#Seeing rain and being reminded of his ex would be fun :)

[moongothic]

Ya know if dragon does have a storm based devil fruit, the fact that crocodile has a weakness to water and hates rain, takes on a whole new meaning

It really does, doesn't it

((Gonna go on a side tangent but. Personally I'm more on the Wind Logia-side, I feel like if Dragon could manipulate the weather it could make his fruit a bit overpowered and I personally wouldn't be particularly fond of that (not that there aren't OP DFs already, 'cause there are, but y'know) (like if he can create storms then wouldn't that just make him a second Enel) (I mean to be fair, Devil Fruits having Superior Versions of themselves is like a thing (Fire -> Magma etc) so like. Technically Electricity -> Storm could be a thing) Also there's like a part of me that feels like because Devil Fruits are weak to water (/the ocean), it'd be extremely odd if there was a DF that explicitly allowed someone to manipulate/create water, even if it was just rain. Like I feel like you shouldn't be able to do that?? Like it's against the rules?? Which is why I like the idea of that plain ass Wind Logia, sure he might be able to push storm clouds around (and sudden changes in the atmosphere could also manipulate the weather) but it'd be more about how he uses the Fruit and less about its inherent abilities?))

But back on the actual subject matter, it is good to remember that Crocodile got rid of Alabasta's rain not only because it'd make him borderline invincible, but also because creating a drought and pinning it on the King was how he manufactured the rebellion in Alabasta to begin with. Like he wouldn't have been able to even attempt to take over the country otherwise. So his feelings towards the rain during that arc may have come from a purely practical perspective

But boy howdy, I am not immune to some tasty drama, and what's more dramatic than some good ol' pouring rain. Surely something horrible has happened to this man at some point in his life in some shit weather, right. The Dragodile Divorce happening while it was pouring would be so tasty, so extra (especially if it went down the "Dragon attacked Crocodile because he couldn't recognize him" route), but alternatively, perhaps he got his ass kicked by Whitebeard in pouring rain. Maybe his crew betrayed him while it was raining. Just somekinda trauma needs to be attached to rain, you feel me?

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

[sunfleursgarden]

us against the world - lee juyeon

inspired by taylor swift’s champagne problems.

pairings: ex! juyeon x fem! reader

genre: angst! fluff (if you squint)

synopsis: After running away from his proposal, all Juyeon could ever think about was where it all went wrong. Showing up to your house with a heavy heart is something you weren’t ready for, but Juyeon is certain that he wants you in his life, you were simply hesitant.

warnings: angst! mentions of alcohol and blood, slight fluff (if you squint), few curse words are mentioned, somewhat forbidden love, juyeon calls you baby twice

word count: 2.7k words

note: OH MY GOD! this is my first ever publish on tumblr. i’ve been pondering a lot on whether to give this story a happy or sad ending, but hey, we’ll see... and by the way!! this is inspired by taylor swift’s champagne problems!! have fun reading !! (proofread once)

“Will you marry me?”

Splashing that tightly corked bottle of champagne, the high-spirited crowd gleamed in triumph, smiles plastered on their faces as they cheered the two of you on. His not-so-receptive relatives anticipated every minute whilst you were hesitant. You were unfathomable.

“I love you, Y/n. I’d like to spend the rest of my life loving and taking care of you.”

“Juyeon... What are you doing?” You mumbled. He was still down on one knee as he held a small velvet jewelry box. Juyeon gave you a sweet smile—a smile you know you didn't deserve.

“I'm sorry.” those were the last words you said. Juyeon’s eyebrows furrowed, confused about why you suddenly acted that way. You felt everyone’s gaze, your chest felt heavy. Staring at Juyeon, you gave him an apologetic look. He still couldn't process what was going on.

You had this forethought to run. The moment you ran, no one dared to move an inch. That moment screamed in silence. Running away from the person who desired to spend their life with you, you couldn’t prompt yourself to walk down that aisle carrying weight on your shoulders instead of flowers in your hands.

Guilt filled up your petrified heart. Absurd flashbacks start surrounding you, a champagne bottle in one hand, and a broken heart in the other. You’ve never been cognizant of how things developed into this. Perhaps you perceived that instances would change the second Juyeon’s once flexible plans became too vague and secretive for you to comprehend. You were always aware that you were preparing to get down on one knee, your friends even spoiled the surprise just for you, but you simply weren’t eager and ready for it. You and Juyeon were too different. The moment you dropped Juyeon's trembling hand as you two danced the night away, you knew you never deserved any of this.

As you ran whilst having blurry eyesight due to tears streaming down your face, it caused you to fall down the stairs and leave you bleeding on the floor. You could barely recall being put inside an ambulance and merely regained consciousness after hours of being inside the hospital. 

Juyeon was beside you the entire time. Yet you couldn’t stand that, knowing he's the reason why you broke down in the first place.

After you got discharged from the hospital, you never spoke to Juyeon again. You started to disregard his phone calls, block his texts, and ignore the constant knock on your door because you know damn well that it’s Juyeon.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve the life you're willing to offer.

But he’d rather be hurt by you over and over again than not having you at all.

Six months had gone by.

If there’s one thing that you’ve learned during your healing, it was that your feelings were like waves. At a certain point, you realize that you’ve fully moved on and the waves have subsided, albeit the next thing you know the waves become rogue, and you’re sobbing with your head in your hands, missing what no longer was.

It’s raining. The continuous pour of water droplets reminded you of your uncontrollable tears during the last six months. You had this thought creating space inside your brain for it to wander around, it kept on asking how he was. And as if the Gods have heard your mind’s calling, a knock was heard from the door.

Looking through the peek hole, it’s as if your heart stopped beating once you saw the person on the other side.

Lee Juyeon.

You swore that if this was a dream, you’d never sleep again if it meant reminiscing or recreating distant memories. Trying to pinch yourself, you cursed over and over again, knowing for a fact that this is certainly not one of those reveries.

It took everything in you to get your trembling hand towards the doorknob and open it to reveal a drenched and intoxicated Juyeon. He reeked of alcohol—which you could already tell considering him holding a bottle in his right hand. You hated the smell, you hated that his wet figure casually made the floor of your patio slippery, but most importantly—you hated having him here.

“Why are you here, Juyeon?” You asked, surprising yourself that you did not stutter. Juyeon’s eyes met yours and stayed there, he didn't even dare to move an inch.

‘No. Not those eyes. Don’t give me those eyes.’ you thought.

“Can we please talk?” You let out a sigh. If you had a dollar every time you heard those four words during the last six months, you could probably buy yourself a car.

“Stop it. Stop hurting yourself.”

“I’m not,” He responded, but his state right now tells you otherwise.

He’s been visiting you almost every week in spite of you ignoring him. He’s been texting you nonstop. He’s been showing up just when you thought that you've finally gotten over him.

It’s hard to let go of the person you love, but it’s even harder to hold onto something that can no longer render love. The only constant thing in the world is change, it’s inevitable. Who knew that along with the seasons, your feelings would change too?

Six months ago, you were still happy with Juyeon. Six months ago, you were still in this fairytale-like romance that never failed to sweep you off your feet. You never knew that things would indeed change for the worse.

That one night, that one forethought. It all turned into something bigger than you could possibly visualize. As he got down on one knee, thoughts and notions began to consume your fragile mind, drowning you in a sea of overthinking.

His parents never liked you. You would often feel his mother’s cold gaze towards you during gatherings, and his father can’t even look you in the eye. No matter how many times he tried to persuade them, you know for a fact that they despise you.

They weren’t even there when he proposed.

Who knew that it all took you a small velvet jewelry box to conclude that Juyeon was exceedingly out of your league?

You could tell that his parents were glad—no, relieved that you ended things with Juyeon. And you know for a fact that during the last six months, they’ve been setting their son up with hyper-privileged women with rich-ass companies. They were nothing compared to you and the life you have. This made your stance even stronger because ending it all was probably for the best.

“Stop making it harder than it already is, Juyeon.”

“Just talk to me. Please. Just this once.” Those disconcerting brown eyes staring into yours.

Finally giving in, you let him inside your house. Aware that his clothes were still dripping, you rushed to your closet and grabbed the sweater that he gave you, the sweatpants that he left, and a towel.

Mentally cursing at yourself for still keeping his things, you handed it all to him and pointed towards the bathroom without saying a word.

“Thank you,” He muttered.

He placed his bottle of alcohol down your coffee table and directed himself inside the bathroom. You simply watched his statuesque figure as he closed the door. You let out an exasperated sigh, wondering what may happen.

As he got out, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He looked good, but his aura screamed in agony and despair. You could tell how much he’s been through. He sat beside you, but he wasn’t too close. You cleared your throat and moved a bit further from him.

“Can we talk now?” He asked. His voice sounded desperate, the way he said it sounded more like a plea rather than a question.

“Go on. We can talk until the rain stops,” You responded, simply staring out the window as rain came pouring down.

