#SO HERES A LESSON IN DRAMATICS THAT YOU! WILL!! NEVER FORGET!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CROSS MY HEART OUT WERE YOU HOPING THAT I JUST MIGHT DIE NOW | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neonlights92 · 4 years ago

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Night Changes: PART TWO

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone. Single. Solo.

And that’s just the way he likes it. That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life. Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

AN: I am so fuckin soft for college Kook you wouldn’t even belieeeeeve

Within days of their ‘truce’, Jungkook realises what a huge dickhead he truly is for not remembering Y/N’s name.

She shares his timetable almost entirely.

“I’m the worst.” He bemoans after a particularly stressful lecture on American poetry, “You weren’t kidding when you said you were in all my classes.”

“Almost all your classes.” She laughs a little at the look on his face and shrugs, “I did tell you.”

“It makes perfect sense now why you hate me.”

Y/N nudges him playfully and shakes her head, “I don’t hate you.” “Yes you do.” He sniffles dramatically, “And you should. I’m an asshole.”

She pulls a face, “Now what am I meant to do here? Tell you that you’re not an asshole? That would be lying.” Jungkook reaches for his heart theatrically and frowns.

“I deserve that.”

She scoffs playfully, ��Shut up, Jungkook.”

It’s been exactly four days since Jungkook and Y/N began to hatch their plan to try and get their respective soulmates to fall in love with them.

And though Y/N’s original idea was to host some kind of movie night at her apartment Jungkook has been slowly persuading her into throwing a full blown party. Park Jimin is an absolute animal, Jungkook promises her (that’s a huge stretch, but what college student doesn’t like alcohol and loud music?) and throwing a party is a surefire way to get him to agree to coming.

But Y/N isn’t so easily swayed.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Jungkook tells her confidently, “I’m going to make sure that you and Jimin get together, and then when you have beautiful babies together you’ll be thanking me. And we’ll forget all about the incredibly unfortunate way we met each other.” Y/N’s smile is soft, but Jungkook sees it.

“I know you will,” She says, “I have faith in your matchmaking abilities, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Which reminds me….Did you think about what I said, Y/N?”

Jungkook has to admit - he really likes having her around. Try as he might at first to have seen the worst in her, he has to admit Y/N’s not half bad.

“About the party?”

He winks, “Bingo!”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Oh my god-”

“No, because I’m such a wallflower,” She insists, shaking her head firmly, “Jimin will just think I’m boring.”

“I’ll help you come out of your shell. I’ve told you that already. It will be like a life lesson for you - a chance to shine in the spotlight.”

“I don’t shine,” Y/N is whining now, “It’s stupid to even try.”

“No it’s not,” Jungkook insists, “Everybody shines. In their own way. Everybody.” He feels kind of awful for her.

How can she even think that way about herself?

“You don’t - it’s not. C’mon Jungkook I can’t-”

“What about the night we met?” Jungkook interrupts, as the two round the corner of Jungkook’s street, “You were partying then, weren’t you? You were shining then?” She flushes, “That’s different.”

“How?” She shuts her eyes for a moment. Jungkook worries he might have pushed her too far. He slips his bottom lip between his teeth and just as he opens his mouth to apologise she sighs heavily.

“It’s stupid.”

He brushes a hand over her shoulder, “It’s not.”

Her eyes open and he’s taken aback by the softness there.

He wants to reach out and maybe pat her cheek but he decides against it. Fuckboy or not, Jungkook is not the kind of guy to do that. Is he? No. He isn’t.

Besides. Soomi.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll throw the damn party. But you’re helping me with everything, okay?”

Jungkook feels something like electricity shoot up his ass. (He won’t ever tell anyone else he thought that.)

“Yes! This is going to be perfect Y/N I swear. Jimin will love it. So will you,” He grins like he’s hit the jackpot, “It’s the last day of semester in three weeks time. We’ll use that as a reason okay? And we’ll plan everything together. It will be amazing.” Y/N’s eyes dart across Jungkook’s face nervously.

She seems to be looking for something - what he’s not sure - but after a moment she nods.

“Fine. Okay. End of semester,” Her lips fall into a small smile, “Do you think this will work?”

They stop at the entrance of Jungkook’s building.

“It’s perfect Y/N. I swear. Just perfect.”

When her smile widens Jungkook thinks he’s never seen her look better.

“I’m trusting you Jungkook.” She narrows her eyes playfully, “Don’t fuck it up.”

He crosses his index finger across his chest and nods determinedly.

“Trust me, Y/N. We’ll have Park Jimin eating out of your hand before you know it.”

And he really believes it, too.

The next day Jungkook runs into Y/N at lunchtime. He hasn’t seen her in any of his classes today and when he texts her to tell her this, she reminds him that Friday is the only day they don’t share a timetable.

He has to admit he’s kind of bummed.

So when he finds himself wandering into the campus garden with Hoseok trailing less than enthusiastically behind him, his eyes zero in on her immediately.

She’s eating some kind of burrito - probably extra spicy as she’s told him that’s the only way to eat Mexican food - and reading a book. Of course she’s reading a book.

Nerd.

“Hey Hobi let’s go sit over there.” He points her out to his friend and Hoseok raises a brow.

“Who’s that?” “Y/N.”

“Y/N?” His brow raises even higher if possible, “Y/N as in the girl you slept with who’s name you can’t remember and who’s roommate you are in love with? And who you’ve promised to help set up with Park Jimin? That Y/N.” Jungkook frowns, “Well when you say it like that…” He rolls his eyes, “Shut up. Let’s just go.” Hoseok shrugs and follows his friend - what good will it do him to argue anyway? - and when Jungkook reaches his destination he clears his throat noisily. Y/N looks up and Jungkook notices she’s wearing a pair of thick-framed glasses. He has to admit… She looks kind of adorable in them.

The moment recognition dawns on her face, Y/N’s lips lift.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s smile widens when she grins up at him.

“Hi.” She shifts slightly, “What are you uh - doing here?” “Stalking you obviously,” Jungkook takes a seat beside her on the blanket she’s set up to eat on, and gestures for Hoseok to do the same, “This is my friend Hoseok. The one I said dances with your boyfriend.” She wrinkles her nose and flushes, “Jungkook! He’s not my boyfriend.” She turns to Hoseok and smiles softly, “Hi.”

Hoseok - to his credit - doesn’t seem to mind the Jimin comment. He smiles back at her.

“Hi Y/N.”

Jungkook unwraps the dismal lunch he’s made himself - a sweetcorn and tuna salad - and gestures to the book sitting in Y/N’s lap.

“What’s that?”

She looks down and then up, “Oh. It’s uh - god. It’s stupid.” Jungkook quirks a brow, “C’mon tell me. What is it.” She hesitates for a second and then rolls her eyes, seemingly accepting her fate.

Jungkook almost wants to remind her that they’re friends - she shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of him - but he stays quiet.

She lifts the book to show him the cover.

“It’s a book on gaining confidence.” Her shoulders shrug, “I thought it might help. Y’know… With the whole…” Her eyes flit over to Hoseok briefly, “Jimin thing.”

Hoseok chuckles and it catches Jungkook off guard.

He’d almost forgotten his friend was there.

“That’s adorable,” Hoseok comments, “Man if a girl did that for me I’d be beyond flattered.” Y/N’s cheeks flush and she shakes her head, “No - I mean. I don’t know. It’s not just for him…”

“Still.” She bites her bottom lip and shrugs, “I mean I guess. Yeah. He should be flattered.” Hoseok laughs again and Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion his friend might be flirting.

He doesn’t like that.

Y/N is not for Hoseok. Not at all.

“Well she’s not reading the book for you,” Jungkook tells him, trying to control his anger, “She’s reading it for Jimin.” Hoseok raises a brow. He takes a moment and then smiles again.

“I gathered.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the lunch break trying to stop whatever weird energy Hoseok and Y/N have going on.

There is absolutely no way in hell that Jung Hoseok thinks he can just swoop in and ruin all his plans, right? Y/N needs to fall in love with Jimin. Park Jimin needs to be the one laughing with her and smiling at her and flirting with her.

He’s absolutely livid by the time Y/N scurries off to class.

“What the fuck was that?” Hoseok pulls a face, “What?”

“That. That… Flirting. What was that?” Jungkook has barely even touched his lunch (and it’s got nothing to do with the absolute miserable state of it, he swears.)

Hoseok seems confused for only a moment later. Then his face opens up.

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head, “I wasn’t flirting, Jungkook.” Jungkook hates the look on his friend’s face. Like he knows something Jungkook doesn’t.

“What’s that look for Hoseok?” Hobi chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing Jungkook. Absolutely nothing.” Jungkook spends the rest of the day thinking about that godforsaken look.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning (which thank god happens to be a Saturday,) to a text message from Y/N. He’s been trying to convince her to use more emojis - but she refuses.

Secretly, he finds her texting kind of cute.

But he’ll never tell her that.

Y/N: Are you free today?

Jungkook: as a bird. what did you have in mind?? :)

Y/N: It’s my birthday. Soomi is taking me out bowling. Wanna come?

Jungkook feels his heart swim all the way up to his throat.

Soomi? And wait what - it’s Y/N’s birthday? He’s sort of offended she only brought it up now.

Jungkook: uhhh… what?? happy fuckin birthday y/n!!! ur naughty!!! birthday ??? why didnt you tell me yesterday???

Y/N: You’re an English Lit student. Use proper vocabulary and grammar please. And I don’t know I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Jungkook: u cant change me boo… u just text like a granny. its your birthday stupid ofc its a big deal. mind if i invite some of my friends??

It’s a few minutes before Y/N finally replies.

Y/N: Yeah. Sure. Meet us at Blue Pins in an hour?

Jungkook: c u there… birthday girl!!!!!

Y/N: Ugh.

Jungkook smiles at the way she still acts like she hates him even though he knows she doesn’t really.

It really is the start of a beautiful friendship.

An hour later Jungkook finds himself sat in a booth with Hoseok, Taehyung and Namjoon, nervously tapping his fingers against the surface of the table.

Hoseok clicks his tongue loudly and grabs his friend's hand from across the booth. His eyes are narrowed a little.

��Will you calm down?” “Are you kidding?” Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as a pair of saucers, “I’m about to meet the woman I’m going to marry.”

Hoseok scoffs at that and Taehyung scrolls through his phone, bored as always.

After a moment, Taehyung clears his throat, “He said yes.”

Jungkook feels like his heart has just fallen out of his asshole.

“What?”

“Jimin said yes,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, almost as if he’s annoyed at this spectacular outcome, “He’ll come to Y/N’s party at the end of the semester..”

“Oh fuck YES!” Jungkook fist pumps the air in joy as Hoseok chuckles in delight.

“You’re overreacting,” Namjoon tells his friend seriously, “Jimin coming does not equal Jimin falling in love with Y/N.”

“It gets me one step closer though,” Jungkook feels lighter already, “And one step closer to that means one step closer to Soomi falling in love with me.”

Namjoon snorts out a laugh, “Stop it.”

“What?” Jungkook takes a swig from the cappuccino he insisted on ordering as soon as they arrived, “It’s true.”

“You’re not seriously thinking you’re in love with this girl Jungkook?” Hoseok’s eyes dance with mirth, “I know you man.”

“What do you mean?”

Hoseok raises a dubious brow, “You’re the ultimate fuckboy.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” Taehyung tacks on helpfully, “Notoriously so, actually.”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it but he knows his friends are kind of right. Sue him - he’s young and handsome and he’s in college. Everybody fucks around in college.

“And anyway I don’t actively pursue girls unless I have the intention of taking it somewhere.” Jungkook crosses his arms, “A fuckboy I may be, but a dickhead I am not.”

“Says the guy who forgot Y/N’s name after a vigorous night of lovemaking.” Namjoon grins like the cat who got the cream and Jungkook wants to smack him.

“You can thank your dear friend Kim Taehyung for that.” Jungkook replies sharply, narrowing his eyes at his so-called childhood best friend.

Taehyung gasps like he can’t believe what Jungkook’s just said.

“Seven tequilas on an empty stomach is never a good idea Tae,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You kept insisting.”

Taehyung answers with a flippant wave of his hand, eyes finally moving away from his phone, “Whatever. You’re an adult, right? You could’ve said no.”

“Not when free alcohol is involved.” “Anyway Kookie, the point is you can’t be in love.” Hoseok leans back like he’s just discovered the meaning to life. Always so smug.

Jungkook can’t help but find it a little annoying.

“And how, oh wise one, are you coming to this conclusion?” Jungkook’s tone is dripping with sarcasm. He raises a brow at his friend and gives him the most pointed look he can manage.

It’s still Hoseok and Jungkook has to admit he respects his opinion the most.

“Because you’re you. And you barely know this girl.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, “That’s how.”

“I find that offensive,” Jungkook retorts, “People are allowed to change and grow. Now I’ve met Soomi I’m different.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “There’s no point, Hobi. We all tried, believe me. But he’s decided that he’s in love with her. Just get on board with it.”

Jungkook sends Hoseok a toothy grin once he swallows the last of the cappuccino and nods emphatically.

He knows what his friends think of him.

That he’s slutty and careless. That commitment scares the shit out of him. That he’s incapable of monogamy. A combination of all of the above.

But Jungkook knows the truth. He didn’t want a girlfriend before this because he hadn’t met someone that made sense to him.

And what’s the point of being with someone unless you’re all in?

“Anyway when you’re guests at our wedding it’ll all make sense,” Jungkook pushes his empty coffee cup to the side, “We’re meant to be.”

Taehyung laughs at this - despite himself - and Hoseok and Namjoon chuckle too.

“Jungkook?” The sound of someone calling his name causes him to turn quickly, eyes widening when he sees who it is. Y/N. She’s smiling at him of course - but that’s not what causes Jungkook to almost go into cardiac arrest.

No. Of course not.

It’s the beautiful angel standing beside Y/N that causes him to almost forget how to breathe.

“Hi,” He squeezes out despite himself, eyes riveted to Soomi’s beautiful face, “Hi.”

Soomi smiles and Jungkook is immediately breathless.

“Jungkook right? Y/N’s… Friend.” The suggestive tone annoys Jungkook - he can’t have Soomi thinking he belongs to anyone else but her - and he nods.

“Yeah.” “But just a friend now,” Y/N pipes up helpfully, “We… Uh… Worked through our differences. And now we’re friends. Just friends. Totally platonic.” Jungkook thinks she’s kind of overkilling the whole thing but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he smiles at Soomi and watches as her face puts two and two together.

Yes. Yes.

Jungkook wants her - no he needs her to know that he’s single.

Really single.

Totally single and available and hers.

Namjoon clears his throat somewhere from Jungkook’s left. He turns to his friends and nods quickly.

“Right. Yes of course. My friends - these are my friends. Taehyung and Namjoon, and Y/N you’ve already met Hoseok.” The two share a small wave. Jungkook ignores the stab of annoyance that sends to his gut.

“Hi,” Soomi smiles in a way Jungkook is sure is almost too heavenly to be real, “I’m Soomi.” God. He really is a goner.

Jungkook doesn’t want to brag, but he is pretty good at bowling.

Okay. Who’s he kidding?

He totally wants to brag.

The moment Y/N splits them up into two teams - Soomi, Jungkook and her versus Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung - he’s determined to win.

He has to win.

He has to show Soomi one of his many, many, many talents.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Soomi remarks as he throws his first strike, “Or is that just beginner’s luck?”

Jungkook shakes his head and shrugs, “I’d say I’m pretty good.”

Her giggle is music to his ears.

“That’s impressive. What kind of girl doesn’t want a man who can throw a strike?”

Jungkook smirks, “That’s what I always say.” Her eyes crinkle at the side when she smiles and though it's not quite as adorable as Y/N’s - he’ll never admit this out loud - she still looks so sweet his heart constricts almost painfully in his chest. He forgets for a moment where he is, laying on the charm thick.

“Is that how you seduce poor unsuspecting women then? With your bowling skills?”

He winks in that way that usually works and his smirk widens, “You know it!”

Soomi giggles again and Jungkook is surprised at how smoothly this all seems to be going - when the sound of somebody throwing a gutter grabs his attention.

His eyes lift - thinking it has to be the other team - and he furrows his brow when he sees Y/N standing at the very top of the bowling lane, staring at the full set of pins in front of her.

Holy shit.

Jungkook momentarily forgets about Soomi - his competitive nature kicked into overdrive - as he shoots up from his seat and rushes towards Y/N.

“Oh my god,” He’s right beside her in an instant, “Was that you?”

Y/N looks up at him - cheeks flushed - and nods, “Yeah. I’m terrible at bowling.”

“So why would you choose to come here? On your birthday?”

Jungkook is somewhere between disbelief and pure horror. But he has to admit, the look on her face is sort of funny. She’s mortified.

“Soomi suggested it. She said it might be fun,” She looks away for a moment, “For her maybe.”

The sound of someone scoring a strike blares to Jungkook’s left and when he sees Taehyung performing some kind of ridiculous victory dance, he decides enough is enough.

“No. No.” Jungkook sets his jaw, “I’m going to help you.”

Y/N’s brow lifts, “What?” “I’m going to help you. You’re going to score a strike.”

She snorts out a laugh.

“I don’t think you realise how truly terrible I am at this.”

“And I don’t think you realise how truly competitive I am,” He gestures to the balls, “Grab the lime green. That’s the lightest.”

Y/N watches him for a moment longer. She looks behind him and moves her hand in the general direction of Soomi.

“What about Soomi?” He flares his nostrils, “She’ll still be there after I finish helping you.”

Y/N stares at him, and when Jungkook cocks his head towards the row of balls lining the back of the bowling alley, she shrugs and follows his command.

Jungkook takes this as a moment to teach Y/N how to shine.

After all, what better way to fell good about yourself than being good at something you always thought you sucked at?

When Y/N comes back with the lime green ball, he grabs her free arm and positions her to stand with her back to his chest, wordlessly.

“Woah.” Y/N breathes, “What are you doing?”

Jungkook’s mouth is right beside her ear, “Just follow me okay? I’m helping you, I swear.”

He slides his hand down to the ball and grips her fingers carefully.

“Don’t hold too much tension in your wrist,” He tells her sternly, “You’re too tense. You’re always too tense. Relax.” Something strange passes between them. Y/N takes a long, deep breath, and Jungkook tries to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Now slowly, slowly, bring the ball back,” Y/N follows Jungkook’s movements, “And… Release.”

He helps her flick it onto the lane, and they watch in suspense as the ball spins towards the pins. There is almost a moment where everything is suspended in time - before the ball crashes with the pins and nine of them fall down.

Y/N squeals in happiness and turns around sharply, throwing her arm around Jungkook’s neck and pressing herself against him in a hug.

“Thank you Jungkook!” She is smiling so widely, his heart turns, “You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome.” Jungkook finds he’s grinning too, “You deserve it. Happy birthday Y/N.” He pushes some hair out of her face - practical purposes of course, it was getting in her eyes - and she seems to catch her breath at the gesture. They stare at each other for a moment, before someone clears their throat from behind them and they break apart. Soomi is standing between them, holding a bubble gum pink bowling ball.

Jungkook wonders almost flippantly if she only picked it up for it’s colour.

“It’s my turn, right?” She turns her smile on Jungkook and he melts.

God.

She’s beautiful.

“Right.” Jungkook smiles back, “Your turn.”

When he turns to move back to their booth he notices Y/N watching their interaction carefully. Her eyes flit away the moment she’s caught, but Jungkook knows what he saw.

Strange.

Very strange indeed.

Later on that evening, after they’ve all shared a pizza, and Jungkook has spent the rest of the night watching Soomi with hearts in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat with purpose.

They’re sat in their living room - Hoseok has decided to crash over because, why not? - and playing a midnight mario kart match, when Jungkook’s friend seems to have something to say.

Jungkook pauses the game. He turns to Hoseok.

“Yes?” There is a brief moment of silence. Taehyung is forever scrolling through his phone, and Namjoon has long ago gone to bed. Hoseok clicks his tongue.

“Are you sure you like Soomi?”

The question completely throws Jungkook off.

He raises a questioning brow, “What?”

“I’m just - asking. I’m just…” Hoseok turns to Taehyung for support. When his friend doesn’t notice, he smacks him across the shoulder, “Tae.”

“What?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Have you guys talked about this?” Taehyung seems to realise where the conversation has just come from. He actually locks his phone and sets it to one side.

“Yeah.” Taehyung answers honestly, “We have.” “I’ve told you guys a million times. I know I barely know her but -” “That’s not it.” Hoseok licks his bottom lip, “I mean it’s crazy you think you fell in love at first sight but… Stranger things have happened.” Jungkook scoffs, “So? Why have you asked then?” Another beat.

Taehyung sighed heavily, “Because we think you like Y/N.”

“What the fuck?” Jungkook snorts out a laugh because really - what else can he do?, “Why the fuck would you think that?” His friends share another look and Jungkook hates that.

He hates that they think they know him better than he knows himself.

Hoseok shakes his head, “Just a feeling.” “A feeling that’s wrong.” Jungkook states firmly, “Dead wrong.” Taehyung nods and picks up his phone, “Fine. Alright. We’re wrong then.” Hoseok seems like he wants to say more but he doesn’t opting instead for something that sounds sort of like a grunt.

Jungkook watches his friends for a moment longer.

“Yeah. So wrong.”

That night, when Jungkook’s just about to go to bed he receives a text message. He opens his phone, expecting Y/N and finding, instead, an unrecognised number staring back at him.

Soomi: hiiiii jungkook :) it's soomi… y/n gave me ur number. hope u dont mind.

Jungkook pushes his friends’s ridiculous theory to the back of his head, and focuses instead on the fact that Soomi has just texted him. His thumbs move to answer her but he pauses, moving instead to open Y/N’s chat history.

Jungkook: hey. happy bday again champ. u da bomb!! also thanks for giving soomi my number. u a real one for that, chief!!! :) :) :)

Y/N’s reply comes only a few minutes later.

Y/N: Thank you Jungkook. I appreciate it. And no worries… She seemed to really be into you after tonight. So well done, yeah? :)

Jungkook smiles at the emoji that he imagines Y/N forced herself to add, and almost misses the part when she says Soomi was into him.

Right. Yeah. Perfect.

He opens up Soomi’s chat and starts to write out a reply.

This is exactly what he wanted.

TAGLIST: @cuddleboo @veronawrites @minluvly @severetimetravelnerd @moonchild1 @bunnyjeonjk @multicolourunicorn @somewhereinthestarss @jwlmnbt @jojo-suga @zera10 @ggukkieland @thesugatoyourtae @dxlbts @wxndi

#bts #college!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook #fanfic #fanfiction #bangtan #jeon jungkook #smut #angst #romcom #imagine

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles

this is very random and just a lil somethin’, bc i secretly dream about being on one of these shows and meeting one of my crushes lmao, not me pretending to be at an interview in my own kitchen, hah, not at all!

hi hello so im adding this after this was posted. i randomly turned this into a series so you can find further parts for this in the series masterpost!

word count: 1.8k

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“It’s so good to have you here, it’s been quite some time since the last time you sat in this chair, am I right?” Ellen asked with a warm smile as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy, I guess,” you chuckle tugging your hair behind your ear.

“I mean, of course. You starred in two movies since then and even got nominated for an Emmy as well for your role in The Umbrella Academy!” she lists and the audience starts cheering on your successes. “Of course you’ve been busy, but I’m glad you had time to drop by for a talk. So, let’s talk about your upcoming movie. You’ll be co-stars with Zendaya and Finn Wolfhard, it’s a quite interesting cast.”

