing down there?”

“You’re soft,” you said, snuggling into his lower half. 

He quickly lifted your head and put it on a pillow, grabbing another to hide a growing problem where your nose had just been. “Yeah, that’s definitely not true,” he said, laughing quietly at his own joke. He shifted for a few seconds before deeming it ok for him to stand. 

It was getting late, and Fred knew that you were already going to have a rough morning, so he’d better get you to bed as quickly as possible. 

“Alright, love, let’s--”

He cut himself off when he looked back down at you lying on the couch, completely asleep. He sighed but smiled warmly, wondering where all of the energy you had minutes ago just went. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He reached down to pick you up, carrying you bridal style to your prefect dorm. He walked ever-so-slowly, stumbling a bit from his intoxication but determined to make sure you got back safe. After effectively ascending the stairs (thank Godric he and George had found a way past the no boys allowed charm years ago) and getting to your private room, he laid you down gently and grabbed a t-shirt and shorts for you to change into. 

He was crouched down and digging through your drawers when he heard your small voice whisper. “Freddie, I love you Freddie.”

He grabbed the clothes and sat next to you, seeing that you were still asleep. “Hey,” he said softly, shaking you awake. You swatted him away a few times before allowing yourself to open your eyes. 

“Were you dreaming of me again?” he teased. He grabbed you under your armpits and lifted your torso up, gesturing for you to put your hands in the air. You did, using all of your strength to keep you from toppling over. 

“Mhmm,” you said. “I was dreaming of you and me, and how much I love you.”

You elongated the word love, saying it in a singsong voice and bringing a smile to Fred’s face as he lifted your old shirt over your head. “I love you too, stupid, your my bestest friend.”

All of a sudden you were shaking your head, looking annoyed and angry. “No, I love you. Like love love.”

“Uh huh,” Fred replied, brain not working fast enough to catch onto what you meant. “I love love you too. Now help me get this shirt on.”

You hphmed crossly and pulled the shirt over your head. “You’re the stupid, Mr. Big Stupid. I love love love you. In my dream, you were there and you kissed me! Like this.”

You leaned forward and planted a big sloppy kiss onto Fred’s lips, immediately slumping forward into his shoulder. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had just happened, but before he could say anything you started talking again. 

“You kissed me, then you told me how you loved me too, and how I was your favorite person in the whole wide world, even more than Georgie!” You suddenly gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “Don’t tell Georgie I said that, I love him so much, he can’t know that I want you to love me more than him. Don’t tell, ok?” You seemed as though you were going to cry from what you had just confessed to Fred. 

“I won’t, I won’t, I pinky swear,” Fred said quickly, thrusting his pinky into your face. You frown washed away and was replaced with a gleeful smile as you shook his pinky, sealing your promise. 

“Good, I don’t want George to hate us.”

Fred pulled you into his arms and stood you up slowly, grabbing the shorts he had picked out for you. “Ok, can you take your shorts off for me please? You need to put on new ones.”

Nodding, you reached for the pants but tried to put them on over the skirt you were already wearing. 

“No no no, not like that.” Fred sighed in exasperation and decided that had had to help you with this too. “Ok hold still.”

He sunk to his knees in front of you, one hand firm on your waist in order to keep you from falling. Trying to avoid looking as much as possible, Fred fumbled around the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, leaving you standing in only your shirt and panties. He tried not to look, but his drunk brain was making it really hard for him to control his eyes. He had you step forward into the pant legs and pulled them up nice and snug around your waist, hoping he hadn’t done anything that he shouldn’t have during the encounter. 

“Thanks love,” you slurred, falling immediately back onto the bed. “Wanna kiss me again? Like you did in my dream?”

Fred plopped down next to you, letting his fingers play with your hair as you cuddled up on your side. “Yeah, I do. But not tonight, ok? We’re both a little crazy tonight aren’t we?”

“We’re both a little stupid”

“No, we’re big stupids. Mr. and Mrs. Big Stupid.”

You laughed loudly rolling over a few times and almost falling off the bed before Fred caught you. “I wanna be your Mrs. Can I be your Mrs., Freddie? Pretty pretty please?”

He snickered, pulling the blanket up over the both of you. Staying the night would probably be for the best, especially since you didn’t have anyone else in the dorm to take care of you. “Of course, you’ll be Mrs. Freddie Big Stupid, how does that sound.”

You clapped your hands smiling into your pillow. “I’m gonna marry you. And we’re gonna have the biggest bestest wedding ever. And everyone’s gonna be there. Oh no, but we have to go on a date first. We’ve never been on a date.” You pouted. 

Fred put a finger to his chin, thinking. “How about tomorrow night we go on a date. I can take you on a beautiful picnic and we’ll watch the sun set and then you can kiss me again like you did tonight. Sound good stupid?”

“Hmm,” you said, voice trailing off as sleep threatened to overtake you again. “That sounds perfect.”

Fred bit his lip, trying to hold back a loud whoop of joy. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back into him. 

“Freddie?” you asked quietly. “Am I gonna remember this tomorrow?”

He laughed and nuzzled his head into your hair, happier than he had been in a long long time. “Probably not. But I will, and I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“Okie dokie, g’night Big Stupid.”

“G’night Big Stupid. See you in the morning.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (May 31/2021) - Deck of Cards With a Green Smile on Them

Wilbur and Tommy visit Las Nevadas to have some words with Quackity. 

---

VOD LINKS:

Punz

Ponk

Foolish

Tommyinnit

Wilbur Soot

Captain Puffy

---

- Punz mines out an entire chunk of the server

- Wilbur and Tommy meet at L’manhole. Tommy brings Wilbur to the quarry and shows him the Tommyboxes full of stone

- Tommy and Wilbur walk down the Prime Path and Wilbur notices all the new changes in the builds, including that Purpled’s UFO has been destroyed. Wilbur claims that someone’s being “a copycat” with TNT, figuring out exactly how it was destroyed

(Wilbur is also repeatedly puzzled by the appearance of Oogway throughout the server)

- Wilbur tells Tommy that he received a book: “PROJECT NEVADAS.” It rings a bell, and Tommy says it’s Quackity’s new place that he’s been staying out of

- Wilbur tells Tommy that the book says to come to Nevadas (not saying what it actually reads), and Tommy leads Wilbur there

- The last time Wilbur saw Quackity, they were fighting together for L’manburg -- but he gets the impression, judging by everyone else aside from Jack Manifold, Tommy and Phil, that everyone probably dislikes him. He assumes Quackity won’t have the best impression of him

- Tommy’s never been to Las Nevadas, but the person who told him about it said it was just a little town. They’re awestruck by it as they arrive

- Quackity comes up to meet them, surprised to see Wilbur alive. Tommy asks what happened to his face, but also notices that his piss neck is gone

- Wilbur says he’s glad to see Quackity out of the presidential outfit, and he never thought Quackity was fit for the Vice President role anyway. Quackity tells them that he owns this entire place

Wilbur: “Oh, so you’re -- you’re like a -- a President, then!”

Quackity: “I’m the President, man!”

Wilbur: “...You’re the President.”

- He shows Quackity the book and accepts Quackity’s “invitation” to work alongside him. Tommy asks to move in as well

Quackity: “Wilbur...That was not an invitation, I’m sorry Wilbur...That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your unpredictability.”

- Wilbur tells Quackity that while he may have been unpredictable in the past, he’s turned over a new leaf and doesn’t lie anymore, he’s forgotten everything he knew about TNT

Wilbur: “Quackity, look me in the eyes...I am your servant. I am at your service, I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything you would need in a leadership role, Quackity! Even not in leadership -- I can be, you know, assistant to the President! Just, I...Quackity, this is everything I’ve dreamt of in a solid marble and quartz...Quackity, you’re making a mistake, man, you need to let me in--”

Tommy: “Wil, this is so cool!”

Wilbur: “TOMMY, SHUT UP! I mean -- Tommy, come over here.”

- Quackity tells him he’s not going to let the same thing that happened to L’manburg happen to Las Nevadas. Tommy points out that it looks like they’re kissing. 

- Wilbur walks around the sandy area asking what Quackity owns, and Quackity owns all of it. Quackity still means to discuss things with Tommy. Wilbur makes his way to the forest next to Las Nevadas

Wilbur: “What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?”

- Quackity asks what Wilbur’s about to do. Wilbur leads them over to a nearby spot and welcomes Tommy to their new “headquarters” as they “break ground” there.

- Tommy doesn’t want to start a new country, preferring Las Nevadas. He also repeats that Wilbur and Quackity looked like they were kissing and he feels like he’s getting third-wheeled

- Quackity and Tommy talk one-on-one and Quackity reminds Tommy about how they spoke about the hotel and possibly working together. Tommy brings up Quackity’s eye again, remembering how Quackity has had many “conditions” for a long time

Quackity: “You ever hear about the Butcher Army, Tommy? One day, we were going to execute Technoblade, and we got in a...we got a fight. And this is how this thing showed up on my face.”

- Tommy is surprised that he went to kill Technoblade and asks when this was, if this was during his exile

Tommy: “You’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?”

- Quackity says he’d be happy to sit down and discuss it, that he’s not Tommy’s enemy. He gives Tommy the choice: Tommy is welcome to join him, even if Wilbur isn’t. He can offer Tommy a management position, a job

- Tommy goes to speak with Wilbur and leaves Quackity, noticing what Wilbur’s built

Wilbur: “It’s a penis of safety!”

- Wilbur asks Tommy to work with him. He won’t stop Tommy, but Tommy is all Wilbur’s got. Jack Manifold’s busy and Phil has ideas about authoritarianism Wilbur disagrees with

Wilbur: “Tommy, I don’t want to make a country. I’m past that, man. I want to make an HQ. I want to make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy, it’s been so long since we’ve been safe. And man, you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, done so much. Tommy, you’ve changed the world, and all you have to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy, you deserve this safety and this sanctuary, and that’s what I want to make with you, and you won’t get it over there. You know what they say about casinos? It’s all lights and it’s all plastic, it’s all glitter, that there’s nothing of substance. Do you know what has substance, Tommy? Family. Blood. Please stay with me, Tommy.”

- He tells Tommy he needs to make a choice now. 

Wilbur: “I’m not gonna hold you back. If you pick Las Nevadas, what am I gonna do, man? What am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you, Tommy. You can go with whatever you want, but...Just know what you’ll be doing to me. That’s all I wanna say, man.”

Tommy: “There was a time when you weren’t here on this server, this SMP, when I went against...put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t have. I prioritized a lot of things -- I put revenge over humanity, humaneness. I guess all I’m seeking now is just someone that’s gonna be honest with me and a place that I can feel safe. I...I betrayed Technoblade, and I just couldn’t admit it. And I did the wrong thing with Tubbo, but...”

Wilbur: “This can be a safe place for them.”

- Tommy agrees to stay here, but dislikes that Wilbur has built the penis into a wall. The two start building a penis in the lake and Quackity comes over. 

Quackity: “History repeats itself, Tommy. You’re just letting this guy use you. You’re letting him emotionally manipulate you.”

- He and Wilbur start talking over each other, bickering

Quackity: “WHO DESTROYED L’MANBURG, TOMMY? THINK ABOUT THAT. THINK ABOUT THAT FOR A SECOND.”

Wilbur: “WHO RAN AGAINST YOU? WHO LAUGHED AS WE WERE EXILED? WHO CHEERED AS WE WERE THROWN OUT OF OUR NATION THAT WE BUILT? THAT WE BUILT?”

Quackity: “Who wanted a better outcome for L’manburg, Tommy? Who did? Who wanted to run a ‘democratic election’ with just one party? He’s right up there, Tommy! He’s right up there above you--”

Wilbur: “Remember the pit, Tommy. Remember what happened in the pit. Don’t. Trust. People. Who would’ve fought you in the pit.”

- They continue arguing. 

- Tommy gets a chance to speak and says none of that made him feel safe. Quackity apologizes and offers them a tour of Las Nevadas. They head over and Wilbur apologizes as well

- Quackity shows them around, including the restaurant that they’ll need to hire people for (the villager is no longer there). Wilbur tells Tommy he’d be fine with Tommy working here as long as he’d still hang out with Wilbur too

- They start going to the casino (Wilbur and Quackity both hurry to block off the strip club) and Quackity brings them into the gambling hall, giving them diamonds to try out the machine with

- After using the diamonds, Tommy puts Linda the shovel into the machine and loses the shovel in the machine. Quackity takes them out of the building and to the top of the Needle. Tommy remarks that it would be a good place to jump off of

- Quackity turns to Wilbur and asks how he’s alive. Wilbur explains that he was swapped with Ghostbur

- Quackity remembers the last conversation he and Wilbur had together, just after the elections. The conversation they had after the debates. (Wilbur looks at the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book again) 

Quackity wants to “pick Wilbur’s brain” again

- Wilbur’s lost everything. He’s lost decades, he’s lost most of the people who cared about him and many don’t even know he’s back yet

Wilbur: “Life is paved with the mistakes you make, and it’s not about when you made the mistakes or what you did, it’s about how you can improve from them, and...I guess that’s what I’m trying to do.”

- Wilbur’s seen Jack Manifold, Phil, Ranboo, Tommy and now Quackity so far, but there are a lot of other people who he’d like to talk to and apologize to and thank them

- Tommy tells Quackity he doesn’t want to sit back and run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done. Quackity respects his decision, but this is something else, not another L’manburg

- Quackity asks Wilbur about the revival again, and Wilbur admits that it was Dream who brought him back. Wilbur has many people he wants to thank and say sorry to, and Dream is one of them, as he saved Wilbur’s life. Dream is his hero.

- Quackity asks when this happened, and Wilbur says it’s been a while since, that hopefully Ghostbur isn’t too lonely in Limbo

Quackity: [About Dream] “He’s not been lonely. Wilbur, Wilbur, I think his loneliness is the last of his concerns. I’ve been keeping him company, uh...as he’s been there. I’ve been visiting him quite frequently.”