"Where did it all go wrong?" You turned your head to face him.

“Nothing went wrong, Ju—”

“No. Something did. We were happy, Y/n. It was us against the world.” He cut you off.

“That's the thing, Juyeon,” You stood up from the couch, still facing him. “We were against the world. No one liked me, Juyeon. Not even your family. That’s when I realized that maybe I was the problem. Hell, that's when I fucking realized that maybe I was too selfish. A selfish bitch that cared only about her own happiness when in fact you were exceedingly out of my league. We wouldn’t live a happy marriage even if we wanted to.”

“And you’d really let them define us?” This time Juyeon was the one who stood up to face you.

“I didn’t want to, Juyeon. But they made it so fucking hard for me! I could barely comprehend my thoughts whenever I was around them. They made me feel as if I did not have a place for you in your life. They made me feel as if I’m some kind of phase for you!”

“Y/n, do you know how hard it is for me to hear you cry yourself to sleep every night when we were together?”

Without realizing it, tears started streaming down your face. “It hurts me so damn much. I never cared about what people had to say regarding our relationship. I just focused on our happiness.” He continued.

“I did too. But it was all too much for me. They suffocated me too much just so I could let go of you. It made me realize a lot of things—that you deserve gold yet I was penniless. That you deserve flowers, but I can’t plant them even if my life depended on it.” You told him using nonsense metaphors to claim your case.

“There are so many more women who deserve you,”

“I don’t care about them, Y/n! I just want you in my life.”

“They’re better than me.”

“If it’s not you, then I don’t want it.”

You didn’t reply.

“I wanted to run away with you, Y/n. Run away to the life we both want without anyone telling us how to live our life.” You were too silent for his own liking, but he continued to talk.

“That night when I proposed, I expected you to say yes because I thought that you’d rather spend your life with me than break things off just ‘cause other people wanted us to.”

“I bought tickets, Y/n. I bought plane tickets to Paris. I remember you telling me how much you wanted to go there. I already pictured us there, getting married and starting our new life without suffocating ourselves in people’s demands.”

Saying that you were shocked by his revelation is an understatement. You never realized that he could’ve thought all of it through. You thought that you only kept your pain to yourself, when in fact Juyeon already had the plans for both of you secured.

“Y-You really did?”

“I did,” he moved closer to you. “But instead of a flight with you to Paris, all I had was a night train home all alone.”

You started to visualize it. An audible sigh escaped Juyeon’s lips as the sound of the train tracks echoed across his head, booking the night train might’ve somehow helped his repudiating state. He must’ve sat there alone, nothing but hurt and misery filling up his bones.

“I didn't know that.” You closed your eyes, not bearing to look at him.

“That's when I got a call from your mother, saying that you got in an accident,” You finally got the courage to look him directly in the eye without a teardrop falling down your cheek. Albeit, Juyeon’s eyes started to become teary. You felt bad. You felt guilty.

“I fell. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had the urge to run away and I did.”

“I was with you during your recovery. Your convalescent body made me weak. It made me think that I should’ve done more to avoid your overthinking. I should’ve reassured you more.”

You vividly remember how your mother went on and on about Juyeon’s stay with you while you were still confined at the hospital. She kept on telling you how Juyeon would never leave the room even if your mother told him to. Juyeon would sleep whilst sitting on the unstable plastic chair near your bed just in case you woke up.

You started to regret pushing him away the moment you regained consciousness. His frown clearly displayed devastation, but you were too caught up in your own emotions to grasp the importance of having him beside you.

“I should’ve told you I love you no matter what other people say.” Juyeon cupped your cheeks, you looked at him as the two of you continuously shed tears. You placed your hands on him, caressing them. He wiped away your tears and gave you a warm smile.

That smile. That benign curve between the corners of his lips gets you every single time.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doubting us. I’m sorry for letting other people tell us otherwise.” You started apologizing nonstop. You could feel your eyes becoming puffy, and your cheeks becoming warm. You simply held Juyeon’s hands and looked at him, not leaving his gaze.

“Shh. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Your feelings are valid. You are always valid. You shouldn’t change your ways just because they tell you to. You should distance yourself from people who make you feel as if you don’t deserve to be here.” all you can do now is smile. Although tears are still forming in your eyes, you now feel safe.

“You’re not hard to understand, Y/n.” Those simple words were enough to make your heart melt. Despite confusion still lingering, you could care less now that you're within Juyeon’s embrace.

Juyeon wiped your tears, he looked at you with so much love. As if the last six months have been nothing but a burden to him. As you started to conceptualize the future, you came to conclude that you don't need to do that. You realize that with Juyeon, you shouldn’t ponder over anything or anyone and simply focus on each other.

“We'll make it through together, okay? I promise.”

He brought you to the couch to sit down. He then grabbed the alcohol bottle he brought with him the moment he came and simply threw it in the bin. Juyeon has your house memorized from ceiling to floor, and he can easily tell that nothing has changed. He went to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water and soon gave it to you as he sat down beside you.

Muttering a small “thank you”, you wiped your tears and smiled at him.

“Won't it be hard?” You asked, placing the glass down.

“What will?” He asked, fixing your hair as he tucked a strand behind your ear.

“Constantly trying to keep me reassured, me getting 'what ifs', and having a hard time coping up with everyone's say.”

Juyeon didn’t say anything yet, but he pulled you into an embrace. Playing with your hair, he started to talk, “Keeping you reassured isn’t a problem, you’re my responsibility. It’s my job to keep you assured. Just tell me all of your thoughts, alright? I’ll help you get through it.”

You released from the hug. Juyeon cupped your face and caressed it gently which made you melt in his touch.

“Can we take our time?” You asked. Juyeon gave you a reassuring nod and kissed you on the forehead.

“Always, baby.” the endearment made your heart flutter.

“Wanna order something?”Juyeon nodded, “You also need to get rid of your hangover.”

“Hey! I wasn’t drunk! I didn't even finish the bottle.” Juyeon protested which caused you to giggle. You missed this. You missed him a lot.

After ordering food, the both of you cuddled with your back facing his front as his arms held you close. It was all you ever wanted.

Perhaps it had to go like this. Perhaps the distance between the both of you for the last six months was all you two need in order to breathe and grow together. Perhaps you two were meant to break and fall back together again. Whatever it is, happiness is all you ever want.

And your happiness meant being with Juyeon regardless of the ridicule and hatred your relationship got from people surrounding the two of you.

“What if the rain stops now?” You joked, looking back at him.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me, baby. I’ll always be with you.”

[starrysvn]

married in vegas | choi san

pairing: choi san x gn!reader genre: exes2lovers synopsis: choi san had been your first true love and who you'd hoped would be your last. but things don't always work out. too bad your friends were his too, and jung wooyoung was hellbent on spending a long weekend birthday trip in las vegas. never mind your poor heart. warnings: drinking, swear words, a lil angst, dramatics, fluff, unedited word count: 5.2k author's note: fourth installment is here! hope you like this one, i recently rewatched that one episode of friends (iykyk) and just thought i'd put the final dialogue from it in here, kinda. ngl i feel like on the whole i could've done better but i hope you'll enjoy your read anyway! :3

series masterlist | regular masterlist

The breakup was amicable. You stayed friends and, sure, you didn’t hang out as much as you used to - for obvious reasons - and, yes, you did try to get out of any gathering that you knew he was going to be at. Still, you were civil. You could be in his presence.

And yet, all of that didn’t explain why the mere mention of him joining his best friend’s birthday trip to Las Vegas, had you circling around the room like a madman. 

“I hope you’re fucking joking” you whine through the phone, earning a sigh from Yeosang.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion” 

“Am I?”

After talking your best friend’s ear off for minutes on end, that sounded wrong to your own ears.

“How did you not realize? San is Wooyoung’s best friend, of course he’d be there!” he reasons, as if you need a reminder that you are being ridiculous. “Plus, he’s taking a huge leap of faith in inviting you both”

“Listen, it was months ago, he didn’t use the group chat to invite us, I didn’t put two and two together. I had a lot on my plate! And hey, we’re civil!” The silence that meets you is so loud. You sigh. “Sorry for the dramatics, it’s been a long day” 

After all, you are still recovering from having to dash home in a downpour. And having to stay after hours to have a long, unnecessary meeting with your head of department. Realizing your ex-boyfriend would also be joining your long weekend getaway was just the cherry on top.

“I’d say sorry for springing this up on you at the last minute, but then again, I could’ve just waited to see your face tomorrow” you hit him back with a real funny, Sang, smiling when you hear him snort. The line goes quiet for a second. “Do you want me to come over? We can head to the airport together in the morning” Yeosang says softly, a silent peace offering. 

“Are you kidding? Have you seen the weather?” you look out the window, the rain’s still unforgivingly pouring down. 