“Yes! I’m very excited to work with them, I just met Zendaya the other day and though I’M yet to meet Finn I’m sure we will get along well.”

“What was your first impression about Zendaya?”

“Oh, she is very sweet and funny, I think working with her will be more like just a fun activity,” you admit chuckling and Ellen nods in agreement.

“I bet. Alright. So let’s talk about quarantine, it was a rather huge part of the year, where did you spend it?”

“I went home to my family, so I quarantined with them in my hometown.”

“And what did you do mostly?”

“We played a lot of board games and my mom taught me to cook,” you admit with a shy chuckle.

“Yeah, we had the luck to see parts of that,” Ellen chuckles as a video of you and your mom in the kitchen appears on the big screen behind you. It was posted to your Instagram when she attempted to teach you how to make her famous meatloaf. “It seems like you are a natural talent in the kitchen.”

“Well, I haven’t burned it down, so it’s going fine,” you chuckle.

“Alright, and what else did you do? Seen any good movies or discovered some new artists in the world of music?”

“Oh, absolutely. I definitely watched everything I’ve been postponing and I got to listen to new music, so now I have a few new favorites,” you admit smiling.

“Have you been listening to Harry Styles lately?” she asks and you find the question a little odd and very… specific.

“I mean, yes, but it wasn’t anything new, I really like his music,” you admit truthfully. “He is a great artist for sure.”

“Have you been at any of his concerts by any chance?” she asks and you notice that the audience is getting a little excited over something, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

“Not yet, but I hope it’s gonna happen one day.”

“Well, I think I can get you tickets to see him,” a voice speaks up from behind you and immediately, the audience starts cheering as your head snaps around and you see none other than Harry Styles standing behind you. Your mouth hangs open as you feel yourself blushing, he is so tall and handsome, dressed in a bright blue suit with a silver shirt underneath, smiling down at you widely as he walks around the armchairs to greet you.

“Oh shit, I was not expecting this,” you breathe out as you stand up and hug him shortly before he moves over to greet Ellen as well.

“’M glad you like my music, Love,” he smiles as he sits in the armchair next to you and you swear you see him wink at you.

“We thought you wouldn’t mind our other guest joining in,” Ellen explains Harry’s appearance.

“Not at all,” you smile shaking your head. Harry has been your celebrity crush for quite a while, but the two of you just never crossed paths, until now.

“’S very nice to meet yeh,” he nods in your way.

“Same goes for you.”

“Okay, so now that Harry is here, I thought that we could play a little game,” Ellen announces reaching for something next to her armchair.

“Oh man,” you breathe out earning a round of laughter from the audience. “Last time we played something you asked me the most embarrassing burning questions!” you whine thinking back how you had to admit that you sleep with your lights on when it’s raining outside.

“We’ll do something similar this time too,” she chuckles before handing out two round boards to you and Harry as well.

“Oh fo’ fuck’s sake!” Harry groans making the audience laugh again. “Not this!”

“I know you loved it when we played it the last time,” Ellen grins as Harry hides his face behind the board that’s now showing his I HAVE sign towards the cameras. “We’re gonna play Never Have I Ever, I think you both know the rules.”

“Yes, this is why I want to run away now,” you mumble under your breath.

“I’m going with yeh,” Harry smirks at you finally letting his board drop to his knees. Seemingly, the audience is enjoying your misery.

“Don’t be babies, it’s gonna be fun!” “For who? Not me!” Harry exclaims making everyone in the studio laugh. “Should’ve asked what we’re gonna do before I said yes.”

“Too late, Harry. Alright, let’s start,” Ellen announces as she takes her card in her hands, picking the first one and she reads the lines on it. “Never have I ever had a crush on someone I worked with.”

You huff as you turn your board so the I HAVE side is facing the camera, while Ellen has the same side showing, but Harry shows the I HAVE NEVER.

“Never?” you ask Harry.

“Well, what do yeh mean by working with?” he asks with narrow eyes as he taps on his chin.

“Anyone you had any relations with through a job.”

“Well then…” he sighs turning the board, earning some cheering.

“Okay. Never have I ever drunk texted someone and regretted it in the morning,” Ellen continues with the next question.

“Oh, too often,” you blurt out holding up the I HAVE side.

“What did yeh write?” Harry asks with a cheeky smile while he holds up the same side.

“Well, there are just too many, I can’t choose,” you admit laughing. “I often tend to write down my feelings when I had a little too much to drink and then send it without a second thought.”

“Then I better get yeh drunk to find out what yeh think about me,” Harry teases and you hear a loud “ooh” coming from the audience while you can only hope your make up covers the blush on your cheeks.

“I’d need your number for that to happen,” you say arching an eyebrow at him.

“That’s something we can easily fix,” he smirks.

“Okay, before the two of you go on your first date right away, let’s finish the game,” Ellen jokes and you both turn to her. “Never have I ever kissed someone I didn’t know.”

“What do you mean by knowing someone?” you ask to clarify.

“Let’s say you didn’t even know their name,” she adds and as you think about it, you hold up the I HAVE NEVER side first, but then flip it over.

“Oh, something popped into yeh mind?” Harry teases while he holds up the I HAVE side as well.

“I guess I just want to forget about it, but I can’t,” you admit chuckling awkwardly.

“Were you drunk or you just didn’t care to ask for their name?” Ellen questions.

“I’ve had quite a few drinks if I’m being honest. But I think he told me his name, I just didn’t catch it,” you admit.

“Poor guy, he is completely forgotten,” Harry chimes in shaking his head in a dramatic way.

“Alright, we have two more questions. Never have I ever had a friend with benefits.”

“This game sucks!” you snap as you hold up the I HAVE side, making the audience laugh. “You’re making me look like such a bad person!” you whine to Ellen.

“Don’t feel so bad, Harry is in the same shoe!” she chuckles and turning to the man on your right you see that Harry has the same side showing and a very cheeky smirk on his lips.

“How did it end?” you ask out of curiosity. You know how yours ended, in a horrible fight, because he wanted more, but you were in it just for the fun.

“Not in the best way, if I’m bein’ honest,” he clears his throat leaning back in his seat. “How about yours?”

“Same,” you nod chuckling.

“I guess it was a learning lesson for the both of you,” Ellen smirks before reading the last question. “Never have I ever ghosted somebody.”

“Shit,” you mumble, trying to hide your smirk as you hold up the I HAVE side. Harry thinks to himself before doing the same. Leaning forward he checks yours and your eyes meet for a moment.

“I think it would be an honor to anyone to be ghosted by yeh,” he teases you making you roll your eyes. “Wha’? ‘M telling the truth!” he chuckles.

“Wanna get on the list of my ghosted people?” you joke raising your eyebrows at him and he immediately holds his hands up.

“Would rather not.” He places a hand over his heart before smiling in your way sweetly. “Tha’ would break m’ heart.”

“Oh come on!” you chuckle feeling the heat crawling up your neck and cheeks as the audience lets out a soft “aww” at his words.

“Alright, thank you for playing, I think we found out some interesting things about the both of you.”

“Thanks for embarrassing us,” you add mumbling as you hand her back the board.

“It was a pleasure,” she chuckles. “We’ll be right back after a short break, please stay with us, we have more from Y/N and Harry coming right in your way, so stay tuned!” she announces as the crowd cheers.

“Friends with benefits, huh?” Harry asks smirking in your way as you fix your dress. You just shrug your shoulder trying to look casual when you feel so intimidated sitting next to him.

“Had to try it, I guess,” you admit.

“I get it,” he chuckles. “So, if I were to ask for yeh number, would I eventually be ghosted as well?”

You have to bite into your bottom lip to hide your growing smile at his attempt to flirt with you.

“We’ll see. You gotta ask for it first,” you tell him with a knowing smile, hoping to look flirty and light, not the nervous wreck that you truly feel like talking to him.

“I think my dressing room is two doors down yours, so expect me to drop by after this,” he smirks, making your heart skip a beat before Ellen starts speaking and the taping continues.

NEXT PART

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

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iridiscent-aesthetics · 3 years ago

Note

I just saw your headcanon of az being jealous of gwyn and eris, may I suggest the opposite? gwyn being jealous of az and eris talking.

Oh I LOVE this one! Might be a tad bit tricky but I'm soo very up for it! Thank you @aelingalathyniusrailme for SUCH a great idea!

Gwyn would've found this entertaining. IF it wasn't Azriel there. She was aware of their hatred. Aware that they were literally always at each others throats. But she couldn't help but fume with jealousy while watching them in the training ring take on each other. Blow to blow, matching at each stride. She was watching Eris and Az spar. It began with a heated argument leading to the Autumn court heir challenging the Shadowsinger to spar. And now here they were, since a straight of 15 minutes, sparring. Neither nowhere close to yielding. Gwyn was cursing the redheaded male with all she had for choosing sparring instead of dueling. The absence of the weapons as a bridge and the proximity of their sweaty bodies was too much, nor did it help that neither had a shirt on. The angst, the tension built between them; it seemed straight out of one of her smutty romance books. Gwyn wasn't liking this one bit. "Come on guys, We get it! You're strong and bold. You're Fearless males! There. fed your bloated male egos. Now stop. would you?!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air frustrated. "Let them be Gwyn, this is far more entertaining than having to listen them arguing to the point of biting each others heads off." Cassian stood besides her crossing his arms and watching them with a hint of curiosity as to who would win. Gwyn bet her money on Az because she would have it no other way, but as much as she hated to admit, Eris was just as good. "Yeah Gwyn. Besides, two of the hottest males fighting, now that's a sight to sore eyes. Enjoy the show!" Nesta chimed in elbowing her, eyeing Cass as he put his hand to his heart and feigned a dramatic expression of pain. Nesta rolled her eyes. "Oh I'll give you a good show Ness." He said scooping her in his arms and took to the sky. Newly mated idiots, couldn't stay away for a minute. Gwyn looked back to the ring and groaned "Well at least take a break!" "Okay!" Yelled Az before delivering a good blow right to Eris's jaw. "Break." There. That should teach the male a lesson for getting all cocky and getting Az worked up. "Going easy on me Shadowsinger?" Eris said rubbing his jaw. Mother! this male's audacity was insufferable! "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, your highness." Az smirked back. Gwyneth clenched her fist. Pretty face?! What in all of Prythian made Az think Eris was pretty! Did he find him attractive? Was he into males? Eris was beyond fine, he was VERY attractive. A strong jaw and sharp eyes with a strong intensity. The male was hot . quite literally. He would make a fit equal to Az. His lethal darkness and Eris's burning fire. She shook her head, No. She was over thinking, Az hated Eris; old bad blood. There was no way he'd fall for him. But she'd make sure of it. Az walked out of the training pit and straight to her, sweat dripping off him. Gwyn couldn't tear her eyes off him. "Enjoying the show Berdara?" Came a teasing Azriels' voice. "Mhmm." She didn't even want to deny it, let him know she was attracted to him. About time it got through that dense head of the Night Court's infamous Spymaster. "Hey Az..., what's your type?" She shot him the question looking everywhere but him. He shot his head to her. "What?" She finally met his gaze. "I'm asking you what kind of people you're attracted to Shadowsinger!" Gwyn was certain her face was as red as her hair now. He looked into her eyes for a hard moment before answering in a low voice. "Redheads. Stubborn ones with a fiery attitude at that. Bonus if they're competitive." He was still looking straight into her eyes, with a small smirk, tilting his head aside as if waiting for her expression, while his shadows were dancing around her in excitement. Gwyn's jaw almost dropped. Along with her heart as it fell to her shoe. She was right. Of course. Of course he was attracted to fucking Eris. Redhead, stubborn, fiery attitude AND competitive. Should've added fire d*ck to the list. "Right." She'd say nothing else. She looked away. "Gwyn?" Came his voice again. Her heart ached as she looked over

to Azriel's concerned face, trying to keep her sorrow reeled in within her. His shadows were frantically jumping around them. "Is everything alright, why'd you ask?" She gave him her best smile. "Yes of course." she waved it off. " just curious." He didn't seem convinced at the slightest but didn't push as he held up a water bottle and drank. Gwyn couldn't stop herself then, She was still his friend, He deserved to be happy, even if not with her. She'd help him pursue Eris. Even if the male would never deserve Az. "So I take it you're into males?" Az choked on the water he was drinking. "What?" He croaked out. Gwyn rose an eyebrow. "Males Shadowsinger, the ones that usually have a d*ck and insufferable egos but pea sized brains?" Azriel looked amused. "You forget that I'm a male too priestess." "Didn't." She muttered and leveled him with a bored stare. "Answer the question Spymaster." Az looked away, his gaze probably searching for Eris. "I've had male lovers in the past. But I've never felt a strong attraction, especially romantic attraction to them over five centuries. Pretty sure nothing's changed now." "Then Eris- how, He's an exception?" Azriel looked at her with a bewildered expression eyes widened. "Eris? What-why, what about him Gwyn?" Gwyn rolled her eyes, hands on her hips, looking down at him. "Quit the puppy eyes act Az. It fine admitting you're attracted to Eris, he's okayish. You'd look good together I guess. Enemies to Lovers arc, angsty slow burn romance,," she shrugged nonchalantly even though she was fuming inside. Az's shadows dropped. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Should he laugh, should he be hurt, or angry maybe? Eris? Of all people in Prythian, HIM? Gwyn though he was attracted to THAT male? "Gwyneth." He started in an emotionless tone face solemn, "What the actual fuck led you to THAT conclusion?" "Oh please. It was evident, for all that being Spymaster and stuff, you sure are obvious about your crushes. I mean for starts, you HATE him, or at least ACT like you do. That's always the first step to enemies to lovers. And then you guys are ALWAYS bantering! Score 2. And did you SEE that tension while you were sparring? AND Flirting with Eris? Its clear as day 'Mr. I show No Emotion'. And Redheads? Seriously Az, could you have even tried and been any more subtle? Az looked at her for a dead half a minute and then burst out laughing so hard that everyone in the training arena were now staring at them in pure shock to see the infamous Spymaster laughing his ass off. Az looked at her, trying to stop laughing, but one look at her angry face and he burst out in fits all over again. Gwyn kicked him good and hard in the knee. "Ouch!" He yelled, not stopped laughing as he held his knee. "Gwyn- I oh Cauldron. Wait." He heaved in and out. "Good shot Berdara." He said with a hint of pride, still chuckling. Gwyn kicked him again. "Nice try deflecting Spymaster." Az shook his head rapidly, still trying to catch his breath. He calmed down and looked at her. "Gwyneth Berdara. My darling. You thought I was attracted to Eris?" He started laughing again. Gwyn grew nervous, "You're not? But you said Redhead, Stubborn, Fiery attitude, Competitive. Eris is all that." "Well I'm not attracted to Eris. AT ALL. Please don't ever say or even think of that again. Please. For the sake of my sanity." Gwyn sighed in relief. "Sorry, I assumed Wrong." But then she tensed again. "But then, if not Eris, then..." She trailed off. If he wasn't attracted to Eris, then who else was it? Redheads? Lucien? Az stood up and held her arms. "Gwyn. Gwyn look at me." She looked up at him with weary eyes. "Can you think of a better Redhead? A stubborn, competitive, fierce one? She's fearless and strong." Gwyn scrunched her nose in thought. A she, was it Vassa? He flicked her nose. "She's a Valkyrie Gwyn." A Valkyrie? There weren't many new ones other than her, Emerie and Nesta, only about two or three. She looked around to see if there were any redheads in them. Az rubbed his hands on his face. "Mother's sake Gwyn,

its YOU." Her eyes shot to his in disbelief. He liked HER? "I- you, me?" She pointed a finger to herself. "You like me?" Azriel was furiously blushing red, he rubbed the back of his neck giving her a sided grin. "Yeah...that's what I'm saying..." Gwyn thought she was going to burst with all the emotions. "I-" Before she could say anything else Eris walked up to them. "Break over yet Shadowsinger?" He smirked. Gwyn growled, literally growled and stepped in front of Az. "Stay away from him Eris, find someone else to play fight. If I see you anywhere near him or talking to him, I swear to the mother, I will rip your throat out." Eris took a step back at her promised violence. "Hiding behind a female, Scared of losing Spymaster?" Gwyn took a step at him, she was certain she'd show Eris hell today. "Leave us alone Eris. I've scored my best win today." He said, looking at Gwyn fondly and putting a hand on her shoulder. Eris snorted and left muttering something to himself. "So..., are we going to talk about how adorable you are when you're jealous and angry? Especially over Eris?" Az teased her with a huge grin and happy eyes "I have no idea what you're talking about." Gwyn shrugged in charming irreverence. His gaze darkened as he looked into her ocean eyes, "You never finished what you were saying before asshole Eris butted in?" Gwyn gave him a soft smile before reaching up to his collar and pulling him down so she could kiss him. She pecked his lips once slightly before letting go and grinning at him while she walked away, leaving Az to process what happened and blush furiously like a teenager. He watched Gwyn walk away in victory. Mother, this female never failed to amaze him, And he was certain that this wouldn't be the last time. For the first time in five centuries, Az found hope. Found himself looking forward for the next day, and the rest of his life. Something sparked in his chest at the thought, A smile unconciously made way to his lips, like every time he thought of Gwyn; and this time, he didnt make to erase it. He'd let it for the world to see, the happiness Gwyneth Berdara brought to his life.

It's not about them talking exactly, but this seemed more fun to write😅

I tried! Not sure if it was good enough, but I've never really tried writing from Gwyn's POV.

Feedback, suggestions and other ideas always welcome!

#gwynriel #acotar #acosf #azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwyn #acosf headcannon #headcanon #eris vanserra

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skzsauce01 · 3 years ago

Text

A Good Man

Anniversary Request Special

Description: Seungmin loves you so much so that he wished he was the one left behind in the plane crash, not your late husband.

Warning: guilt, plane crash, death

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: fem!reader x Seungmin

Chan was a good man— loyal, loving, reliable. Seungmin is a good man too, but Seungmin is not Chan, and he knows it. He knows it well.

He approaches you, bouquet in hand. You turn and smile when you hear him.

“Hi, Seungmin.”

“Hello, Y/N. Where’s Miyeon?”

“I left her with her grandma. She isn’t quite old enough to sit still for stuff like this yet.”

“I see.” He set the flowers by the picture of his late leader. “I should leave the two of you alone then.”

“No, wait, Seungmin,” you stop him. “Would you like to have dinner with us this evening?”

You’re inviting him to dinner? His eyes slide to Chan’s framed smiling face. No, he mustn’t get his hopes up. There probably isn’t something more to this invitation. You probably just don’t want to be alone on your late husband’s fifth death anniversary. “Sure. Where? I’ll see if any of the boys are free too.”

“No, I meant just the three of us at my place,” you clarify. “I… I have something to say.”

Seungmin can’t stop his heart from accelerating even though he knows it’ll hurt more later. “O-okay.”

You nod and turn back to the memorial. Seungmin watches as you whisper something into the single white carnation in your hand and set it on the altar before he himself turns to give you room.

He finds it ironic that he was actually the reason why you and Chan were together. You were his classmate whom he reunited with when Stray Kids did a reality show at a site you worked. He was even the best man at your wedding. He remembers that day clearly— that day when he saw you walking down the aisle dressed in white. He’d never felt so sick as he did then when realization and regret hit him all at once. He loves you. Since when, and for how long, he didn’t and doesn’t know, but it was and is too late.

He finds it even more ironic, however, that he is the reason you two are now torn apart.

He raises his finger and presses the bell. Within seconds, the door is thrown open wide and a bubbly five year old greets him. “Hello, Uncle Seungmin!”

He automatically bends down and scoops the child up. “Hi there, Miyeon. Have you been a good girl today?”

“Uh-huh! You can ask Mommy!”

As if on cue, you pop out from the kitchen. “Yes, she’s been a well-behaved angel. Welcome in, Seungmin.”

You take the melon he’d brought while he takes off his shoes. Seungmin’s a bit surprised to see three lit candles on the dining table when he walks in, but says nothing of it. He does, however, raise an eyebrow when you off-handedly mention you baked his favourite chocolate cake. He knows the recipe calls for red wine, and for a single mother such as you, anything that does not involve your child usually does not fit into your schedule, let alone cross your mind.

After dinner, you take your daughter to her playroom upstairs with a large plate of cookies that are obviously meant to keep her distracted for a while.

Seungmin watches as you scurry back downstairs afterwards. You’re wearing a skirt. He doesn’t remember you wearing a skirt since you gave birth. He thinks you’re gorgeous in anything, but the effort you put into looking nice makes him blush a shade darker.

“Shall we?” you dramatize, pulling out the dessert.

Seungmin helps lay out two plates while you serve a slice onto each.

“You mentioned you have something to say?” he asks as you both tuck your chairs in.

Are you blushing, or is it just the heat from these candles?

“I, uh… Let’s eat first.” You smile sheepishly. “I haven’t had this in so long.”

Despite having his favourite dessert, Seungmin cannot concentrate on its taste at all. He watches as you cut through the moist cake with your fork. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your joints are turning white by your grip on the utensil. He’s used to being the anxious one, so this is new. What could have gotten you so on edge?

At last, you’ve scraped every last drop of cream you can procrastinate with into your mouth. Seungmin takes the plates and sets them into the sink before sitting back down in front of you, waiting patiently.

“What I want to say is,” you begin carefully.

He nods once and leans forward, letting you know you have his attention.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”

“Yes, why?” Goodness, this sounds like a line from every other friends-to-lover romcom skit. Not that he would mind. As long as you tell him you feel the same way he does, he wouldn’t care if you quoted “Twilight” verbatim. Oh, to be in a lighthearted romcom with you, Seungmin dreams of nothing more. Then again, he reminds himself, these are just dreams.

“Ever since… ever since Chan passed, we grew closer, and I depended on you a lot. You’ve been my cornerstone, and I wanted to say ‘thank you.’”

He nods again, but doesn’t say anything. He knows you enough by now to recognize you have more on your mind.

Indeed, you continue. “And over these past five years, my heart has—”

“Mommy!” A sudden cry sends you both to your feet.

“I’ll tell you later,” you toss over your shoulder to Seungmin who’s running right on your heels towards the cry.

“Miyeon!” you gasp, seeing the state of your daughter. Somehow, she has managed to squeeze through the gaps between the railing of the stairs and is hanging from the second floor. Below her, her stuffed monkey lays sprawled out on ground level.

“I’ll pull her up,” you decide, but Seungmin stops you.

“It’ll be hard to fit her back through those rails, and she’s crying too much to cooperate.” He stands under your daughter and extends his arms upwards. “Miyeon? Miyeon, let go. Uncle Seungmin will catch you. You’re going to be alright.”

The little girl stops wailing for a moment and looks down only to cry again from the intimidating height.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You can do it. We won’t let you fall,” you add in. “You trust us, don’t you? You trust Mommy and Uncle Seungmin?”

She quiets down again and sniffles as she looks at you and Seungmin now instead of the floor. Her tiny arms are shaking, and you brace yourself, knowing she’s going to fall soon whether she wants to or not.

Miyeon whimpers once more and closes her eyes. She then finally releases her grip and lands squarely into Seungmin’s awaiting arms.

“Oof. There we go. Safe and sound,” he assures her.

Once she’s set on the floor, Miyeon again begins to bawl from shock. “Mr— Mr. Bananas wanted to climb. Mr. Bananas wanted to climb!” she sobs, gripping the stuffed animal you’ve returned back to her arms.

“Okay, okay, we understand. Still, no more climbing for you or Mr. Bananas, alright?” hushes Seungmin.