Wilbur: “What, Dream or Ghostbur? I’m talking about Ghostbur.”

Quackity: “I’m talking about Dream.”

Wilbur: “Oh, gosh! You’ve been visiting him? Oh, he must love that!”

Quackity: “Yeah, no, he likes the company. He likes the company for sure. Uh...it’s a cool little thing, uh...Tommy, you know about this, right?”

Tommy: “Yeah, yeah, Wilbur -- that’s how I got to go and see Dream."

- Tommy tells Wilbur that Dream killed him, to which Quackity says Sam’s bettered the security system (Wilbur’s surprised to hear the prison has a warden and a system to visit) 

Tommy: “Why would anyone want to go to the prison? You’ve been going, Big Q, to torture the shit out of him, I’ve heard...”

Quackity: “Tommy, what? Tommy...Tommy, where did you -- where did you get that from? What are you talking about?”

Tommy: “Well that’s how -- I assumed, ‘cause of the scar, you’ve been going to beat the shit out of him?”

Quackity: “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, don’t say that -- not even as a joke, Tommy, come on.”

- Wilbur says goodbye to Quackity (he has “work to do”) and leaves with Tommy. He’s overjoyed that he can meet Dream through the visitation system, while Tommy protests

- Wilbur throws Tommy the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book, saying that Quackity was writing about the old Wilbur, that Tommy made the right choice in not joining him. 

- Wilbur promises Tommy that going to visit Dream to thank him isn’t a bad decision. He wants to tie up loose ends. Dying is a big deal. This is like a funeral, saying goodbye

Wilbur: “Tommy, all I’m saying is, you know...what could go wrong in a prison?”

- Wilbur leaves. 

- Tommy asks Quackity for an Ender Chest

- He listens to “Cat,” alone in the rain, on a small wooden bench by the lake.

---

Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

[yourmidnightlover]

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

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

you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner  @greenprisca  @muffin-cup

[cyoc49]

HIMBO Magazine: The New Hire

23 year-old Barry Allen looked across the street at the office building of HIMBO, a lifestyle & fashion magazine targeted at gay men, and the site of his job interview. After graduating last May, Barry has tried for months to find a communications job with no luck, until he saw HIMBO’s advertisement for an entry-level social media position. The pay was unbelievably good, and they reached out to him about applying which made the whole situation seem very promising. He was a little uncomfortable about the idea of working at a gay magazine. I don’t have any issue with gay people, Barry thought, I just don’t understand a lot of the culture and I’m not really trying to. Still, the job was too good to pass up without at least interviewing.

Barry walked into the lobby of the building and was directed on how to reach the HIMBO’s offices. Stepping into the elevator, Barry thought about how sharply dressed everyone in the building was. It made him feel a little unprofessional, in his blazer, checkered shirt, and jeans. But the email had told him to dress “Appropriately for his position,” so he dressed the way he knew modern social media teams did.

As the elevator opened, Barry was greeted by the bright offices of HIMBO. The personnel working there (all male, he noticed) were dressed in a mixture of ridiculously eccentric business wear, speedos and harnesses, club outfits, other other bizarre fashions. “I’m guessing those are models?” Barry wondered, before walking over to a desk attended by a swishy receptionist.

The twinkish secretary looked up at Barry, and his eyes widened in excitement. “You must be the new applicant!” He exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat. “Oh, you’re perfect! He always knows the right people to pick. Well knock on wood, but I’m excited to work with you!” Then in a swift motion, the man darted around the desk and grabbed Barry by the hand. “Here, I can take you to him! He’s been waiting for you. I’m James, by the way! I work the desk!” And with that, Barry found himself being dragged along through the HIMBO offices.

“Uh, I have a question. Who is ‘he’?” Barry called along as he tried to keep pace with the fast-paced James.

“Christian Le Maître, the Editor in Chief! He’s brilliant. He does all the interviews and hiring himself. He’s the one who reached out to you.”

Wow, he picked me out himself, Barry thought, I must really be promising.

Barry spoke up “That’s pretty cool, to have a boss that cares that much.”

James nodded enthusiastically “Oh yes, he cares for us all so much! We’re all his boys here.”

Looking past the odd use of “boys”, Barry continued “I’m, uh, applying for a social media position.”

“Oh okay, interesting,” James said with less enthusiasm than usual, “He’ll sometimes try to figure out a different position for you during the interview. Just go along with what he says. I promise he has your best interests at heart.”

Before Barry could ask what that meant, James came to a sudden stop in front of a large heavy door. He knocked on it several times, before a deep muffled voice called out “Send him in” from behind the door.

James turned around, grinning ear to ear “Okay, best of luck! Remember: you’re gonna fit in here.” With that, he pranced back down the hallway, leaving Barry alone in front of the door.

He took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he thought, and opened the door.

Walking into the office, Barry looked behind the desk and saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen.

His face was rugged and handsome, with insatiably curious eyes, perfect white teeth, and a beard that was just the right amount of stubble. His hair was parted with gel into a professional, clean, and gorgeous haircut. His toned muscles perfectly filled out his expensive looking business clothes: a light blue silk dress shirt, grey pinstripe pants, suspenders hung over his shoulders and pressed out by his chest, gorgeous-smelling black leather dress shoes, and a sterling silver watch. He was an absolute alpha male, so perfectly handsome and successful that Barry couldn’t help but feel awe, jealousy, and a hint of... lust?

The man looked at Barry and smiled a perfect smile. “Barry, is it? I’m Christian La Maître, but everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.” The man stood up, revealing his daunting 6’4 frame, and extended a muscular hand to Barry

Jesus, his voice is intoxicating, Barry swooned. It was so smoothly deep and inviting. With just the few words Barry already felt like he could listen to the man for hours. He reached out and took hold of Mr. M’s hand for an extremely firm handshake. As their hand touched, Barry felt a jolt, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the powerful man before him. And more importantly, he had no desire to move his eyes away.

Mr. M sat back down again. “So Barry, tell me about yourself. College graduate?”

“Uh, yes. Digital Communications maj-“

“Have you ever read HIMBO before?” Mr. M cut Barry off.

“No, sir” Barry said, neither objecting to being interrupted, nor noticing the “sir” he just said.

“Are you gay?” Mr. M examined Barry’s body up and down, never making eye contact.

“No, sir. I’m straight.” He paused “Is that okay?”

Mr. M let out a hearty laugh, and Barry found himself laughing along with the man too. It just felt right. This brilliant, perfect businessman that Barry was lucky enough to be in the presence of, anything he did had to be right.

“Ahhh, Barry. You’re a fun kid. Now unfortunately, that social media position was filled earlier this morning by another applicant. But I would be a fool not to bring you into the HIMBO team, Barry!” This filled Barry with joy. The approval of Mr. M felt so good.

“Now if I think about it...” Mr. M paused for a few moments, giving Barry another thorough looking over, “I think we have an opening in the accounting department.”

“Yes! I accept!” Barry shouted out. He didn’t even care that it was a totally different position than he had come here for, nor did he care that he had zero accounting experience. If Mr. M said he would be a good accountant, then Barry had to be the best accountant for his boss.

The man chuckled again. “There’s just a little on boarding we’d have to do to get you ready for the position. Beginning with dress code, for starters.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, sir?” Barry asked eagerly. He would do anything for this man, who was offering him a coveted job at HIMBO magazine. Barry would change anything about himself.

“Well, you just dress so... cool. I mean look at that outfit! You are a hip young man who is ready for a good night out. And I love that for you, but I think a good accountant would dress a bit... sharper.”

The “sharper” bounced around in Barry’s head. Visions of men in suits and ties flooded his mind. He began to feel attracted to the idea of being a finely dressed man. In fact, he couldn’t imagine ever dressing down, not even in his free time. As Barry listened to Mr. M’s words, his plaid shirt rippled into a crisp white dress shirt. It tucked itself into his jeans.

“A good smart accountant would look his best at all times.”

Barry’s jeans turned into tight fitting grey dress pants, and a brown leather belt cinched itself firmly around his waist. His casual wool blazer morphed into a clean grey suit jacket matching his pants. Underneath, a gray sweater materialized and hugged itself to Barry’s slimming build.

“A good, clean-cut accountant.”

Barry felt his feet shift as his shoes changed into well-polished brown leather dress shoes, with wing tips. His socked changed to clean white socks, and inside his pants he felt briefs take form around his shrinking manhood.

“A good, nerdy accountant.”

A red bow tie wrapped itself around Barry’s neck and tied itself into a perfect knot. Large round glasses popped up on Barry’s face, which he knew he needed to wear every day. Barry’s hair ruffled as if wind was blowing through it, before settling in a clean side part, well-combed and maintained.

Barry stood before the incredibly powerful man before him looking totally different. Just 10 minutes ago Barry had dressed like any college graduate, but now looked as if he wore a suit every day of the week. But as for Barry himself, he had never felt better. As his clothes changed, Barry’s thoughts realized how right this felt. Barry now perfectly remembered his 2 hour morning dress routine. He knew exactly how much pomade to use to achieve the perfect side part, he remembered tying bow ties for six years now. His home wardrobe, all of it, had been replaced with suits, sweaters, shirts, dress shoes, and bow ties of every material, pattern, and color imagineable. This was the way he had dressed ever since he got to college and felt he could express himself truly. The truth was Barry loved the feel of a suit. The cleanness and dignity were an intoxicating feeling, and he couldn’t imagine himself in anything else.

Mr. M smiled a big smile. “There we go, an absolute perfect fit for our accountant opening. Welcome to the HIMBO team, Barry. Or should I say Bartholomew.”

That was right. Bartholomew Pippin, and he couldn’t be happier. He was a timid, nerdy kind of guy, sure, but he felt on top of the world. Bartholomew was an avid HIMBO reader for its good guides on men’s formalwear (and also so he could jerk off to the photos of shirtless guys), so to work at the magazine he loved, doing the job he loved (accounting) was a dream come true.

Mr. M stood up and walked over to Bartholomew, getting extremely close to him. “There’s just one last step in the hiring process...”

Barty shook a bit as he looked up at the domineering man before him. Mr. M was a tall man to begin with, but at his new height Bartholomew was 5’9, and the taller man encompassed him.

“I seal all my contracts... with a kiss.”

Barry’s knees quivered. He had realized he was gay at a young age, but aside from a few “almosts” in college, he had never gone farther than holding hands. Bartholomew had always reasoned that he would meet the right one eventually... and looking up at this man, Barty knew he had found it. Mr. M was all Barty would ever need. This man would control his work life and his sex life, dictating when Barty could pleasure himself, when he could come, and when he got the ultimate privilege of spending the night with Mr. M.

Bartholomew wrinkled his note and nodded eagerly “Of course, sir. I would be honored to kiss you.

As Barty stood on his tip toes to kiss his new boss - god, his lips were smooth and perfect - Barty felt all his changes lock into place. This is who he was. Bartholomew Pippin, mild-mannered accountant of HIMBO magazine, and one of Christian La Maître’s very good boys.

The two parted, and Mr. M gave Bartholomew another killer smile. “Bartholomew, I can already tell you’re gonna fit in here perfectly. And as a signing bonus, how about you stop by my place tonight. 7 PM sharp.”

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. M! I’ll be there at 6:45, I promise.”

“That’s a good boy, Barty. Now get settled in, your desk is at the end of the hall.” He gave Barty a spank on his bubble butt, and sent him on his way, to his new job and new life.

[baroquebucky]

idk if you’re taking requests but if you are could i get a loki one shot where the reader is super shy and quiet and the only person at the tower she really talks to is natasha but the others have tried and failed. but eventually loki comes to the tower and he gets her to trust him and she opens up to him?? or something along those lines lol i’m just in desperate need of some loki fluff🥺 also i absolutely adore your writing 🥰💓

a/n: yup yup ! i don’t write for loki much so i hope this isn’t too out of character !!

in which loki manages to break down your walls, magic free

word count: 2k

masterlist

You sat next to Natasha, quiet as the others laughed at the movie. You leaned over making a small comment to Natasha causing her to burst out laughing, the other looking over to see what had happened.

“tell them!” Natasha nudged you and you shook your head, looking at your hands as natasha repeated your comment, everyone bustling out into a fit of laughter.

“y/n is the funniest person here nobody can change my mind” Tony piped up, smiling at you as your face burned.

The rest of the night went smoothly, keeping to yourself and whispering to natasha, making her giggle.

“you really should try talking to the other y/n, they love you” nat urged you, walking to your rooms to settle in for the night. You shook your head, heart racing at the idea.

“no, i mean they seem nice it’s just i don’t know i get so nervous i don’t wanna make a fool out of myself and plus they’re so intimidating” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders as you stopped at your room.

“you know you’re an avenger too right?” Nat laughed as you rolled your eyes, waving her off and saying goodnight.

Morning rolled around soon enough and you walked out, steve and Sam saying good morning and you smiled at them, rushing to make a bowl fo cereal and sitting a couple seats away from them.

“so y/n what are you gonna do today?” Steve smiled, trying to make conversation with you.

You thought for a bit before answering, “not much, just train maybe uh, i might go shopping with nat later” you replied, ending the conversation and finishing up your food.

You excused yourself before they could say anything else.

“you know thor is brining his brother today” sam called out and you looked at him confused.

“battle of New York one?” You questioned and he nodded, you raised your brows in surprise.

“he’s good now, nice guy i think” steve added, not wanting to worry you. You only nodded your head and left the kitchen, going to train for the rest of the morning.

“is everybody here?” Thor boomed, a smile on his face as his brother stood next to him, arms crossed across his chest.

“where is y/n? Will she be joining us?” Thor questioned, slightly upset you weren’t there.

“I’ll get her she’s probably sleeping or something” Natasha smiled, heading to your room.

She knocked on your door, letting herself in after a couple seconds and found you passed out on your bed, a book next to your head.