“Unlike you, I don’t refuse to drive in dire conditions” he pokes fun.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, Kang Yeosang” 

“I’ll be over in ten” you could basically see his amused grin. You let out a chuckle hanging up. Then you press a hand to your forehead, trying to soothe the headache starting to form.

Choi San is the boyfriend. The one you never thought would leave. The one parting from hurt like nothing you ever experienced. The one you eventually bounced back from, but did you really? Because it still feels as if he was a part of you, just as much as you are a part of him. And when he left, you had to re-learn how to go through life with a missing piece.

He’d been your best friend, the person you ran to for everything. Someone you loved so much that it scared you sometimes because you knew just how much it would kill you to lose him. 

Choi San is the one that got away and took a piece of you with him.

But what could you do, after months of healing and avoiding him, when your friends were his friends too? Declining invitations got old fast. The first time you saw him again, you thought you could handle his presence for the night. And you did but cried the whole way home. After that, no more. With time, it got better. Seeing him no longer left you with a sinking feeling. Of course, it isn’t like before, but it never could be, and you made your peace with that.

Still, after one year, you microdose on San, afraid of what could happen to your heart if you spent too much time close to him. It’s for your own sake, your peace of mind. That’s why, when it finally clicked into place that you’d be spending a whopping four days in his presence, you flipped. 

The doorbell pulls you from your thoughts, and a smiley Yeosang holding a bottle of wine greets you. You should have known better than to accept alcohol as a peace offering from your best friend. Most of all, you should know that it never really ends with just one bottle. Because now you are incredibly hungover, severely nauseous and totally late for your flight. 

“This is all your fault” you hiss as Yeosang asks the Uber driver to please hurry. Both your phones are annoyingly dinging with unread text messages, not helping your headache at all. 

“Excuse you?” he turns around, tone accusatory. “As far as I remember, you were the one who brought out the tequila” 

“Well, you didn’t stop me”

“You were crying!”

“Even worse!”

Your bickering is brought to an end by the screeching halt of the car in front of the airport. You ignore the severe wave of nausea it causes and get out, Yeosang right in tow. Incessant teasing and half-hearted blame tossing accompanies your run through the airport. 

With just five minutes to spare, Wooyoung’s screeching hyena laughter welcomes the two of you at the gate. Surely the matching sunglasses and coats thrown over your pyjamas are a sight to behold, you think as you hug your friends hello. 

“Birthday boy!” you pull Wooyoung into a big hug, giggling when he sways you both back and forth. 

“Thank you for coming” he already said that months ago, when he first proposed the idea, but right now - with San’s eyes on you - the sincerity in Wooyoung’s somehow shines brighter.

“Thank you for having me” you smile genuinely. The breakup put a strain on your group of friends for a little, and you wanted to make sure he knew how much you appreciated him wanting you here. He squeezes your hand, before moving to Yeosang. 

“We need to go, you’ll say hi in eleven hours when we land. Chop, chop!” Seonghwa rushes everyone to join the last few people in line. You let go of Mingi, laughing, hearing Yunho say something along the lines of they literally just started boarding, and follow the rest. You finish saying your hellos through boarding, finally facing San. 

As you always do when it comes to him, you push down whatever mixed feelings bubbled up in your chest and put on a smile. 

“Hi, San," you wave, so you're stunned when he just spares you a quick side hug, smiling curtly after greeting you.

Your friends had long stopped holding their breath whenever you two are in the same room, but this feels off. Like a splash of cold water, it sends you back to the first, awkward time you met up again. Nobody seems to notice though, apart from Yeosang. Unlike the rest of your friends, his gaze still lingers on you carefully. You subtly nod at him, like you always do. 

Sighing, you keep walking beside your best friend, not really able to shake the disappointment San’s cold greeting leaves you with. Despite your best efforts, you let it eat away at you during the flight, the car ride to the hotel and the moments you unpack. No amount of berating does it. Why would he behave like that? Is this all in your head?

It’s not like you two would usually have heart to hearts but you talked, at least. You were friendly. So you don’t get why suddenly San is being so distant. For Wooyoung’s sake, you promised yourself you’d do your best to ignore it all. Be the bigger person and not get involved with whatever bullshit had his panties in a twist. 

A whole day into the trip and you had to resist the urge to punch him in the face for behaving like an immature teenager multiple times. But you keep contact to a minimum. Complain to Yeosang in the comfort of your hotel room. Take several deep breaths. You aren’t good at this whole maintain-inner-peace thing.

“I just wish he would stop ignoring me” 

The view from the panoramic terrace of the hotel is breathtaking, but, margarita in hand and sunglasses on, you find yourself not fully appreciating it. Not when you are using your time away from the rest of the group to vent to your best friend. Again. 

“Ah, so you do care” the way Yeosang wiggles his eyebrows makes you want to wipe off that smirk on his face. 

“No, I don’t” he doesn’t look too convinced. “Seriously! He’s just making it hard to get along with him”

“Or is his distance making you think about stuff you don’t want to think about?” you hate how much your best friend knows you. You let out an exasperated sigh. 

The last thing you should be thinking about was your ex, but you can’t help it. He wouldn’t usually behave like that and, you had to admit, it threw you for a loop. Not to mention how you despise the way you still catch yourself thinking about him. It’s subconscious at this point and it's been hard to accept. Had he finally moved on? Were you the only one left running in circles inside your head?

No matter how much distance there is between the two of you, he’s still there, in a corner of your mind. Like a phantom pain, he follows you in the most mundane of things. The frozen aisle at the supermarket still reminds you of his favorite ice cream brand. When buying Christmas presents, your brain immediately goes to the one thing he’s been obsessing over. The reminders zap you like an electric shock, bringing you back to reality. San is a friend now - they say. Nothing more, nothing less. And so you’d berate your heart for acting like he wasn’t. You’d put down the tube of mint-choco ice cream with a sigh, and choose fucking socks as a present. 

“Promise we won’t change?” 

It was hard to make out the look on his face through the tears in your eyes. You never thought breaking up would hurt this bad, like giving up a piece of you. It felt like the end of the world. Of your world. One where you could no longer navigate life with San.

“You’ll always be my best friend” he murmured, lips against the skin of your neck. You felt the wetness on his face, too. “We’ll go back to how it was before”

But how could it? Now that you knew what it was like to be loved by him, and what a thing it was to love him. Against all hopes, that night, you hoped he was right. 

No amount of space was ever able to lessen the strain the break-up put on your already existing friendship. You keep it amicable, for everyone else’s sake, but it just isn’t like before. It could never be. You both broke that promise, one that perhaps you shouldn’t even have made.

You’ve long realized that it’s closure that you need. Because the two of you healed separately, but never really talked about it together. It’s a conversation you need to have if you intend on being around each other. What scares you the most, though, is the possibility of something happening. Or rather, of you letting it happen. You aren’t so sure about San. If you truly want to let go, you need to know.

The dings of your phones pulls you from your thoughts.

meet in the lobby in an hour-ish? we’re going out!

You share a look with Yeosang, knowing birthday celebrations are due tonight, and Wooyoung isn’t about to hold back. 

“Let’s go” your best friend offers an encouraging smile, walking back to the room with you. 

-

The second you go down to meet with your friends, you feel yourself stumble on your heels and almost wish to find a way out of this dinner party. Now, you aren’t a stranger to San’s beauty, you never were. But holy fuck, how you wished that he was still yours. If he were, you could saunter up to him and tell him just how breathtaking he looked with his unbuttoned white shirt and slicked-back hair. The knowledge hits you like a train and leaves you breathless.

You need a drink. 

And, boy, do you get one.

You don’t remember the last time you had this much fun. Wooyoung sure knows how to party. The dinner went quite smoothly - safely hidden between Yeosang and Mingi, you didn’t spare much attention to San, not that he spared you any - and soon after the birthday boy dragged you to a club.

“Sunshine!” Wooyoung appears out of nowhere, stealing you away from your impromptu dance battle against a buzzed Mingi. “Don’t you look stunning” he compliments, twirling you around, flirty as usual. You cackle, throwing your hands on his shoulders. 

“Thanks Woo, you look dashing” you wink back, dancing with him.

“You shouldn’t be saying that to me,” he laughs. The confusion in your eyes must be enough for him to elaborate. “I noticed you’ve been eyeing a certain someone… who happened to be eyeing back”

“Who?” you’re going to fight this. No way.

“Don’t play dumb now” his face gets closer until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “If looks could kill, I’d be dust right now. So would be Mingi” you gape at him, watching as he smiles amusedly.

“Wooyoung, we’re not going to talk about me and him during your birthday party”

“Oh, please! My birthday wish is for you two to get back together already!” homeboy is drunk. Your jaw hits the floor, and you smack his arm. He just laughs harder. 