You pick up your daughter and bounce her on your shoulder. “I think she’s learned her lesson. I didn’t think we still needed baby rails, but I guess you can never be safe enough.”

Seungmin reaches for Miyeon. “Let’s put her to bed. She must be exhausted after all that.”

You nod and let him carry the five year old up the stairs once more. You have him wait downstairs though as you change the child, so he heads back down and makes himself comfortable on the couch. On the lamp table beside him, there’s a photo of you and Chan excitedly holding up an ultrasound. It is the only picture of the three of you together.

He runs this thumb over the other man’s face, wiping it free of any dust. “I’m sorry…” he whispers. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’ll keep Y/N and Miyeon safe and happy. I promise.”

He quickly sets down the picture and stands when he hears you closing the bedroom door.

“Is she alright?” Seungmin asks when he sees your head appear from around the corner.

You nod, descending the steps quietly. “She’s sleeping now. She’ll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.”

“I wish I could say the same when I get hurt. I can’t even sit in certain positions anymore,” he jokes.

You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you were here, Seungmin. Things could have been a lot different if it were just me.”

“I’m always happy to help. I should get going now though. You must be tired too.”

“Wait.” Your voice stops him at the front door. “The accident… I’m thankful you were here, and I realized it had to be you. You had to be the one to do it.”

His stupid hope is rising again. He can feel it in his chest. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“Miyeon, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone except you. She needs you, and I… I need you too.”

Is he hearing incorrectly? His silence and bewilderment prompts you to explain. “The thing is, ever since Chan passed five years ago, you were the only one who’s been by my side, supporting and caring for me, and slowly, I’ve fallen for that. Seungmin, I know I come with a lot of baggage, but would you be willing to give us a try?”

He wants to jump, he wants to cheer, he wants to accept your confession, but none of this makes sense to logical Seungmin, so he restrains himself.

“Y/N, do you realize what you’re saying?”

You nod. “I-I know it’s sudden, but I like you, Kim Seungmin.”

“But you love Chan.”

You hesitate but nod in agreement anyway. “I’m not going to put you second. I—”

“Y/N, I killed Chan. Don’t you see? You should hate me instead. If it weren’t for me, you’d still have your husband, and Miyeon would still have a dad. If I hadn’t stood under that propeller after the plane crash, Chan wouldn’t have had to push me and get crushed in the head. I killed Chan, and no matter what I do— no matter how much I love you too— I can never stand in his place.”

You take a moment to stare at him, trying to read his body language after that confession of insecurity. After a while, you straighten your back and look him right in the eyes.

“You’re right.” He’s startled by your sudden firm tone. “You can never be Chan. You’re not a music-producing insomniac. You’re not Australian. You’re not born with curly hair.”

He swallows and hangs his head.

“But,” you continue. “I’m not looking for another Chan. I’m not looking to replace him; I’m looking for you.”

“Y/N…”

You soften your voice. “When I found out how he passed saving you, I knew I was going to be okay. I knew Chan wouldn’t leave me and his unborn child to fend for ourselves. He saved you because he knew he could count on you, and it’s why I trusted you from the beginning and why I let myself fall in love again.”

You walk up to him and take his hands. “Let me ask this again. Will you, Kim Seungmin, stand by my side, not as Chan, but as someone who loves and is loved?”

His heart pounds in his head, yet he cannot take his eyes off of yours. His throat is tied into knots, yet he cannot stop the words from tumbling out.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he breathes.

You smile and wrap him in a hug, which he finally returns. Just then, footsteps thump down the stairs and a five year old child waddles into view.

“Mommy?” she calls. She then takes a moment to look around before her eyes land on Seungmin. “Daddy?”

#kim seungmin #seungmin #stray kids #seungmin fic #seungmin imagine #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #fem reader #anniversary special #20210820

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 4 years ago

Text

My Silver Screen, My Misery, My Love, My Defeat

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something with Billie Dean for so long but didn’t know where to start. This lady intimidates me. I don’t know what this fic is worth, and I’m so nervous about posting it - I know it’s not particularly nice, but it’s the most personal fic I ever wrote so please be kind.

Title is from “Pacific Coast Highway In The Movies” by AWOLNATION. This song haunts me. x

Word count: ~ 3 000

“Dear me when will my life begin?” you sighed dramatically as you gathered your things.

“Bitch, I never want to see you again,” your boss growled, pointing an angry finger at you.

“Goodbye, asshole!” you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

You had never cared about that job. You didn’t seem to be able to care about anything at all. You were so bored.

Real life lacked passion and colours. You were constantly hungry for a sense of wonderment. No emotion was worth feeling if it wasn’t extreme. You wanted to know how it felt to love so deeply you would faint in the dining room like the heroines of old, drive your car off a cliff, smash the heads of your lover’s suitors. When had the world and love become so boring?

You had come to believe you would never be able to fall in love with anyone. Fiction had ruined your life. You wanted beauty, you wanted glamour, you wanted passion and murder, tears shed under the stars, diamonds on the bed. You wanted a lover who would come down the stairs in a white silk gown with lace as the music and the lighting made love to her. Cherry pink lips and wavy hair, glitter in her eyes. How could anyone settle for less?

You walked into the bright sunlight and let the flow of pedestrians sweep you away.

You scanned the press room and sighed. Bored, you were so bored. Luckily the couches were comfortable, and the tea was good.

You worked for the local newspaper – nothing serious, nothing you were passionate about, but you had been struggling to make ends meet. You and another journalist were covering an annual festival celebrating “everything mystical and magical!” Bollocks, as far as you were concerned. But you loved festivals, you always had. There was something almost surreal about them, how time seemed to slow down, and space to narrow. A bubble would form, a dome, a world only a few were let in. Real life would stop for a while, and you loved that, because real life was boring.

The press secretary – Leo? Theo? who cared; he was uninteresting and badly dressed – waved at you from across the room. “She’s here,” he mouthed, meaning the medium you were to interview. You gave him a thumbs-up and sighed as soon as he turned his back to you. Notebook, pen, Dictaphone. Cup of tea - empty. Another sigh. You signaled to the old lady behind the counter at the far end of the room for another cup. She pretended not to see you.

“Asshole,” you muttered between gritted teeth. Someone on the couch next to yours – Steve? Pete? he had introduced himself the day before, he worked for a national TV channel, you couldn’t remember which one – laughed loudly at something someone else had said.

Your attention was suddenly drawn to the door. The press secretary was ushering a group of people in: a young man wearing jeans, a girl clutching files to her chest, a woman who walked in as if she owned the place, high-heels clicking, smile flashing.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Pete (Steve?) point at her. “Man, that’s Billie Dean Howard,” he said in a breath.

“Who?” asked his companion.

“Oi, Miss Howard!” someone called – a photographer, jumping to his feet with his camera in his hands.

She glanced at him, offered him a polite smile; tilted her head on one side as she took a pose.

You gazed at her.

“Make sure the lighting is good,” she told the photographer.

The young man in jeans was buzzing around her, almost shoving a notebook into her face, muttering something about a timetable and how they were running out of time. She leaned away from him, holding out a perfectly manicured hand – pale pink acrylics, thin silver rings – to bat the notebook away. You saw her mouth twist in an annoyed kind of way, and then the press secretary nodded at you, and she turned, and her eyes met yours.

Her brow pushed up as a smug smile crept up her lips – plump, glittery beige lipstick. “Are you here for me, babydoll?” she called.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was finally. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

Oh thank all the freaking Gods, she had finally come.

You turned on the Dictaphone and grabbed your pen. Your hands were sweating.

“Ur,” you said. Billie Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee, smiling.

You had prepared for this interview, vaguely, but she had stolen all the words from you. Kidnap me, was what you wished to tell her. Ravish me. Take me away with you from this grey world and fill my mind and heart with wonderment. Make me your co-star.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” was what came out of your mouth. You could have died of embarrassment.

Fortunately for you, Billie Dean loved to talk about herself, so you didn’t have to rack your brain for interesting questions.

You told her you had waited for her your whole life. You told her you meant it. She looked genuinely surprised, but then she smiled, a smile that seemed to suggest she had already forgiven you for that mistake. You realized that, probably, your passionate childishness was very funny to her, as were all those who had succumbed to it before you.

“The scariest spirit I’ve ever met?” She leant back on the couch, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lips curling into a smile. “I don’t get scared easily,” she quipped, and her smile turned into a smirk.

“Are you planning on staying here long?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Depends if I can find a cozy bed to sleep in and a pretty girl to smooch.”

Damn her, damn her – you were about to lean in and kiss that smug smile off her lips when the press secretary – damn him, damn him – appeared out of nowhere as in an uninspired script, squeaking “Time’s up!” as if time mattered, as if time hadn’t stopped the minute you had met Billie Dean’s eyes.

The young man in jeans pressed a cup of coffee into Billie’s hands. “Cathy’s waiting for you in the VIP room,” he said nervously. He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses. “You’re done here?”

“I – “You cleared your throat. Billie Dean was standing up, rearranging her hair, ready to leave, ready to forget already –

“You’ll have us read that article before you publish it, alright?” the young man was saying.

“Oh whatever happened to the freedom of the press,” Billie retorted. Her eyes flicked to you. “Don’t mind him.”

“I have a very cozy bed,” you heard yourself say.

For a second or two, you could have heard a pin drop.

Billie held your face between her hands as if you were made of porcelain, the first time she kissed you. You gazed into her eyes as if you were dreaming. “Who are you?” you whispered.

She laughed indulgently. “Don’t forget to breathe, darling.”

A breath in. She smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and something else, something like… you didn’t know. There was no word for it. She smelt like Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

Billie Dean raised a toast to you and to the sun and said she couldn’t possibly live without either of you. You scoffed, rolled your eyes at her as if that wasn’t the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you. She noticed your reddening cheeks, and let out a chuckle.

“What? It’s a sunburn,” you lied, fighting a smile.

The midday summer sun was beating down on the Mediterranean, a soft breeze blowing and carrying the scent of the sea. You were spending the week in Monaco, a gift from Billie for your first anniversary. You closed your eyes, breathed in happily. The waiter brought your order, a bistro salad with warm goat cheese on toast for you, a slice of salmon and French fries for Billie. She flashed a smile at him, and his eyes sparkled.

“He’s in love,” you teased, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“With me?” Billie assumed an innocent expression. “Why, I could not possibly believe that.”

You scoffed again. She smiled, pinched a thick slice of lemon between her thumb and index.

“We should come here every summer,” she said in a singsong, drizzling lemon juice over the salmon. “I love it here.”

“Ghost-free?”

She laughed. “I wish. But you look so beautiful with that sunburn.”Her eyes glanced up at you mischievously; you cleared your throat. She smirked, put the slice of lemon on the side of her plate, dried her fingers with her napkin.

“You and I, lost in a foreign country,” she said.

“Luckily for you, I took French lessons in college.”

“Oh is that so?” Under the table, Billie rubbed her bare foot up and down your leg. “And how do you say ‘kiss me’ in French?”

You leaned towards her, beaming. Your gaze flicked to her lips. “Embrasse-moi.”

“Atta girl.”

She took your breath away, every day. You bent over the table, meeting her lips halfway, smiling into the kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered. Her eyes smiled. “Forever.”

You pressed the pad of your thumb against her brow. “Um, you can’t know that.”

“Know that I love you?”

“Know that it’ll last forever. Nothing lasts forever.”

She pouted, shifted slightly on the bed. Your thumb slid on her skin. The light streaming through the windows splashed the walls of the hotel room yellow.

“Don’t be so mean at 8 in the morning,” she whined.

You rolled your eyes at her, planted a kiss on her lips. Her skin was hot and clammy. You nuzzled your nose in her neck, blew some air to tickle her. She raised one hand to fan herself – coral acrylics, no rings.

“Call room service,” she said, stretching lazily. “I want some ice cream.”

You snorted.“Ice cream for breakfast?”

“It’s too hot.”

You reached out for the telephone and sat up, making sure your bare breasts were exposed. “Lemon?” you asked Billie. She nodded, gaze on your chest. You made a face. “I don’t understand how you can stand the taste of lemon, it’s so sour – oh, hello. Yes, could we get some lemon ice cream, please? Ice cream, yes. Room 108. And you know what, a bottle of champagne as well. Yes.” You grinned at Billie, who, face half buried in her pillow, was laughing happily. “Thank you. Muchas gracias. Yes. Bye!”

“Miss Howard, please.”

“Oh babe, call me Billie.”

“A little further to the left, please Billie.”

“Who’s that with you, miss Billie?”

“Be a doll and fetch me my shawl, will you darling?”

The girl – Lucy? Lily? – nodded in awe and hurried off.

“A little further to the left, Billie.”

Someone turned on a projector. You squinted, gave Billie’s hand a squeeze.

“Miss Billie, who’s that charming young woman with you? Is she your date? Miss Billie, who’s –“

Camera flashes, everywhere. You felt Billie’s lips, feather-light, brush your ear. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look beautiful.”

All around you, you could make out dark shapes, nondescript, unimportant. Spectators of the show. Come to see her, come to see you.

“Miss Billie who’s that charming –“

“Paws off!” Billie laughed. She pulled you closer, hip bumping yours. “She’s all mine, gentlemen.”

You beamed at her, brighter than the projector. Camera flashes, everywhere. To capture the moment when Billie nipped your ear lobe and you threw back your head to laugh, one hand on her arm, in love, so in love.

“So what are we doing this weekend?”

You glanced up at her. “Aren’t you busy this weekend?”

Billie flashed you a smile as she sat down on the couch beside you. She laid one hand on your bare thigh, nails gently grazing. “Production’s delayed. I’m all yours.”

With a wince you removed her hand from your thigh. “I’m sweating,” you whined.

Her smile faltered, just a bit. “Aren’t you happy?”she asked. And then she relaxed and shook her head. “Oh, I’m stupid. You made other plans.”

“I’ve nothing to do at all.” You stretched and winced again. “I don’t know. I’m so bored.”

It happened again. And again.

You caught yourself looking at other faces in the crowd. No one held a candle to Billie Dean, you knew that. But still. You scanned the crowd.

You pretended not to notice when Billie held out a hand for you to hold.

The glamour was fading. The twinkle of the stars was being swallowed up by the morning light.

You had once visited a house. The wallpaper was peeling off, leaving ugly streaks of dirty grey or brown. The landlady’s nail polish was chipped.

Billie’s eyes were wide and rimmed red. You had never seen her look so sad.

“Wait,” she pleaded, her fingers – pale pink acrylics, vintage ring with a red stone – closing around your wrist to hold you back. “Surely we can talk – “She tried to smile, but it looked too broken, too scared.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Billie,” you said, avoiding her gaze. You hesitated. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Her face fell. “But surely – “

“Are you here for me, babydoll?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip and a tear rolled down her cheek, but you didn’t wipe it as you usually would. For this was how things always went. People left each other. Staying alive meant getting bored of the people you once loved. The credits roll. The movie ends.

You planted one last kiss on her lips as a sob pushed out of your throat. “Gosh but I loved you so much,” you cried. “I hadn’t been alive before you came. You taught me how to love and now I’ve died again and I’m lost without you. I’m forever lost without my love for you.”

You kept one of her scarves. It still smelt of cigarette smoke and sage and that something else – Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars.

Colours faded to grey. You sank back into routine. Monotonous. Soporific. Boring. So very boring.

A year ago you would have expected the world to stop turning the minute you walked out of Billie Dean’s life. It didn’t. Days followed days, a succession of yesterdays and todays and tomorrows. Life went on, mocking you.

The smell of salmon filled the kitchen as you dropped the thick slices onto the burning pan. You smiled as Julie – a one-night stand that somehow had become more – made an appreciative noise. She was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV lazily, muttering “Boring�� every time she changed the channel.

“Boring,” – another channel, “Boring,” – another channel, “Bo – oh hello there! Y/N, look, I spot a milf!”

You looked up as the anchorman’s face twisted into a fawning smile. “I’ve got Muriel here on the phone, from Portland, Oregon. Muriel sounds pretty worried. She wants to know if ghosts stay forever as ghosts or if they ever get to find peace.”

The camera cut to his guest – coral acrylics, no rings. The salmon’s grease sizzled on the pan.

“Nice pair of legs,” Julie was saying. “Come on, cameraman, don’t be shy, show us more!”

You shushed her.

“… some of them have been dead for a very long time, I’m afraid,” Billie Dean answered with an affected nod of her head.

Your eyes were wide.

“And what about love?” the anchorman asked.

Billie quirked an eyebrow. “Love?”

“Do you think it’s eternal?”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow!” your friend Henry moaned drunkenly. He tapped his foot on the pavement like a pouting child. “Couldn’t we buy a house on one of those hills and live here? I wanna live here. I don’t wanna live anywhere else.”

“I know,” you giggled, pulling on his arm. The night was full of lights. You hadn’t expected less from Los Angeles. You hadn’t quite been able to find the angels in the sky, though. You kept an eye out for them.

“The world isn’t fair because we’re poor.”Henry walked up to the nearest streetlight and hugged it. “I’m staying here. I’m not leaving.”

You giggled again, stretching your arms as if you were about to break into dance. The air was warm. For the past few days your heart hadn’t been quite so sad.

A car honked nearby, making you jump, and just as you were about to curse a woman shot out of the hotel on your left in a flurry of yellow and blue and nearly smashed into you – “Shit, look where you’re go – “ – brown eyes, gaze terrified, shoes in her hands, cheeks pink and – “Billie?”

She slammed back into your life like the female protagonist of a Hitchcock movie, running from danger in the moonlight with her hair disheveled and her dress billowing in the wind.

“Billie?”

You caught hold of her wrist and tried to meet her gaze. “Are you alright? What – what happened to you? Did somebody hurt you? Are you alright?” You poured questions onto her as if you couldn’t stop. Her eyes focused on you, and she ran a hand through her hair, and let out a nervous laugh.

And just like that you were done for. For the stars were singing, and your heart was once again. Admiring. Entranced. Alive.

“Never again,” Billie groaned into your mouth. She was holding your head firmly between her hands, devouring you, shivering, panting. “Don’t you dare leave me ever again.”

“I love you,” you moaned. You pushed her down on the bed, eyes flashing hungry and predatory as you took in the sight of her, all flushed and ready for you. “Forever.”

And as you dived in you could almost forget the taste of that one lie.

“What about love?” the anchorman asked. “Do you think it’s eternal?”

Billie’s smile faltered. “I’m not sure,” she answered slowly.

“Aw, poor chick got her heart broken,” Julie mocked.

“Lemon?” you asked her.

“Uh?”

“Should I put some lemon juice on the salmon?”

“I hope so,” Billie’s voice said. “I’m not sure – but I hope so.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #fics

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

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ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 4

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴄᴀʀ ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ, ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇx, ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4,7k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo

5, 6, 7

“marco,” donghyuck calls mark, entering the warehouse.

mark hums in response, checking his phone. “sup, hyuck?”

“i have great news,” he smirks. “i was doing numbers, and after we’re done doing business with doyoung we’ll have enough to move to japan.”

mark nods. “okay cool. why japan tho?”

“street races are way cooler there,” hyuck shrugs. “and girls are hotter.”

mark rolls his eyes. “yeah sure. tell jeno and yves.”

“damn, aren’t you gonna be sad when you leave y/n?” donghyuck looks at him.

mark rubs his left cheek, still checking his phone. “nope. it’s just sex.”

“fine. i’ll have everything settled,” donghyuck walks to his car. “maybe two months?”

“yes, two or three months.” mark nods.

when donghyuck leaves, mark places his phone on the couch and stares at the wall. it’s not going to be hard leaving, right?

right.

it’s just casual sex.

two people having fun and that’s it.

no feelings involved.

he shakes his head, groaning to himself. the last thing he needs is falling for some chick he’ll never see again

(...)

“y/n?” jaehyun calls you from the kitchen.

“yes?” you reply from the couch in the living room.

“can you come and help me?”

you stand up and go to the kitchen. jaehyun is standing next to the stove, holding a box. he’s focused on reading the instructions on the back. he sees you and hands it to you. “could you translate it to me?”

you take the box and you frown. it’s written in spanish. “i don’t speak spanish, jaehyun.”

“yes you do, i’ve heard you speaking it.” he cocks an eyebrow.

you laugh. “i memorize words and repeat them. it doesn't necessarily mean i speak it fluently.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes. “is someone in this house fluent in spanish?” he raises his voice.

jisung enters the kitchen, he opens the fridge and takes out a blueberry gatorade. “i’m not. sorry.”

jaehyun groans. “you two are useless. get out of my kitchen.”

you look at him. “it’s my house?”

“just… get out,” jaehyun waves you off. “you too, jisung.”

“what are you even trying to make?” jisung laughs.

“tortillas,” jaehyun sighs.

jisung looks at you and you both burst out laughing. jaehyun crosses his arms on his chest. “what’s so funny?”

“why can’t you just google the recipe?” you say.

“because i thought you were fluent and bought this cornflour!” jaehyun glances at you.

you sigh. “use google translate.”

“jisung, i heard you took some spanish classes,” jaehyun looks at him.

“i think you heard wrong, my friend. i took chinese lessons once,” jisung giggles.

“completely useless, as i said,” jaehyun shakes his head.

“what is my boy jaehyun upset about?” johnny asks, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

you turn and see johnny, and behind him is mark who leans on the other side of the doorframe.

you slightly blush, remembering how good he fucked you nights ago. your legs on your chest, he pounding into you. mark smiles at you, guessing what’s going through your mind right now.

“jaehyun thought y/n was fluent in spanish,” jisung shrugs and sits on the kitchen counter.

“and you’re not?” mark looks at you.

“no,” you chuckle. “i wish i was.”

“see, our dad is korean but we have different mothers.” johnny tilts his head. “of course, my mother is korean and so is my dad. and the woman who my dad cheated on is not. who happens to be her mom. and i don't remember her mom speaking in spanish.”

you squint your eyes. “they didn’t need to hear you married dad fucked my mom.”

“ouch,” johnny places a hand on his chest. “that hurt.”

“deserved it,” you smile at him.

“you’re rude,” johnny pouts.

jisung sighs dramatically. “i should’ve gone to an orphanage.”

“jisung!” you stare at him.

he smiles showing his teeth. you shake your head and take johnny’s lips in your fist and push him away so you can get out of the kitchen. “you should be used to.”

“so is anyone going to help me to make tortillas?” jaehyun groans.

“dude, there’s a store that already sells tortillas like 2 blocks from here!” johnny looks at him.

you leave jaehyun and johnny bickering and jisung as their audience and go back to the living room, sitting on the black leather couch in front of the tv. mark follows you.

“so… you two hate each other or something?” mark asks, confused.

you look at him and tap on the couch so he can sit next to you. “i sometimes want to put his head inside of a microwave and turn it on, but i love him.”

“that’s even more confusing,” mark jokes.

you smile. “we grew up together. he was a year old when his dad cheated on his mom and his mom left our dad, leaving johnny as well.”

“so your mom raised you both?”

you nod. “yeah. i mean, kind of?”

mark tilts his head quizzically. “kind of?”

you sigh deeply. “my mom died when johnny was 7 and i was 5. it was tough, but johnny has had it tougher, you know? losing both mother figures… and i don’t remember my mom much.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” mark rests his hand on your right shoulder. “i shouldn’t have asked.”

“it’s okay,” you smile slightly.

“what about your dad?”

“my dad remarried,” you giggle and rub your chin. “he uhm started dating johnny’s physics teacher when he was in high school and they now live in san luis obispo.”