Shaking you gently she woke you up, “y/n, wake up thor brought his brother Cmon” she spoke quietly as you stirred awake.

“what? what time is it?” you questioned, yawning and rubbing your eyes, looking around for a bit.

“3:12, you knocked out after our session this morning” she smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“told you i stayed up late” you defended, getting up and putting on some socks.

Natasha was in a t shirt and some sweats, so you figured your t shirt and shorts weren’t too bad. Surely the rest of the team was dressed casually too.

You entered the living room, still half asleep following Natasha, waving hi to everybody.

“now that everyone is here, this is loki, my brother! he’s a good guy now and since we’re gonna be splitting time between here and Asgard i figured a proper introduction was over due” Thor beamed at everyone.

“well hi loki, nice to uh- meet you, again” steve spoke up, trying to get the others to say hi.

“mm a pleasure” loki gave him a tight smile, you rolled your eyes at his tone. You finally looked at him, he was dressed in an all black suit and dress shoes, you scoffed at his outfit.

“you always dress like that?” You spoke up, upset that he had been rude to steve. Everyone’s eyes went wide, turning to face you and loki looked shocked.

“and you are?” Loki shot back, checking you out.

“y/n, and you should be nicer” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him. Natasha smirked at loki, knowing how sassy you could be after a nap.

“you’ve got a quick wit, i like that” loki smiled and you rolled your eyes, shifting your weight onto your other leg.

As everyone else warmed up loki you stayed an arms length away, only speaking up when someone talked directly to you.

You slowly moved away from the group, turning to sneak away to your room. A smile on your face as you turned around, only to bump into someone’s chest.

“leaving my welcome party so soon, love?” Loki smiled as you stumbled back, eyes widening.

“how- you were just over there?” You gawked, looking back where you saw another loki sitting and chatting with the others.

“magic, did they not tell you about me darling?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“no yeah they did, just didn’t pay much mind is all” you smiled, crossing your arms across your chest.

“you know, they didn’t tell me much about you, why’s that?” Loki asked, leaning against the wall and you fiddlers with your fingers.

“don’t really talk to them much, i- uh I’m pretty reserved” you spoke, a wave of realization washing over you as you fully woke up.

“don’t seem that shy to me” he smirked and you shook your head.

“no i was just really tired I’m so sorry I’m usually not like that I’m so sorry oh god” you spoke, fumbling over your words as your face grew hot from embarrassment.

“don’t apologize, i liked it” he smiled, pushing himself off the wall and moving so the oath to your room was no longer blocked.

“cant wait to see you around y/n” he spoke, letting you walk past him, biting your lip to contain your smile.

And you sure did see him around, telling him good morning when he sat himself next to you during breakfast, sparring with him when he suggested it after walking into the gym.

Loki found himself gravitating towards you, wanting to know everything about you, your favorite color, your middle name, your biggest fears. He wanted to know you.

He was persistent, constantly talking to you and spending time with you, he found himself doing things he never thought he would just to spend time with you. It’s how he was in his current predicament.

“okay just don’t smile or else it’ll crack” you replied, finishing brushing the green face mask on him, letting him use one of your head bands, one with pink fluffy bunny ears (he chose it himself).

“how can i not smile when the most beautiful person in all the nine realms is right here” he replied, making you roll your eyes.

You settled into you before, scooting next to him and turning on your favorite show. Both of you watching attentively as your masks dried.

“can i ask you something?” Loki spoke suddenly, you turned to look at him, a small hum signaling to continue.

“why don’t you talk to the others?” He asked softly, taking your hand in his to comfort you.

You let a couple moments pass to gather your thoughts, finally speaking up.

“they’re just really intimidating to me, i mean i grew up admiring steve and the other have saved the world countless times, I’ve helped them once but i didn’t even play that big of a role, it’s just really daunting you know?” He looked at the way your fingers intertwined and held back a smile.

“how come you weren’t scared to talk to me?” you looked at him, laughing softly.

“oh no i was scared shitless, you just wouldn’t leave me alone so i really had no choice” you replied, looking at your hands connected.

“is that how Natasha got close to you?”

You nodded, remembering the way she pestered you until you two became the best of friends, never leaving each other’s side for a whole week.

“well, i hope you know that I’m not going anywhere” he spoke, moving to face you. Reluctantly, you looked at him, tension thick in the air.

“what makes you so sure?” You asked, looking into his eyes.

Both of you leaned in a little, your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned closer, and closer, and-

ding! ding! ding!

Both of you jumped away at the sound of the alarm, clearing your throats and moving to wash the face mask off.

After you had both washed off the mask you headed back to your bed, sitting down with some space between your bodies. The sound of the show filling the room, neither one of you saying anything.

“what do-”

“why do-”

You both quieted at the sound of the others voice, laughing a little as you both stopped. He motioned for you to continue.

“what do you think about me?” You asked, fiddling with your fingers and picking at your nails, glancing at him for a second before focusing back to on your fingers.

“i think” he trailed off, scooting closer to you, “that you are one of the most amazing people I’ve met, that you are kind, funny and exciting” he finished, your thighs touching as you looked up at him.

“really?” you whispered, dizzy from how close the two of you were.

“absolutely.”

“what were you gonna say?” you asked, giving him a small smile before focusing on the tv show.

“why are you so sure that I’m gonna leave?” He questioned, eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

“i- well i never open up to people so they always just leave” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows before continuing.

“when i was in high school and such i used to be really outgoing and loud, everyone would tell me to be quiet when i got excited so i just kinda stopped altogether, no one complained much then” you laughed dryly, remembering the way your friends would get annoyed at how bubbly you were.

“they all left me after i stopped being loud, said i was boring.”

Loki felt his heart fall in his chest, he was angry at you past friends, but he was sad that you had changed so much for people who didn’t appreciate you.

“darling, look at me” he spoke softly, eyes meeting yours.

“i promise you that no one here thinks you are too much, i mean we have that falcon guy and spider boy, i can assure you they won’t tell you to tone it down” he reassured you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“how about we make a deal” loki smirked and you looked at him with narrow eyes.

“what kind of deal” you asked, suspicious of what he would propose.

“you try to come out of your shell more, and I’ll be nicer to the rest of the team” he stated simply, smiling at the way you thought about his deal, he could almost see the gears turning in your head.

“deal” you smiled, turning to look at him and extending you hand out.

He took your hand and pulled you to him, stopping you centimeters away from his face.

“may i?” He asked, eyes focused on your lips.

“yeah” you whispered breathlessly, crashing your lips onto his.

You both pulled away, a smile on your faces, you laughed at the way he immediately pulled you in for more.

You and Loki left your room not long after, knowing the team would be out and about despite it being almost 12 am.

“hi guys” steve smiled and you returned it, walking at bit faster before loki stopped you.

“remember our deal?” he whispered and you internally groaned, nodding and walking over to steve, heart pounding in your chest.

“hi Steve how has your day been?” You smiled, steve was taken back but quickly replied, easily falling into conversation with you.

Loki watched from a far, a smile on his face as you laughed, making conversation with the super soldier. Natasha stood next the Norse god, a smile on her face.

“Glad you could get her out of her shell” she smiled, eyes settling on you talking with Steve and Sam who had joined in.

“she just needed an extra push” Loki smiled, excited to see you become who you really were. Natasha felt her heart grow, she couldn’t wait for the team to appreciate you for who you always have been.

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Raven Haired Rebel

Chapter 1

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which you plead Loki’s case. Chapter Warnings: none A/N: Besides this being a miniseries, all the chapters are pretty short too! Hope you enjoy all the same :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki​

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Swiping into Avengers Tower made you feel important, more so than swiping into a SHIELD base. You weren’t exactly sure why, though. Perhaps it was because SHIELD was a secret, and no one knew. Here, the passerby on the street looked on in awe. Or maybe it was because the Tower was so elite. Because so select few got to enter. But really, it probably wasn’t that you got to enter so much as why you got to enter.

True, since your first day on the job, word got around that you were the best in your field. Fast as lightning, you’d risen through the ranks to be Fury’s top tracker, a position all but secured when he brought you on for this case. A case, you knew, that intrigued you far more than it should have.

Just like everyone else had on that day a little over three months ago, you watched the TV with rapt attention as gods and superheroes made themselves known to the world. And, you supposed, supervillains too. Not that you’d told anyone, but something didn’t quite sit right with you in the weeks after when news anchors and colleagues alike were referring to the raven haired god as such.

For the next three days, you’d pored over books of Norse Mythology and a number of studies. Most of the latter coming from one Dr. Jane Foster, who you soon came to link with Thor. But even there you found a disconnect between the god of legends and the bloodied man on your screen. He never really did have malicious intent before. He was a trickster, yes, but he’d not even come close to doing something this drastic before! Ok, yes, there was his involvement in Ragnarök in the myths, but even for that you’d found multiple sources that could debunk it. Besides, it certainly didn’t seem like Asgard had even faced the end times yet.

Alas, you figured Thor knew his brother, and you had your own case to work on, so you let be the mystery that was Loki.

And then you were called into Fury’s office a week ago and asked to begin tracking the god. A bit too eagerly, you’d agreed to take the case. You’d dealt with villains before, truly evil people, and your search only further proved what deep down you already knew; Loki was not one. Everywhere you followed his trail, a mysterious savior was stopping bank robberies and saving people from burning buildings and runaway trains. Not to mention there were multiple descriptions of said savior using green magic. It seemed a wonder that the tracker in the case before you hadn’t noticed. Then again, people tend to only see what they want to.

Regardless, you made your way to the elevators, heading toward the conference room on one of the upper floors. You tapped your foot as it ascended, impatient to share your findings. As the lift stopped and you got out, you tugged on your leather jacket. It was ever so slightly too big, but it was on sale. Plus, you felt like it looked pretty cool, considering your job and all. Subconsciously, you puffed up your chest a bit too. Regardless of actual size, you felt like a petite little thing, stepping into a room of now renowned heroes. Strange, you thought, how so much could change in just three months.

“You know, I got to get me one of those,” said the man suddenly keeping pace next to you. You quickly identified him as Tony Stark.

“I... Pardon?” you replied, slightly startled.

“Your jacket,” he said, pointing at it. “I feel like the leather will match the whole rugged good-guy, vibe. Besides, I think Capsicle’s got one.”

You chuckled at that. “Maybe we should just make it the team uniform then.”

“Team, huh? So you must be that new tracker kid we’re working with.”

“I’d hardly call myself a kid,” you scoffed.

“When you get to be as rich as I am, you get to call everyone a kid,” Tony shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure that’s how it works, but whatever you say, I guess,” you chuckled again.

“See, now if everyone would just adopt that mindset, we’d get stuff done a lot faster around here.” He quickly signed something that was brought up to him on a clipboard, never stopping. You wondered how long he could keep up like this before collapsing. “Besides, take it as a compliment. That last tracker was some fuddy-duddy old guy.”

“Fuddy-duddy?” you guffawed. “Maybe you’re the old one, after all.”

Tony feigned like he’d been struck in the heart. But before you could keep up the banter, you reached the conference room, and Steve was waving you inside.

“Stark,” he said with a nod. “Are you ready to begin or are you going to keep distracting our new teammate?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” he said with a little salute. “Reporting for duty.”

You mouthed a sorry as you followed Stark into the room. Even if the rest of them turned out to be hard-asses, at least Tony was fun. And having one ally was better than none, you figured. As you took your seat across from your new friend, you flipped through the file that had been left for you. It wasn’t really anything new, so you glanced at your teammates again. Nat and Clint both nodded at you, recognizing you from a couple other missions you’d interacted during. There wasn’t really any time to talk, however, before Captain Rogers was walking to the head of the long table.

“Alright, team. Before we get started, I think it’s worth mentioning we have a new member on the team,” Steve said, before welcoming you by name. “I think we’re all caught up on the situation here, so let’s dive right in. A new trend has shown up in the Tower’s data mining.”

“Data analysis,” Tony butt in. “It sounds more ethical that way.”

“Whatever you want to call it, the program showed that wherever Loki goes, there’s a spike in activity of an organization calling themselves AIM. At first glance they seem innocent, but after some digging, we’ve found they’re anything but. We’ve determined Loki is working with them, perhaps even masterminding some of their more underground projects. Agent? Can we assume you found the same things?”

“Uh, yeah, no. Actually, my data shows the opposite,” you cleared your throat. Standing, you slid the information from your tablet onto the room’s TV screen. “See, it seems that he’s actually doing good deeds. There are multiple accounts of a man fitting Loki’s description performing heroic works.”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Tony said, leaning forward. “What about AIM then? You think it’s a coincidence.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll admit, I haven’t found anything about them yet. But... maybe, just maybe, Loki’s showing up where they are because he’s trying to stop them.”

“I am so sorry to interrupt, but that does not sound like the Loki I know at all,” Thor laughed. “A wonderful joke, though.”

Now you were getting mad. You shouldn’t be, but you saw something worth defending in Loki. A lot, actually. There was something about that look in his eye that you couldn’t quite read, but it was telling you something was wrong all the same.

“That’s not fair! Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought. Look at this,” you said, swiping to show a side by side of Loki during and after the fight. “You can see it by the look on his face; something was seriously wrong during the battle. Plus, I’ve seen videos of him when he first came; he was not alright. Afflicted with severe anxiety and what looks like burn marks, I’d say. He needed help.”

“With all due respect,” Clint chimed in, “aren’t your a tracker, not a psychologist?”

“Yes, but as such I’ve been trained to look at all the details. Not just what’s convenient.”

“Listen,” Steve sighed before things got any more heated. “It’s a great theory and all, but you read Thor’s account of everything that happened before this. So, until we get some solid evidence proving otherwise, we’re going to have to stick with what we already know. We’ll put a pin in the AIM thing until you can take a look, though. Ok?”

“Ok,” you agreed, defeatedly taking your seat again.