“Wooyoung, what!? You can’t be serious” 

“Come on! You’re both incredibly oblivious about your feelings. It's getting sad” he groaned in frustration. “You’re still obviously hung up on each other and I can’t take it anymore, it’s excruciating! Take me out of this misery” 

“There’s a reason we called it quits, Woo” you deadpan, taking a step back from him.

“And it’s a stupid one,” he looks like he’s about to say more, but he can’t. 

“Alright enough” because Yunho, your saving grace, intervenes. “We’re going back to our booth” he shoots you an apologetic smile, half dragging the birthday boy away and back to the others. You don’t know how much of the conversation he caught, but judging by the good-natured scolding he’s doing, it was enough. You sigh, deciding it’s time for your well-deserved drink. As soon as you reach the bar, you claim the last free stool for yourself. 

Wooyoung’s words won’t leave you alone. They keep bouncing around in your head louder than the booming music. Was it really a stupid reason? But most of all, how drunk does he have to be to insinuate that San is still in love with you? That you are still in love with him?

You nod to the bartender when the drink lands in front of you. 

The night you broke up is a tangled up mess of emotions and memories you rarely ever allow to resurface. At first, it hurt too much, and then, just like everything else San, you tried to forget in order to move on. But if you think long enough, you still feel him slip away from you, the hollow in your chest when you woke up the morning after and his head wasn’t resting on the pillow beside yours. 

Lazily, you toy with the straw of your drink.

It was something about work and it keeping you apart that drove a wedge into your relationship. The nights when one of you would pass out waiting up for the other started to become the norm. The arguments that the lack of each other’s presence fired up outnumbered the sweet talks you used to have over dinner. 

Bitter words were spoken, and everything crashed and burned to its fateful end. The mutual decision to break it off before you broke the other seemed the best option. You never truly gave yourself time to think if you regretted it, afraid that bringing it up would only prevent you from letting San go. So, you foolishly swept it under the rug. 

And now, here you are, downing your drink in response to the wave of emotions Wooyoung’s words elicited in you. Trying to ignore how your skin crawls every time the man sitting beside you lays his eyes on you. Inching away every time he tries to talk to you. 

“We’re leaving” there is no mistaking his voice, but it feels so foreign. You turn around, facing him. His unreadable eyes send a chill down your spine. You lift a brow in question.

“You’re drunk,” San shrugs. ���I’m taking you back to the hotel” 

Who does he think he is? Looking down at you from his high horse of righteousness, worrying about you like he cared. You scoff. 

“‘M not and you most definitely aren’t” you turn around in your seat, facing away from him. 

“Are too, come on” San’s hand reaches for your arm, turning you back around and trying to safely get you off the stool. 

“And what’s it to you?” you finally snap, shrugging him off. “You haven’t spoken more than two words to me the whole trip, why do you care now?” 

Despite your resolution not to cry, or not to care, you feel tears stinging in your eyes. So much for not letting him phase you.

“Yeah, let go man” all hopes of getting out of this situation are ruined the second the guy sitting beside you speaks. You roll your eyes, bracing for what’s to come and cursing yourself for not leaving the bar after getting your drink. “Who are you to ruin their fun?” 

“I’m their boyfriend”

Of course. 

But you can’t deny that the way he says it - like he very much believes it - moves something inside you. 

San doesn't waste any time and doesn’t wait for a reply. His fingers wrap around your wrist delicately, making goosebumps cover your skin. His hold is familiar, warm and it makes you feel like crying. Too stunned to speak, you let him carry you through the stuffy club, not even bothering to apologize to the people you bumped into. 

It takes way longer than you’d like to get out of the club, and the lump in your throat is getting harder to ignore by the second. Suddenly, you don’t feel like blaming San all that much for ignoring you. 

Once the cold air of the night hits you, you free yourself from his firm grasp. San stops dead in his tracks, looking at you. You can’t do this right now. You worked so hard to keep things civil between you two, you can’t fight with him on Wooyoung’s day. Knowing that one more word from him would break you. You take a deep breath. 

“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Clearly, it didn’t work.

“And here I was, thinking I was going to get a thank you” 

You point a finger at his chest. “I can handle my own, San” and there it is, that look on his face that tells you he knows better. He knows you. And for a moment, you hate that he’s right. For a moment, you hate him for fucking with your head. “And you know perfectly well what I’m talking about” 

“Do I?” 

“What do you want me to tell you, San? You’ve been acting all distant and righteous these past couple of days, and then you pull this stunt?” This is most certainly a conversation you don’t want to have in the middle of the street, but oh well. “You could’ve just asked if I wanted a ride back to the hotel, there was no need for all that”

A gust of wind blows by, making you shiver. When San moves closer, all traces of his anger gone, you stand still, holding your breath. Dumbstruck, you follow his every movement. San peels his jacket off, only to drape it over your shoulders. Something he’s done a million times before. A melancholy so strong pulls at your heartstrings. You didn’t think he noticed. His touch lingers a second too long, eyes looking into yours as if asking if what he just did was alright. 

“Thanks” you mumble, watching him step back. The warmth melts your anger away as much as it messes with your head. You don’t like how the air shifts and becomes heavy with the weight of words left unsaid. 

But what would you even tell him? That, apparently, for how much you tried, you can't move on? That he lingers in your mind, in your heart, your apartment. That he’s still all over you, and you don’t know how to shrug him off – you aren’t even sure if you want to. 

“I miss you” the words leave your lips before you have a chance to stop them. You definitely shouldn’t have drunk tonight. San’s eyes are on you in a split second, but yours stay focused on the pavement. You can feel his gaze putting you on the spot, begging you to say more. You don’t.

“Me too” he speaks so quietly that his words almost get lost in the night. 

San waves a taxi over and helps you in. The whole ride back is quiet; you’re a second away from bursting into tears, having finally realized the extent of your feelings for San. Only cursing Wooyoung for being right keeps you in one piece until you reach the door to your room. 

You go to unlock it and turn around to give him his jacket back. Not being surrounded by his scent sends your heart to your feet. You can’t believe all the work you did not to feel like this anymore has gone to shit. 

“Thank you,” you say once more, before turning to step into your dark room so you can cry to your heart’s content and pretend none of this happened in the morning. 

San’s hand grips yours, stopping you in your tracks. When he whispers your name, you’re done for. One second you’re about to hide in your room and the other he’s turning you to him. You can see how he's looking for the words to say. You know that expression all too well, you recognize the furrow of his brow. Then e pulls you closer and the breath gets knocked out of your lungs. He’s closer than he’s ever been in a year and pressed as you are against his chest, you’re afraid he might hear the way your heart is furiously beating. 

His sorry eyes are scanning every inch of your face, or so you think, blinking back tears. Under his gaze, you’re burning. Because you want him to let you go and hold you closer at the same time. His hands on your hips are still delicate, you can break free at any time, but you’re not sure you want to. 

Your breath hitches when his forehead connects to yours, you can’t breathe, you can’t think-

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s like coming home. It tastes sweet like your drink and bitter like the whiskey on his tongue. You’re unsure if the saltiness is from your tears or his. It’s familiar and your gut tells you that it’s so right, so good that you push yourself closer, lose yourself in him. San’s hold on you is almost bruising, and he’s kissing you like you’re the only thing he’s ever known. Like he used to when he wanted to show you just how much he loved you-

You push away from him like you’ve been stunned. His confused eyes search your face, asking what’s wrong. You clear your voice, but no words leave your mouth. So, when he calls your name with a voice so fragile that it makes you shiver, it’s all you can do to bid him goodnight and finally lock yourself in your room. 

Your lips are still tingling, you still feel San’s mouth on yours. In the darkness, a sob wrecks you. You’re supposed to be over him. You spent so much time trying to be. Your heart shouldn’t be breaking this way; for the time you lost trying to forget him, for how all your efforts were in vain.

“Let me in” though muffled by the door, his voice makes you jump. “Please”

Another loud sob escapes you, and you curse yourself for not stepping away from the entrance. Of course, he’d stay. Of course, he’d hear. Well, you can’t run now, can you? 

When you open the door, San’s head shoots up. He goes to take a step but hesitates. You simply open the door wider, and he visibly relaxes. After letting him in, you close the door and turn on the lights. The silence is thick, and you almost can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry” he starts, catching your attention. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done a lot of things these past few days” despite your tears, you manage a scoff. 

“Why?” it’s all that leaves your lips, but you know he’s caught on. You’re met with silence. Disappointment spreads like wildfire in your heart. He doesn't even have an answer - you bitterly think.

“So you’ve got nothing to say for yourself?” you push, starting to feel the anger bubble up inside. “You know how hard I’ve tried to make this trip work for Wooyoung's sake? For all our friends' sake? So that they don’t have to walk on eggshells around us, or invite us out one at a time?”

“And I haven’t!?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, San!” you take a step closer. “We were doing alright, why’d you have to go and act like you have a stick up your ass whenever I’m around? Wooyoung’s your best friend, for crying out loud!”