“do you visit him often?” mark rests his elbow on the backrest of the couch.

you shake your head. “not really. he doesn’t like the lifestyle we have so keep pushing away, you know? the last time i saw him was maybe 5 years? i think it was his wedding.”

wraps his hand with yours and looks at you. “he’s missing you out. you’re amazing, extraordinary, incredible, unbelievable…” he kisses your hand.

you can’t explain to yourself why your heart is going faster?

you like him.

fuck off.

mark releases your hand when he hears johnny coming to the living room. he stares at you both. “what were you doing”?

“just chatting,” you sgruh.

johnny hums, taking his jacket. “by the way, y/n, next time you bring someone please tell them to keep it down.”

mark’s eyes widen open. you laugh. “it wasn’t my guy. it was me.”

my guy.

johnny makes a face. “oh please. you’re disgusting.”

“you started it!” you giggle.

“can’t the dude afford an hotel?” johnny scoffs and looks at mark. “you’d take her to your place at least, right?”

mark feels like he’s choking on his saliva and you look at him. is he blushing? mark getting shy? no way.

“i highly believe mark would take to his place instead of fucking me next to my brothers’ rooms,” you smirk.

johnny grins. “you two think i’m some kind of an idiot, don’t you?”

now your mouth drops to the floor and marks wishes the earth would swallow him. johnny laughs. “fucking mark, you think you could bang my sister without me finding out? you got some balls, dude.”

“but i - he- how?” you stare at johnny.

“you two always look at each other as if you were undressing you. all the hickeys pretty much in the same spot…” johnny shrugs.

“he’s lying,” jisung wraps an arm around johnny’s shoulders. “i saw you two.”

“you what?!” you almost scream.

“i think i’m gonna pass out,” mark murmurs.

“but i told you they’d admit it,” johnny looks at jisung. “you owe me $20 big boy.”

“damn it,” jisung groans, taking his wallet out, handing johnny a $20 bill.

you and mark stare at each other, not knowing what to exactly say.

“listen, i don’t care about your relationship as long as you don’t knock her up,” johnny warns mark. “or give her something.”

“johnny oh my god, just… shut up!” you clench your jaw.

“hey, i’m the oldest here,” he stares at you, placing his hands on his hips. “and as her older brother, i give you permission to date her. it’s alright.”

“we’re not dating,” you murmur between teeth.

“dude, you’re totally screwing this up,” jisung laughs. “look at mark! he’s red as a tomato!”

“jisung, be quiet please.” johnny looks at him. “thank you. where was i? ah! right. since you’re not dating then i give you permission to bang her, but not when jisung or me is around. it’s weird.”

“okay, that’s enough. this is embarrassing.” you say, standing up and leaving the three men.

johnny whistles. “that was alright. i’m a great brother, aren’t i?” he smiles proudly.

“i really feel sorry for you future kids,” jisung mutters.

“hey!” johnny stares at him.

mark inhales deeply and looks at johnny. “dude, listen, i’m sorry, i really w-”

johnny waves his hand. “do as you want, mark. but let me tell you something, if you hurt her i will chop off your dick and feed it to my neighbor's dog. it’s a promise.” johnny smiles at him.

mark gulps. johnny is not kidding.

“got it, canadian boy?” johnny asks.

mark nods. “perfectly.”

“fine!” johnny nods. “let’s go mark, we got business to attend.”

(...)

mark whistles. forty kilos of remarkably potent methamphetamine. almost worth it in half million dollars.

mark sees johnny coming out of a bedroom with a black haired guy walking next to him. mark doesn’t recognise him and he thinks he’s an old friend from johnny.

and he is.

“mark, this is yuta. yuta, this is mark,” johnny introduces them to each other.

yuta stares at mark and remembers seeing him leaving the same room as you the night of the party.

he’s the guy you’re now fucking.

but yuta knows he has no right to be upset since he made a choice, and by making that choice he knows he lost you.

“nice to meet you, yuta.” mark extends his hand.

yuta shakes it. “you too, mark.”

“awkward,” johnny hums. “okay. thank you for coming, yuta. we need to leave now before doyoung gets all crazy thinking we chickened out.”

yuta nods, still staring at mark. “i’ll be off the radar. take care of y/n.” yuta looks at johnny.

“always,” johnny nods.

yuta gives mark one last glance and he leaves. mark sighs deeply. “are you okay with this?”

johnny looks at mark. “what do you mean?”

“lying to y/n…”

johnny rubs his forehead. “i had no choice, mark.”

mark nods. “forget i asked. it’s none of my business.”

“yeah, it is not.” johnny walks to his car. “whatever is going on between you two you cannot tell her, mark.”

“and i won’t.” mark assures him.

johnny and mark drive from south los angeles to beverly hills, where doyoung’s apartment is.

when they arrive at the building, mark and johnny can tell doyoung is all about luxury: he lives in one of the best zones in los angeles and he only wears expensive brands. as expected.

they get a code to go up to his place and once they’re outside, doyoung’s bodyguard check them in case they decided to carry a gun. clear, they enter to his apartment and johnny whistles. “motherfucker knows how to use his money.”

“of course i do,” doyoung speaks behind them.

mark turns around and he sees doyoung walking to the bar counter. “did you bring my candies?”

“yes.” johnny replies and tosses him the backpack and a small bag.

doyoung makes a signal to his bodyguard and he walks and picks up the bags, empiting them. he places the drug on the counter and takes out a scale from underneath. the bodyguard looks at doyoung and nods. doyoung waves him off and pours some whisky on his glass. “you sure yuta made this?”

“yes.” johnny answers.

“alright.” doyoung tosses him a wad of wills. “200k and i’ll give you the rest when the rest of the shit is sold.”

“we agreed on 300k,” johnny looks at him.

“i gotta make sure it’s yuta’s meth,” doyoung stares at him. “now get out of my place.”

“fucker,” johnny mumbles.

mark clears his throat and walks to doyoung. “thinking you’ll be selling that shit three times more, you’ll be getting around 8 million. so we’re gonna want more than just 300k.”

doyoung cocks an eyebrow at him and then stares at johnny. doyoung opens his mouth to reply him back but mark does it first. “how do i know it? basic math. you normally would sell five grams for 60 bucks and you have 40 kilos. and right now, the price for a kilo of meth is 12 grand.”

doyoung squints his eyes. “how much do you want?”

“a million.”

doyoung laughs. “i’ll give you 500k, that’s the last offer.”

“okay,” mark smirks. “then this is the last time we’ll be making business.” mark turns to johnny. “johnny, my contact in canada will give us so much more.”

johnny doesn't’ know shit about mark’s ‘contact’ in canada. in fact, he doesn't even know anything about it.

until he catches it.

“yeah,” johnny shrugs. “thanks, but next load will be for him. sorry doyoung.”

mark and johnny walk towards the door. doyoung groans and places his glass on the counter. “fine. one million, but next load i want 80 kilos.”

“you’ll have them,” mark assures him.

“now leave before i change my mind and blow your brains up.”

when johnny and mark get to johnny’s car, johnny turns to mark. “are you nuts?!”

“doyoung is a bitch, he was going to pay us shit and we’re doing the dirty work!” mark stares at him. “a part of it.”

“how in hell are we gonna get him 80 kilos of meth?” johnny rubs his face with the palms of his hands. “yuta won’t agreed.”

“then we gotta make him,” mark shrugs.

johnny frowns and looks at him. “what is your evil mind planning?”

“my mind isn’t evil,” mark scoffs. “i just… i thought of pushing him a bit to help us.”

“he’s going to kill you, you know?” johnny says as he turns the car on.

“i’ll be rich and dead,” mark pinches his nose. “what else can i ask?”

(...)

you are not sure what got you to take the photo. you are even less sure what got you to hit send.

since mark left your house with johnny that afternoon, you didn't see him or hear from him and you miss him.

so you do something you think you’d never do again.

shirt off. tits out.

chewing on your fingernails and staring at your phone screen. waiting.

mark opens the door of his apartment and drops down on the couch. his phone buzzes and he smiles when he sees your name on the screen. he unlocks the phone and he freezes. heart racing as he bites his lips. his throat bobs, amd he slightly groans at how quickly his jeans are growing tight.

you’re smiling directly into the camera. breast squished together and cheeks rosy pink. his cocks is painguyll nard now and he feels pathetic at how hard he got just for seeing your shirtless.

when his hand starts slowly trailing down his torso, his phone pings again. he sees the message is from you once more.

did you like it?

fuck yes. the things i wanna do to you right now… you're so hot.

;)

want me to return the favour?

you're sitting on your bed, holding your phone in your hand and you nip at your lip.

yes.

then you wait, staring down at the phone. just the thought of him taking a photo on the other end of the phone is making you wet, just imagining him slipping a hand into his already tight jeans and -

your phone pings and you unlock it. you almost drop your phone when the picture pops out. mark has a nice cock, but surprisingly, it isn’t his cock that draws your eyes first, but his hand. you imagine his hand wrapping your neck slightly. choking you. that hand is wrapped now firmly around the base of his pretty cock. flushed red and dripping with pre-cum.

the hand not gripping your phone slowly slips down your stomach and into your panties. you’re shocked to find yourself wet, gently rubbing circles around your clit as you stare at mark’s dick. how bad you want to clean it up with your tongue.

you manage to type with your shaking hand, dipping one finger inside of yourself.

i’m so wet for you.

you get a response minutes after, but you’re too busy thrusting a finger in and out yourself. then another message

another angle. the camera is higher this time, giving you a perfect view of his face. his black hair is messy and plastered to his forehead with sweat. his cheeks are flushed pink and his shirt is bunched up around his ribcage. he’s looking right at you, eyes half lidded. hand still tightly wrapped around his cock.

fuck it, you decide and hit the video call button.

mark jumps when his phone starts to ring. his hand shakes when he hits accept. you pop onto his screen, cheeks flushed, sweat dripping down your brow, mouth hung open and panting.

“h-hey mark,” you breathe, breaking off into a moan halfway through his name. you just moaned his name.

“ah,” his throat bobs, still slowly working his cock. “hey…”

“i thought this might be uhm...” it’s now that he notices the way your free arm is moving. something is happening off screen, he can guess what it is. you have a shaky breath and manage a nervous smile, “...you know, easier? than the photos…”

“ah, yes.” a nervous laugh comes up out of his chest, “i was having trouble typing. my hands are kind of busy.”

you smile softly, but a twitch of your lips betrays your nerves. “do you still want to see?”

a noise that could almost be called a whimper escapes mark’s mouth at the thought, “y-yeah. i mean if you are willing to show someone like me then i would be… very happy..”

he watches as you take a deep breath, and begin panning the camera down past your breasts, over the curve of stomach, before it finally focuses in on your fingers, dipping slowly in and out of your dripping center. he chokes on a sound, half a moan, half a laugh as he watches you languidly fingering yourself. first just one finger, but then quickly two.

“you weren’t kidding about how wet you are…” he breathes, completely in awe of you.

mark hears the nervous ring of your laugh from off camera, “y-yeah.” you breathe shakily, fingers still continuing their ministrations.

your thumb reaches up and brushes across your clit, he sees your thighs shake and he licks his lips, tightening the grip of his hand around his weeping cock, “i’d give anything to be there right now.”

there is a little fumbling, and then the camera comes back up your face, bright red and smiling shyly as you refuse to make eye contact with the phone screen, “so do i.”

there’s a lull in conversation. your eyes turn to meet his through the screen, and for a moment he is just jerking off to your expression. the way your eyes clench shut, the way you hiss through your teeth. he can see your arm moving faster, he can’t help but wonder how many fingers are inside you now. can’t help but think it were his fingers insead.

“mark?” you ask, voice high pitched and almost mewling.

he gulps, his hips are bucking up into his hand now. you look so beautiful like this, “yes?”

you meet the approximation of his eyes, chewing your lower lip nervously, “are you still-?”

mark nods, “yeah I-“

“can i see?”

his heart is racing, but he nods and shuffles a little higher up on the pillows. mark takes a deep breath in through his nose and switches his phone to the back facing camera. he watches your eyes blow wide and your mouth drops open in a moan, “fuck… it’s so pretty. you’re so pretty.”

mark laughs, slowly bringing his fist up to the head of his cock and teasing the tip with the pad of his thumb. he can see that your eyes are following the movement, “you really like it?”

“if i was there with you it would have been in my mouth like half an hour ago.”

mark groans at that, head falling backward on his pillow as he flips the camera back around, “you’re torturing me.”

“the faces you’re making… i love them,” you whisper, biting down hard on your lower lip to hide a moan. your arm is moving even faster, breasts shaking with the movement.

mark keeps pumping his cock even faster and you hear him choke a moan.

he can feel himself getting close, there’s a tightness in the pit of his stomach that is just begging him to let it go. keening and moaning, eyes scrunching shut as his hips guide his palm into a particularly delicious stroke, he can here you whimpering and mewling on the other end of the phone, and if he listens hard enough he can hear the wet sounds of your fingers pumping into and out of your sex.

“ah mark, i wish it was your fingers inside of me.”

he feels those words in his insides, from his stomach all the way out to the tips of his fingers. it is like a bolt of lightning to his heart, to his cock, to his everything. you want him. his mouth drops open, and words escape him before he can think better of it, “i- fuck” he gasps as his thumb brushes over his weeping slit, drool running down over his chin, “i want your mouth on me. i want it so badly ah shit i-”

you don't stop touching yourself, twitching and gasping, getting closer and closer just watching him as he shatters. the moment that breaks you, your final snap is when you catch a glimpse of his wrist giving himself one last pump off screen. his brow furrowing and a delicious moan escaping his perfect lips, splattering his bare torso with his cum.

it’s too much. with a breathless moan you feel yourself tip over the edge, your insides tightening, toes curling and the world goes white behind your eyes. all you can think about is mark. your hand is shaking when you finally slip your fingers out of yourself and wipe them on your bare thigh, when you open your eyes you can see mark laying back on the armrest and breathing deeply as he comes back down.

you giggle, “so…”

mark cracks open an eye, “so…”

“do you want to keep talking?” you grab a shirt and pull it on over your head, “or was that...it?”

you watch as mark runs a hand through the mess of his hair, he gives you a sleepy smile, “i need to clean up, but i can leave the audio on if you want?”

“yeah.” you reply, “that sounds good.”

(...)

a few days later, you end up driving all the way to orange county to meet doyoung and do what’s asked you.

“there’s my star,” doyoung greets you, smiling while walking towards you. his bodyguard walking behind him.

you smile at him back. “you didn’t tell me it was going to be crowded tonight.”

“word got spread the famous y/n suh will be racing tonight against the rookie jwi,” he smiles sideways and leans against your car.

you take a deep breath. “are they here?”

doyoung shakes his head. “he’ll come.”

“is there something else i need to know?” you inquire.

“he never gets off his car; he just races and then leaves. one of his friends collects the money and that’s their routine,” doyoung crosses his arms on his chest. “his technique is quite impressive.”

“what is it?” you turn around, expecting him to arrive.

“double clutching,” doyoung announces. you turn to him, surprised. “i know. he’s fucking insane, he matches up engine speed with cluth speed between downshifts and gets smoother transitions.”

you place your hands on your hips and furrow your eyebrows. “i can come up with something better than that.”

doyoung grins maliciously. “i hope you do. i want that fucker out.”

a green subaru wrx makes their way, all eyes on it. he’s the mysterious driver no one ever has seen. and to be honest, you want to know who’s sindie the car. he stops his car next to you and makes its engine roar. “don’t fail me, y/n.” doyoung stares at you, before exiting the start line.

you get into the car and start the engine, your car sounding loud as the people around you.

you grip at the wheel and turn around, eyeing the green car. you wonder if he’s nervous.

the race is not a regular race. the race will start in newport beach to santa ana. 12.9 miles. it’s risky and dangerous, but you tell yourself you’re gonna do great. you know all of the streets. the gps system in your car traces the path you have to run.you hold the hand break, to do what you know the best, drift.

you are fully focusing on the street and the cars in the middle, you’re not going to run the random chance to hit any car and have an awful accident. you look through the mirror and can’t see the green subaru, you keep shifting the velocities, slowing down the speed to be able to turn to the left. you are still ahead of the race. where are you green subaru? you think, gripping the steering wheel tighter. you keep running straight, when suddenly the green subaru appears from an interjection coming from the right side, almost hitting your car.

“piece of shit,” you murmur.

the subaru guy's next movement is hitting the nitro, leaving you behind. you see the downs the shifts to the third velocity, slows the speed, drifts in the curve when turn to the left. the subaru goes ahead by a few inches. when he passes the finish line, the wind that the car gets due to the high speed, lifts up a few skirts from some of the women there. and he keeps going straight.

he’s gone.

you lift the hand brake, burning the tired roughly and the car ending in a horizontal position. you have lost the race.

“you knew i was going to lose?” you follow doyoung.

“yeah,” he says as he walks to his luxurious car.

“then why did you even bother to ask me to race against him?”

doyoung turns. “because then you can come up with something better. this time.” he stares at you. “something useful to make him lose.”

“why do you care? just ask the dude to race for you,” you scoff.

“i’ve already tried.” doyoung states. “and whoever that asshole is making me lose money and races.”

“races?” you frown.

“the underground races in moreno valley and san bernardino, all are of his idea.” he rubs his forehead. “if you know the streets, then you know who runs car races and drugs, and that’s me.”

“so he’s hurt your pride.” you look at him.

“he’s now messing with my businesses,” he clicks his tongue. “when you finally get him, i’m gonna stop him from racing but i’m also gonna fucking kill him and feed him to my dogs.”

“that sounds like your problem,” you comment and sigh. “just… call me when the next race is.”

“i will,” he nods. “suh?

“you better get him, or you’re gonna end up like him: as dog food.” he stares at you.

you gulp

****

sorry for taking so long to update guys !! who do you think is jwi??

#mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee x reader #yuta smut #yuta x reader #yuta imagine #nakamoto yuta #mark lee #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader

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marmosa · 4 years ago

Text

it takes two.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: a little 18+ humor at a point, but it’s pretty low-key.

A/N: this had some anti-olives discourse and i’m not sorry about it olives r fcking nasty. also [y/n]’s smell is daisy love by marc jacobs for reference, it’s a perfume i really like but i was like there is no way anyone knows what a fucking cloudberry is, so next time you’re at sephora or sumthin go get a whiff of it, it’s lovely. anywho hope you guys like it, i had tons of fun writing the banter in this one, hope it turned out as nice as i thought :) p.s i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance <3

***

[y/n] hated potions. She hated it more than anything else on this planet and that was saying something considering olives were literally out there existing. Potions shouldn’t have been such a hard class for her, not when she had no problem in her other classes, and certainly not when all it included was following a damned recipe.

Which explained why she wanted to drive a dagger through her skull when Professor Snape announced they’d be spending the next few days preparing to brew amortentia. Not only was the romantic part of it so nerve wracking it made the entire class nauseous, but the prospect of messing it up and not smelling anything at all was even worse (for those who cared, at least).

“You’re dismissed. Make sure to study up on the potion before hand or you’ll sorely regret it,” Snape called out to the class in that tone of his voice that sounded like rancid milk. Was it mentioned that [y/n] also hated Snape? Yeah that too.

As [y/n] packed up her things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m not the devil, I know you lot think ginger’s are evil, but I can assure you I am no devil,” Fred shook his head displeasingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against her desk, “Also, what a way to great someone, sheesh woman, you’d think you’d be more excited to see me.”

“Okay, firstly, there was no need for that whole spiel,” [y/n] held her hands up defensively, “Secondly, I only said that because I was just thinking about you before you arrived.”

Fred rolled his eyes at her back-tracking, but smiled smugly none-the-less, “Aww you were thinking of me? Nothing too naughty I hope,” he winked.

[y/n] flipped her bag shut and looked up at him with a deadpan expression, reaching up and punching his shoulder, “you wish, Weasley. The only naughty thing I’d be caught doing with you is tying you up to turn you in to the police.”

“Tying me up? Didn’t take you as the type for that sort of thing,” Fred grinned, biting back another remark as he watched her groan in annoyance but refuse to make eye contact with him, “but honestly, what were you thinking about?”

“Well,” [y/n] began, pulling at his sleeve to get him to follow her out of class, “You know we have this amortentia potion coming up and I’m doing shit in this class, but I was thinking you could help me study since you have a track record of being good in this class?”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered the offer, shrugging, “what’s in it for me?”

“You get to spend time with me?” [y/n] smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes dramatically to emphasize the effect.

“That’s a shit deal,” Fred chuckled, raising his brows with a small grin at [y/n]’s frown.

“Yeah, it is,” [y/n] sighed, an idea popping into her head, “but if I brewed it successfully you’d get to find out who I fancy, I know you’ve been poking around there because you’re an nosy git who won’t leave me alone about it.”

Fred scoffed in mock offense, tilting his head to the side, “Rude, but not false. Y’know, that does spice up the offer, but what’s stopping me from just finding out by having you smell someone else’s brew? And who’s to say I’m gonna know who smells like that anyway?”

“You’re so difficult,” [y/n] groaned, sinking her shoulders, “you know what, just forget it. I’ll go bother George or something, y’know the better twin.”

Fred’s smile fell as he screwed his features together, ”Excuse me? You’ve got some nerve you little-,”

“I don’t-woah!” [y/n] yelped as Fred tackled her to the side of the empty hall, trapping her against the wall, his hand planted to the side of her head and his other arm situated above her head.

“Take it back,” Fred demanded, giving her a once over, amused at the way she silently reeled over the position she’d just been put into.

“And why should I?” [y/n] snapped back, staring right back at him as soon as she’d gotten her bearings.

“Take it back,” Fred repeated simply, his voice low as he tried to coax his desired response out of her.

“Again, why should I?” [y/n] hummed, relaxing against the wall and looking at him with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes and straightened himself back up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, “you’re no fun, you know exactly why.”

“No I don’t,” [y/n] continued, chimed in amusement, “do you think George isn’t as good as you?”

“Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Fred snipped, “you know just as well as I do that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” [y/n] shrugged, biting back a laugh at Fred’s less than amused expression, “I’ll cut you a deal. You help me with potions and I don’t tell George your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not-,” Fred groaned, his argumentative spirit draining out of his body as his will to spend time with her won out, “Fine. But if you ever tell a lie like that to George, I’ll feel no remorse telling everyone and their mother that you like being tied up for fun.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” [y/n] hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s true,” Fred teased, his smirk falling when she remained silent, “No way, [y/n] that’s got to be a lie.”

“So what if it isn’t? You’ll never know,” [y/n] giggled, biting back a smile.

“Now wait a minute-,” Fred began, startled at this random piece of questionable information, but was cut off as they arrived at [y/n]’s class.

“It was lovely chatting with you, but I will have to see you later,” [y/n] hummed playfully, giving him a quick hug before darting into her classroom leaving a shocked Fred to himself, “bye Freddie!”

***

“Do you think Fred likes me?” [y/n] rolled onto her stomach and looked over at her friend expectantly, bumping her ankles together to distract her from the rapid beating of her heart.

Nadya tossed her books to the side and slid her legs off the side of her bed, leaning forward to try and be level with [y/n], “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“What!” [y/n] scoffed, pouting, “it’s an honest question!”

“Of all things holy,” Nadya groaned, burying her face in her hands, “Of course he likes you? You really asked him to be your homework helper and he said yes. Who in their right mind willingly studies for potions?”

[y/n] chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding along, “You are absolutely correct. But like, if he doesn’t, isn’t it going to backfire on me when he realizes I smell him in the amortentia potion?”

“Bold of you to assume that any man knows what he smells like,” Nadya chuckled, “Remember in grade school when the boys would wear that atrocious body spray? It was ghastly.”