You looked around the table. Natasha and Bruce, the only two who hadn’t said anything, both looked kind of pensive. Alright, maybe bewildered was the better word for Bruce. He was smart, no doubt about it, but you got the impression he wasn’t very good in social settings. Then there was Clint and Thor, both who seemed a little skeptical of you. At least Thor seemed to be considering his brother’s innocence at least a little. Steve was a bit more unreadable as he continued to prattle on about what you already “knew” for the case. And then there was Tony, who seemed more impressed than anything else. He, at least, had seemed to genuinely consider what you said. Perhaps he still was.

“The best way to solve this,” Steve closed his spiel, “is to bring him in. Agent, have you located him yet?”

You sighed. Deeply. It shouldn’t be this much of a struggle to present your findings. You’d had no trouble speaking on his behalf. Yet a part of you—an alarmingly large part, you realized—didn’t want to turn him in. But who were you to ignore direct orders?

“Yup,” you conceded, pulling up a map with a blinking red dot, marking Loki’s location.

“Well then, team,” Steve said to the group. “Let’s roll out.”

[eldragon-x]

My self-indulgent futuretrioshipping love confessions hcs because they’re currently in my mind

- Celebi confessed to Grovyle first because obviously

- In her fantasy it was always this Big Dramatic Moment of declaring her feelings to him, which she knew was unrealistic, but she might as well draw it out in her daydreams since she wasn’t gonna tell him if they’re gonna vanish anyway

- The moment when she first saw the sun rise would’ve fit her fantasy so well but again, she didn’t see the point and was also overwhelmed enough in that situation

- After Arceus saved everyone she just didn’t really think about it much anymore. Like yeah she still held romantic feelings for Grovyle but like she can take her time and she has other concerns living in a completely new world.

- Severals years later she does confess to Grovyle but it’s really nothing big like she always imagined. She kinda just brought it up.

- Grovyle thought it came out of nowhere and had to take his time to think what that means to him. He never really thought about how he felt about Celebi beyond liking her and considering her a close and precious friend.

- He came to the conclusion that he returned her romantic feelings and they were just together from there on. Again, it wasn’t something big despite Celebi hyping it up during the dark future. The two of them have just spent so much time together and been through enough together that this direction for their relationship just seemed natural.

- On the other hand anything involving Dusknoir was more tricky, even after time has passed, Grovyle and Celebi were on good terms with him and they became close enough of friends to start an exploration team and live together.

- I think Dusknoir had this ‘uh oh’ moment when he realized how he felt about Grovyle. They may be good friends at this point but Dusknoir still has his past looming over him. Everytime he gains the confidence to just go ahead and talk about it with Grovyle he’s held back by the thought of ‘hey how messed up is it that you fell in love with the guy you tried to kill’.

- Dusknoir had been working on dealing with the guilt of his past actions of course but this was on a whole other level to him.

- One day he’s just like “If the flower shop sells Grovyle’s favourite flowers today I’ll buy a bouquet and just tell him, if not then I’ll take this to my grave” and of course they did sell them that day.

- Funnily enough, Grovyle felt the same way about him and Celebi encouraged him to confess. Which he happened to plan to do on the same day. So Grovyle confessed to Dusknoir first who ended up feeling embarrassed about how he worked himself up.

- Their relationship was a lot more awkward at first than it was between Grovyle and Celebi but it did work out

- Celebi and Dusknoir were disastrous.

- A lot of my personal hcs in here but in the dark future they went from closest friends to enemies and even after everything was over, it took Celebi time to be able to forgive him and it took Dusknoir time to believe that she didn’t straight up hate him.

- They are good friends again and even sometimes jokingly flirt with each other, but they’re far from actually discussing their feelings because both of them are afraid it’s just gonna mess their relationship up.

- Even Grovyle noticed that there was A Lot going on between them and it became clearer when both of them separately told him how they felt. He tried to be supportive without telling the other anything that he promised to keep to himself, but he could only do so much since in the end it was still between the two of them.

- Celebi ended up confessing to Dusknoir and it was rather emotional all things considered but they were fine in the end. They both agreed to take small steps and see if it works out (which it did).

[hongism]

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

​​​​

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

this work belongs to calypso, hongism. all rights reserved, 2020. do not translate, copy, or repost.

[mldrgrl]

His’n

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts.  Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21

The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity.  He missed reading to people that actually existed and weren’t just little boxes on a screen.  He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide.  He missed being the center of attention.  

The appearance was on a Tuesday evening.  He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night.  He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session.  He wasn’t terribly disappointed.  It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.

Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend.  They had a relationship built upon reciprocity.  Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.

The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it.  The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle.  Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.

Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years.  He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause.  Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down.  All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them.  He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages he’d brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.

“Any of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what I’m about to do, fuck you in advance,” he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity.  

Everyone laughed.  Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses.  

“Philip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,” Hank said.  “So I’m going to read an excerpt from a new novel I’ve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together.  A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when they’d really rather be anywhere else.  This bit I’m about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.”

Hank paused to smooth his pages again.  When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise.  He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face.  She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels.  She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well.  He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages.  Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.

“Uh,” Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat.  “Scott watched his wife at her computer from across the room.  She had her headset on and she was laughing.  He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d heard her laugh.  It occurred to him that he’d forgotten what it sounded like.”

It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt.  He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle.  She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stella’s arm across her shoulders.  The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.

When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions.  All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career.  He could answer them in his sleep.  While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stella’s ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away.  He hoped she wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye.

“Gentleman in the green shirt,” Philip said.

“You said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?”

“Are you asking me if I based it off my own life?” Hank asked.  “Well, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general.  That whole ‘write what you know’ garbage that people, mainly professors, let’s be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit.  Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire?  Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal?  And believe me, I’m not saying that writers don’t cull from their real life when they’re putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if you’re writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.

“Unlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive.  We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different.  But, it’s not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write.  It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?

“I’ll say this, though, and then I’ll get off my high horse on the subject.  There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me.  I even read from that passage tonight, and I’ll read it again.”

Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted.  He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.

“He could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her.  It wasn’t a romantic moment.  They weren’t out on a date.  It wasn’t during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric.  It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and they’d both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world.  He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasn’t there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath.  He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.”

Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up.  He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella.  

“The fictional situation was different,” he said.  “But, the feeling was the same.”

Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly.  His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away.  He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.

As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella.  She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.

“Hey,” Hank said, sliding his arm around Stella’s waist and squeezing her hip.

Stella put a hand on Hank’s face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth.  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze.  She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Daughter,” he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella.  He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.

“Father.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“We thought we would take you to dinner,” Stella said.  “When you’re finished.”

“I would love that.”

Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name.  “We’re ready for you,” Philip said.

“Philip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson.  And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca.  “We sold out of the hardcover of your last book.  Please, let me know if you’d ever like to do a signing.”

“Sure,” Becca said.

“You’d have to put twice as many chairs out,” Hank said.  He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.

“Go do your thing,” Stella said, putting her hand over Hank’s on her hip.  She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment.  He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.

“Love you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see what you mean,” Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up.  “She is out of your league.”

“Right?” Hank said with a laugh.  “And she married me.  Unfuckingbelievable.”

The End

[d0llpie]

Lavender

Yachi x reader, Tanaka x reader

Prompt: “tell me you love me” 

a/n: thank you for everyone for giving me ideas in my asks, i hope you enjoy ! ! i don’t know how to title things

wc: 1.7k

part 1

After you left, Yachi offered you to stay at her place until you figured out what you were going to do. She went back the next day and talked with Tanaka, grabbing your clothes and toiletries until she could get the rest. Once you settled into Yachis spare room you broke down into tears. Sobs racked your body as you curled up into the blankets, the soft linen was cold against your body, the pillows firm and untouched. You inhaled deeply into the pillow case, smelling fresh fabric softener and lavender, reminding you of the pink hoodie you wore-Yachis hoodie. You brought the collar up to your nose and breathed in, smelling her perfume, lavender, fabric softener and her. Eventually your cries died down and you fell asleep.

Yachi returned with some food, calling out to you “y/n?” she reached the spare room door and knocked lightly, awaiting a response that didn’t come. She opened the door and softly approached the bed, careful not to wake you. She saw your tear-stained cheeks and slid under the covers behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle, brushing your hair out of your face.

You woke up at around 9, stirring awake to see the sun had long set, you tried to move but felt a pressure on you, looking down to see Yachi draped half over your body, curled against your side. You lightly shook her shoulder “Yachi, hey, what time is it?” she sat up slowly “uh 9 i think, i got dinner earlier...are you feeling okay?” she started to get up and stood in front of the bed “uh, i’m kinda sore” you placed a hand over your stomach, a sharp lang in your chest when you recalled losing the life inside of you, a life you created with someone who never loved you the same way you loved them. Your chest grew tight and you felt your eyes well up with tears, stinging at how they were already puffy. “Oh, of course, wait right here” the blonde gave you a sympathetic, pitiful smile before scrambling out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with some medicine and two bowls of pasta, “Here take these, there’s some water on the side table, i bought pasta since i know this is your favourite..” you smiled tearily before wrapped your arms around her neck, catching her off guard as she half fell onto the bed. You inhaled deeply as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck, calming yourself with the familiar lavender scent as she rubbed soothing circles on your back. “C’mon, you need to eat” she ran her fingers through your hair and handed you a bowl, you smiled at her again “thank you yachi- so much”. she placed a hand over yours resting on your knee, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles softly. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” you nodded, not wanting to be alone wrapped up in cold sheets.

After dinner Yachi ran you a bubble bath and sat behind you, brushing your hair. You were crying again but she was sympathetic, understanding how intense the last few days must have been for you. She hummed as she ran the brush through your hair softly. Once she had gotten all the knots out she began to part it, preparing to braid it. You sighed out as a few stray tears rolled down your cheeks again, relaxing into the water and leaning into Yachis hands. “Your hair is so pretty y/n, remember when i used to braid it during lunchtime?” she laughed softly at the memory and you closed your eyes “yeah, you’re really amazing at braiding Hitoka” you hummed, relaxing further as she continued braiding your hair.

Once you both settled into bed you almost instantly fell asleep, getting lost in the feeling of the soft mattress below you, the smell of lavender invading your senses and feeling refreshed. You sighed softly, closing your eyes, subconsciously reaching out across the bed, your arm finding purchase across Yachi’s waist. “Goodnight y/n...” she whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Over the next few months Yachi helped you heal, both physically and mentally. You were back at work and felt comfortable and safe. You never fought with her, if you had arguments they were solved within one conversation, never leaving things to be dwelled upon in the future. You appreciated her patience so much, even more how she made you feel. It took you a while to come to terms with your feelings, not realizing the feelings you harbored were more than platonic. When you did, nothing changed, you were still just as comfortable and content around her as you’d always been. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee and went downstairs to find Yachi in one of your oversized tee-shirts by the stove. You looked down at your own attire, a pair of cotton shorts and a large hoodie of hers. You walked over, hugging her from behind, burying your face in the back of her neck and breathing in. She smelled like-was, your home. Yachi was an open book, never wanting to or being able to hide how she really felt. You knew she felt the same, you could tell by the way she braided your hair each night, the way she knew exactly what you needed to hear, the way she always looked at you a little too intensely for a friend, the way she fit perfectly against you at night, she loved you and you loved her. “Good morning Yachi” you felt her giggle softly, smiling “good morning, i think we’re out of eggs.” your mornings had become so domestic it’d look like you were dating to anyone who witnessed the way you acted around each other. However, you enjoyed the tranquility of being alone with her, your own little world. “I can go get some now, want to come for a drive?” she nodded, humming before pouring you a cup of coffee, “let me go get some pants on” she began walking to her bedroom, “okay, i love you.” it slipped out and you both froze, there was no awkward tension as your statement sat in the air, instead, it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, both of you. “I love you too...” she turned back and ran into your arms, you smiled into her hair, moving her back to cup her cheeks. You looked into her eyes, they were filled with nothing but adoration. You leant in slowly, pressing your lips together softly, her lips were soft as she melted against you. Breaking apart you smiled at each other, “lets go get those eggs hmm?” you rested your hands on her waist and she nodded. 

Walking through the aisles you felt like someone was watching you, you turned around to see Tanaka staring at you. Your eyes widened and you cleared your throat “Um, hey Tanaka...” he breathed out heavily coming towards you and wrapping you tightly in a hug. You patted his shoulder and chuckled slightly “Um” he squeezed you tighter and you patted his shoulder again, trying to get him to release his hold on you. “Oh, shit, sorry..” he put you down gently and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly “You look beautiful, i mean, you always were but you look amazing and, um, i miss-” “Hey baby, you got everything?” Yachi came up behind you and intertwined her fingers with yours, “baby?” Tanaka’s face dropped and he could feel his heart breaking all over again. He looked a mess, he felt like one too, letting you leave was one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made. “Oh right, Yachi is my girlfriend” you squeezed her hand and smiled down at her as Tanaka watched with tears in his eyes “you don’t love me anymore?...” you stared at him and felt pity for him. You had long lost feelings for him, occasionally you would still cry, mostly over losing your baby, but you’d ran out of tears for Tanaka. “I’m sorry Tanaka, i love Yachi now, you need to respect that.” he wasn’t used to seeing you look at him that way, with no emotion behind your eyes. He watched as you, instead, looked at Yachi with love in your eyes, the same way you used to look at him. A few tears rolled down his cheeks as the weight of losing you kicked in again, he realized the finality of your love for him. “Tell me you love me, please...” he was quiet but you both heard him, you wrapped an arm around Yachi, “We’re going to go now, i wish you the best Tanaka.” you moved past him as he watched your figure in the distance. “I had the best...” he whispered lowly, wiping his tears. 

Once you returned home, you changed the sheets in the spare room, moving the last of your items into Yachi and your’s now shared bedroom. “Are you alright?” Yachi asked, rubbing your back softly, you turned to smile at her “I am, more than alright, i love you” she hugged you, resting her head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. You hummed contently, feeling surrounded by warmth, the scent of lavender and Yachi’s gentle hold. 