“Don’t act all high and mighty! Have you ever considered, hell, even ever stopped to think-”

“Have I?” oh, if he only knew. “Have I? All I ever do is think, San! You’ve haunted all of my what-ifs ever since we broke up. So you can’t go ahead and pull shit like this when I’ve been trying my damn best” 

Your voice is thick with emotion and your throat feels tight. The deafening silence that meets you makes your ears ring. San visibly deflates and the way he speaks is in open contrast to how you just did. 

“Would you keep trying?” you don’t remember the last time you heard him sound so small. Still, his eyes are so full of determination. 

“Why would I?” you ask, defeated. It’s like a flip switches inside him. 

“Because I love you! I still love you” 

Time stops, and for a moment nothing exists but you and your racing heart. It’s going so fast you fear it might beat out of your chest, or that he might hear it. It’s so loud that it rings in your ears. A surprised gasp escapes your lips: you understood perfectly fine, you just can’t believe the words he just so desperately uttered. 

“I’ve been in love with you longer than I can remember. I loved you when I thought I’d never get to tell you again. I loved you when loving you quietly and at a distance was all I could do, but it was alright as long as I got to love you”

“San…”

“I’m sorry for earlier. I’m sorry for these last couple of days. There’s no excuse, but I just…” he sighs, closing his eyes. You go to take another step, but all determination to do so dies when you see him produce a little velvet box from his pocket. Your breath hitches and a sigh of his name leaves you. “All I could think about leading up to this trip was our first anniversary. You remember how we joked about eloping in Las Vegas?”

It seems your tears won’t stop flowing. You can’t believe he remembers. It was such a small thing, it takes you a second to connect the dots. It was a comment thrown around, something you said to make him laugh. Though you remember thinking that if he’d asked, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. 

“I’ve had this since then” hope sparks in your heart, though you’re not really sure you’re even breathing right now. 

“San-”

“Don’t. I know this is so incredibly stupid, I don’t even know why I brought this with me-”

“Ask me” finally, finally he looks up at you and there’s no doubt in your mind. You still love him, you always have. You always will. 

“What?”

“Choi San, ask me or I will” he’s blanking, frozen in his spot. So, you get down on one knee. His eyes widen and you hear sounds of protest. Suddenly it’s a race on who’s speaking first, both on your knees, face to face. You’re giggling like idiots, tears in your eyes. 

“I thought that I could manage life without you” he starts, and you let him intertwine your fingers. “I thought we could go back to being happy without being in love. That we’d be better at a distance, but I was so wrong. The only thing that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be, and if you let me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. Fighting to make us work. I already made the mistake of giving you away once, I'll never make it again"

"Will you marry me?”

You waste no time in kissing him, big smiles barely making it a kiss, but you don’t care. You don’t care because San just asked you to marry him. Because he’s lifting you up and spinning you around and kissing you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And for the first time in a while, you’re happy. So happy you could burst, laughing like you haven’t since you let him go. 

“Do you think we should go get married?” he asks, swaying you around in his arms. You stare up at him, snorting. 

“Maybe let’s wait till tomorrow, when our friends aren’t drunk off their faces, you know?” he chuckles, looking at you like you’re the only thing that could ever hold his attention. How could you ever convince yourself even for one second that you didn’t want to fight for him? 

bonus:

Yunho’s slowly munching on a croissant, head resting on Mingi’s shoulder – who’s barely awake. You fear Wooyoung’s not even on your same astral plane right now, forehead against the table and hand gripping a coffee cup for dear life. Yeosang’s head is thrown back against the wall, he’s sipping slowly at his own coffee. It almost makes you think that you and San walking hand in hand could go unnoticed. 

“Is that a ring?” you should’ve known Seonghwa’s sharp eyes wouldn’t miss it. After all, he’s the only one remotely awake. That, and he’s the only one not wearing sunglasses at the breakfast table. Lethargically, your friends’ faces emerge from behind the shades. Various sets of eyes squint in your direction as you come closer. 

“Holy fuck you got back together” surprisingly, the voice is Wooyoung’s, though he sounds exactly like he just came back from the dead. 

“Technically, we got engaged,” San points out. The words have barely left his mouth that suddenly his best friend is up and asking what, how, when, and why?! Eliciting various groans and shut the fuck ups. 

“My birthday wish came true!” he throws himself at you both, squeezing you in a hug. Over his shoulder, you look at Yeosang. Despite his tired face, he smiles at you. So do the rest of your friends.

“Alright so, wedding tonight before we leave?” Wooyoung smirks all too enthusiastically, and you hear Seonghwa mumble as long as we drink juice, eliciting a round of quiet laughs.

[bloodhoundluke]

you, forever —❦ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x ex! reader

description: y/n seems to be finally over luke, but what does she do when he shows up declaring his love for her in the pouring rain? this was requested with the prompts #4 "Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry” & #2 “Don’t do this to me” from my prompt list.

warnings: luke being a shitty boyfriend, a break up. angst. slight mentions of insomnia and disordered eating. cursing. a happy ending.

word count: 3,5k.

a/n: now that i am happy with this fic, it's time to publish it! the beginning of this story was heavily inspired by the song ‘moment i knew’ by taylor swift. i hope you like this one! ❤️‍🩹

The broken promises, the events unattended. His lame excuses. They grew a dagger in your heart, which stung time and time again. Your 23rd birthday was no exception. 

You hosted a party to celebrate your birthday. You never threw any parties, they weren’t really your scene. Luke was supposed to be there with you, his hands around your waist, wishing you a happy birthday. Against your wishes and his promises, he wasn’t there. Not on time, anyway.  Somehow you thought it’d be different this time. Did he even love you like he claimed he did? Did he even care about you? Hell, you even wondered if he was sleeping with someone behind your back. 

You tried to have fun, you really did. But as the night dragged on and you chugged down way too many tequilas, you bursted into tears in your bathroom. How could someone, your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, make you feel like this on your god-damn birthday?

It was 4am when Luke showed up behind your front door, and you foolishly opened the door for him. The party was over, and you couldn’t even bear to look him in the eye. It was the same old story, I am so sorry baby, we had to work around a few things in the studio. I love you, let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll do better next time. 

You didn’t say a single thing to him as you let him in. Luke went to the bathroom, and as soon as he was out of your sight, tears began streaming down your face. You stood in your kitchen, and looked around. The alcohol-stained balloons, empty beer cans and the remains of confetti reminded you of your relationship with Luke. Sad, broken, bruised.

You sobbed and sobbed, hard enough not to notice Luke walking next to you.

"Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry”, he offered you his embrace, which you swore once was warm. And which was something you once wanted more than anything in the world. 

You sobbed against his chest. This was the last straw, you promised yourself. You didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore. You had turned a blind eye to his mistakes, always holding onto some tiny glimmer of hope he would change. You defended him time and time again to your friends and family. You loved him more than you loved yourself, and that seemed to be your greatest mistake. 

“Don’t do this to me”, you whimpered under his touch, still feeling the endless rivers building up in your eyes.  “Do what?”, he proposed the question as if he didn’t have a clue what was going on. His eyebrows frowned, and he bit his bottom lip. You couldn’t believe it really had come to this. You receded from his embrace, breaking the skin contact. 

“Pretend everything’s fine. Pretend we’ll be okay”, you swept your tears away, and saw the mascara stains on your hands. You swept them away with the helm of your dress, and wondered what was going through Luke’s mind. Did he even feel bad for missing your birthday party? Did he even understand how terribly he treated you?

“Y/N…”., he enunciated your name as if it was a warning, if there was some line you couldn’t cross.

“You knew this was doomed from the start. You played me along, Luke. I mean, fuck! I thought everything would change. I thought you loved me enough not to miss my own fuckin’ birthday!”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it”.

“I’m sorry too”, you avoided direct eye contact with him, and left the kitchen with nothing but disappointment and anger. He didn’t even bother to come after you. 

And that was the moment you knew. 

—❦

The morning approached, and you executed your usual morning routines, only this time with a quicker pace. You could do this, you told yourself. You’ll be okay.

Luke was still sleeping, and you gathered his things from your apartment. The spare t-shirts and underwear. His toothbrush, his Vespa mug. Everything. You wanted to make this as smooth as possible. Not necessarily for him, but for you. You didn’t want him to stay around any longer than necessary. Sleeping with him last night was a mistake, even if you took all the anger into bed with you. You hated and loved him at the same time.

So, when you heard him shuffling in bed, you entered the room and leant against the door with a coffee mug in your hand. 

“Hey darling”, he smirked. The man had no idea. You forced a smile, and waited until he was decent and in his Pink Floyd t-shirt and black sweatpants. 

“Luke?”.

“Hmmm?”.

“I packed up your things, they are waitin’ for you in the hallway. I want you gone. Out of my life”.