“Again, you’re absolutely correct. But Fred has like a distinct smell, it’s like camp fires, caramel, and fire-whiskey,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself bask in the though of how lovely he was, “it’s wonderful.”

“Kinda creepy that you know how specific it is,” Nadya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side to avoid [y/n]’s flat glare.

“Oh yeah because yesterday you totally weren’t telling me about Sam’s ‘absolutely magical eyes’, your words not mine,” [y/n] hummed, a smug smile drawing itself across her lips.

“You’re a twat,” Nadya snapped back, rolling her eyes, “back to you, aren’t you suppose to meet him in the library in like 5 minutes?”

[y/n] glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and nearly feel onto the floor running to get her stuff, “Shit! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because you were too busy talking about what Fred smelled like,” Nadya deadpanned, taking her turn to smile smugly.

“I would wipe that stupid look off your face if I wasn’t running late,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes teasingly, grabbing her textbooks, “see you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner,” Nadya affirmed, waving goodbye.

***

“Took you long enough,” Fred lulled, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m surprised you were here on time, especially for something as boring as homework,” [y/n] replied, setting all her stuff down and sliding into the seat across from him.

Fred looked at her dumbly, wanting to snap back but not knowing how to without admitting he was just excited to see her, “Shut up. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who asked for my help?”

[y/n] leaned her cheek onto her balled up fist and exhaled deeply, “Touché. You’re a handful Weasley.”

“You love it though,” He hummed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That I do,” [y/n] chuckled, kicking his ankles playfully under the table.

“Well, if you need my help it’s counter productive to do it across from me isn’t it? You don’t want to be swinging a book around over and over again,” Fred mentioned while flipping through his own textbook to find the lesson.

“That’s a good point,” [y/n] shrugged, pushing all her stuff to the other side of the table and switching her seat, glancing over at his book to note the page number, “Y’know, I actually really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, volunteer work is important after all,” Fred teased, quickly back-tracking when she stared back at him blankly, “Kidding! You know I’ll always make time for you,” he mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

[y/n] rolled her eyes and pretended to fish around her bag so he wouldn’t notice the embarrassed look on her face, “Thanks. Same for you.”

Fred chuckled softly, leaning his cheek onto his fist to watch her silently, admiring the way she looked out of uniform in her favorite sweater and pair of jeans. She practically glowed in the low light of the library, her hands constantly pushing a fly away of hair out of her face, her face screwing up in an adorable sort of annoyance. He was smitten, no doubt about it, and honestly- he was okay with that.

“What’re you looking at?” [y/n] muttered, catching his unwavering stare.

“Nothing, you’ve just got an eyelash on your face,” Fred played it off nonchalantly, reaching forward and brushing off the imaginary eyelash.

[y/n] tried her absolute best not to combust right then and there, thanking him quietly before redirecting his attention to the work, “So, what do you say we start here? The measurements are rather odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Fred bit back a smile and nodded, amused at the loss of her fiery attitude, his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

“Yeah, they are.”

***

“Fuck!”

Nadya glanced up from the journal sitting in her lap, the pair of eyes she was sketching seemingly following along with her as she located [y/n] standing in front of the mirror, looking ready to fall apart.

“What’s all this about then?” Nadya inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re making the potions today and it didn’t seem like a big deal two days ago but the anxiety has finally caught up to me and I feel truly sick,” [y/n] shuddered, jumping up and down in place to try and shake out her prickling nerves.

“I know you’re worried, but what are the chances of anyone knowing what that smell is? By the way you described it, it��s so painfully specific that only someone who’s known him for ages would know,” Nadya reassured her panicking friend, smiling softly.

“I know, but what if-,”

“If you keep talking yourself into believing it you’re gonna be miserable. Just breath, go do your best, and have fun. Nothing will go wrong,” Nadya explained calmly, knowing just how much of a busy-brain [y/n] could get.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m only gonna make myself feel worse. I’ll stop, thanks Nadya,” [y/n] padded over and gave her a quick hug, “see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Nadya nodded, waving her goodbye.

***

“You’ve all finished brewing your amortentia I presume,” Snape spoke in that nasally tone of his, glowering at the class.

The class replied with a cacophony of “yes’s”, the anxiety of each person literally rolling off the walls in waves. People who had a fancy in that class practically had a neon sign above their heads that said so, while those who didn’t sat back and relaxed in peace as they pondered their grade.

[y/n] glanced over at Fred who caught her gaze, passing her an enthusiastic thumbs up, which she returned happily despite the knots forming in her stomach.

“Well then, if you’re done, get into your groups and test it out. Remember if you smell nothing that it doesn’t mean you failed the potion, you must reference the check list of properties before coming to a conclusion,” Snape explained, folding his hands behind his back, “is that clear?”

The class responded with “yes’s” once more and in an instant the room was bustling as the groups got to smelling their potions to test out the initial effects. [y/n]’s group agreed that they’d go clock-wise, leaving her last to test out the potion.

“It smells like honey, baked goods, and lavender,” Charlie spoke up, his cheeks tinging red as he probably registered quite who the scent was probably related to.

“That’s a lovely combination,” Dina nodded, leaning forward and taking a whiff of their own brew, “truly I can’t smell much but there is a faint note of citrus,” they shrugged.

[y/n] and Timothy exchanged knowing glances, a fancy probably developing in Dina’s life that they hadn’t quite registered yet.

“My turn,” Timothy exhaled, nodding stiffly as if to reassure himself as he smelled the potion. His eyes nearly popped out his head as he took a step back fanning his face slightly, “that has got to be the strongest smell of herbs I’ve ever smelled- he’s probably been spending extra time in the Green Room, that twat.”

The group broke into laughter as he gracefully excused himself to go stand outside to let the smell filter out of his nose. As soon as he’d left, the group look at [y/n] expectantly, all excited to hear what she smelled.

[y/n] swallowed thickly and leaned over her pot, her nerves finally spiking as she took a whiff of the brew. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she finally registered the smell, her face growing hot, as an embarrassed expression pulled itself onto her features- of course it was him.

“So, what did you smell?” Dina chirped enthusiastically, leaning against the table.

“Yeah [y/n], what did you smell?”

[y/n] felt her heart drop to her feet, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and into the pot in front of her. Of course he was going to ask.

“You did promise you’d tell me,” Fred smirked, leaning against the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That I did,” [y/n] chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll cut you a deal this time. You tell me what you smelled and I’ll tell you what I did,” Fred offered, raising his brows to emphasize his tantalizing offer.

“Deal,” [y/n] nodded, rolling her shoulder a few times, “I smelled a camp fire, caramel, and fire whiskey.”

Charlie and Dina exchanged wide eyed glances, quietly agreeing that the smell was certainly unique and equally lovely before excusing themselves to go get a final grade from Snape.

“What a unique smell,” Fred hummed, eyeing her groupmates oddly “Guess I have to hold up my end of the bargain then. I couldn’t really tell you the specifics, but definitely berries, daisies, and driftwood.”

“That’s even more unique than mine, whoever you smelled sure does have a refined palette,” [y/n] giggled, calming down as she realized Fred had no clue who she was talking about with her own smell.

“She sure does. I think it’s her perfume or something, she wears it everyday so I recognized it almost immediately,” Fred chuckled, shrugging, “But fire whiskey, I truly wonder who that could be, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to tell me? Would you?” he bat his eyelashes innocently.

“In your dreams Weasley,” [y/n] huffed, shoving him playfully.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Fred pouted, turning so his elbows were leaned onto the table behind him.

“You know I’m only keeping it from you for my own sanity,” [y/n] chuckled, reaching over and shaking his shoulder softly.

Fred chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing in the opposite direction from her, his mind clouded with doubt, wondering who this mystery person could possibly be- praying to everything holy that there was even a possibility of it being him.

Unbeknownst to him, [y/n]’s internal dialogue was practically doing the same thing trying desperately to put a person to the smell he describe but coming up empty, her heart sinking slightly while she admonished herself for getting her hopes up too fast.

“Well, you know I’m not gonna give up until I find out. I’ll sniff everyone in our year if it means getting my answer,” Fred teased, winking at her.

“That’s so creepy, you’ll be lucky if you can even get close enough to smell your own brother,” [y/n] laughed, letting her head roll forward slightly.

“Whatever you say,” Fred hummed, shimmying his shoulders to a silent tune, “better go get that grade of yours then, we didn’t do all that studying for nothing.”

“We might’ve since you couldn’t tell who I smelled,” [y/n] bit back a laugh when Fred glared back at her.

“You’re a twat.”

“I know.”

***

“Nadya! My dearest darling companion to ever to walk this planet, do you happen to know anyone who smells like caramel and fire whiskey?” Fred asked, throwing his arms around the two girls.

Nadya nearly spilled her drink at Fred’s sudden appearance, which didn’t particularly go down well with her, “Fred if you scare us like that again I’m going to hex you so severely you’ll be stuck in the infirmary trying to figure out how to get your wand out of your arse.”

Fred’s face drained of all it’s color (if that was even possible, being as pale as he already was), “Sorry Nadya, my bad.”

[y/n] stifled a laugh, continuing to munch on her piece of chicken, ignoring Nadya’s side eye that practically screamed “handle your own boyfriend”.

“But back to your question, I can’t say that I do, who do you have in mind so far?” Nadya humored him, trying her best to give leeway to both her best friend and her best friend’s crush.

“Well, as [y/n] so wisely said, it’s too creepy to go around and sniff people, so I’m just going off of hunches. Oliver seems like a likely candidate and so does Casper, but I’m still not sure,” Fred sighed, obviously already impatient in his search.

Nadya glanced over at [y/n] who was all to comfortable pretending she wasn’t a part of the conversation, happily sipping at her cider.

“I’m not gonna say anything, you can search for as long as you’d like, I’m not budging,” [y/n] shook her head, smiling all too amused, patting Fred’s head patronizingly.

“You’re no fun,” Fred pouted, huffing and standing back straight, dusting off the invisible dust on his robes, “Well since I’m not gonna get an answer out of either you, I’ll take my search elsewhere, see you around.”

“Bye Freddie,” [y/n] chirped, waving goodbye to him, “So you were right.”

Nadya broke into laughter, elbowing [y/n] playfully, “I told you! You got so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten close to an answer.”

“Casper, he really thinks I’d like Casper? He’s lovely and all but imagine having to sit through him telling you about how handsome he is? That sounds absolutely awful,” [y/n] shook her head, giggling at the thought.

“I truly think he’s just lying to himself at this point, there’s no way he’d be that dumb,” Nadya claimed, refiling her cup.

“I think so too, you know Fred though, he love’s a good challenge,” [y/n] shrugged, taking another bite of her chicken, “well have to see.”

***

“Okay, I think I’ve figured it out!”

[y/n] groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes, sinking as far as she could into the couch that she thought was tucked at the very back corner of the library, “please, it’s been nearly two days! You haven’t given it up yet?”

“Not at all, it’s fun, irritating, but fun,” Fred beamed, skipping over and plopping down next to her on the couch, “See I think I’ve narrowed the search down to these three guys.”

[y/n] glanced down at the small sheet of paper he held out to her and then back at him, a tired sag in her eyes as she felt guilt start to push against her chest. Maybe she was in the wrong for letting him run around and play a fruitless guessing game that she knew he would probably never get the answer to.

“I’m thinking if you give me another clue, I could zero it down to-,”

“It’s not them Fred.”

Fred fell quiet as [y/n] pushed his hand down, taking the paper and tossing it on the small table to her side, pushing his fingers into a small fist that she held gingerly, “It’s not anyone you’ve guessed.”

[y/n] sighed and swallowed her nerves, deciding it was now or never, that if she didn’t say something now she would be tormented by regret and Fred’s relentless guesses for the rest of her life.

“It’s no one you know because,” [y/n] looked away, literally incapable of meeting the wide inviting look he was giving her right then, “it’s you Fred. I like you.”

When she was met with silence, the rock finally started to settle at the pit of her stomach, her brows knitting together as she bit back her bubbling emotions. She tried to pull her hand back but had it quickly snatched back by Fred who had threaded their fingers together.

“I knew it,” He grinned, cupping her face with one hand and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against hers extremely gentle for how abrupt the kiss had been.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide before sinking shut, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. They sat like that for a while, the quite chatter of the other students background noise to the gentle kisses they passed between one another, the pent up impatience and nervousness draining out of them with each and every kiss.

The two of them finally pulled away, a red hue fanned over Fred’s face, his freckles even more noticeable now that she was up this close.

“Shit, I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, did I?” Fred mumbled bumping his forehead against hers, squeezing their still intertwined hands.

“It’s okay, at least I kissed back, yeah?” [y/n] whispered, thumbing over the small scar on his cheek, probably from a quidditch match.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be better about it though,” Fred promised, tilting his head to the side to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Me too,” [y/n] smiled, adoration practically rolling off of her in waves, “wait- what did you mean you knew it?”

Fred pulled back and sat up straight, his lips pressed together so tightly he was practically forcing all the blood out of them, “Well, I kind of already knew from the time your tablemates sort of left us alone in potions. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

[y/n] felt her face fall, her mouth getting stuck open in an o shape, as she stared at him dumbly, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately no,” Fred giggled, placing both of his hands on the sides of her face, “don’t be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, just disappointed in myself, that shit’s embarrassing for me!” [y/n] groaned, placing her hands on top of his.

“Well it all worked out in the end didn’t it?” Fred chimed, his lips stretching out into a grin.

“I suppose it did,” [y/n] hummed thoughtfully.

“Now the real question is how you didn’t know what your own perfume smelled like,” Fred quipped, immediately bouncing back to teasing her.

“Oh for god’s sake, do I look like I research perfume scents in my free time?” [y/n] scoffed.

“A little bit,” Fred muttered.

“You know what never mind, don’t you ever try to kiss me again,” [y/n] shoved him off her playfully, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now don’t be like that,” Fred groaned, crawling over to her.

“Nuh uh, nope,” [y/n] shook her head, sticking out her legs in a feeble attempt to stop his advance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, too late, come here.”

“I said no- fine! Fine, goodness gracious.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, now give me another kiss before you have to go back to doing boring homework.”

“Fine.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#hogwarts #harry potter #fred weasley imagines #mar writes

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years ago

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Spencer Reid / Uncertainties

Prompt: Kissing tears away

Summary: Everyone is afraid of the uncertain, but no one more than a man of facts and statistics -- Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 1,870

Warnings: Angst + Fluff, comforting, Spencer’s headaches, this man deserves love, mentions of mental illness (schizophrenia), I make a doctor who reference lmao

Spencer Reid was a man of many thoughts. And that was a clear understatement.

A lot of his thoughts were spoken — facts given freely, statistics that spewed from his mouth, and certainties conveyed without a bit uncertainty. But these were facts, facts he had surrounded himself in carefully constructed walls, buildings, and bridges, until it became a labyrinth. A perfect solitude of his own making — certainties were certain, unlike most things in his life.

Including you.

"Spence, can I sit with you?" His eyes flitted up from the book he was reading, finding you sitting before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice," but he smiles, and your eyes twinkle at his teasing.

"Why wait when I know the answer is yes?"

And you were right. The answer was always yes when it came to you — that much was certain. At least according to Morgan and Garcia.

"Why aren't you in your office?" You crossed your arms, brow creased in frustration.

You sigh dramatically, "Penelope brought her boyfriend by and now they have completely taken over my space," Pout, as you rest your chin against your hand, "it's fine because it's Pen, but it's just a little nauseating to be around a couple that often. I think he’s spent more time there in the last week than I have in the last month."

He snorts, "I didn't know love caused nausea," the corner of his mouth twitches, and you roll your eyes.

"It does when you're painfully single," you sigh dramatically, shaking your head, “Side-effects include nausea, fake vomiting, and contemplation and eventual purchase of noise canceling headphones. Only cure in my case — a date.”

"Then get a date?" He offers. The words left his mouth without a second thought, ignoring the twinge in his chest at the thought of you with someone else.

You raise a brow, "You offering, Doctor?"

He blinks, a heat climbing his neck, and he's all too painfully aware of how your eyes linger on the blush that's undoubtedly spread across his cheeks and the graze of your teeth against your bottom lip.

"I-I-" but you wave him off.

"It's okay, Spence," you begin to get up, but the question remains very much in the air, an albatross wrapped around his neck, squeezing and squeezing.

"Wait," he says your name, giving you pause as he licks his incredibly dry lips, "I am," he manages, heart beating against his ribs, "offering that is."

The indelible tension becomes even more unbearable as you blatantly stare at him, becoming more and more difficult not to tug at the collar of his button up — regretting the choice of a sweater vest combo with how unbearably hot its become.

But then your face lights up, eyes wide and lips broken in an unabashed grin, "What time?"

Maybe he shouldn’t have offered. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to that small voice in the back of his head, that sounded awfully like Morgan, to take a chance. Because then he wouldn’t have learned that you majored in Linguistics and English Literature. He wouldn’t have learned that your undergraduate thesis was on the parallels of Beowulf and Tolkien and the meaning of brotherhood. He wouldn’t have learned that your nose wrinkles very adorably when you try a new dish. He wouldn’t have learned that he liked how your voice got louder when you were passionate. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.

But he was, he realized one morning, as your fingers carded through his thick curls one afternoon, hoping that the dreaded phone call wouldn’t come and interrupt your dinner plans tonight. You hummed and gasped appropriately as you listened to him read a new book you had picked up (as it was your turn to choose a book for the two of you to read this week). And it was when you had plucked the book from his hands, peering down at him, his head against your legs, with a soft smile and wide eyes, he realized that he didn’t remember a single moment of his life that had felt so right.

Until it didn't.

He knew the symptoms. Sensitivity to light. Persistent headaches. An inability to focus. Irritability. Hallucinations. And he knew the odds. His leg bounced up and down in the waiting room — the one time facts did not play to his advantage — eyes squeezed shut. Soon, he would begin to forget things. Become confused or delusional. And he would lose one of the only things he felt that had some control over — his mind. Pain splintered through his head, as yet another doctor called him in for his results.

Inconclusive, again. The fifth doctor to have run a litany of tests on him: physical, emotional, and psychological — but no cause.

He doesn’t remember the doctor’s name, her introduction stymied by the red hot throbbing in his frontal cortex, “Do you have anyone to support you during this time?” his fingers dug into his forearms.

“I do,” he manages, and he can almost feel your touch, your presence, as if you were here. Your arms wrapped around him, chin pressed into his shoulder, but your eyes — eyes full of pity. He still hadn’t told you.

But it didn’t mean you hadn’t noticed.

"Spencer," you wave your hand in front of his face, and he looks up from his book, "I've been calling your name for five minutes."

"Sorry, I was reading," he murmurs, sliding his bookmark into his book, shutting the book in his lap, "what's wrong?"

Your brow furrowed, arms crossed across your chest, "I should be asking you that,"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He knew he was wrong — he knew he had been short, that he had been angry, that he had been silent, but he didn't care. He couldn't find the energy to. All he could think about was the dull ache in his head, the echoing in his ears, the fear thrumming through his body, possibilities running over and over and over—

"Spencer," you ease the book through his fingers, "I know you — you would have blown through this entire book by now, but you've been reading the same page for the last half hour."

He snatches the book from your hand, hardback clattering against the floor, "You don't know anything,"

"Spencer—"

"No, no—" he holds his voice steady, holding the fracturing pieces of his facade together, "just leave."

"I'm not leaving you," your voice cracks, not bothering to hide your hurt, "not until you tell me what's going on."

He looks up and sees your gaze waver. And he hates himself. He hates himself for hurting you. He hates himself for allowing himself to love you. He should have learned his lesson. He should have learned when his parents separated, when his mom’s delusions and paranoia turned her from the woman who read him stories of knights to a woman who barely remembered her own name. He hates himself for being too weak to break up with you.

“Do you know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind?” he whispers, the dull ache in his brain quelling for a moment, the tightness in his chest replacing it.

You blink, eyes glassy, sliding in place beside him, his eyes falling to his lap, “Why would you be afraid of something so beautiful?”

“Because I don’t know what it’s going to become,” he cradles his head in his hands, “I’ve been having headaches. Consistently. I can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I am...hearing things that are not there. I—”

“Spencer,” you whisper, “why didn’t you tell me before?”

He laughs, the sound hollow in his chest, “What is there to tell? Doctors can’t tell me what this is. They can’t tell me if it’s—-” he breaks off, and he refuses to look up. He refuses to see the pity in your eyes — the fear.

“Baby, you don’t know what this even is right now, we—”

“What else could it be?” he snaps, ringlets of pain coursing through his head, “I know the chances. I’ve known the chances since I was seven, when I found out my mother had schizophrenia when I overheard my parents arguing again. I’m the same age as she was when she first started showing symptoms.”

Schizophrenia. The word hangs over the conversation like it has hung over him his entire life. A part of him thought maybe, somehow, if he was smart enough, even if he had it, he could outsmart it — maybe he could overcome it. But a few weeks of these headaches any delusions of grandeur — except for the ones yet to come, “Spencer, even if it is schizophrenia, it is treatable. It is manageable with medication and proper treatment. More importantly, no matter the odds, no matter what this is, I’m going to be there—”

“Until you’re not,”

“Spencer,”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” His words are soft, as he remembers the warmth of his mother, curled up beside him, her soft voice reading stories of Arthur and his round table, “to watch someone you love become someone else — someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Someone angry, someone paranoid.”

“I don’t know what it’s like, Spencer, I’m sorry, but I know I’d never leave you. Even if you become someone else, even if I lose you altogether — I love you. For who you are, and you will become,” you reach for his face, but he turns away, licking his lips, “I always will.”

“Nothing is certain,” he sighs, running his hands down his face, “But I know I can’t make you do this—”

“Spencer, please,” you lean down, prying his fingers away from his face, and forcing him to look at you — tears running down your cheeks freely, your nose wrinkling as you sniffled, “shut up.”

“I—”

“I know nothing is certain — nothing ever is. But this is how I feel right now, in this moment,” you draw closer, and he allows you to — taking solace in your closeness and warmth. Your lips brush against his forehead, “We will figure this out, together.”

A tear slips down his cheek, and he squeezes his eyes shut, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you press a kiss to his cheek, right as the tear rolls down, “and I never do anything I don’t want to,” the corners of your mouth tug at your lips, “remember the Doctor Who convention?”

“I remember compromising my choice,” you laugh.

“And I remember you being the cutest David Tennant ever,” his fingers brush away the streaks of tears left behind on your cheeks, “I don’t need to have a Tardis to know we are going to get through this.”

“Well, actually—” you raise an eyebrow, and he smiles.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” his hands cup your cheeks now, breath fanning against your lips, as he kisses you. Tears roll over his fingers, as your fingers rest over his own, “and that is a certainty.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm imagines #cm fanfiction #reid x reader #reid x you

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luxaofhesperides · 3 years ago

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if my grief is violent enough ; a borijihye fic.

15k words. one-shot. not a happy story. be warned for major character death, blood and injury, trauma, and hurt/no comfort. first 1k words will be posted here, you can read the rest on ao3 bc i am not formatting 15k words onto a tumblr post.

. . .

The air feels strange. Na Bori can’t explain why or in what way, just that it is. It feels like the world is holding its breath, tense and ready to burst at any moment. Goosebumps raise on her arms and she can’t help but shiver as she locks the door behind her and sets out for school.

Nothing’s strange or out of place when she looks around. Everything is the same as it was yesterday. Na Bori grips her bag a little harder as she walks down the roads, following the stream of students heading towards Daepong Girl’s High School.

It’s probably nothing. Just Na Bori being paranoid for no reason.