When Tanaka arrived back home, he texted Noya and Kiyoko about the encounter he had with you. They offered their support, knowing how guilty he felt since it was his fault after all. Maybe in another life he will have you to himself, will cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished, he won’t let you go and he’ll appreciate you the way you appreciated and loved him. For now, in this life, you finally had that, only it wasn’t with him. He cried softly in the loungeroom, looking over at the framed picture of you both during your first anniversary. You hair was blown across you slightly due to the wind and you had the biggest smile on your face, looking up at Tanaka. He walked over and held the photo in his hand, breathing in shakily before placing it face down on the table. Moving on was harder than he thought it would be. 

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

tags

@stingykei @aoi-turtle @em0racc00n

[anon-rebel-writes]

Late Night Talks

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day!

So this is a new story (yay!), and I wrote this for my girlfriend! She asked me not to tag her for privacy reasons, but I hope she loves this because this is actually based on a real event!

A quick background, we confessed through the phone and this story is heavily based on that. A lot of the feelings Luka feels are things that I actually felt! The dialogue is pretty similar too (obviously some things are cut out or edited to fit Luka and Mari lol)

My “just-a-friend” got me into MLB and we both love Lukanette, so I thought it’d be fitting to write her a story about Lukanette, based on us, for one of her gifts! Happy birthday, my love! I hope you (and everyone else reading this XD) enjoy it!

The story begins under the cut! <3 Ao3 Link

Soft light from his phone covered his face, forcing his eyes to squint in order to see clearly. His thumb unconsciously moved across the screen, opening up random apps before quickly closing them just to open them again.

The boat was fairly quiet. During the day, he could hear the different movements and various noises from his mother and sister, but this late at night merely left the sounds of waves from the Seine below him. The natural creaking of the boat usually left him relaxed and helped him fall asleep.

Although lately his nights had been occupied by other things, especially one girl.

Luka shifted in his bed, trying to engulf himself in more warmth from his blankets. Did his mattress always feel this stiff and uncomfortable? He never paid it much attention before, it never mattered before. Maybe it was just his mind trying to find something to think about.

He glanced at the time near the top of his screen and saw it was ten after midnight. Well at least it’s not too late yet, or maybe it wasn’t too early yet? She never texted him extremely late (or extremely early). Was it late? When did he care about time so much?

The only reason he thought about the time lately was because of her.

Luka shifted again, pulling up the blanket to cover the blush creeping up his cheeks. He continued to open apps just to close them again. He sighed and turned off the phone, letting the room dim and his eyes rest. Why did this feel so desperate? He used to see himself as a ‘go with the flow’ guy, but she had found a way into his heart and made him question his entire life.

When had he ever checked his phone this much? If she decided to text him tonight (as she had been doing for the past couple of nights), would immediately replying make him seem obsessed? He didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Didn't girls like when guys text fast? She hasn’t seemed to mind it so far. Then again, his only source of reference was his sister, and getting her to reply to him took years off his life.

His phone beeped and the screen lit up, showing a new text message. Luka quickly sat up and hurried to read the message.

‘SOS Can’t sleep again :( Think I might need a ~Luka~ to help (^-^)’

He covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide the smile consuming his face. When did his nights become like this? Maybe it was desperate to wait for a text, but when the text came from Marinette, he couldn’t find a reason to be upset.

This girl seemed to bring him a whole new type of happiness, even if he was too nervous to text her first. He wanted to give her space and be comfortable around him, so waiting until midnight for a text never bothered him.

While seeing her throughout the day was always amazing, there was a different feeling that came with their late night talks. The fact that she needed to sleep and came to him for help gave him a warmth in his chest he never knew before. Although sometimes it made him feel selfish, seeing as she tended to talk to him when she was tired.

‘Luckily this Luka is always able to help :)’

And he really was always able to help, at least he tried to be. Luka helped everyone. Whether it was his family, friends, strangers, co-workers, he always lended a hand. But when it came to Marinette, he’d drop everything to run to her.

‘Yesss! Call me! Mama needs some Luka time!’

He tried to stifle a laugh and rolled his eyes at his phone. His body was hunched over the edge of the bed, watching his phone with intense eyes, as if the messages would disappear if he looked away.

In the mornings, he always found himself worried about that, as if the night before only existed in his mind. He’d hurry back to his phone to re-read the messages, making sure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl who chased off his nightmares and reinvented his dreams, really spent her night with him. Even if it was through a screen, even if it was for an hour, the messages were there to remind him that for a moment, she was his and he was hers. He was always hers, if she wanted him to be.

Luka slowly leaned back onto his bed, trying to get into a comfortable position. He put one hand behind his head and took a deep breath. His calm personality wasn’t an act, Luka was definitely a level-headed person, but he was still human. And as a human, a pretty girl talking to him late at night gave him lots of nerves.

He quickly shook off any tension he felt and pressed the call button. The phone only rang once before the sweetest voice he’d ever heard took over. “Hi Luka! Sorry, I know it’s late and everything, but I couldn’t sleep and… Oh wait, you told me I shouldn’t apologize, sorry! Or- wait, I just said sorry. Wow, I’m sorry- Shoot! I said it again-”

She was rambling, rotating between apologizing to him and trying to explain why she called him. As much as he loved (was that too serious of a word?) her, he also knew that if he didn’t reel her in, she’d spiral out of control.

“Don’t worry, Mari, you’re fine. But I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect this. I mean, calling a boy so late at night… not once, but multiple times in a row? How scandalous of you, Mel’.”

He heard a scoff through the phone and a lot of rustling. “Oh Luka, you should know I am the most scandalous of girls. In case you haven’t heard, I call lots of boys and girls at night.” Her voice took on a fake sounding ‘tough guy’ accent. He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. “Wow boys andgirls? I didn’t know I was talking to a criminal.”

Honestly at this point he wouldn’t put it past her to be a criminal, she seemed to have a habit of stealing people’s hearts. He’d never tell her that though. One, she seemed to have a strange distaste for bad jokes, two, that meant he’d have to admit that he liked her (but the word ‘like’ didn’t seem strong enough).

“What?! I wouldn’t take it that far! I’m a total supporter of the law!”

Luka moved the phone from his ear to his chest. His face pinched tightly, trying to hold back any laughter that formed. His body tensed up from holding it in, as much as Juleka definitely deserved some payback for the loud laughing she tended to do so late at night, he really didn’t want to deal with a cranky sister. He quickly moved the phone back to his ear and took a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kinda funny how different we are, not that I don’t support the law. It’s just when you have a mom like mine, it’s kinda hard to keep it in mind.” Marinette laughed through the phone and his chest felt like it was on fire.

Everything about her was so sweet, her laugh, her personality, she was amazing. Even when the mornings came and his head throbbed from the lack of sleep, he would never change these moments with her for anything in the world.

Sounds of fabric and movement came through the speaker along with a small hum of agreement. “Yeah I am pretty amazing at following the law. It’s kinda like a job at this point… Not that I have a job with the law! I don’t do that. That would be weird. Uh- anyways! Your job! Wait, that's not exciting. Oh man I’m so nervous tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Melody, it’s fine. My job isn’t very exciting, but I’m sure your day was, right? Mind telling me about it? You know I love listening to you.”

A gasp came through the other end of the phone and then a very thorough retelling of the events from the day. He slowly closed his eyes and imagined everything she told him. She left the bakery this morning to hang out with Alya, she probably wore that new beret she made, along with some cute, pink shoes to match.

He imagined her sitting under a tree at the park to draw, it was sunny and hot today, so she probably took her jacket off to get comfortable. She told him how she went out to get orange juice with Kagami, he could practically hear her smile through the phone as she told him about it.

Everything with Marinette was simple, by no means easy, but simple. He knew her well enough to understand how she felt, and she was the same way with him. They just got each other. She didn’t need to tell him the details because she knew he would already know. When he tried to explain a decision he made in a new song, she didn’t have to know what he was saying to understand him. Luka found it easy to just ignore the details, because Marinette was talented enough to fill them in herself.

Luka stayed quiet as he processed her words, filling in the details himself. He loved spending his nights like this, he didn’t mind messing with his sleeping schedule (or lack thereof). He loved to replay every moment of sincerity and kindness she showed throughout her day. He loved to hear about new projects she worked on, because her talent went beyond anything he’d ever seen.

She was miraculous.

“-But yeah, I guess that was my day! Not super exciting, but I think it was okay? I hope it was, at least.” Exciting? That was just one of the many adjectives he could use to describe her. Talented, exciting, clumsy, but so intelligent. Even on her dull days, he got excited just hearing her about random thoughts she had throughout the day. “Marinette… you’re extraordinary, honestly. Your day sounds wonderful. You’re wonderful. I don't know- You make me feel wonderful.”

Was he oversharing? Probably. He was definitely bad with words, but he wasn’t lying. His hands fisted his shirt as he waited for a response. The other end of the phone call went strangely silent. He could faintly hear the hum of the phone and the waves of the water outside his window. Why did the phone get quiet?

The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. What if he told her too much? A soft squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused back on the phone. “Um-! That’s...really sweet, Luka! You’re wonderful too… Or- Extraordinary I mean! You make me feel extraordinary, all the time. So- I don’t know, thank you?” His chest tightened. How much longer could he keep up with this act?

Pretending to be ‘just a friend’ might be easier for some people, but it was torture for him. Did she have these late night talks with other people? Did she ever hold anyone else’s hands when hers feels cold? Did she ever kiss them on the cheek to say goodbye? Luka was never one to push his luck, despite protests from his sister and mom, but nights like tonight made it hard.

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth, Mari. I should be thanking you, for making my nights a lot better, y’know?”

It was the truth. But there was so much more he could say. All of her quirks and amazing qualities always left his head feeling dizzy. He could write symphonies merely based on the person she was, let alone his feelings for her.

Yet he always kept those melodies to himself, even if he wanted to share them with the world, or share them with her. Nights like these make him feel like he could take on anything life throws at him. For Marinette, he probably could.

Another squeal came through the phone and a loud thud. He quickly sat up in a panic and pressed the phone even closer to his ear. “Marinette? Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” Loud thumping came through the receiver and more panicked sounds.

“S-sorry! That was just- I just- Ugh… I dropped my phone, sorry. You just- you should know that… This is gonna sound lame, but you make my nights better too… Heck, I even listen to your cover songs throughout the day, so I guess you make my days better too? Wait, that sounds weird, sorry! I don’t mean to say it in a weird way...”

Luka’s eyes widened and his heart felt as if it was trying to beat out of his chest. His hand unconsciously moved to his chest and grabbed tightly onto his shirt. The breath leaving him was shaky and weak. It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment.

All at once, the feelings he tried to hide came boiling over and any sensible thought that told him to conceal his affections raced out of his mind. Before he could stop himself, Luka’s mouth moved on its own.

“Can we facetime? Or anything similar to that, please?”

Without getting an answer, his phone started ringing. He turned the phone to his face and saw himself staring back. As soon as Luka answered the call his eyes wandered across his screen, taking in Marinette’s face.

Her hair was still in pigtails, but different strands stuck out in an adorable way. The camera showed her snuggled into her bed as she laid on her side, with her pink comforter pulled over her lower face, covering her cheeks and nose. A large cat pillow rested just behind her head, unnervingly staring at him. Because most of her face was hidden, Luka noticed her eyes, and suddenly he felt very self aware of his position.

Quickly laying back down on his bed, Luka awkwardly raised one arm to lay behind his head, trying to feign an relaxed appearance. He tried to give her the closest thing to an easygoing smile as he could manage at the moment, which definitely felt a little forced seeing as how he was now (sort of) face to face with Marinette. Trying to hide any tension he was feeling, he cleared his throat, inwardly hoping she couldn’t read how nervous he was.

“Uh- Hey, Mar- Melody. Love the cat pillow. Totally don’t feel like it’s about to jump into your phone and attack me.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, attempting to cover her laughter. Her eyes scrunched, smile widened, and Luka’s heart soared. Marinette managed to roll onto her back letting the beautiful sound ring throughout the room. The blanket dropped and uncovered the entirety of her face.

After a moment of joy, she tried to quickly recollect herself. She turned her head back to the phone and stuck out her tongue. “Silly. Just so you know I’m banning you from making me laugh this late again. You’re gonna make my stomach hurt!”

Luka started laughing too, loosely covering his mouth, not caring about waking anyone up anymore. “That’s gonna be a problem, you should know that I’m kinda hilarious, so you should fully expect me to break that rule. Very quickly.”

They both joined in quiet giggling before Marinette covered her mouth with her hand again and gasped. “I just told you that you’re banned from making me laugh!”

“Hey, I warned you! You can’t be mad when I literally just warned you!”

The two teens burst into laughter once more. Luka calmed down quicker than Marinette did, so he saw her laughing face a second time. She was beautiful. Every time he saw her, he swore she wasn’t real. No real person could be as stunning as she was.

Whenever she worked on a new project and her hair flopped over her face, she was gorgeous. The times when she helps their friends out, her eyes are always so gentle, she’s divine. Even when she’s stressed out, the moments when she feels at her lowest, Luka can’t help but notice how angelic she looks.

She’s breathtaking without even trying.

Once Marinette collected herself, her eyes turned soft and precious as she looked back at the phone. Even through a screen, her stare set his soul on fire. His mind went blank for a second before he lost all sense of reason.

“Did you really mean it when you said I make your days and nights better?”

Her eyes widened slightly at his question, and he finally realized what just came out of his mouth. ‘Great job, Couffaine. You just made it weird!’Luka shook his head and moved the camera slightly away from his face, moving his gaze from the phone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up again-”

“I mean it.”

His eyes shot back to her and saw how she snuggled back into her bed again. Her eyes were looking away, but the redness in her face showed him exactly where her mind was. “I meant what I said… Did- Well, did you mean it too? When you said I made your nights better?”