—❦ 

The beginning was the hardest. The silent screams in the pillow, the loss of appetite. Your sobs echoed through every room in your apartment. There was no escaping him. His eyes, the prettiest blue eyes you had ever witnessed, haunted you wherever you went. Even the god-damn Rainbow Krispies yelled out his name. 

You carried his silent optimism with you, his voice reminding you everything would work out just fine. You begged the voice to stop time and time again, but it persisted, clung onto you tightly. 

For the first three months you couldn’t even say his name out loud, yet alone hear it coming from someone else’s mouth. It sounded wrong, the way they said it. Luke was supposed to come from your mouth, with your accent, with your tone of voice.

Slowly but surely, you started to see the world through realism-infused glasses. You didn’t think about him the first thing in the morning and the last thing before going to bed. You were okay. You didn’t need his love. Instead, you needed your own. A glimpse of hope was staring at you, you just hadn’t seen it before. 

—❦ 

The past few years had treated you well, and you had gotten the job of your dreams. Everything was moving smoothly, and you were excited for what the future held for you. You were still living in the same apartment, but you had renovated it to look more like you. The white living room walls were now replaced with the beautiful shade of juniper, and your decor had shifted from a Scandinavian style to a more earthly and antique-appreciating English countryside.

You had stayed out of relationships. Sure, you had gone to a few dates, but you never wanted to build anything serious with them. You considered them more like irregular hook-ups, not official dates. You decided to be on your own. You had everything you needed; friends, family and a job you enjoyed.

You were returning from work, and it was pouring rain. You held an umbrella over your head whilst Bon Iver was blasting through your AirPods. Thankfully it was a short walk to your apartment from the metro station.

A figure of a man, supposedly, sat in front of your apartment complex. Maybe he was lost. Maybe he forgot his keys inside. Maybe he was a creep. Shit. You grabbed your umbrella tighter as you reached him. 

And then you understood. Dark pants. A worn out leather jacket. Converse. Light, curly hair. A beautiful face, sculpted by the gods, was staring at you. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be.

Luke.

It really was him.

You glared at him, and took your earphones off in shock, placing them in their case. Luke got up from the staircase, and you both stared at each other for a while. 

The rain was pouring down, and the man hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella with him. He pulled his soaking wet hair back with his hands and you couldn't understand why your ex-boyfriend was voluntarily hanging out in front of your apartment complex, in a weather like this.

“What are you doing here?”, you quivered and held your bag tightly against your body.

“I’m here to get my girl back”, he shoved his hands into his leather jacket pockets, and studied your face with a somewhat melancholic smile on his face.

“What are you talkin’ about?”, you asked, your tone nonchalant.

“I’m here to get you back. Or attempt it, I don’t know. I fucked up, Y/N, big time. And many times. And-”

Didn't he think it was a bit too late for that? “Luke, stop”, you interrupted him. You didn’t want to hear it, he had smashed your heart into pieces. He didn’t get to apologize to you. You didn’t want him to have any power over you. And it wasn’t fair how he showed up and reminded of his existence, just now when you were finally ready to open your heart to someone new. 

“Y/N, please? Hear me out”.

“Fuck you”, you cursed at him, and pondered walking away from him. But you stood in your place, hoping he could see the hurt on your face. 

“Okay, I deserved that. Is there more?”, he tilted his head slightly, and his eyes bored into yours.

“What do you mean?”, you gritted your teeth.

“Just fuckin’ yell at me, get it out of your system. Curse at me, tell me the things you hate about me”.

“If you came here for this, leave…please”, you begged. 

“No, no, no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. Shit. Uh…just give me a second, hear me out”.

“Okay”. You’d hear what he had to say, and then you’d leave him in the pouring rain. And you wouldn’t see him ever again. That was the plan.

“I, I know this might not mean anything to you, after I treated you, but it has always been you, Y/N. After all these years, you are the only one I have ever truly loved. Hell, I still love you. I still remember your favorite songs and the way you like your tea. How you like your eggs in the morning, and how you hate almond milk…And shit, I just, I need to get this off my chest. I am, still, so foolishly in love with you it’s unbearable. I want you, I want us back”.

You looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. When you tried to say something, the words escaped your lips, leaving you powerless.

As tumultuous your and Luke’s relationship was and despite the times you convinced yourself you hated him, you still caught yourself missing him and the relationship sometimes. But this…this felt a bit too much for you to handle right now.

“Say something, please….Anything”.

“I don’t know Luke. I mean, you hurt me. Time and time again. I don’t know if I want to go through that pain again”.

“I know”, he sighed. “Do you still love me?”.

“Despite everything, yes”, you sighed.

“So isn’t it obvious? If you love me, and I love you? Doesn’t that mean we should give it another go?”.

“But sometimes love isn’t enough, Luke. Love doesn’t fix everything, I thought you knew that”.

“I know you are cautious, and I don’t blame you. I put you through hell, I know. And if this makes me sound like a broken record, so be it… I fuckin’ love you, Y/N. I have always loved you. Just you. Nothing will change that. Not even the years in between that I haven’t seen you. Not even the fact that I am not the same person who I was those years ago, when I treated you like shit. When I made you cry every night. I remember it well, Y/N, I haven’t forgotten. It seems you are impossible to forget”.

“I think you are impossible to forget too, Luke”, you sighed again. “I just….I don’t really know what to say to you. I don’t even know what’s going inside my head right now. I…I need a moment to figure everything out”.

“I’ll wait for you”, he promised.

You took quick glances at each other in the rain, and a small smile crept upon Luke’s lips. You were soaking wet, and wanted to go inside. Against all your instincts, you invited him into your apartment.

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah”.

“Really?”.

“Come on in before I change my mind”.

—❦

Luke hadn't been in your apartment in three years, and his sudden presence in your own space felt a bit nerve-wracking. Only if he saw that you had kept the mugs he once bought you. And his Blink-182 shirt that you never bothered to give him back. And the necklace hanging on the bathroom shelf that he had bought you on your 2nd anniversary.

You had changed to a dry set of clothes, and offered Luke a towel to dry himself up.

Luke sat next to you on your living room couch, as far as he could on the limited space of the two-seater. The silence was unbearable, it was eating you up. You had rehearsed every little thing you would say to him when you’d see him, but now it felt like the thoughts you once had escaped you the very moment you tried to reach them. 

You had offered him tea, and were drinking some chamomile tea yourself. A few candles were burning on the top of your coffee table, next to a pile of books and the coffee mug you had left there this morning. 

Would you really go through this with him again? Was it worth the try? Was it foolish that a small part of you thought it could work out this time? Did he really mean everything he said? Could he support his words with his actions?

“When you said you aren’t the same person you were before, did you mean it?”, you asked, and blew the tea slightly before drinking it. 

“I did”.

“What did you mean by it?”, you placed the tea mug at the top of the coffee table. You looked at the candle burning beside it whilst Luke talked.

“That I’ve grown. I am not a stupid 24 year old anymore, Y/N. I know what’s important in life. I know what kind of man I want to be, and I am trying to reach that everyday”, he explained with a certain softness in his voice. This Luke was patient, calm; not like the passive-aggressive Luke you once knew.

“So growing up has changed you, huh?”, you frowned your eyebrows, and studied his hair, which had been bleached. You liked this look on him, he looked refreshed. And more mature.

“And losing you”.

Your lips parted slightly at the comment and you noticed how he was fiddling with his ring that adorned his left index finger. He still did that. 

“Luke…”, he looked up to you as he heard his name, and you continued, “why didn’t you fight for me?”.

The narrative in your head that you had created through the years was that he didn’t love or care about you enough. That he had lied to you every time you went to bed, when he whispered those three little words to you. 

“Because I knew you deserved something better. It was the right thing for me to do'', he offered you a sad smile.

You swallowed loudly, his words getting a hold of you. You were fighting off the tears, not wanting to show Luke how much it was still hurting. 

“But now, I know, or fuckin’ desperately hope I am the man you deserve”.

“Do you really think it could work out this time? Us?”.

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”.

“‘Cause I am a stupidly huge hopeless romantic, I suppose”, he let out a small chuckle. Your lips curved into a smile, “And let me guess, you’re stupidly, hopelessly in love with me?”.

“You took the words out of my mouth”, he chuckled as you chuckled along with him. You had missed this. Hearing his adorable laughter. And laughing with him, hearing the sounds of your laughter blending in together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“If we do this, hypothetically, of course, we should take it slow. Like extra slow?”.

”Yeah, of course. We wouldn’t want to rush a good thing, would we?”.

You smiled at his words, pleased with the fact he was on the same page as you. You would have never guessed, not even in a million years, that you’d discuss rekindling your old flame with the man that once tore up your heart. And that something inside you told you to trust him this time around. 

”Luke?”.

”Tell me”.

”I’ve missed you”, you confessed as if it was a sin, something you shouldn’t say out loud. Something that you could be punished for. 

”I’ve missed you too, Y/N”.