She pushes it to the back of her mind and ignores it in favor of seeking out Lee Jihye, who is either at school very early or arriving late. She never knows, and Lee Jihye usually forgets to check her phone during the morning so messaging is not an option. Thankfully, Na Bori spots Lee Jihye leaning against the wall beside the front door and quickly makes her way over, waving when Lee Jihye spots her and lights up.

“Did you read the update last night?” is the first thing she asks as soon as Na Bori’s in hearing range. “I’m going insane, I have so many theories.”

“Oh, I haven’t read it yet. I fell asleep pretty quickly after I got home.”

“Boooooriiiii,” Lee Jihye whines, slumping dramatically against her, making Na Bori stumble at the sudden weight. “Read it during lunch! I need to talk about it.”

Na Bori laughs and pushes Lee Jihye off of her. “Fine, fine. You’ll have to feed me, though, if you want me to focus on the new update.”

“You know I’d never say no to making sure you don’t starve!”

Lee Jihye’s familiar bright smile loosens the knot of tension in her chest. Despite how on edge she still feels, if Lee Jihye is smiling, then everything is fine. Na Bori pushes the unnerving feeling away, leaning into Lee Jihye as if her presence could physically ward off negative feelings. Which it does, really, because there has rarely been a time where Na Bori could remain upset with Lee Jihye. Something about her always sets her at ease, like everything is alright in the world and whatever hurts she holds are easily soothed by Lee Jihye’s warm presence.

They walk into the school, Lee Jihye retelling an episode of a ghost show she watched the night before and Na Bori laughing at her bad attempts to reenact the scenes. It’s the same as always; students walking down halls, chatter filling the air, teachers setting up their lesson plans. The normalcy of it all is reassuring.

“The victim ended up yelling at the exorcist for trying to hurt the ghost, because it was just a little kid. And tried to help it out instead even though it might have been a demon, and that segment ended with the host saying in that really bad dramatic sound effects voice, ‘Kindness too has consequences. You can’t save everyone.’” Lee Jihye throws her hands up, frustrated, and says, “The result doesn’t really matter, though! Sure you can’t save everyone, but you can at least try. Anyways, the person being haunted was in the right for trying to help the ghost kid, and everyone who disagrees is an idiot.”

Na Bori nods, trying to bite back a grin. That doesn’t stop the smile from curling her lips upwards, trembling with restrained laughter. She always loves how opinionated Lee Jihye got about things, especially the webcomics they read together or evening talk shows.

There are times when she wishes she could feel as much and as strongly as Lee Jihye, but her heart always sticks with just a few things and holds onto them for a long time.

She still has the stuffed boar doll Lee Jihye got her six years ago. It has a place of honor on Na Bori’s spare pillow.

“What would you do if you were haunted?” Lee Jihye asks as she sits on Na Bori’s desk, ignoring her own a row over.

Na Bori sits down, placing her bag on the floor besides her desk. She doesn’t believe in ghosts, not really, but sometimes it’s fun to think that there’s more to this world than she can see. “I don’t know,” she admits, “Try to get it to leave? Or at least make sure it doesn’t break anything.”

“You’d be fine with a ghost roommate?”

She shrugs. “As long as the ghost left me alone, sure.”

“What if I was the ghost?” Lee Jihye leans forward, grinning down at her. “Would you kick me out for being a bad roommate because I’m haunting you?”

“You know I wouldn’t,” Na Bori rolls her eyes, forcing away the flush rising in her cheeks. “I’d be fine with you as my roommate no matter what. Preferably alive.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet to me!” Lee Jihye coos, throwing her arms around Na Bori’s shoulders and rocking them back and forth hard, just to be obnoxious.

She puts on a scowl, shoving Lee Jihye away but putting no strength behind it. “You make me wonder why I bother.”

“I know you don’t mean that.”

I really don’t, Na Bori thinks. She doesn’t say it though, afraid of crossing that line. She doesn’t reply at all, just slumps forward so her face is smooshed against Lee Jihye’s shoulder. The thought of Lee Jihye as a ghost, of Lee Jihye dead makes her chest knot up, heavy and suffocating. Of course she doesn’t want Lee Jihye dead, but somehow today the mere thought, even as a joke, is unbearable.

It feels more like a warning, a bad omen, than a thoughtless joke.

“Hey.” Lee Jihye’s voice gentles and she smooths a hand over Na Bori’s hair. “You alright?”

Na Bori nods, but can’t actually speak for a moment. Her breath catches in her throat and stays there, choking her. She feels terrible, like the world is ending and she’s the only one who knows it.

Lee Jihye is fine. She’s sitting in front of her, holding her, and she’s fine. She’s alive.

She wishes she knew why she’s so scared.

With careful hands, Lee Jihye pulls Na Bori’s head back and tilts her chin up to see her properly. “Hey,” she says again, “Talk to me. Why’d you get so quiet?”

“Mm,” Na Bori manages, and sighs again. “I don’t know. I’m not feeling great right now. Like, anxious? I just feel like something terrible is going to happen.”

“Don’t worry, even if something bad does happen, I’ll be here to protect you!”

“Alright crybaby,” Na Bori says, a small smile on her face as Lee Jihye gasps in mock outrage. “I’ll trust you to keep me safe, then.”

The teacher calls for everyone to get to their seats then, and Lee Jihye hops off Na Bori’s desk. She lingers for a moment, letting her hand rest on one of Na Bori’s, a final, quiet reassurance, and then she leaves, dodging between desks and students to get to her own seat.

The warmth of that touch stays, and Na Bori clings to it, let it keep her grounded. Class starts, and she can’t hear anything that’s being said over the pounding of her heart and the rising feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

It’s fine, she thinks firmly, Nothing’s happening. I’m just at school. Lee Jihye is here.

She glances over and sees Lee Jihye already looking at her. Her brow is furrowed, clearly concerned, but when Na Bori meets her gaze, she smiles and makes a heart out of her fingers, hidden beneath the desk in her lap.

That’s right. Everything will be alright because Lee Jihye is here.

[continue reading here]

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #lee jihye #na bori #orv fic #borijihye #fic #my writing

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

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A Hero II (Shinsou x Reader)

A/N: I did not intend for this fic to be three parts, but it seems that I have been writing too fast to keep track of the word count. This chapter will have a little fluff with mostly angst. I promise though, the next part is entirely fluff and my favorite piece to date. Hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the support.

!!!Sort of spoilers but not really you’ll be fine

word count: 4350

Part One/Part Two/ Part Three

“Where are you?”

“I’m with Aizawa-sensei. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, that’s great. Do you mind if I come visit for a minute?”

“Uh, sure, but why?”

“I don’t know, I just really don’t feel good. I feel like crying and I need to see you.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll be by the classroom in like, five minutes.”

“See you in a little bit.”

Shinsou set down his phone after hanging up. “I’m really sorry for taking a call while we’re talking, sensei.”

The dark haired, tired teacher in front of him only sighed and shook his head. He really didn’t care if the kid took a phone call. He was more mature and obedient than the majority of his students, so it wasn’t a big deal. It was nice to take a break from teaching reckless wannabe heroes all day like Midoriya and Bakugo. “Someone coming to interrupt our lesson, I suppose.”

“Yeah, but just for a second. It won’t be an issue.”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

“Bakugo’s adoptive sister, right?” he asked, exasperated already. He could only imagine the kind of person someone related to that blond devil would be, even if it wasn’t by blood. Just being around him for so long no doubt would corrupt anyone. Having one Bakugo around was more than enough, but two? Unmanageable. A good reason to quit his job.

Shinsou nodded. He fiddled with his neck wrappings, feeling himself getting anxious. He wanted to see Y/N, he really did. But in front of his teacher, someone he looked up to and didn’t want to see him go soft...not ideal. He just hoped she would talk to him outside in private and nothing be heard or seen. “Yes.”

Aizawa leant back against the blackboard, crossing his arms over his chest. Talking about his personal life could be useful too. He was curious about the kid. He was so ambitious and strong-willed, competent in a world of idiots. If this girl, whoever she was, made him happy, that would only boost his morale when fighting. It was a good thing for him to be lovesick, actually. Aizawa hummed, “Interesting. She’s in your class, I completely forgot about that. Didn’t think you were the type to have friends, honestly.”

“I’m not. It’s just...well, I can’t explain. She’s different.”

A head popped in the doorway of the classroom a moment later, and it was almost as if a cloud had formed on the ceiling. Her smile was obviously fake, and her eyes screamed with the shine of not-so-distant sadness. He had to close his eyes for a quick moment and take a deep breath to calm himself down. His face was heating up and his heart started to race again. She was so fucking precious, even when she was about to cry..

“Shinsou,” she muttered, not even bothering to step into the classroom.

“I’ll be back in a minute, sensei.”

“That’s fine. Take your time.” The man waved off his student, not wanting to bother him. The girl looked pathetic standing there with that fake grin. Already, he could tell she wasn’t much like her brother. He should have known that knowing Shinsou cared for her so much. He wouldn’t associate with people like the hothead. Aizawa also didn’t hate her upon first glance, and that was quite shocking. He really disliked everyone.

Shinsou stepped outside into the hall. She stepped forward to be closer to him just by a little, and her eyes flickered down to his hand. Knowingly, he reached out to take her hand in his, rubbing the backs of her knuckles with his thumb, just like he always did when she was sad. She was the first one to initiate it, holding his hand that time in the alleyway. Ever since then, she asked for him to hold her hand, to make her feel a little better.

“Did something happen?”

“No, not really. I’ve just had a really shitty day. I accidentally spilled fruit milk all over my homework and my brand new textbook. When I was walking out to the dorms, that little freak with the purple balls on his head tried to look up my skirt. My mom called and yelled at me because of my grade in mathematics, even though I told her you were gonna start tutoring me, but she didn’t even care. And then, when I got to the dorms, I tried to take a nap but I had this terrible nightmare where you died and stuff, and it’s just been a really bad day.”

“Wow, that does sound shitty, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. For a moment he paused, thinking through what he could do for her before asking, “Do you want to wait here and we can go out somewhere when Sensei and I are finished?”

“Maybe. I’d rather hang out with you the rest of the day then go back and wallow in my own self-loathing,” she answered miserably, letting her head fall to stare at her shoes. “I just don’t want to bother you, Shinsou.”

“Don’t say that. You’re never a bother,” he hushed. “Didn’t I tell you I would do anything for you?”

“You’re too nice to me.”

“Not possible. I’m just doing what I want.” He always said that. He was never doing her a favor, she was never making him go out of his way or do something he didn’t want to do. For some reason, he found that whatever she wanted, he also wanted. If she wanted to sleep in bed all day, so be it, that’s what he wanted to do too. If she wanted to travel the world, he might just drop everything in Japan and go with her. He felt ridiculous about it, but it was true. That’s how she made him feel.

Whenever she was happy, he was happy. So, all he wanted was her to be content.

“You’ll have to tell me more about your day and that nightmare you had later. Talking about it helps.”

“Okay.”

“Wait in the library until I’m done?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded, taking away his hand to step back into the doorway. He placed a hand on the doorframe and leaned into it. “Bye, Y/N.” His eyes trained on her face as she lifted her head to look at him, a small, genuine smile on her face this time. Maybe he was dramatic, but that girl was all he ever wanted to look at. That smile, it made him feel like a million bucks. He felt like a real hero whenever her lips turned up in that familiar way.

“Thank you, Hitoshi. Bye…” He turned to enter the classroom but she stopped him, grabbing his wrist before he could completely go. When he turned to see what she wanted, she pushed herself forward into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. “I really wanted a hug.”

He sighed into her touch, wrapping his own arms around her shoulder and one to rest on the back of her head. “No problem.”

“Okay, now for real this time, bye.” Finally, the girl pulled away from his hug, waving to him with her now with a full bright smile on her face and a bit of pep in her step. For a moment, all he could look at was her going down the empty hall, he almost forgot what he was originally doing.

“You done?” a voice mumbled behind him, and he jumped. How could he forget that Aizawa was right there? He saw them hug and everything, how awkward. He felt like a real sissy boy in front of his idol.

“Yes, sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”

The man rolled his eyes, his lip quirking in the tiniest of smirks. “We both know you can’t promise that,” he said. “So what is she? Your little girlfriend?”

His mouth opened and he stumbled over words to say. “No-No, of course not. She’s my friend and that’s it.”

“I see.”

They went back to the lesson as normal, talking and discussing possible moves and tools that could be utilized with his quirk. Still, Y/N ran through his mind over and over. At this point, he felt like he was actually going insane. Why couldn’t he focus on something else for once? Had this girl completely consumed his mind? He just couldn’t shake the thought of her and how she looked at him. Did people normally feel this way for their best friends? He had no idea, he’d never had one to know for sure.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about how he felt. He wasn’t really big on talking about his feelings.

The clock ticked away quickly, and by the time he was focused on the lesson at hand, it was already over. Aizawa had to go home to feed his cat dinner, and the sun was just going down for the night. He gathered his things and started out the door, leaving his sensei behind.

“She’s cute.Your ‘not girlfriend’, that is. She’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s kinda perfect.”

The older man only sighed, nodding to agree with the boy. “For you.”

“No, she’s just my friend.”

“Fine. She’s the perfect friend for you.” He waved his hands, motioning the boy to leave him the hell alone and go to the library. “Get going, your friend is waiting.”

Needless to say, that was one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life.

_____________________________________________

The dorms had been around for a couple months now, that meant that classes lived together and saw each other much more often than they used to. Shinsou had to admit, he wasn’t upset about the change. He couldn’t decide what he liked better, waking up to see Y/N in the dining room in her pajamas and hair untamed, stuffing her face with sugary cereal, or her visiting his room late at night after curfew to watch movies and stare out the window looking for constellations.

God, seeing her every day, even on the weekends... It made him feel like this was worth it. It had been months and he hadn’t tired of her. Normally, he couldn’t stand the same annoying friends after a period of time.

He was nearly asleep when a soft knock sounded on his door, echoing softly in the dorm. Lazily, he picked up a pen from his side table and tossed it to the door with a quiet thud, signalling for the only person it could be to come in. No one visited him in his dorm, no one except her.

The door creaked open, followed by a girl slipping through the crack. A click meant the door had closed, and he let out a breath of relief. She was here again to give him company, something he desperately needed..

When she was with him, he felt so different. He felt special, like there was hope for him. He relished in the feeling, entranced by her presence alone.

"Hey," he breathed, rolling over in his bed to face her. She flopped down on the other side of the bed, face first into the pillows. “What’s up?”

“Lonely and missing you,” she told him. Again, his heart jumped at her words. She missed him. She always told him she missed him, when they were allowed to go home, when they had classes at different times, when she went out with her friend, on long weekends away from the dorms. She always missed him. He was almost sure she was exaggerating. How could she miss him that much? He wasn’t very exciting, just a friend. The only other person she often missed was her brother, who stayed across the yard of dorms.

“Well, what do you wanna do? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“Honestly, I just want to talk. I have so many things on my mind.” She paused, rolling over on the bed to face him, face sinking into his pillow. Her eyes held so much fear he thought she must be drowning in it. He had no idea what to expect when she came in that night. She hadn’t texted him or said anything earlier in the day during their classes.

He wanted to reach out to her and hug her, make her feel some compassion instead, but he thought that was too intimate. If there was one thing he was afraid of, it would be making her uncomfortable. Part of the reason he loved her company was that she seemed completely at ease in his presence and he in hers.

“It’s about this war,” she whispered.

“What’s worrying you?”

She shut her eyes, not wanting to look him in the eyes directly. Images of her friends and family lay dead in her mind, and she had to take a deep breath to calm down. “All I can think about is how many people we are going to lose. My brother is one of the strongest students here; no doubt he’s going to get dragged into this fight. Hell, he already has.”

Shinsou nodded, lost in a bit of his own thoughts. Everyone knew how dangerous the league was, how horrible the casualties would be. He tried not to think about it, but how can you not when everyone talks about it? When your teachers are preparing to die and leave you behind? “I know what you mean. Aizawa-sensei is in the same position.”

“It just scares me so much,” Y/N whispered, pressing her face deeper into the pillow, trying to find an ounce of comfort in the softness and the scent. Nothing was helping at this point. “What do I do if I lose Katsuki? What happens if they kill Hawks or Endeavour? What do we do then? Society can’t just expect kids to sacrifice their lives.”

“You just have trust in the ones stronger than you. I know it’s hard, hell, I just want to go out and fight alongside them,” he confessed. “But, I can’t, and you can’t.”

“I just hate it. I feel so fucking worthless, Shinsou,” she cursed, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, soaking into the pillowcase tear after tear. “All Katsuki has ever done for me is protect me, fight for me; all my life he’s been this way. I hate that I’m not strong enough to help him now when he needs it the most. I'm so worthless.” her words began to shake, and toward the end, she choked down a sob. He watched the whites of her eyes fill with red, irritated from the tears and her squeezing her eyes shut to keep them in.

He lifted his arm, tucking the other under his pillow. Instinctively, she moved forward, pressing her forehead to his chest and curling her arms up in front of her to rest between. He held her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head, buried in her knotted hair. Her cries ran through her entire body, and he held her tighter to his chest in an attempt to ease the tremors. It seemed his instinct to hug was right. She needed this.

Fuck, he needed the embrace too, just to feel someone alive against him.

“Y/N, you’re not worthless. You give your brother hope and motivation just by being with him. He loves you, and wants to live another day so he can see his sister again. You know that,” he said soothingly, although he felt a tickle at the back of his throat, pain lurking up. “Besides, what would I do without you? I need you.”

“No one needs me, Hitoshi. Nobody,” she sobbed. How could she believe that? Both of the boys had saved her life multiple times, yet she had done nothing for them. “I’m just a background character. I’m nothing.”

He tilted his head down, his lips just skimming her hair. “You’re the only friend I have. You’re the first person who made me realize I could be a hero, that I wasn’t just a villain. Do you think that’s nothing? ” he muttered, “To me, you’re the main character. You’re all I care about and the only person I ever want to be with.”

“Hitoshi, you fucking idiot,’ she cried. He felt her hands grab handfuls of his shirt, clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles must have turned white. “Why do you care so much about me?”

He lied.

“It’s because you’re my best friend.”

It’s because I’m falling in love with you.

“I never want to lose you, Hitoshi. Promise me, you won’t leave me, promise,” Y/N begged, practically demanding him to give her that little push of assurance. She needed someone’s words to keep her going, to know it was okay.

“I promise.”

It seemed like, when he was with her, he made more promise than he ever had in his life. Shinsou never believed in making promises because he never really intended on keeping them, so he avoided them. Yet, he wanted to make promises to her. He wanted her to trust him, and find comfort in his word.

In this world, you can’t predict when you’ll die or how long you’ll live, but as long as he could, he would stay with her.

He danced around their friendship. It always felt like he would make a mistake and reveal how he really felt about her. He loved their friendship, cherished it with all his heart. But that didn’t stop him from feeling something much more intense. He didn’t know for sure how he felt, only he was attached. Maybe he was falling for her. It could have been a crush.

All he knew was that those feelings were real.

She lifted her head from his chest, and he pulled back to look down at her. She was puffy in the eyes and her cheeks stained with tears. He lifted his hand, gently bringing his thumb to rub against her cheek, pushing away the salty tears. His hand stayed there, fingers sliding against her skin so softly, almost ghostly.

Goosebumps rose up on her arms at the subtle touch, and her heart beat faster. His hand stopped moving to rest on the side of her face, fingers tucked back by her neck. He was so warm, and she leant into him. Her eyes met his dark violet ones ridden with deep bags from lack of sleep. Still, he was handsome, so perfect in her eyes. His face moved closer to hers, and her eyes flickered down to his lips. Her eyes shut, moving ever so slowly closer to him.

A loud chime rang out from her back pocket. Startled, she jumped away from him, her hand flying to her pocket to grab her phone and shut it up. It was probably just a spam call anyway.

Katsuki.

She sighed, sitting up on the mattress and swinging her legs over the edge. She turned back to the boy, but was unable to make eye contact. He laid there with his forearm resting over his eyes, not looking at her either. “Shinsou...I-I’m sorry but I have to take this. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, okay?”

“Yeah, no problem. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you,” she said quietly as she walked out the door, answering the phone as she did so.

Once the door was closed, he let out a load groan, turning on his side and curling up around one of his pillows. What the fuck was that? Were they about to kiss or was that just his imagination? Why did Bakugo have to call at that very moment? He couldn’t have waited, like, another 10 seconds?

He felt so good, having her pressed against him, to hear her telling him she needs him, to hold her face in his hands. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he was sure of it now. Even while she cried, she still looked perfect to him, like an angel came to Earth just for him. Maybe she was an angel after all. No other girl as wonderful as her would take interest in him. She was here to save him, bring him hope and love and make him feel something while he was alive for however long. He always longed to feel anything other than guilt and anger and sadness.

And his angel had brought that to him.

_________________________________

Y/N had gone out to the corner store for some snacks that afternoon instead of training, so he proceeded to sit and study. His quirk wasn’t really the best to practice alone, for obvious reasons. In the courtyard outside, he sat with his heavy books, math problems flashing in his mind.

He was smart, so this kind of thing was never an issue for him. For Y/N, though, they had to work on that. She despised mathematics with a passion to the point where he would have to bribe her just to get her to do her homework. It was sad, but quite humorous for Shinsou.

“Yo, loser.”

He lifted his head at the voice, his eyes trailing up to see Bakugo, slouched over in his messy uniform. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually, you can.”

Shinsou prayed that there would be no violence here. But with how her brother was, it could go crazy really fast. It wasn't that he was afraid of Bakugo at all, in fact, Shinsou knew with his quirk he would win a fight. It would just make Y/N upset.

He set down his pencil and moved over on the bench to make room for the blond, who hunkered down beside him. He didn’t take his hands out of his pockets, and didn’t move to make eye contact.

"Well what do you want?"

He shifted, practically itching to walk away. Still he persisted. "Y/N talks about you so fucking much, you know," he finally grumbled. "Shinsou this. Shinsou that. Seriously it's annoying "

Part of the purple haired boy was flattered and frankly excited. She talked about him to her family? He was sure it was all good things of course, but to know that he occupied her mind when he wasn't around? It was amazing.

To be honest, he thought about her more than you normally would with just a friend. Her smile, her laugh, her voice. All of it just ran through his mind all hours of the day.

"Ah, okay."

"Listen, I'm definitely not here to be your friend, fuck that. You're a creepy ass dude." As usual, rude as hell with no filter whatsoever. Typical. "It's just that I feel like I should...ugh, thank you."

"Huh, never thought I'd hear that come from you, Bakugo," Shinsou replied with a smirk.

"Shut it." He paused, leaning back to stare up at the sky. "Y/N hasn't ever really had a friend, not one that was good to her at least. You're the first person to really bring her out of her shell. She's a hard-core introvert, I guess."

"Don't thank me. I'm not doing anything I don't want to."

"I know. It’s just that when I convinced her to come to U.A., she thought she would be all alone, you know, bullied and shit like before. I'm just glad someone's been there for her."

"I really can't see why people would bully her. She's kind and beautiful and smart."

"Yeah, right, I know. People just like to pick on little girls." Bakugo sighed, clenching using fists in his pockets. "I've just gotten so busy recently with everything, I haven't had the time to be her brother. You've watched out for her instead."

"She doesn't even need someone to watch out for her. She's not a baby, she's strong enough to handle herself now," Shinsou replied. "We all have our moment of weakness."

"Y/N told mom about how you got rid of that thug the day I was sick. Can't believe it," he muttered. "Nothing happened, but I swear if you weren't there and something did, I would’ve kicked some major ass. So thanks for that too."