There it was again. The shaky breath, the longing look in his eyes, the fuzziness in his chest. With a simple answer, she turned him into putty and without even realizing it.

Luka moved his arm to rest on his eyes, attempting to hide any sign that would show how he felt, just in case she didn’t mean her words the way he wanted her to mean them. He’d never blame her for not being too clear, even if it hurt him. Any affection, whether friendly or romantic, should’ve been fine with him.

“This is gonna sound bad, but my phone is full of screenshots from our FaceTime calls.” Luka lifted his arm up slightly to gauge a reaction from her. But her eyes were glued on him, he couldn’t pick up on a clear response, so he covered his eyes again and continued.

“I… this is so creepy- sometimes I look at pictures of you and… it makes my day better too? That sounds so weird. It sounded a lot cuter in my head-” A loud cackle interrupted him and his arm shot away from his eyes. He saw Marinette digging herself even deeper into her massive blanket (and creepy cat pillow), trying to hide her laughter.

She must’ve noticed his silence because her eyes popped out of the blanket to look back at her screen. “Sorry, that’s just… that’s so cute! You take screenshots from our facetime calls?”

Her lopsided smile made his cheeks burn. He tried to gain back his level-headedness by rolling his eyes at her. He brought the phone closer to stick his tongue out at her. “I wouldn’t call me ‘cute’ if you don’t want me to call you ‘adorable’ for listening to those covers.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation and hid her face back into the blanket. He took a quick, deep breath, silently thanking himself for being able to play his awkwardness off.

“I can’t believe I actually admitted that to you- That’s cold-blooded, Luka! Teasing a girl’s love is mean!”

They both paused for a second, taking in her words. The cabin suddenly felt a lot smaller than it was. His blood felt boiling hot yet icy cold all at once. His face slacked and yet tensed in different places. Looking at her and seeing her eyes expand let him know she was probably feeling the same way.

“Love?”

It sounded so easy. When she said it, it felt right. Full of affection without being overbearing. But then Marinette’s gaze moved off screen. She sunk into herself, yet not playfully like before. The energy of the call changed into something else, something new. “I… shouldn’t say anymore. I’m… sorry, Luka. I’m so sorry; I feel so selfish. I call you so late just to ruin your night by making things weird, and I’m so sorry.”

He watched as she shifted in her bed; he saw the edge of her thumb on the screen, hovering over it, as if she was about to end the call. “That’s not-! Marinette, that’s not true. If you’re selfish… If you’re selfish, then I must be the most greedy guy in the world.”

Marinette swiftly stared at the screen, her mouth opened as if she was going to rebuttal his statement. Before she could, he spoke first.

“I’ve been staying up every night, hoping and begging that you’d text me, or call me, or give me any attention at all. And I do it, knowing that you message me when you’re tired and need to rest. I know that spending time with me only takes away time you need to sleep. So yes, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy,”

Luka slowly sat up as he stared into the screen, clutching it as if it was the most important thing in the world, and at this moment, it was. Marinette moved the blanket off her face slightly and he saw her face flush with color. His voice felt raw as his throat tightened and his face burned. He couldn’t even register the tear that raced down his cheek. When did he get so emotional?

“But Melody, Mari, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I want your attention so bad. I want your affection and anything else you give me. I’ve been trying so hard to bite my tongue around you, to pretend like I think of you as my friend. But I love…”

He shut his mouth fast. What was he doing? He was destroying everything for these feelings. Why would she like him? She gives everyone affection. Marinette loved everyone, it was just who she was. What was he doing? He looked around his room and realized the situation he put himself in. He quickly put his phone on the bed next to him and pulled his knees to his chest.

Did he ruin their relationship? Would she stop having these late night talks with him? Would she still hold his hands when hers felt cold? Would she ever kiss his cheek to say goodbye again? What was he doing?

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It all happened so fast. He reached for his phone to apologize and to hopefully scavenge whatever was left of their friendship.

“I love you too, Luka.”

His hand stopped just above his phone and he waited. He listened to the small buzzing sound from his phone, the waves moving against the boat, gentle breathing coming from Marinette.

“I love you… and I wanna be selfish. I wanna be greedy and I wanna be with you.”

Luka found the courage to lift the phone to his face and stare back at her. Marinette now sat up, her face was bright red with tear stains down her cheeks. Her eyes were slightly puffy and he was sure his were too. The only light on her face was her phone and even with everything, she looked beautiful.

“I wanna be with you too, Marinette. Always, for as long as you’ll have me. Wake me up at three A.M. everynight for the rest of my life, I don’t care. I just wanna be with you too. I love you.”

It felt so right. It wasn’t too much when he said it. He meant it to be heavy and weighted. But it didn’t feel forced or extreme. It was just right. They stared at each other for a moment more. His eyes raced across every centimeter of the screen, taking in every aspect of her, her eyes doing the same. Smiles spread across her face as they both chuckled, their laughter laced with happy tears.

Luka wiped his eyes, trying to calm himself down (despite his teenage hormones telling him that he should continue to cry and sob from the utter euphoria he was feeling). Marinette tugged at her pigtails with one hand, seeking to find comfort.

“This wasn’t the way I thought we’d confess, y’know. I always thought you’d write me a song, or I’d make you a new jacket. Some big gesture instead of us sobbing,” she chuckled.

He stopped wiping his eyes to laugh again. His smile grew, even as he tasted his tears. “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise I have plenty of songs for you, and about you and everything. I can grab my guitar if you want, but you might hear Juleka complaining in the background.”

They shared one final laugh before the exhaustion of crying kicked in and they both laid back down. Marinette wrapped herself in blankets one final time, holding the dubious cat pillow tight against her. Luka found himself in a similar position, he laid on his side, his face squished against his pillow and the blanket pulled under his chin.

They stared at each other, making small conversation about their feelings. Luka could hardly remember all that happened after that, he felt such relief and happiness from everything that the rest of the night felt fuzzy.

He glanced at the time at the top of his screen and noticed it was now closer to three-thirty. Luka took a deep breath before sighing. He saw Marinette’s eyes getting smaller and smaller with each second.

He knew that they should hang up soon, but he really wanted to be selfish and keep her on the phone. “Luka…”

Marinette slowly opened an eye to look back at him. Their smiles grew once again. “Are you gonna take another screenshot of me?” Her smile turned sly and he rolled his eyes.

“That’s cold-blooded, Mel’. Teasing a guy’s love is mean,” he stuck out his tongue, just for good measure. But then he sneakily took one screenshot, to remind himself that tonight was real and not just a dream. Tonight, Marinette was his and he was hers, and hopefully it’ll stay like that for a long time.

Her eyes drifted back closed, but her smile never left. “...Love you… Luka….”

Warmth engulfed his chest, leaving him feeling light and airy. The mattress underneath him felt soft and perfect. The dryness on his cheeks from earlier tears didn’t bother him at all. He was content and full of love.

While the confession was unexpected, he wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he loved her clothing and as many songs as he had for her, he knew nothing would’ve compared to tonight. As he looked back at her sleeping face, he had a feeling she felt the same.

“I love you too, Marinette.”

[cactusnymph]

Prompt fill #5 for @dimension20alphabet:

Escape

[part two to this]

Usually it goes like this:

 The Bad Kids eat lunch together in the cafeteria and otherwise Fabian doesn’t talk much to any of them over the course of his day. It’s not like he’s actively ignoring them, but he’s more on the side of the popular kids. The cool guys. The jocks.

 Meanwhile, the others—well, maybe except for Fig—don’t exactly fit the bill.

 Sure, Fabian would die for any of them, but somehow the social structures at school still feel restrictive in a way that gives him a hard time moving against them.

 Now though, now the unthinkable has happened.

 The Ball is ignoring him.

 Well, not as much as ignoring Fabian as he’s actively fleeing from him the second Fabian comes into view. At first Fabian thought that The Ball had just forgotten something in his locker when he turned around and ran—ran—in the opposite direction of Fabian.

 But it happens again during the first break and Riz is not at their usual table when Fabian joins the others for lunch.

 Everyone is looking at him.

 “What?”, he asks.

 His mood was bad all weekend. After the ridiculous dare he received on Theo’s party The Ball was nowhere to be seen. Both Adaine and Theo—Theo of all people, as if he was The Ball’s friend—followed him out of the room while everyone continued to stare at Fabian accusingly.

 Even Gorgug looked somewhat perturbed, like it was Fabian’s fault that a room full of people had chanted about him kissing The Ball. That hadn’t been his idea!

 “Hey man, you know, you could’ve said ‘no’ without making it sound like, you know, Riz was like, a slimy ghoul or whatever”, Ragh had said to him quietly.

 As far as Fabian knows, Theo and The Ball had ended up making out in one of the empty rooms or behind the house. Those pictures in his head didn’t lead to his weekend getting any better either.

 He trained way too much with his mother. He ate so many kippers that Cathilda asked him if he was feeling alright—which he wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly explain why. He went for a run three times on Sunday and was still feeling on edge about everything that had happened.

 In the end he crashed on his bed with sore muscles and a scene of The Ball and Theo kissing playing on repeat in his mind that followed him into his dreams.

 And now his friends were looking at him as if he had personally murderer The Ball. With his bare hands. For fun.

 “Did you talk to Riz?”, Adaine wants to know.

 “No.”

 Silence answers him and he looks around the table.

 “What? He saw me in the hallway, turned around and ran away!”, Fabian exclaims angrily. His face is getting hot. He hates all this emotional bullshit and almost wishes he could just go back to being his father’s darling boy instead of his own man, because somehow that seemed way easier.

 “Oh no. Poor Riz”, Kristen says and Fabian almost loses his shit right there.

 Why is it ‘poor Riz’? Why is no one acknowledging what a shit weekend he had? And how fucking dumb that dare was? And how it’s offensive to consider that Riz and Theo made out behind the house while Fabian was being stared at like someone who strangles puppies? And also, he fucking hates it to be ignored.

 He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

 He refuses to be ignored!

 “Did you try to text him to apologize?”, Gorgug asks.

 Fabian stares at him.

 “For what?”

 “I mean. You know, because. He looked pretty hurt and like. Isn’t he your best friend?”, Gorgug says quietly and Fabian feels like someone has dropped an iron weight into his stomach.

 “I mean, I guess we’re friends, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, you know—best friends is maybe a little—“

 A voice in his head whispers “Why would you say that, isn’t that a lie?” but Fabian doesn’t get to listen to it as Fig lowers her fork and looks past Fabian at someone right behind him.

 “Oh, no”, Gorgug says very quietly and Kristen gets up halfway from her chair which leads Fabian to turn around just to be faced with The Ball’s very pale and very unhappy face. For a split second Fabian has the opportunity to notice that Riz looks as if he hasn’t slept or eaten for the past two days, but then he notices Fabian looking at him and escapes immediately.

 “Okay, Fabian, I know talking about your feelings is super fucking hard and everything, but get a grip, man”, Fig snaps at him.

 “My feelings are perfectly fine, thank you”, Fabian grits through his teeth but he doesn’t touch the rest of his food and instead spends the rest of his lunch break cursing the universe for having The Ball turn up right at that moment when Fabian announced that them being best friends might be a bit of a stretch.

 Fabian never really had a best friend before.

 Fuck if he knows what that’s even supposed to mean.

 Riz always just went ahead and announced it to the whole world after they’d barely known each other for a week and back then it had been completely ludicrous.

 Now, though.

 Fabian doesn’t know.

 He might have announced that toxic masculinity is dead, but the truth is that it’s still hard dealing with all this emotional bullshit when no one ever really taught him how it works. And he’ll rather be shot than admit that. At least for now.

 It was hard enough to deal with the fact that he never really did anything on his own and was nothing but a pale shadow of his father, but now that he managed to work through that, everything else was still as difficult as before.

 And who the fuck are you supposed to talk to about these things?

 His father is a madman flying a dead dragon through hell.

 His mother heats up whole cantaloupes in hot pans, because she doesn’t even know how to cook some fucking scrambled eggs.

 Cathilda would probably know a thing or two about this stuff, but Fabian has yet to fully grow into the whole Cathilda-is-basically-his-surrogate-mother-and-not-just-his-maid-thing.

 And how is he going to explain this whole mess anyway?

 “Hey Cathilda, I went to this party and someone told me to kiss The Ball and I was like ‘No, that’s ridiculous’ and now everyone is acting like I’m a complete asshole and The Ball doesn’t talk to me anymore, which is quite frankly offensive, because he always says that I’m his fucking best friend.”

 Even to Fabian that sounds ridiculous. And it doesn’t take into account his obsessive thoughts about Theo and Riz kissing or how The Ball might have overheard Fabian saying that they’re not best friends. And his bloodshot eyes with dark shadows under them. And his pale green face with all those freckles.

 And...

 Fabian decides that school can suck his dick on this terrible Monday and he leaves the Aguefort Academy directly after lunch break instead of going to his fighter class.

 It’s not like he needs it, anyway.

 He could probably wipe the floor with his teacher at this point.

 On his way home he receives multiple text messages from his friends.

 “Hey Fabian, where are you? Are you okay?”, from Gorgug.

 “Just text him”, from Adaine.

 “Maybe Jawbone can help you out, he’s really good at this relationship stuff”, from Kristen.

 Relationship stuff?

 What relationship stuff?

 The Ball is not his boyfriend.

 Fabian laughs as he passes a mother with her two kids and she looks slightly concerned about his well being and tugs her children further down the sidewalk.

 What if The Ball wants Theo to be his boyfriend?

 Fabian stops in the middle of the road and stares at his phone. He doesn’t want to talk to Jawbone. Sure, Jawbone is cool and everything. But talking to Jawbone feels too much like admitting that he might have a serious problem, more so than if he maybe just talks to one of his friends.

 For a split second Fabian thinks that wants to talk to Riz until he remembers that that’s not possible right now.