Something in you, some unimaginable force, wanted to throw yourself into his arms, and kiss him like you had never been apart. 

You could feel the tears forming in your eyes, and as you looked how soft and angelic Luke looked next to you, the tears began to stream down your face.

”Hey, hey… what’s going on, sweetheart?”, he inched towards you, and like a magnetic pull, you closed the gap between you. The proximity didn’t make you nervous, it felt like something that was bound to happen.

”I just..uh, fuck… I don’t know”, you managed to answer through the tears, ”Can you… hold me?”. He nodded, opened his arms and you placed your head against his beating chest. He wrapped his arms around you and your sobs grew more silent. He fondled your arm with his other hand, and you felt his face squished against your shoulder.

”Feeling better?”.

”Yeah. I’m sorry, I was just a bit overwhelmed, I guess”.

”Don’t worry about it. I get it”, he still stroked your arm gently, comforting you just the way you needed.

It all started to make sense. His light stubble against your bare shoulder, your black tank top perfectly matching with his, your steadily beating heart. 

You backed away from his embrace, the sides of your legs still touching one another. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, your fingers playing along with his, until Luke cleared his throat. 

”My mom asked about you the other day, by the way. Well, she didn’t really ask, I suppose, but she wished you were doing good. She loves you, y’know. You always knew how to make her laugh. And she loved how you used to watch The Bachelor with her, now no one wants to do it. And gosh, she never stops complaining about that, I mean -”

You pressed your tear-infused lips on Luke’s, and it took him a while to figure out what hell was going on, and when did, he brushed his lips softly against yours. His hands moved to hold your face and you placed your own behind the back of his neck. You started to grin into the kiss, you couldn’t help it, and soon realized Luke was doing the same as your teeth clashed along with his. A few giggles escaped both of your mouths, and you could practically feel the blood rushing through your veins. Luke closed the small gap between your lips, and for a while, you sat there in each other’s proximity.

”I want to try again, Luke”, you looked deeply into his baby blue eyes and found a sense of comfort in them.

”I want to do that too.. not like it was obvious or something”, he giggled. You loved his sudden nervousness, it was adorable. A large grin spread across your face, and faded as soon as you remembered the reality of your and Luke’s situation. Like you said it yourself, love doesn’t fix anything, not on its own. Did you and Luke have what it takes to make your relationship work again?

”How do we do… this?”.

”I don’t think there’s a manual for this, but we’ll figure it out together”, he kissed your temple.

So you promised each other you’d do everything in your power to make your relationship work again. That night you made up for the lost time, and talked about everything that had been going on in each other’s lives. You babbled about your work, and he listened to you like your voice was his favorite sound. He showed you his tattoos which he had gotten, and the lotus quickly became your favorite. You shared your traveling stories, and he told you what it was like to be on tour. And when you got emotional about missing him for so long, he got emotional too. And suddenly you were sobbing against each other, your legs entangled with his and his lips brushing over yours.

And when you woke up the next morning, with Luke’s arm hanging around your torso, you knew you had made the right choice.

© 2023 bloodhoundluke.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 4 thoughts

woohoo!! it feels, again, like our separation has been so long, but it has been about… 3 whole days. oh, how i miss the earlier months in which i had time to post episode thoughts every day… 

this episode sounds interesting!!! no idea how someone’s thoughts could be captured on film, but we do a lot of disbelief suspension around these parts, with varying levels of success.

wait. hold on. i just saw the description for the episode after this one. what the hell is mulder getting himself into with that. do we need more mulder ex lore? i don’t need that. it doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

putting aside my many questions on that matter to focus on what is here in front of us.

(author’s note post-episode: …. woaghhh. scully…)

in all honesty, having processed my thoughts, i think this one was just a LITTLE bit too intense for me. which i recognize is okay, and to each their own. but i need to speak my Truth.

liveblogging commences below 

we begin with this sketchy looking dude, who is being rude as hell to a woman putting on lipstick before getting a passport photo taken. god forbid a woman want to serve… then he says to act natural while not acting natural himself. HYPOCRITE!

she goes in for a passport photo and…. she left her money in the car! she must return to this unfortunate man and go get it. but someone is following her…. 

he did something to her… and she gets back to the car to “billy”, but someone did something to him, too!! he appears to be dead and bleeding from the ear!! then she falls to the ground and tries to crawl to safety, but the mystery man in the yellow rain jacket comes back for her…. 

and the man in the photo store looks at the passport photos, but despite taking just a standard headshot, he sees the woman’s dying face in the images!!

oh. that is an unpleasant day on the job for such a nice seeming man.

this intro always makes me laugh... i’m sorrrrryyy the ufo pictures just remind me that this show is fundamentally unserious 

scully and mulder are rolling up to a town in michigan, while he asks her for any thoughts on the case. it appears this woman was abducted three days ago. and billy was punctured in the brain. yuck.

okay, so her name is mary. and this poor pharmacist…. he has to take people’s pictures, and give them drugs, AND deal with this nonsense 

they are at the pharmacy where the “druggist” (they keep using that term which i have never heard before) is showing them his camera, which he keeps under lock and key, and i notice he has some fun candy in the background. but i assume things are not fun at this time for him. 

scully wants to see the camera, and mulder takes a step back to let her pass. it kinda looks like he does that thing where he touches her back, but it’s hard to tell. and once again for all readers, that thing where men touch your back is only attractive when it’s mulder to scully and not between some randos!

scully notices something on the pharmacist’s foot, and also that the film is out of date. she is always noticing things. one of her many lovely qualities. 

mulder calls the pharmacist “bruno hauptman” and i don’t get that reference so i do what i do best: go to wikipedia. oh! bruno is the guy that was executed for kidnapping the lindbergh baby. i don’t know why i thought that mystery was unsolved. i guess it’s because the article is saying it was a heavily criticized and debated case. huh, a mystery for another time.

anyway, mulder is saying this all tauntingly with his stupid beautiful mulder smile, but scully is saying yeah, this nice old pharmacist doesn’t look like a usual suspect.

but she does point out that the film has heat damage, and a heater is right there… “so you think that would make it look like she posed screaming for a passport photo?” <- LMAO MAN LET HER FINISH

BAHAHA she is onto nothing 🔥🔥 

“plus, the film is two years out of date” “oh” the- the photographic chemistry could have changed” (mulder nodding) “uh-huh” “the- the dyes fade… they… alright, what’s your theory?” <- BAHAHA love that… you have to admit when you don’t know wtf is going on! i had full confidence she would pull something out of her science-y brain, but sometimes you just don’t know!

(this stupid scene had me giggling, as did her face of resignation)

mulder seems to ALSO have no idea wtf is going on, but as they discuss this, a police officer walks in and says they might have wasted the agents’ time…. what does that mean? did they figure it out that quick?

back at the house of the victims, they meet a postal inspector. okay!!! that’s fun and different. and i pause to write this down, and scully is SO beautiful, i actually might blow up. a full on explosion where once stood me is liable to go down. oh my gooooood.

okay: postal inspector is investigating a mail theft. mary had been working at the postal office, stealing people’s credit cards, and her boyfriend was signing them! oh! very illegal. inspector seems to think she faked her disappearance, but mulder points out that would not explain the stabbing of the boyfriend. also, they have this creepy ass broccoli magnet on their fridge which. bleugh. it did not spark joy.

mulder wants a camera from their house, and he finds one! did he just. take a picture of scully…? oh my god. he said “stand back, scully, it’s loaded” and took one… he didn’t even let her pose or anything… that's so cute... even if it's a little weird to use a dead person's camera from a crime scene... he wanted to take her picture

no, i am all wrong, for it appears he is just… taking random photos. because someone in the 60’s once claimed that he could concentrate really hard on undeveloped film and show his thoughts. uh. press f to doubt.

(man, i want to live in that very brief and exciting moment where i thought he was taking a cute little candid of her again… it was so blissful there)

wait. what da hell. he just clicked the camera a bunch of times and it comes up with the screaming mary photo again and again.

oh… he thinks that someone was stalking mary, and the stalker’s psychic energy altered the film by him coming in its proximity. i didn't realize that was how psychic powers worked but i am listening and learning

scully says that these images had to be doctored, which is, again, a reasonable conclusion, but he asks her to “what if” the situation and just think about it!!! just imagine!!!

cutscene to… someone crawling on the side of the road. it’s mary!!! she’s bleeding from her eyes (?) and not responding at all to the police car arriving behind her.

now she is in a stretcher at the hospital that our agents are helping to steer. they are kind like that. she had a “painkiller cocktail” in her system, but that wouldn’t account for her condition. scully orders a PET scan for her, a term i have never heard before. i love when she uses terms i have never heard before.

they’re putting mary in what looks like an MRI sort of thing to look at her brain. whatever it is, it is clearly very bad, as told by scully’s visible reaction and audible declaration of “oh my god”, while mulder looks at her and asks “what is it”? 