"Like I said, you shouldn't thank me. It's just the right thing to do."

"Yeah, but you aren't just doing it out of the kindness of your heart, Y/N isn't a damn charity.” His face lightened for a moment, the scowl softening into a grimace. "You love her, any dumbass can tell. I'm not sure if she feels the same way, but, shit…I’ve just never seen her happier than when she’s hanging out with you."

Shinsou said nothing. What was there to say? Bakugo was right. He did love her. Maybe for a while he thought it was just a crush, but it wasn't. Sure, if that criminal were harassing anyone else, he would do the same thing for them. Only, he wasn't sure he would turn around from his walk home to make sure they were safe. He wouldn't let just anyone come into his room at any hour of the night for hugs and cuddles, or a shoulder to cry on. That just wasn't him.

So he felt comfortable being confronted with the fact. Because it was real. He really loved her, and he would never deny it.

"I've got a bad feeling, loser. A really bad feeling something is gonna happen to me. You have to be there for Y/N when it does. Swear to me," Bakugo commanded, turning to stare the other boy in the eyes. They weren't friends, it was true. In fact, Shinsou didn't like the guy one bit. But he could feel the pain and hopelessness in his voice, guilt that he might not be there anymore.

And so, he felt himself making another promise for her.

He nodded. "Yeah, I swear. I'd never let anything happen to her."

"Good. Glad to know there's somebody else out here in this shitty world that loves her."

"Me, too."

Part Three is up as well so check that out.

Taglist: @vicisbookishblog @annepamgkrth @smellslikenonsense

#bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou oneshot #shinsou hitoshi #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia #mha imagine #shinsou imagine #bnha imagine #shinsou hitoshi x you #x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #reader insert #mha oneshot

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Forty

Ready it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...because the world is ending.

Emma took a deep breath before gently pushing open the door of her father’s study.

Adrien was lounging on the couch, reading over his lines for the production of Our Town he would be starring in as George Gibbs the following month. His mouth moved silently with the words on the page.

He hadn’t seen her yet, and Emma was sorely tempted to chicken out…except…she was at her wit’s end, and she needed her dad.

With conviction, she lifted her hand and knocked.

Adrien looked up and smiled warmly at his daughter, making her feel like maybe things would be okay after all. “Hey, Emmie. What’s up?”

She stepped into the room and blew out a breath as she closed the door.

Adrien frowned. “Something wrong, Honey?”

She nodded as she crossed the room.

He stood, dropping the script and meeting her halfway. “Hey. What is it?”

One hand rested supportively on her shoulder while the other cupped her face, tipping it up so that her peridot eyes met his.

Emma Agreste-Dupain-Cheng was normally tough as granite, but, in that moment, she crumbled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re going to be really mad at me, but I’m seriously freaking out, and I need your help, Daddy.”

“Emma, what’s wrong?” Adrien pleaded, beginning to panic as he wiped away his daughter’s tears.

“I think I’m pregnant!” she squeaked.

He blinked dumbly as her words took a minute to process. When they finally did, the anger, outrage, and disappointment overwhelmed him.

“You what?!” he demanded irately. “Emma Sabine Gabrielle Agreste-Dupain-Cheng, what was the point of us buying you condoms and making sure you had birth control?! How could this happen?! How could you be so…”

Adrien froze as he heard his father’s voice coming out of his mouth.

He took a deep breath and finished without heat, “…irresponsible?”

He looked at his daughter trembling before him, and his heart broke.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. “Emma, I’m sorry. A lecture is the last thing you need right now. I love you so much, and I am one hundred percent on your side, okay?”

He pulled back to look her in the eye and cup her cheek once more. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. Everything’s going to be fine, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m really scared, Dad,” Emma whimpered.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Adrien shushed comfortingly. “It’s okay to be scared, but you don’t have to be because everything is going to be fine. I’m your father, and I’m going to make it fine, okay?”

Hesitantly, Emma nodded. “O-kay.”

“Here. Come sit down,” he cooed as he gently guided her over to the couch to sit beside him, his arm around her protectively. “Okay. Let’s…Let’s go about this rationally. You said you think you’re pregnant. You don’t know for sure?”

She shook her head.

“Okay.” He nodded, trying to keep his own whirling emotions at bay so that he could be there for his daughter. “Okay. So…why do you think you’re pregnant? Did you miss a period?”

She nodded. “I’m not super regular, so it could be nothing, but…” She shook her head again, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

“But you’re on birth control, right? And you and Michel use condoms?” Adrien verified, trying to cover all their bases.

Emma winced. “Maman told me that the pills only work reliably if you use them one hundred percent right, and I…don’t,” she admitted shamefacedly, averting her gaze. “I forget sometimes. It’s hard to remember to take the pills regularly, so…”

Adrien exhaled slowly, trying to keep from snapping at her about how on earth something that important could be hard to remember. “But you two use condoms, right?” he repeated.

Emma shrank. “I mean…yeah, most of the time.”

“Emma,” Adrien groaned, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be supportive and nonjudgmental.

“Come on, Dad,” Emma sighed. “You’re a guy. You know what it’s like. Sometimes you just get caught up in the moment.”

“No, Emma,” Adrien replied firmly. “I don’t know what it’s like because I love your mother too much to put her at risk like that.”

He realized he probably wasn’t being fair to Emma and Michel because he couldn’t understand the experience of people who weren’t asexual, but he figured it was probably better from a parental standpoint to impress upon his daughter how important it was to use protection until she was ready to start a family.

“Michel loves me,” Emma countered defensively.

“I know he does,” Adrien begrudgingly admitted.

He’d watched his best friend’s son fall silly in love with his daughter, and he knew Michel meant no harm. He was just a dumb teenager who’d made a mistake. Adrien himself had made equally dumb, albeit very different, mistakes when he was young.

“…Let’s just focus on the problem at hand,” Adrien gently got the conversation back on track. “We can worry about having the safe sex talk with you again after we make sure you’re not pregnant.”

“What happened to being on my side?” Emma sulked.

“I am on your side,” Adrien stressed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Sometimes, part of being on someone’s side is lovingly telling them that they’ve screwed up. Plenty of people have had to do that for me. Emma, you’re old enough to make your own decisions about having sex, but you need to be more careful. What you’re feeling right now, all the fear and uncertainty, I don’t want that for you.”

He gave her hair an affectionate tussle. “Having a kid affects every aspect of a parent’s life, and I have a feeling that you want to do a lot of things before you take the plunge into parenthood, so…let’s just get through this, and then we can figure out a way for you to remember to take your pills and use condoms every time. Okay?”

Emma looked away and grumbled a begrudging, “Okay” in response.

“Okay,” Adrien repeated with a sigh, trying to collect his thoughts.

“…So…what do we do now?” Emma looked expectantly up at her father.

“Tell your mother,” he answered immediately.

Emma shot up out of her seat and waved her hands in protest. “No, no, no, no! No! You can’t tell Maman. She’ll totally flip on me.”

“Emma, I think we need backup on this one,” Adrien tried to persuade her. “I’ll tell her. I’ll make sure she calms down before you have to deal with her, I promise.”

“Daddy, no,” Emma whined. “Please don’t tell her.”

“Emmie, I don’t keep secrets from my wife,” Adrien explained firmly. “Trust me. I learned my lesson years and years ago, and I’m not—”

“—I don’t want to give her more evidence of what a screwup I am,” Emma blurted out, a fresh wave of tears flowing down her cheeks.

Adrien stared at his daughter in surprise, his chest starting to ache as her words struck a chord with him.

He got to his feet and pulled her into a tight hug. “Emma, you’re not a screwup. Not by any means. You’re an amazing, bright, talented young woman, and I am so, so proud of you. Everyone makes mistakes, but your mistakes don’t say anything about who you are as a person,” he assured her, repeating the words Marinette had told him many times over the years.

Emma sank into his embrace, squeezing him back. “Still. Please don’t tell her. I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”

Adrien pulled back to give her forehead a kiss. “Okay. Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal: I’ll go get you a pregnancy test. If it comes back negative, this stays between you and me and you make sure we never have to do this again. If it comes back positive, I’ll tell your mother. Okay?”

Emma nodded, reluctantly agreeing. “Okay.”

“Adrien,” Marinette greeted as she caught him coming down the stairs. “I was just coming up to get you. I want to rearrange the living room, and I need your help moving the furniture.”

Adrien immediately broke out in a cold sweat, fearing that she could sense the duplicity coming off of him in waves.

He smiled, or, at least, he tried to smile. It came out as more of a cringe. “Oh. Hey, My Ladylove. Can it maybe wait an hour? If not, could you ask one of the boys? I need to run to the store.”

Marinette’s cheerful expression morphed into a subtle frown. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope,” Adrien replied too quickly, and it came out sounding forced. “Everything’s great. Why would you think something was wrong?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did you break one of my flowerpots?”

“No.” He attempted an innocent smile but didn’t have any more luck than he’d had the previous time.

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Adrien Agreste-Dupain-Cheng, what are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing,” he insisted.

“Did Plagg cough up another one of those nasty green sludge balls on the carpet?” she guessed.

“Marinette, My Love, I’m just going to the store. Nothing untoward is happening,” he lied through his teeth.

She wasn’t buying it.

“Fine,” he relented. “I’m going to the store to buy pure, unadulterated garbage because I have a sweet tooth, and I’m really craving those pre-packaged snack cakes.”

Marinette looked at her husband in disgust. “Adrien, just run by the bakery and get something decent, if you want sugar. Don’t you dare bring snack cakes into this house.”

“No, Marinette.” He dug his heels in. “I want to eat rubbish, so I’m going to buy rubbish, and you can’t stop me.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No need to get all dramatic on me. Just know that I’m judging you. Harshly.”

He shrugged, circling around her so that he could make a break for it. “I’m sure our marriage will survive. Our love has been tested by greater obstacles.”

“Mmhm. Hey, pick me up a pack of those awful chocolate-dipped madeleines while you’re at it,” she called after him.

“Will do!” he tossed over his shoulder as he fled.

He returned twenty minutes later with the pregnancy tests hidden in the bottom of a brown paper pharmacy bag with some low-quality, pre-packaged snack cakes sitting on top.

“In the kitchen!” Marinette called out when she heard the front door close behind him. “Bring me my trashy junk food and tell me if this new dress design is a total dumpster fire or not.”

Adrien smiled fondly when he found her bent over the island in the middle of the kitchen, doodling away on the back of a flyer for a new Chinese restaurant that had come in the mail. She had one pencil tucked behind her ear and another stashed in her bun while she jotted down ideas with a third.

Adrien went to her side to peek over her shoulder at the smart yet stylish business suit she had created. “Hmm. I think jade isn’t a good colour choice. You want to make a statement, right?”

Marinette nodded. “Mmhm. I want it to be bold and daring. I want the woman who wears it to feel empowered.”

“Then jade’s a little too…pastel. Maybe try forest or emerald green,” he suggested.

She turned to give his cheek a quick peck. “I knew there was a reason why I kept you around, even if you break my flowerpots and have a weakness for cheap snack cakes.”

Before he could realize what was happening, she took the bag from him and carefully poured the contents out on the counter.

Adrien sucked in a sharp breath as Marinette stared quizzically at the pregnancy tests and tipped her head to the side.

Her first thought was that her husband thought she might be pregnant. Her second thought was that Adrien wanted another baby now that their three children were well on their way to being grown. Her third thought turned her blood cold.

“Oh my God. I’m going to kill her,” she hissed, rounding on her husband.

“No, no, no!” Adrien protested, catching her by the shoulders. “Marinette, please. Listen to me.”

“No,” she snapped. “Adrien, you had no business trying to hide this from me. I am going to kill her,” she repeated. “How could she let this happen? She never thinks, and now—”

“—Marinette, she didn’t want to tell you because she was afraid you’d be disappointed and think she was a screwup,” Adrien broke in, making Marinette pause and look at him in confusion.

“She thinks you think she’s a screwup,” Adrien stressed, trying to make Marinette understand. “She really looks up to you, and what you think of her is really important. I know what that’s like, Marinette, and it feels really, really bad when people you respect are disappointed in you.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette sighed sympathetically, reaching up to cup his face in both hands, running her thumbs along his cheekbones.

“Please don’t make her feel bad about this,” he pleaded, and the deep, personal hurt in his entreating eyes made her want to cry. “Emma’s already beating herself up enough.”

Marinette leaned in, pressing a reassuring kiss to her husband’s lips. “Okay,” she relented. “All right. You’re right. She’s probably been freaking out for days…. Adrien, what are we going to do?” she groaned, burying her face in his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. “She’ll have to drop out of school, and people will say bad things about her and make her feel bad, and she won’t get to go to university and get a good job, and all her dreams will be ruined, and—”

“—Marinette, it’s going to be fine,” Adrien interrupted, pushing her back so that they could lock gazes. “Plenty of young mothers have very successful, fulfilling lives. If she even is pregnant, it’s not the end of the world. Nino and Alya aren’t likely to let Michel be a deadbeat dad, and we’re both here to support her. Maybe she’ll have to take a little time off school, but we can get her tutors so she doesn’t fall behind. We’re going to make this work, okay?” he coaxed encouragingly, starting to really believe the words himself.

She blew out a long breath and nodded. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. We’ll make this work.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. “Okay. I’ve kept Emma waiting long enough. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“No way,” Marinette snorted indignantly. “I’m coming up there with you. I’m her mother. I’m supposed to be there for her for this kind of thing.”

Adrien winced. “She made me promise not to tell you unless the test came back positive.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, drawing away and grabbing the pregnancy tests. “Please. Are you going to show her how to pee on the stick?”

Adrien blanched. “On second thought, go ahead. You are her mother after all.”

“Emma?” Adrien called out as they ascended the stairs.

“Here,” she responded, poking her head out of her room. Her face went from ashen to vermillion as she spotted Marinette. “You told her!” she accused, betrayal coating the words.

“He didn’t tell me,” Marinette explained, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “I grabbed the bag out of his hands and found the tests because I thought he was bringing home snacks.”

Emma’s gaze dropped to the flooring, and her shoulders scrunched up to her ears.

“Oh, Baby,” Marinette cooed, going to her daughter and pulling her into a bolstering hug. “It’s going to be okay, Sweetheart. We’re here for you, and we love you no matter what.”

Emma started crying again as she rested her head on top of her mother’s. “I’m s-sorry.”

“It’s okay, Emmie,” Marinette assured, all her irritation and anger leaving her in the face of her child’s suffering. “This kind of thing happens. It’s okay.”

Adrien came over and joined in the group hug, assuring, “No matter what, we’re going to get through this as a family.”

They stayed like that for a minute, each gathering courage from the other two. Then they broke away, and Marinette led Emma into the bathroom to go over the instructions with her.

Adrien was sitting on the floor in the hallway with his back up against the linen closet door when Marinette left Emma to take the test.

“How’s she doing?” Adrien inquired pessimistically.

Marinette blew out a sigh and sank to the floor next to him, shaking her head. “She’s freaking out.”

“She’s her mother’s daughter after all,” Adrien hummed half-heartedly. “Usually she takes more after me.”

“Normally I find that charming,” Marinette admitted, “but, today, I’m wishing she hadn’t inherited your recklessness.”

“Me too,” he snorted ruefully. “…So…how long does the test take?”

“Three minutes.” Marinette dropped her head to the side, onto his shoulder. “This is probably going to be the longest three minutes ever.”

“Yeah,” he agreed miserably. “…This is kind of the worst. I remember when we were trying to get pregnant and taking the test was the most exciting part of the month.”

Marinette snickered. “My favourite part was all the sex.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Allow me to respectfully disagree.”

“My poor ace baby,” Marinette teased.

“Actually, I think that’s some of the worst sex we’ve ever had.” Adrien turned his head to nuzzle her hair. “There was too much mental pressure, and it wasn’t even about making you feel good, just about getting you pregnant. I was super stressed out the whole time we were trying.”

“You didn’t say anything,” she chided.

He shrugged. “I wanted children. It was worth it in the end, and having Louis made it easier when we were trying with Hugo and Emma. I had a better idea of why I was doing what I was doing and putting myself through all that.”

“You still should have said something.” She gave his shoulder a light nip.

“Meh. I’m over it,” he replied as his eyes slipped closed and he let himself be comforted by her scent.

A minute and a half later, Emma poked her head out of the bathroom and smiled sheepishly at her parents. “False alarm.”

Marinette and Adrien heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness,” Adrien laughed giddily, getting to his feet and then helping Marinette up.

“Now we can be mad at you,” Marinette informed in a cheerful tone, grinning widely as she pulled her husband and daughter into another group hug.

“I think maybe this experience has been punishment enough,” Adrien interceded with his wife before looking sternly at his daughter. “You’ve learned your lesson about using protection, right?”

Emma nodded vehemently. “Absolutely. This will never happen again.”

“Good.” Adrien smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his daughter’s temple before turning to his wife. “Okay, Marinette?”

Marinette sighed and shrugged, letting it go. “Okay.”

“Hey.” He tugged gently on Marinette’s sleeve as they all pulled out of the hug.

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Wanna go call Nino and Alya and tell them what a crappy day we’re having?”

A diabolic grin dashed across her lips. “We should tell them about the pregnancy test and then wait until tomorrow morning to tell them the results.”

“Maman. Dad,” Emma whined, shooting her parents a glare. “No! I don’t want Michel to get in trouble. Besides, it’s not Auntie Alya and Uncle Nino’s business.”

“No,” Adrien argued, “I think a pregnancy scare is just what Michel needs to make him think twice next time about not using a condom.”

“Think of it as a valuable learning experience,” Marinette suggested. “You’ve been worrying about this for at least a couple days now, haven’t you? The least he can do is wait in suspense overnight in solidarity with you. Couples are supposed to go through these kinds of things together.”

“Ditto best friends,” Adrien added, nodding in agreement with his wife.

“Mmhm,” Marinette agreed. “I’ve sat through a couple pregnancy scares with Alya, and now it’s time for her to go through one with me.”

Emma eyed her parents skeptically. “Are you sure that Grandpa Gabriel is the evil one in the family? You two are kind of devious. Are you sure you were superheroes?”

“Positive,” Marinette assured. “Best friends give one another crap. It’s part of being best friends.”

Slowly, Emma began to nod. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything if I turned off my phone for the night. Michel couldn’t blame me for being too exhausted to check my messages after the ordeal I just went through.”

“That’s my girl,” Adrien chuckled, patting Emma on the back. “…We should go get ice cream to celebrate!”

“But you already brought home those gross sugar bomb snack cakes,” Marinette snickered.

Adrien stuck out his tongue in disgust. “I didn’t actually want those. Those were just a cover story.”

Marinette shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. “All right. I guess we can get ice cream, then. The boys will probably eat the snack cakes if you leave them sitting out. They weren’t raised in a bakery, so they don’t have such refined tastes.”

“Maman, I’ve seen you eat a whole sleeve of Oreos before,” Emma teased. “I don’t think you have any room to talk about refined tastes.”

Marinette pursed her lips in a pout. “I feel called out. Called out by my own daughter.”

“She does have a point, Princess,” Adrien snickered and got socked in the arm (lovingly) for his trouble.

#Adrinette #Adrienette #Marichat #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Emma Agreste #Pregnancy Scare #Kissing #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

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discotreque · 4 years ago

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Disco 3.09: Terra Firma (Part 1)

That scene of [spoiler] flat on the ground getting just systematically pummeled by [spoiler]—punch after punch after punch after punch—was a perfect metaphor for what the themes this season have been doing to me emotionally. It’s been a pleasant, if occasionally heart-wrenching, surprise to feel something about this show besides “whoa, cool CGI!” or bone-chilling dread—but hopefully Season 4 won’t feel quite so much like it’s being aired directly at me.

So I went zero for two on last week’s predictions in the first goddamn scene, lmao. Turns out the post-TNG combadge on Vor’s early-TNG uniform was just a VFX mixup in the trailer, since he’s seen with the correct oval-backed delta in the actual episode—so that’s neither a meaningful plot element nor a cute inside joke about historical accuracy over the centuries, shame. Still got to see Gersha Phillips’s take on a spandex front-zip, though—that piping! *chef’s kiss*

I also thought Georgiou’s condition was “obviously” something engineered by David Cronenberg’s character (subtitles say his name is Kovich). Apparently he didn’t cause what’s happening to her; he’s just here to explain it. Now if only he’d explain what the fuck is up with his tie...

Speaking of the unfortunate Lt. Cmdr. Yor—he was from the fucking Kelvin timeline??? I wasn’t sure they’d ever acknowledge that in prime canon—and I don’t think the mainline Trek universe has ever been called “the prime universe” diagetically until now, either. (“Why not The Mongooses? That’s a good team name! The Fighting Mongooses.”) I especially love what a small connection it is: one guy crossed over from there, a long time ago, in what was apparently a one-off incident. (He also arrived a year before Lower Decks S1 is set—will we see an animated Vor on the Cerritos next year?)

Tilly: *aggressively eats lunch with you*

You can see how the hope and idealism of Discovery’s crew has softened Admiral Vance—his conversation with Captain Saru was so mentorly and almost tender that it gave me the terrible, terrible feeling that his character growth, and especially his soft “See you when you get back,” mean that he’s definitely going to be killed by Ossyra before they actually get back :(

Likewise, Georgiou’s goodbye scene with Saru and Tilly was a transparent attempt to manipulate my emotions, and guess what? I was successfully manipulated 😭😭😭

As a “computer person” myself, I found Adira forgetting to un-pause their descrambling program—then thinking, since it wasn’t running, it had broken—almost painfully relatable 😩 Also in that scene, Stamets sticks up for Gray’s presumable intentions in (sorry for this...) ghosting Adira (...it was right there!), and Adira says, correctly, “but he doesn’t get to decide what’s good for me”—and speaking of painfully relatable moments, I loved Stamets’s reaction there.

When you’re an adult of a certain age and you’re talking to someone a fair bit younger, you’re sometimes confronted with the uncomfortable reality that wisdom rarely comes from quantity of experience alone. To grow wise, you have to experience things that teach you important lessons, and you have to be willing to learn from those things. That can happen at 16 or 46, and realizing it’s more about luck than time when you’re closer to 46 than 16 can give you a little existential vertigo. It’s a lovely grace note in Stamets and Adira’s relationship (and Anthony and Blu’s performances!) that Paul doesn’t always have the high ground when it comes to emotional intelligence.

SPEAKING OF PERFORMANCES, just drive a truck full of Emmy statues up to the Martin-Green household and dump it out on the lawn. Every one of Prime Michael’s pangs of hurt and confusion and desperate affection for Phillipa comes through loud and clear—and Mirror Michael is just unhinged. Sonequa Martin-Green is one of the greatest acting talents any Star Trek production has ever had, she’s clearly having the time of her life sinking her teeth into this role, and it’s a genuine fucking privilege to watch her work every week. I can’t decide whether I want Evil Michael Burnham to have a SUPERLATIVELY AWESOME death scene or show up again down the line as a recurring villain—but this is Star Trek, so you never know, we could easily get both.

David Ajada shows up to collect a paycheque, ask Saru if there’s room in the A-plot yet for Book (not this week, sadly), and walk around looking like the goddamn Wikipedia entry for "compulsory heterosexuality" in yet another long black sweater from H&M’s 2019 "Gender? I don’t know her" collection. (Face it: there’s no man more attractive than a fictional one written by a lesbian.)