 Because Riz doesn’t talk to him. And also Riz wouldn’t want to talk about anything related to kissing or—or—

 Fabian stuffs his crystal back into his pocket and turns a corner that leads him towards Mordred Manor instead of home.

 Ragh is outside in the vast garden of the manor, wearing a straw hat and some shorts and nothing else while he waters some plants.

 “Hey, what’s up, bro?”, he calls over to Fabian, turns the hose and hits Fabian square in the chest with a jet of cold water. It only takes a few seconds until he’s completely drenched.

 Ragh laughs loudly while he turns off the water and throws the hose down into the grass.

 “You good, man?”, Ragh asks as he walks over to him. Fabian feels like on any other day he might have simply punched Ragh in the face for getting his expensive sneakers wet, but today it just seems like maybe he deserved a shower of cold water.

 “Um—yeah. No. I don’t really know”, he says and his voice reminds him of the time when the whole Leviathan debacle went down. He clears his throat and wipes some water out of his face. “Do you—uh. Have some time to talk?”

 “Sure, dude. Let’s find a spot with a little more shade.”

 Fabian hates the feeling of water in his shoes, so he takes them off and follows Ragh through the garden and into the shade under a big maple tree.

 “What’s up, dude?”, Ragh asks and throws himself down into the ground, pulls the straw hat off his head and leans against the thick trunk of the tree. Fabian sits down cross-legged and puts his sneakers to the side.

 “So—uh”, he starts and then closes his mouth immediately because he hasn’t actually thought this through at all. Ragh looks at him curiously and Fabian wonders if there is a good and nonchalant way to ask the things he wants to ask. Instead of acting cool and composed how he wants to, what comes out of his mouth is:

 “Do you think The Ball and Theo made out?”

 There is a beat of silence in which Fabian considers just getting up and running out of the garden and into traffic. This was not what he is supposed to ask.

 This is not—

 “Dude”, Ragh says and he leans forward to look at Fabian. “You look like you’re about to puke, man.”

 Fabian doesn’t feel great. His chest feels like someone installed iron clasps around it and is pulling his ribs tight and his stomach is doing some acrobatics that it’s absolutely not supposed to do.

 Why did he ask this?

 And what if Ragh says yes?

 Why the fuck does it even bother him?

 The Ball can kiss whoever the fuck he wants!

 “I’m—sure. Fine. Yeah. It’s all—uh. Fine.”

 “Yeah, dude, no offense, but like, it doesn’t look particularly fine to me. So—what you’re asking me is. If Riz and Theo got it going after that whole Truth or Dare thing?”

 Fabian takes a deep breath, which seems particular hard for some reason. This is ridiculous.

 He’s Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He knows how to fucking breathe.

 “I—guess?”

 “Hm”, Ragh says and leans back again. “Not sure if that’s my story to tell, bro. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry you feel like shit, but, like. Isn’t that something you should talk to Riz about?”

 Fabian thinks that, if one other person tells him to talk to The Ball, he might actually commit cold blooded murder.

 “Great suggestion, seeing as to how he keeps running away from me like he’s afraid I’m going to breathe fire at him any second”, he growls and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Ragh sighs and cocks his head from side to the other.

 “Would it like, bother you if they actually had made out?”

 Fabian wants to snort and say “No”. What comes out instead is a garbled noise as his brain is bombarded with pictures about Riz and Theo kissing.

 “Woah, dude, okay”, Ragh says and he looks alarmed. “Breathe, man.”

 Fabian can do that. Breathing is really easy, except that it’s not.

 “Okay, dude, Imma just say it now, okay? It’s like ripping a band-aid off!”, Ragh says loudly, grips Fabian’s shoulders and stares at him very intently. “I think you’re totally into Riz.”

 Fabian’s brain feels like it’s suffering from a bad case of frostbite. His thoughts turn sluggish as he tries to process what Ragh just said, but it doesn’t make any sense. Fabian is not into The Ball. He’s not in love with Riz. That is insane.

 “Okay, so, hear me out, bro. Remember how I was totally in love with Dayne? And it took me like a million years to like, get that? Feels pretty similar to what’s happening with you right now, right? Because we’re like, these manly dudes and we’re supposed to be into hot girls and all that stuff, right? So it doesn’t really fit the picture, but it’s totally fine, dude. It’s all good. You can be in love with Riz.”

 Fabian blinks at him. He can hear the words and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as if to try to form into a grin.

 “Don’t be insane, Ragh. I’m not—That’s—“

 “It bothers you when he’s with other people because you’re fucking jealous, dude. I’ve been there, okay? And it’s like this weird thing of—you’re not allowed to be jealous because that’s fucking weird, right? Because that’s like, your best bro and everything. But then you keep obsessing about him making out with other people and then it’s like, okay, but what if he kissed me and then you feel really fucking bad, right? Because you’re brain shouldn’t go there?”

 For the very first time Fabian imagines what would have happened if he, instead of saying “No, that’s ridiculous”, had actually kissed The Ball.

 He thinks about Riz’ sharp teeth and how he keeps chewing on his bottom lip when he’s nervous and the second Fabian’s brain arrives at Riz’ bottom lip it feels like there is a dam inside his brain breaking.

 He imagines grabbing Riz and pulling him into his lap, pressing his lips against his and hearing Riz make a choked noise against his lips—

 “What the actual fuck.”

 Ragh lets go of his shoulders and nods.

 “Yeah, dude. Intense, right?”

 “But—why?”

 Ragh shrugs and rubs the back of his head with one of his hands. Somehow the cold water drenching Fabian’s clothing feels like a blessing now because his skin seems to be on fire.

 Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

 “Because, dude.”

 “But like—what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

 “I mean. Sounds to me like you should totally kiss your Ball, bro.”

 Fabian’s stomach does multiple somersaults.

 “But he’s not—into that kind of stuff.”

 Ragh chuckles.

 “Dude, I love Riz, I really do, but I feel like now that you figured this part of the whole deal out I can just tell you, that like. Riz doesn’t want to make out with Theo or pretty much anyone, right? Which is totally fine, bro, don’t get me wrong. But also, like. I’m a hundred percent certain that he would totally kiss you, man.”

 Fabian’s first response is “Of course he does, why shouldn’t he” but then his brain catches up and his skin starts to tingle.

 Maybe this is why kissing Aelwyn for the second time wasn’t really working out. Maybe this is what Aelwyn meant when she said “Well, I suppose we’re not a good match after all”.

 “Riz... wants to kiss me?”

 Ragh nods and grins.

 “Yeah, dude.”

 “Okay. Well—uh. I have to go.”

 “Don’t forget your shoes!”, Ragh shouts after him but Fabian doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his shoes as he takes off.

 Maybe he can unpack all of this shit later. Maybe he should actually talk to Jawbone. Maybe this is going to be yet another thing that makes him different from his father and as soon as he has some time to think it through he can maybe arrive at the conclusion that that isn’t a bad thing.

 At some point he stops running because he actually has no idea where Riz is. Is he still at school? At home? At his damn office? Fabian pulls out his crystal and hastily types a message to Riz.

 “Where are you???? We need to kiss!”

 He deletes the last word and types “talk” instead. Fabian watches with his breath held as three dots appear on his screen very shortly before they disappear again. He waits in the middle of the street, no shoes on, dripping wet. People passing him by look as though they’re concerned for his mental state but Fabian couldn’t care less.

 Maybe now is not the time to be manly about his feelings if he actually wants to fucking kiss his damn best friend.

 “I need to talk to my best friend”, he types.

 The dots reappear immediately.

 “at the office”

 Fabian stuffs the crystal back into his pocket, considers calling the Hangman to drive him over there but then decides that he doesn’t want to wait for him to arrive.

 The last time Fabian was in Riz’ office there was a terribly creepy doppelganger of Riz trying to kill him, but he pushes the thought to the side as he rushes into the building, dripping water everywhere as he heads up the stairs.

 Fabian doesn’t think he can manage another emotional talk today because the last one left him completely drained and exhausted, but the second that he spots Riz behind his desk ripping some papers in a nervous craze his heart leaps into his throat and goes into overdrive immediately.

 Fuck.

 He rips open the door and Riz flinches so hard that he sends all the papers flying. Then he stares at Fabian with his huge, yellow eyes.

 “Why are you wet? And where are your shoes?”, he wants to know, looking completely confused.

 “Doesn’t matter”, Fabian says, rounds the desk and grabs Riz by the shoulders. “We need to talk about Saturday.”

 Riz turns his face away and there is a dark green blush on his cheeks and the back of his nose. Now that Fabian knows what his damn problem is he realizes how fucking badly he actually wants to kiss Riz.

 “Oh—well. Yeah. Haha, weird, right? Don’t worry about it, it was totally ridicu—“

 “I should have done it”, Fabian interjects. Riz’ eyes grow impossibly wider.

 “Wh—what?”

 “I should have done it. Kiss you, I mean. We should have kissed.”

 Who would have thought that the son of the famous Bill Seacaster would die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen while wearing no shoes and dripping wet clothes.

 “Wh—why?”

 “Because I—“

 Fabian didn’t actually get that far in his head. He grabs Riz’ shoulders tighter and fuck, he can’t bring himself to say the words.

 “Because I don’t want you to kiss anyone else”, is what he manages in the end and he watches closely as Riz’ swallows and the dark shade of green on his face grows impossibly darker still.

 “Did you mean it?”, he asks quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

 “Mean what?”

 “That—in your text message. About—you know. Being best friends or whatever.”

 Fabian takes a deep breath.

 “Yeah.”

 Riz makes a very small “Oh” sound and then, all of a sudden, Fabian stumbles backwards with his arms full of Goblin. It occurs to him that this is the first time they actually hugged.

 “So—uh. Can I? Um—kiss you?”, he asks and his voice sounds like he swallowed a bunch of sand.

 “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 It turns out that kissing someone you’re actually into is better than winning a Bloodrush game, better than dancing, better than pretty much everything he’s ever done before. Riz holds onto him as if his life depended on it and Fabian feels like he won’t let his best friend down anytime soon or he might just fall over and die.

 It occurs to him that this must be Riz’ first kiss and something inside him purrs contently at the thought of that as he lets himself sink down into Riz’ chair so Riz is sitting in his lap.

 “Thought you were into that Theo dude”, he mumbles against Riz’ lips.

 “’m not.”

 “Yeah, I get that now.”

 “I’m uh—pretty much only into you. So...”

 Fabian’s heart is doing a very silly little dance in his chest but all he can bring himself to say is “Yeah”. All the other words that he probably should say get stuck somewhere half the way up his throat because his heart is beating too fast.

 “So... no more Truth or Dare”, Riz says sheepishly.

 “No, definitely not.”

 “Cool.”

 Very cool indeed, Fabian thinks, as he kisses Riz again.

[writingmanaged]

So I just recently found your blog- and I absolutely love it! 💕✨ Could you please do a Jem Carstairs x fem reader scenario where Jem and the reader has been dating for a while in secret, but Will eventually finds out and teases them for it? Please and thank you 💕✨

A/N: Thank you so much, you are so sweet! I love the idea, I had so much fun writing it!

Fandom: The Infernal Devices (Shadowhunter Chronicles)

Ship: Jem Carstairs x Reader

Type: Fluff

Words: 1,511

Secret (Jem Carstairs x Reader)

It was a quiet day in the institute... And of course, the past tense was used very rightfully. Silence didn't quiet suit the London Institute. And that was alright. The shadowhunters who lived there couldn't have it any way differently and neither could Y/n.

Y/n was filled with happiness over the past month. You would too if the guy you were in love with for years had asked you out. She had yet to believe it. She woke up everyday thinking I'm going to see my crush again today. And then she would giggle to herself, as she had to correct the thought by replacing crush with escort.

But they kept quiet about it. She had no idea why. Jem hadn't really asked for it. But the day after he asked her, they had both been very quiet during breakfast and so they reached the conclusion it was a secret. She had always wondered if he had told anyone about this. Of course, one particular person came to her mind. His parabatai, Will Herondale. She thought he probably knew even before she did. Parabatai didn't keep secrets from each other. She knew she wouldn't if she had one.

She went to the kitchen and made breakfast for the both of them. She smiled at the thought of bringing him breakfast in bed. She was glad Sophie wasn't there. She said she would shop for ingredients for scones. Y/n felt nervous around her. It seemed Sophie could see the hidden meaning behind every single one of her smiles.

She placed the scones on the tray and saw Church the cat, who favoured Jem as much as Y/n did, staring at her. "Oh don't look at me like that. I didn't share his bed, I was in my room the entire night!" She blushed. She knew the cat's thoughts were probably something like this food better be for me but she knew if a human knew what she was doing, that would be their question.

She quickly ran up the stairs, her feet being as light as Church's, and quietly opened the door to Jem's bedroom. It was still dark with only a few rays of sunlight coming in through the slides the curtains did not cover.

Jem looked like a literal angel, like the one who's blood he shared, but even more pure. Y/n felt so lucky to have the right to call that man her own, even if she didn't dare to do so out loud. She quietly sat beside him on the bed and placed the tray on it. But Jem, being a light sleeper, slowly opened his silvery eyes. "Y/n?" He mumbled her name in a still sleepy tone, and to her it was the most melodic sound in the world.

"Good morning, Jem. I'm so sorry to wake you up. But I thought of making you breakfast." She smiled gently and Jem's face lit up. "Oh dear, you are simply the sweetest." He told her. He placed the tray a little bit further away, where there would be no danger of it breaking and gently took her arm. He pulled her down, so that she fell right into his arms.

"Won't you look at that? I fell for you. Again." She chuckled and Jem laughed gently. He stroke her hair and rubbed her back in circles. She stared at his gorgeous face. It was perfect, every single aspect of it. But at the moment she was focused on one part of it.

Those light pink lips. Jem had already kissed her ones and it was the most beautiful moment in her entire life. She was sure that if heaven ever came to earth, it was during that one kissing. They were in his favourite spot in London, a bridge. He had brought her there for a walk and after confessing his feelings he gave her the most passionate kiss in the world.

Perhaps it was egoistical, but she wanted to taste it again. "What is it? What are you thinking?" She heard the angel's voice speak. But she could not answer with words. All she could do was connect their lips. There it was again, she was back to heaven with her guardian angel.

The kiss was deep but gentle. At first she was leading but he soon let all his being melt into the kiss. He placed his hand on her cheek as he continued to kiss her with all his might. His other hand was gently on her back, on the very spot it had to be for her dress to be off, but he didn't dare make a move.

She was about the break the kiss and tell him to continue, when she heard a whistle from the doorframe and they both departed. Right there, under the wooden doorframe, stood Will Herondale with the most stupid grin on his face. "My, my, James. When we were sharing our news yesterday you forgot to mention that. Unless it was an one time unplanned thing of course, in which case I am very surprised and maybe slightly proud."

The nerving assole!! How dare he speak like that of you? Your fiance's parabatai truly had a way to anger you with his mere greeting. "Of course not." Jem spoke up calmly as he sat up on his bed and held your hand. "I am sorry I didn't tell you any earlier. But I would really appreciate it if you didn't speak like this of my fiance."

Will's grin disappeared and he blinked. "Fiance?" Remember how Y/n was earlier wondering if Will knew? At least she got her answer now. She cleared her throat and stood up. "Um... I should go. Jessamine told me to go by her room. So uh... See you! The breakfast is still warm so eat. Farewell!" She said quickly and raced out of the room in embarrasment. Farewell, really Y/n?

The rest of her morning moved smoothly. She trained with Charlotte and had a lovely chat with Jessamine. During both, she was was thinking about Jem Carstairs and Jem Carstairs only. And during both, she did not dare utter a word about him.

At lunch time, the parabatai pair joined them last. Jem's face was decorated with a magnificent smile as soon as he saw you and Will was wearing his usual asshole smirk. Thankfully, it fitted with all of his outfits.

Jem sat beside you and held your hand. "Hello, darling. How was your day?" He asked you and everyone looked over to your seats in surprise. Will's face had never been so mischievous. "Yes my fellow shadowhunters and not" He pointed at Sophie at the end who gave him a rude gesture. "Our dear James and Y/n are engaged! They have been for a month in secret, the sneaky beings."

Y/n blushed but she couldn't do anything but awkwardly smile. Soon everyone was at them, hugging them and congratulating them. Everyone but Will, but Y/n supposed it was because he had already congratulated Jem earlier.

Will was smiling during the whole evening that they spend talking about the two of them. And yet Y/n could see him looked at them melancholically when he thought nobody was looking, and even glaring at them at times. He even threw a couple of sarcastic comments, though not as rude as they usually were.

When everyone went to sleep, Jem held Y/n's hand and they had a nightly walk around the institute. Jem was saying something about how beautiful the stars were and talking about how she was his own star. And while it was really sweet, her mind was somewhere else.

"Hey Jem?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is Will okay? He didn't seem himself today." She asked him, her voice showing some serious concern.

"between us, I doubt Will is ever himself." Jem answered generally, something he did rather often.

"Yes but today it seemed as if he hated me. More than usual." She managed a fake laugh.

"He doesn't hate you... Look, Will is complicated. But as for today... I think he was jealous."

Y/n laughed at that. "What? You think he was in love with me?"

"I'd hope not." Jem replied honestly. He thought Y/n was so lovable that it was never an unlikely option. "He is jealous of how close you are in my heart. It's as close as he is. That's all. You know like a child when they have a new brother or sister and are jealous of the attention they get from their parents. He'll get over it. Eventually."

"So eventually..." She used his exact word. "He will stop teasing me?"

The cold breeze of the London night flew between them. Jem took off his coat and placed it over her shoulders, wrapping his arm around her, bringing her as close to his body as possible while they continued to walk. "Oh, dear, the teasing will never stop. In fact, it'll be even more intense once he gets to know you and like you."

[leejungchans]

— wifey.

word count: 1.7k

warning(s): none!!

genre: fluff, humour

notes: obviously i don’t know what went on backstage at the sma/award shows in general, especially with the special arrangements of award shows in the past two years due to you-know-what, so this is mainly based on my own interpretation/imagination!!

set during january 31, 2021

summary: juliet tells one of her closest friends her secret backstage at the seoul music awards.

juliet’s masterlist | ask game

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:16] do you wanna stop by and chat? 🥺

juliet 🤍 [19:17] didn’t we just talk on the phone yesterday? i didn’t know you wanted to see me this much 😼

ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:17] ...never mind 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️

juliet 🤍 [19:17] no wait i’m joking come back wifey 🥺🥺🥺🥺 what number is your dressing room?

“Unnie,” Juliet calls out to her manager, “can I go see Ryujin at ITZY’s dressing room? I won’t be long.”

Despite wearing a mask, Juliet can tell that the older woman is smiling from the way her eyes curve up into crescents. “Sure, I don’t think you guys have to be on stage for a while. I’ll text you if something comes up and you need to be back here.”

“Okay! Thanks, unnie!” Juliet says before grabbing her phone and putting on her mask. She passes by San on her way to the door and takes the opportunity to pat him on the head.

He looks up from his phone to find the maknae grinning down at him. “Who are you off to bother now?” he jokes.

She gasps, feigning offence as she places a hand over her heart. “Excuse you! It’s not my fault people want to see me!”

San rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Popular, I’m not going to hold you back any longer then. Be careful!”

“Careful is my middle name.”

“Says the person who almost tripped on the red carpet earlier.”

“...Definitely Wooyoungie-oppa’s fault.”

An indignant squawk comes from somewhere else in the room. “No, it wasn’t and you know it!”

San groans playfully. “I hate our family.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Giggling at their banter, Juliet heads out into the hallway of the venue, bowing to the various passing staff members as she looks for ITZY’s dressing room.

She doesn’t miss the screens located on the walls showing SEVENTEEN receiving their bonsang, and she stops momentarily to watch their speech while smiling to herself, heart swelling at how happy she is for them (and specifically, her boyfriend).

When Juliet finally finds her friend in an empty hallway, leaning against the wall next to a door which she assumes leads to ITZY’s room, she immediately runs to tackle the rapper in a back hug.

“Guess who?”

“My worst nightmare.”

Juliet pouts even though Ryujin isn’t able to see it. “You’re no fun, Jinnie.”

“And you’re very cute.”

“Damn, and I’m going to forgive you just like that,” Juliet laughs. “Nice outfit, by the way.” She takes Ryujin’s hand to spin her around as she admires the ITZY member’s all-white suit. “Very fitting for the boss that you are.”

“I knew you were in love with me!” Ryujin teases, which immediately earns her a light smack on the arm. “So, how’ve you been?”

Juliet gives her a flat stare. “We literally talked yesterday.”

“Something could’ve happened since then!” Ryujin defends. “Plus, I just like hearing from you.”

Despite feeling warm and fuzzy from her friend’s sweet words, Juliet plays along by faking a cough. “Whipped. But to answer your question, not much has happened, unless you count almost falling asleep when getting my makeup done at the shop something exciting.”

That was partly a lie. Admittedly, she had been texting Chan nonstop during the day knowing they’d be seeing each other here, but she doesn’t know how to approach the topic with Ryujin. They’re as close as can be, but how do you break the news?

“‘Hey, I’m dating someone. I don’t know if you’ve heard of his group though, it’s not like his group is a million-seller or anything!’ Like this?” she wonders aloud that morning in the dorm.

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly how you tell someone,” Jongho deadpans from where he’s making coffee in the kitchen. “Well, maybe except the last part. Just say, ‘Hi, insert friend’s name, just wanted to share with you that I’m dating Dino from SEVENTEEN.’ Why are you being weird about this?”

“Did you seriously say ‘insert friend’s name’?”

“Yes, now answer my question.”

Juliet sluggishly rolls off the sofa to lie on the floor in a starfish position. “I don’t know...do people in our industry even tell their friends that they’re dating someone? Or do they, like, let their friends find out along with the rest of the world? Is it pretentious to tell someone just like that? Am I not being careful enough if I do that?”

Jongho frowns, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter for her to drink later before padding over to her. “I think mornings make you overthink more,” he says softly as he crouches next to the starfi—the maknae.

“Of course it wouldn’t be wise to grab a megaphone and run down the street broadcasting it, even though that wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done.” Juliet raises a leg to kick him lightly as he cackles. “But if you know that person can be trusted—wait, who exactly are you planning to tell?”

“Ryujinnie if I see her later at the award show,” Juliet replies, flailing her limbs around. “Maybe Felix? If I happen to also run into him.”

Jongho moves to sit on the floor. “Why didn’t you tell Ryujin-ssi yesterday over the phone then?”

“I don’t know...” she admits, “the topic never came up, and this doesn’t feel like news to tell over the phone.”

He flicks her head playfully. “You’re acting like you’re getting married or something.”

“Shut up, Jongho,” Juliet mutters, a faint tinge of pink forming on her cheeks.

“Anyways, both of them are people you trust, so I think it’s okay to tell them. They probably saw it coming like us and will likely be just as supportive, you don’t have to be weird about it, though that can be hard for someone like you,” he jokes.

“I will strangle you.” There’s no way he’s taking her seriously, not with one of her cheeks squished adorably against the floor.

“You can’t even crush an apple with your hands, but sure.”

At that moment, Seonghwa walks into the living room to find the two youngest members sprawled on the cold tiles. “What are you two doing down there?” he scolds, “you’re going to catch a cold!”

“Earth to Juliet!”

Juliet snaps out of her daze quick enough to register Ryujin waving a hand in front of her face. “Oh, sorry, I spaced out,” she says sheepishly.

Ryujin giggles. “I figured that, is everything okay?”

Juliet is about to respond when there is a commotion at the end of the hallway. Then she hears a familiar voice, more specifically, one belonging to a certain Boo Seungkwan.

Both girls turn their necks to find the members of SEVENTEEN walking in their direction, likely returning to their own dressing room. Before Juliet can think of a way to dig a hole to hide in, the members recognise her instantly, promptly exchanging knowing glances and letting out aye’s.

Ryujin blinks confusedly. Why are her seniors chuckling amongst themselves at the sight of the two girls chatting in the hallway? And why is her friend suddenly acting so strangely and avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything but the ground?

Her bewilderment increases tenfold as SEVENTEEN draws closer, with Juliet still looking down even when they bow to their seniors and murmur quiet greetings.

What is going on?

The answer to her question comes when the group quickens their pace and walks past the girls, laughing and sneaking glances over their shoulders as they disappear around the corner. All of them, but one.

Ryujin shuffles, awkwardly bowing to the youngest SEVENTEEN member which he returns along with a quiet “hello”. She watches in part shock and part amusement as Chan turns to her friend.

“Hi.”

Despite their masks, anyone could tell they were both smiling widely, and judging from her friend’s sparkly eyes and pink ears, Ryujin had no doubt that their relationship goes beyond a simple friendship.

“Congratulations,” Juliet tells him shyly, “I’ll be looking out for your performance later.”

The corners of Chan’s eyes crinkle even more. “Thanks, I’ll be cheering ATEEZ on too, of course. Stop by later if you have time? Seungkwannie-hyung said he misses you and Wooyoung,” he says the last part with a playful roll of his eyes.

Juliet laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring him with me later,” she promises.

Ryujin and Juliet watch Chan jog down the hallway, presumably to catch up with his members, before the former turns to her friend and clears her throat dramatically.

“Miss Juliet, is there something you want to tell me?” Ryujin asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows. “I’ve heard you mention that you’re friends with Dino-sunbaenim, but I didn’t know you two were this close?”

Juliet bites the inside of her cheek. “Promise you won’t tell?”

Sensing the serious tone in her voice, Ryujin nods solemnly. “Promise.”

Juliet leans down to whisper in the shorter girl’s ear. “We’re dating,” she says quickly before pulling away.

“Oh my God, really?”

“Shh! Not that loud! But yeah... we are.”

“I mean, that kinda crossed my mind when I witnessed your exchange just now,” Ryujin says upon looking down both ends of the hallway to ensure no one else is there. “But I thought maybe you just had a crush on him. Since when?”

“The beginning of this month.”

Ryujin nods again. “Did you tell your company?”

“Yeah. So far, only our families, members and companies know, you’re the first person I’ve told.”

The rapper’s eyes soften as she pulls Juliet into a hug. “Thank you trusting me. You two are really cute together, but I will only support this relationship on one condition.”

Juliet giggles, knowing her friend is simply joking. “Shoot.”

“Please don’t make me third-wheel you guys ever again,” Ryujin pleads. “I felt so awkward standing there while you two flirted with each other.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

“Now, I’d tell you to tell me everything, but it seems like there’s somewhere else you need to be,” Ryujin hints cheekily. “So you will call me tonight instead.”

Juliet beams, feeling very lucky to have such an incredible friend. “You know I will.”

���One more question—are you still my wifey, or did Dino-sunbaenim already steal you away from me?”

Juliet can’t help but laugh at how wronged Ryujin sounded before taking her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry, Jinnie, you’ll always be my wifey.”

“Good to know. Now, give me your phone. There’s something I need to do.”

— bonus!!

Chan reaches the door to SEVENTEEN’s dressing room, already bracing himself for his members’ teasing that will no doubt ensue the moment he steps foot into the room.

As he reaches for the door handle, his phone lights up with a notification.

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] hello sunbaenim, i just wanted to let you know that she’s still my wifey 😺 please take good care of her! she can be a huge mess sometimes but you probably already knew that 😔 congratulations on the bonsang! - shin ryujin

minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] aHa anyways 🤡 see you later!! i may be a mess but i’m your mess right 🥺🥺 also please tell seungkwannie-oppa i miss him too!!

a/n: we stan two besties 🥺🥺 please consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! thank you for reading, remember i’m here for you and have a good day 💕