I guessed last week (privately; no points) that the barren planet we saw them on in the trailers was going to have some kind of Guardian of Forever situation, but I didn’t expect Paul Guilfoyle to be there, and I did not expect Carl—who, sort of like how Book has a Star Wars vibe, feels right out of Doctor Who.

(The only other headline in Carl’s newspaper that I could make out, by the way, besides the big one about the emperor, was about the USS Jenolan having gone missing—the ship that crashed into the Dyson Sphere with Scotty in its transporter buffer, as seen in TNG’s “Relics.” Easter egg? Or plot point???)

Michelle Yeoh has been so great in so many ways on this show, but she outdoes herself in this episode, in every single scene. Just like Michael Burnham, Georgiou was conceived as a one-season character—she wasn’t designed to have room to grow—and Season 2 didn’t really do anything to write her out of that corner. Season 3, though, has done a really compelling job of giving her interesting things to do and interesting ways to change.

And sending her back to the motherfucking Mirror Universe is possibly the most interesting way to show just how much she has changed, holy shit. (I guess Carl didn’t read about the Interdimensional Displacement Restrictions in that newspaper of his.)

There are two legitimate reasons for sending characters to an AU with extremely out-of-character doppelgangers: to highlight something about our regulars through contrast, and/or to let the actors vamp. The MU arc in Season 1 was grim and almost entirely joyless, and didn’t really shine a light on anything in the prime universe—it was just a generic escalation of stakes for our heroes. The Klingon War was the frying pan, and the MU was the fire.

This time we actually learn things about these people: Georgiou, of course, but also that the “real” Captain Killy has a lot more of Prime Tilly’s trademark nervous disposition than Prime Tilly pretending to be Captain Killy. (Too bad Killy’s destined to get blown up by Klingons with the ISS Disco in the Prime Universe.) It was also a ton of fun to see Rhys and Owo as deadly rivals, Rekha Sharma as Evil(...er?) Landry again, and Bryce throwing knives in the mess hall—at, please correct me if I’m wrong, a brunette Hannah Cheeseman as an un-augmented Airiam?????

Also, I don’t know why they got Mirror Stamets of all people (inventor of the evil spore drive—not, as far as we know, also an evil slam poet) for that dramatic recital at the evil ribbon dance, except I know exactly why: he’s played by Anthony Rapp, who’s a goddamn treasure. And Georgiou changed the timeline here—Mirror Stamets was still alive to get phasered by Mirror Lorca in S1—but I hope we come back to the MU in Season 5 and Stamets is somehow, inexplicably, still around—only to get killed in a hilariously blasé way again, because—again—he genuinely sucks at like, the logistics of betraying people.

Finally, those adorable little DOT-7 drones... but make them eeeeeeeevil.

Next week: We must leave behind all of that which destroys us. A mood for 2021 if ever I’ve heard one. (Plus, Mirror Saru grabs a dude—either Mirror Culber or someone else in medical red—and bodyslams said dude into the ceiling, which... is also a mood for 2021, tbh.)

#star trek discovery #star trek discovery spoilers #disco spoilers #amy's episode notes #terra firma #michael burnham #sonequa martin green

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phoenixrisesoncemore · 4 years ago

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Your choice: 16, 39, or 46 for kiss prompt game. :)

39. “Kissing tears from the other’s face”

—————

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, what’s become of me?” Wei Wuxian whispers.

Sizhui has finished lining the small hole with a mat of gentian woven with such care that it might be mistaken for indigo* silk. He seems oddly at ease, moreso than could be attributed to the day-to-day experience of a junior cultivator of the Gusu Lan sect. Well, there’s no surprise—here’s a boy literally raised on death.

Wei Wuxian feels Lan WangJi glance his way and knows he must see the red creeping into his eyes. A single white rabbit is nearly completely still in the crook of his arm, regarding Wei Wuxian with caution. He has been back in Gusu for over six months but still they only tolerate him, a gangly and fickle demon with tempting carrots and half-hearted threats to snatch and gobble them up.

Nearby Lil Apple brays as Jingyi placates him with another fruit.

An odd surge of summer heat has made its way up even to the Cloud Recesses, burning holes in the enveloping mist, and the usually crisp and clarifying air seems somehow too heavy even to breath. Wei Wuxian is keenly aware: this is the most the climate of his new home has ever felt like his old one. A thick canopy of cooling pine boughs is their current refuge, but the escape from one set of unpleasant circumstances has plopped him square in the middle of another.

“Do you bury...all of them?” he asks, his eyes widening as he calculates the end result of 20 years of fecundity.

“Not all.” Sizhui looks up, smiles softly, and wipes shyly at a tear. “There’re far too many, Wei-qianbei.” From beside him he picks up the small mound of fur—white but for a patch of black on its face—and holds it close to his chest. “Bailuobo** was the first rabbit Hanguang-jun let me name.”

“Bailuobo!? You didn’t even like radishes!” He points an accusing finger at the boy. “I distinctly remember having to bargain with you to get you to eat them so you didn’t starve to death!”

Sizhui ducks his head and tries to repress a smile. “I think I scared her—I still wasn’t sure how to handle them—and that was the first word that came to mind when she...” his cheeks go a bit red. “She bit me...”

There is the most ominously pregnant pause before Wei Wuxian bursts out laughing.

As the loudest living thing in the Cloud Recesses, it’s often possible to pinpoint the location of one Wei Ying by sound alone, and Lan Qiren is unlikely to approve of an impromptu rabbit funeral if he were to discover it...

“Sorry, sorry, heh,” he waves off Jingyi’s growing look of offense as he struggles to quiet himself. “I just didn’t expect them to take so much after your Hanguang-jun.”

Jingyi is seconds away from demanding clarification when Sizhui moves quickly to intercept. “She was always protective of the smaller ones,” he says as he lays the body atop the gentian and gives the fur a gentle stroke. “I think that’s why she bit me. She didn’t know me or that I didn’t mean any harm.” He starts to scoop up a handful of displaced dirt to cover her when he seems to realize he has forgotten something. He quickly picks up a carrot and lays it in the grave beside her.

Every movement is intention and kindness, and as he watches it occurs to Wei Wuxian that he could not possibly be more proud. He hopes—secretly—that he’s in there as more than memory, that some bit of this might be attributed to him. Other rabbits hop closer to Sizhui as he fills the grave and pats the earth back into place over it. White, black, and mottled coats all, as Wei Wuxian’s vision starts to blur they look more like a game’s worth of yunzi scattered at the boy’s knees. If Lan Wangji is moonlight, pure and refined, then Lan Sizhui is sunshine—even here, even in Lan white, even at a funeral. Maybe we didn’t shoot down the sun, Wei Wuxian thinks and is relieved that tears of laughter are indistinguishable from other kinds.

“Yifu, I would like to stay here for a while,” Sizhui says, brushing another tear away. “I will finish my lessons tonight.”

The barest blush of tenderness and understanding crosses Lan Wangji’s face. “Sizhui may grieve for however long is necessary.”

With that he gracefully returns his rabbit to the grass where it joins the others, and he and Wei Wuxian head back towards the jingshi.

—————

They walk in silence for some time before Wei Wuxian pulls Chenqing from his sash and unleashes a sudden trill. Chenqing has been accompanying him more often of late. Sometimes he finds himself just holding it, but right now he needs to hear something, anything, so he settles into a stream of notes that wind and bend like a river.

There is a thing that lurks at the corner of his mind, disturbing the flow of his thought; it is something that he is certain he used to be able to avoid, leaving him forgetful and free. It was easy to do when he was younger, easy to laugh it off as he laughed at himself. The things you’ve missed. The things you could’ve had. You deserved better, didn’t you?

Didn’t you?

It had been so easy to ignore until, in desperation, he invited it inside to live for a time where a golden core had once revolved. When life came to find him again he thought death might have freed him of it for good. But that wasn’t true. Couldn’t be...naturally. And today, for whatever reason, it has punched its way into the world and taken the form of a white rabbit with a black splotch on its face.

The music falters and fades.

“It’s so unbecoming, Lan Zhan!” he sighs dramatically, dropping his arms limply at his sides. “Yiling Laozu: drowning in blood and corpses in one life, crying at rabbit funerals in the next!”

There is a beat before Lan Wangji replies. “Yiling Laozu is a terrifying and formidable enemy.”

Wei Wuxian stops, mouth open. Lan Wangji continues ahead a few steps before slowing and turning to look back. “Are you...being sarcastic? Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian marches forward to press one end of Chenqing against Lan Wangji’s chest. “Lan Zhan, does that count as lying?” A devilish glee enters his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

But Lan Wangji is pristine and unmoved. “I am not. Lying is forbidden in the—”

“—yes, yes, in the Cloud Recesses.”

The man is infuriating with his half-smile and perfect posture. “Are you even sweating under there?” Wei Wuxian asks. “I refuse to believe you aren’t—this is too unseasonable for your natural habitat,” and he’s already gotten one hand halfway inside Lan Wangji’s robes before the other grabs his wrist and growls, “Behave.”

There it is: a moment’s agitation to prove he can still get under Lan Zhan’s skin and an iron grip holding him steady and close. Very close. Close enough to say something real. “Have you buried any of them, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji looks him directly in the eye. The gaze is in no way quiet. It’s far longer and far more intense than Wei Wuxian expected, and he thinks he may even understand the unspoken words behind it.

“Some,” Lan Wangji says finally, with a gentleness belied by the strength of his hand. Then he releases Wei Wuxian’s wrist, turns, and keeps walking.

—————

As they leave the back hill the summer sun beats down even harder. Summer sun. Harvesting radishes. An old man who fermented fruits just for him. A kindly bent woman with a crepe face. A doctor with endless will and endless needles. The smell of lotus rib soup...

They’ve reached the jingshi. Lan Wangji has stopped to speak to a junior who is now bowing like a perfectly bent reed; Wei Wuxian can’t remember his name. He approaches the jingshi, mounts the steps to the entry hall, and turns to look back the way they came.

The sun is in his eyes at this angle, but instead of moving he simply closes them and lets himself feel the heat on his face.

Maybe he should go back to Lotus Pier for a while. They’d be picking lotus seed pods about now, wouldn’t they? Would Lan Zhan go with him? He never really got to show him around much, but then it’s not like they’re children any longer. What would he say to Jiang Cheng? Should he wait until he knows Jin Ling is there? Or would it be better if he weren’t? If only his Shijie could make a pot of soup for the two of them. Does the season of mourning ever end? Another tear starts to roll down his cheek.

Footsteps approach and he can feel a shadow climbing up him, past his hips, over his chest, and across his neck, until the whole of him seems bathed in cool air. He opens his eyes to see Lan Wangji a few inches away, eclipsing the sun.

Even to this day, infamy fading in the lee of Lianfang-zun, any other man might still assume death is a joke to Wei Wuxian.

But not this man.

This man bends forward, capturing that tear—treasuring it—in soft, cool lips, putting words, without speaking, to the currents that haunt Wei Ying—the ones that he can never see on his own—holding them, honoring them, and releasing them gently onto a mat of carefully woven gentian.

To pass through grief, to not just forget it, would be so hard alone.

In an instant Wei Wuxian releases the breath he’s been holding since life poured back into him, and the tears start flowing freely, but he smiles because he knows what Lan Wangji is about to say.

“Wei Ying may also grieve for however long is necessary.”

NOTES:

* Has Ancient Fantasy China had Han Blue/Purple yet?

** ”white radish”

Special thanks to @lurkingscientist for *so much* gracious help with this (is that cheating? Asking the person who prompted you for help? ^^) including a discussion of how animal/pet burial might work and the perfect name for Lan Sizhui’s rabbit. And also for being very patient as I wrote this!

Thanks also to user @besanii for this meta on what Lan Sizhui might have called Lan Wangji (other than just “Hanguang-jun”).

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sixmapleleafs · 5 years ago

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drunken confessions // frederik andersen

Summary: When you show up at Freddie’s door in the early hours of the morning, you end up letting something slip that you normally wouldn’t.

2:47 am. Freddie groaned at the clock on his oven as he made his way over to his couch, slouching down rather dramatically. The bright lights of the Toronto skyline never failed to take his breath away as he stared at them through the big windows of his apartment, ignoring the tv that was playing some random show. He never usually had trouble sleeping but for some reason he just wasn’t able to calm his mind tonight, eventually he had dragged himself out of bed to grab some water and decided that maybe watching something would tire him out enough that he would get some rest at some point tonight. However, he had been mistaken as his thoughts kept turning back to the 5’2 red head that had somehow managed to steal his heart even though she barely spoke when they first met. He had met her when his close friend and teammate Auston had started dating one of her roommates and best friends. Freddie never thought he could fall for someone like her but he did, and he fell hard.

She was not his usual type that’s for sure but in some way that was one of the things he found most attractive about her. She was shy, like really shy, at first he thought she didn’t like him but one night when him and some of the other maple leafs had headed over to her apartment in the suburbs, away from the fast paced lives that they led, the boys had asked her roommate if she didn’t like any of them, apparently they had also noticed how she never really spoke around them, leaving most of the talking to the three girls she shared an apartment with. Her roommate just laughed, knowing from experience that her minimal appearances whenever they were at the apartment, and the lack of words she had spoken to them was definitely not because she didn’t like them but simply because she was shy and had trouble opening up to and trusting new people. She explained to them how she would slowly get more comfortable around them and they should just give her some time to open up, she had also thrown in a few details about how this lack of social confidence came from the tough experience she had at school.

And sure enough as time passed she would make more appearances when the boys were over and she would sit with them whilst they drank and watched movies instead of making up some excuse about how she had to be up early or still had some lesson planning to do. Freddie learned that she was a Grade 4 teacher and he could tell from the way she spoke about it that she loved her job, they had only had a handful of proper conversations but the ones they did have were meaningful and he often learnt a lot about her and found himself opening up to her in ways he didn’t usually do. He knew from the second he realised he had feelings for her that she was not going to be just another girl he slept with, that if he was to ever make a move then it would last a while, possibly until death did they part. He had tried to convince himself that simply being her friend was good enough, but he couldn’t help the burning feeling of jealousy when he saw her with Willy or Mitch or even Morgan who she seemed to have much closer friendships with.

Her roommate had noticed how he would often glare at them when they got too close or made her laugh, and how he would always somehow end up sat next to her at movie nights or brunch. Of course she had told Auston who found it hilarious that the goalie had fallen for the quiet girl who seemed so far from his usual type, but when Freddie had told him to shut up and ignored him for a week, he realised that it was serious and so he started to invite Freddie to things without the rest of the boys and even “randomly” mentioned all the impressive things Freddie had achieved in his career, in an attempt to wow her into falling in love with him. Freddie groaned at the memory of Auston shamelessly telling her about how Freddie had set a new team record for wins by a goaltender in a season and how he had turned bright red when she had congratulated him and told him how amazing he was.

A small knock on his door brought him back to reality making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Who the hell was knocking on his door at 3 am?

To say you were drunk was an understatement, you couldn’t remember a time in your life when you had ever drank this much alcohol. You never usually drank so when you did, you would only need a few drinks before you were properly drunk, but tonight you had definitely had more than a few. Your friends had dragged you out to party, claiming that since you were on summer vacation you couldn’t use your usual excuse of it not being a good idea to try and teach thirty 9 year olds whilst hungover, so they were able to drag you into the city for a night of partying and you convinced yourself that it would be a good time to drink away the terrible feeling of liking someone who doesn’t like you back. You had promised yourself at the beginning of the night that no matter what you would forget all about Freddie but now here you were, at 3 am, the most drunk you had ever been and knocking on the door of the apartment you only been in a few times.

You saw the look of confusion on Freddie’s face turn to one of concern as he looked down on you from his staggering 6’4 height, simultaneously making you feel very small and vulnerable in your drunken state. You smiled innocently at him, clutching your shoes in one hand and your phone in the other. “Hi” was all you said still smiling as he looked at you confused as to what you were doing on his doorstep at 3 o’clock in the morning. He could tell you were drunk, and even though he was confused, part of him was glad that you were here with him now instead of with some random guy.

“Come in” he said moving aside so you could enter his apartment, and you did happily dropping your shoes by his front door and stumbling like a fool. You felt his hands on your waist steadying you and you were suddenly very aware of the short black dress you had borrowed from your roommate. “What happened, I didn’t think you were a party girl” he said making you laugh as you turned around to face him, although you hadn’t realised just how close he really was to you so you ended up with your face almost hitting his chest. You stepped back blinking a few times as you suddenly felt dizzy, you steadied yourself by gripping onto his arms, fangirling internally at how muscular they felt.

“My friends made me go” you said quietly looking up at him, “I lost them and I didn’t know where else to go.” That was a lie, you were literally standing in the same building as Auston Matthews’ apartment and you were only a few blocks away from Willy and Kappy’s place who were some of your closest friends now. The truth was, you just wanted to see Freddie. “Can I stay here? Until I’m not so drunk anymore?” You asked hiccuping gracefully, and he knew that there was no way he was going to let you out of this apartment until you were fully sober and he knew you would be able to get home safe.

“Of course, come on you need to sleep it off” he said turning around and trying to guide you to his bedroom, he can just sleep on the couch he thought to himself, but you weren’t having any of it.

“But I’m not tired” you said crossing your arms over your chest and pouting like a little child which brought a quick smile to Freddie’s face before he remembered that you really needed to sleep no matter how cute you were.

“Y/n” he sighed, “you need to sleep or you’re going to feel even worse tomorrow” you knew he was right deep down but that didn’t matter to you as you huffed out dramatically, you wanted to spend time with him, hell you really wanted to kiss him and do a lot more than that, not sleep. So you did what any self respecting drunk person would do, you sat down on the floor in protest. He chuckled loudly, it echoed through the apartment and the sound brought a smile to your lips. He shook his head as he reached down, slipping one arm under your knees and the other under your back before lifting you off the floor almost effortlessly causing you to squeal out in surprise. Not exactly the way you had imagined him carrying you into his bedroom but it was good enough for now. He dropped you down gently onto his massive bed causing you to frown at the loss of closeness between the two of you. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a simple black t-shirt before making his way back over to you.

“Do you think you can get changed by yourself?” He said calmly, you just shook your head with a cheeky grin on your face.

“I think I might need some help” you said wiggly your eyebrows suggestively with a giggle, Freddie rolled his eyes at your unexpected answer, not being able to keep the small smile from forming on his face.

“Sit up” he said motioning for you to pull yourself up, his hands quickly found the zipper of your dress pulling it down slowly and letting you slip your arms out of the sleeves, he grabbed the shirt from beside him and placed it over your head so you wouldn’t be completely exposed to him as he pulled the dress the rest of the way down. You kept your eyes on him the whole time, smiling at how he was taking care of you. Once you were clothed in just his shirt and your underwear he pulled the covers back from his bed and motioned for you to lie down, he pulled the covers over you tucking you in. As he went to leave, turning off the lamp that lit the room, your small voice made him turn back to you.

“Freddie” you said quietly, “can you stay with me...until I fall asleep?”

“Sure” he said causing you to grin widely as he sat down with his back against the headboard, you scooted closer to him resting your head up against his thigh and snuggling in as close as possible to him.

“You’re really nice Freddie” you said yawning, “that’s why I like you so much” Freddie smiled, reaching down to play with your hair as you slowly got more and more tired.

“I like you too y/n” he said honestly even though he know that wasn’t what you meant. You only saw him as a friend and nothing would change that. He was caught of guard by the dramatic huff that came from you as you said.

“No you don’t, not the way I like you. You just like me as a friend...” you sniffled slightly as the tears pricked your eyes as you got closer and closer to falling asleep. Freddie looked at you in shock, there’s no way you could mean what he thinks you mean, is there? Before he could reply, he heard soft snores coming from you as he looked down to see you were passed out. He smiled at how cute you looked and leant down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You have no idea how wrong you are...”

You groaned loudly as you opened your eyes, immediately being hit by the strong rays of sunlight. You snuggled deeper into the bed as the pounding headache started, you breathed in deeply but shot up faster than light when you realised this was not your bed. Once the dizziness had subsided you looked around the room which clearly belonged to a man but even though you had racked your brain for answers, you had no idea where you were. Oh my God, did I sleep with a complete stranger? The door to the bedroom swung open and the person that entered the room made your jaw drop. It was Freddie fucking Andersen. He smiled when he noticed you were awake and sat up in his bed.

“Morning” he said handing you a glass of water and some painkillers. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck” you said quietly as you took the painkillers, you were desperately trying remember how on earth you ended up in his bed in nothing but his shirt and your underwear, as if he could read your mind he said.

“I’m guessing you don’t remember much of last night?” You shook your head not daring to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t do anything embarrassing did I?” You asked silently praying he would say no, you had a terrible feeling in your gut that you had said something you weren’t sure he would’ve wanted to hear.

“No, just staged a protest on my kitchen floor about how you didn’t need to sleep and then when I finally got you into bed you made me stay with you until you fell asleep...” he said drifting off in thought at the end, he was debating whether or not to tell you that you had confessed your more than friendly feelings towards him the night before.

“It sounds like there’s more to that then you’re telling me” you said groaning as you flopped back onto the bed dramatically, you already knew where this was going. Freddie laughed as he sat down on the bed beside you pulling back the duvet you had used to hide your face so he was looking at you. He sent a small smile your way hoping that would calm your nerves a little but it was no use, you knew exactly what your drunken self must have confessed to him, alcohol had a tendency to make you very loose lipped.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous, you don’t know what I’m going to say” he said as he motioned for you to sit up so you were closer to him. You hesitantly sat up, the painkillers already working their magic with your headache.

“I think I do...and I um oh my god...I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come here and bothered you” you said stuttering like an idiot as you turned bright red under his stare. You stood up quickly, making you wobble slightly as you were still not even close to being recovered from the hangover, Freddie’s shirt was huge on your short frame but to Freddie it was the hottest and cutest thing he’d ever seen. He reached out, pulling you into him by your hips so there was almost no space between you two, the massive height difference between the two of you meant that you were looking directly into his eyes as he sat on the bed.

“Did you mean it? When you said you liked me more than a friend?” He asked quietly, his face turning a light shade of pink as he remembered what you had said. You nodded slowly looking down at your feet as you blushed much more obviously than him. His fingers found your chin lifting your head up to look at him. He just looked into your eyes, moving his hand to your cheek and stroking it gently with his thumb as you stared back at him searching his face for any sign that this was some sick joke him and the rest of the team were playing on you. You were half expecting them all to jump out of nowhere and laugh at you.

“It’s so embarrassing, I’m so sorry...” you said quietly looking down again, as usual your mind went straight to the negative, thinking that by liking him you had somehow insulted his entire existence. But instead of laughing at you or making fun of you he just pulled you closer by your waist and kept his hand gently on your cheek as he said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I’m just glad you let me know I wasn’t the only one” your head shot up impossibly fast at his words causing him to smile as you stared at him in disbelief.

“What?” You were confused why he wasn’t rejecting you, he was Freddie Andersen the Toronto Maple leafs saving grace and you, well, you were just you. Before you knew it he was guiding your head towards his and connecting your lips in a sweet kiss, it took you a second to recover from the shock but your eyes fell closed and you hands found their way to his hair as he pulled you even closer again, his hand moving to back of your head to deepen the kiss even further. You pulled away when you ran out of air, your cheeks red and a smile on your lips as Freddie looked back at you with the same smile.

“Um...I don’t know what to say” you said as you both smiled at each other like idiots.

“How about yes?” He said as you looked at him confused. He laughed a little before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want to go out some time and get dinner?” He said smiling even more. You just nodded your head quickly before he pulled you into another kiss.

#freddie andersen #nhlimagines #nhl #frederik andersen #maple leafs #toronto maple leafs

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