(and while i appreciate that this is a sensitive moment for our story, mulder not knowing wtf is going on with these medical things always is a favorite trope of mine, 1. because me too, and 2. he is usually such an insufferable know-it-all i love watching him admit when he knows nothing. humility!)

oh my god… “she has been given what’s called a transorbital lobotomy” <- oh that does NOT sound good… it used to be known as an ice pick lobotomy!!! oh my gosh i’ve heard of that one!! ice pick… eye sockets… i can feel myself growing faint…

but whoever did it, did it wrong… who would do a lobotomy without knowing how to do it the right way???

in the machine, mary is mumbling!! she is saying “unruhe” according to the closed captioning, but it just sounds like faint groaning to me. however, given that this phrase is the title of the episode, i venture to guess that it IS in fact relevant.

a policeman bursts in and says there has been a second abduction, and our agents look deeply sorrowful at this news, seeming to know what will happen next if they cannot crack the case.

oh! now we are seeing the new victim, and whoever took her is in fact saying “unruhe”, and other stuff in german! NO! he pulls out a pick…. fade to black. 

WHO in this small seeming town speaks german and has a psychic effect on cameras… ?? i hope this can be narrowed down to a slim pool of candidates!!

scully is going into the next crime scene, where mulder reports that a man has been murdered, and his secretary alice taken. this is not good.

mulder has been looking into what that word alice was mumbling means- first in a phone book, but then as a translation, i guess, because it means “trouble” in german.

WOAH, WHAT?

! SCULLY LORE REVEAL ! she took german in college!!! and knows that the word is more accurately translated as “unrest”! 

(oh my gosh, i need to get back into compiling lore reveals at the end of each season like i did for s1…. good thing i take such detailed notes so i can go back and do them for s2 and s3)

((we didn’t get a ton in the last 2 seasons, so i thought of doing one post for both seasons- but the organization freak in me wants to do 1 per season, so i’ll go through them again and see what i can find when i get bored someday))

scully hands him a photo from the first crime scene, but mulder says the criminal wasn’t there, because if he was, he would have altered the photos. scully seems annoyed that he’s looking for psychic photos and not crime scene evidence, but he explains that whoever did this has to be very good, and photos may be their only lead since he doesn’t seem to know he is doing it. but then scully sees something and her eyes go SUPER wide… and she says she wants to show him something. 

oh! they find a construction company’s logo at both sites. so maybe the criminal worked at places under construction and was able to kidnap the women…? this theory is brought to you by scully.

he says she might be right, but he is going back to DC to get analysis on the photo. she still is skeptical, but he says that since the woman’s time is running out, that’s all the more reason to analyze the one piece of hard evidence they do have, and that he’ll be in touch. 

he must have really cared if he said he’ll be in touch, because usually he just runs off to god knows where to do god knows what. 

(and how much time would they even HAVE if he has to drive all the way back??? that isn’t a quick trip, is it???)

the same criminal dude from before is now saying stuff in german and taping alice’s mouth shut, while mulder is back in the photo lab sitting practically on top of this nerdy yet attractive fellow, asking for the blurriness in the image to be reduced. and it reveals very scary looking demon things! 

mulder sees someone in the back of the photo… and they get a more enhanced image on the face, but it isn’t clear to me who it is. i felt like i was supposed to know who it was, but luckily i wasn't!

scully is ordering people out to canvas and investigate the employees who may have been working at both construction sites. i like when she does that.

mulder and the lab guy figure out that there is a shadow in the background of the photo from the kidnapper. “he’s standing over her, he means to pass judgement on her, like a god” <- an unsettling thing to say, mr. spooky

scully rolls up to one of the construction sites and i’m thinking, oh please, do not get kidnapped, please please, it’s not something we need today. she’s yelling “hello” and no one is answering... but she hears something….. 

it’s a… guy on stilts? it’s the foreman named gerry. oh… could he have made the big shadow in the picture his stilts? but he doesn’t sound german…

mulder calls and says the kidnapper’s legs are unusual, either he’s very tall or he wants to be. stilts man?!?! is it you?!

instead of playing it chill upon hearing this news, she hangs up on mulder, and turns to gerry and says “unruhe”, pulling out her gun. but he uses his stilts to jump across the building! only to collapse and fall. his getaway is thwarted as scully tells him to stop or she’ll shoot, and to prove her seriousness, she does so. but i’m not buying he’s the guy!! sorry my queen!!

NO!! I WAS FOOLED, WASN’T I??? she reaches into his pocket and pricks her finger!!! NOOO! it’s a huge pick in there! like we saw before at the kidnapping!!

is she gonna be drugged from that….

(thankfully, the pick itself did not contain the drugs)

they’re interrogating the dude, and he denies everything. i mean, i guess a lot of people could have stilts and a pick at construction sites. maybe they didn't grab the right fellow.

he says that tool is used to start keyholes in the sheetrock and all fixtures. a good excuse…

but he really does seem confused. 

however, mulder brings up that gerry was arrested before, for attacking his father with an axe handle until he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. OH! this is not promising.

gerry says that he was institutionalized, which mulder reveals was for a schizophrenic disorder. gerry claims that since his release, he had been taking care of his father 24/7, until he passed away in january. well i’m not entirely sure if that makes amends, but i guess it’s better than nothing?

“and how did you feel about that?” asks mulder about gerry's father's death, sounding very much like the psychology expert i sometimes forget that he is. then he reveals that the same year gerry attacked his father, gerry’s sister passed. connected….?

gerry is staring intently back at scully, saying that she looks troubled. oh! do not talk to her that way.

then mulder comes in with the enhanced photo from earlier, and asks if it shows gerry’s father. he seems taken aback, like it really is his father, and then further taken aback when he pulls out the full photo and asks if those demons figures are what he sees when he closes his eyes. this finally gets gerry to crack and say that he knows where alice is, and that she is safe, “from the howlers”. HUH? 

(is it bad my thoughts went straight to a howler monkey when he said that? i was thinking man, monkeys do not look like that at all. you and i have seen some different monkeys, gerry. but no, he does not refer to those types of howlers)

a ton of cop cars are arriving in the woods, to find alice, who is bleeding from the eyes, which can only mean one thing in this context. oh noooo. scully seems horrified and as if she is blaming herself 

oh, we get a very charged exchange here. she says it doesn’t matter what is in the photos, or if it shows gerry’s dreams or nightmares, because it’s over, and they couldn’t save alice. she starts the engine, and when i think she’s gonna drive off without mulder, he hops in. i bet that guilt that doctors feel when that cannot save a patient is even worse in her than in usual doctors, because she also has to deal with trying to rescue people from crime. :(

gerry is being taken in and photographed by the cops. but instead of a mugshot, when we see the picture, it’s the guy who was taking him in with a bullet hole in his head. oh! so that seems to confirm earlier suspicions on behalf of mulder. 

OH NO!! gerry reaches out and grabs the gun from the cop! NOOO! 

mulder points out that the image from that interaction showed the man shot in the head, but in reality, he was shot in his throat. so i guess it’s not based on reality as much as his intentions? sure, why not. and scully says there was a robbery at the pharmacy back where the very first photo was taken. no! our druggist friend!

gerry took all of the film in the store and a ton of drugs for more “twilight sleep”, which is a bad sign. i think i’ve seen this film before…

scully thinks that perhaps he was stalking his next victim at the construction site, and i’m thinking, girl i think he picked out his victim alright, but i don’t think she’s in the apartments.

mulder wants to wait a bit for his photo to come out. so he sends her to pull the car around and i’m screaming NO, NO, DON’T SEPARATE, NOT WITH A GUY ON THE LOOSE WHO LOOKED AT HER AND SAID “YOU LOOK TROUBLED” AFTER DOING 2 DIY LOBOTOMIES ON OTHER WOMEN AND KILLING 2 OTHER MEN! JUST WAIT A MINUTE AND WALK TO THE CAR TOGETHER!!!

but she cannot hear me….

NO! as she unlocks the car, a hand from beneath reaches out and pierces her foot with a needle NOOOO… and it’s gerry and she’s going down and NOOOOOO!!!!

AND MULDER PULLS THE PHOTO OUT TO FIND GERRY WAS THINKING OF SCULLY WHEN IT WAS TAKEN!

he is RUNNING after that car. despite his best efforts, even trackstar mulder is not as fast as a car, yet he follows her and screams her name regardless. until he realizes he will not win this race.

back at the police office, mulder is STARING at that photograph, the one showing scully being taken by these horrific creatures known as “the howlers”. he’s asking for any leads, including “does he have a summer house? a winter house?” which could be seen as desperation for answers or mulder being out of touch with how many people grew up with summer houses, take your pick.

OH! in gerry’s wallet was his father’s obituary. and his father was a dentist… and the name sounds german… 

so they go to his old dentist’s office, where they did an ad for the pain medicine cocktail he’s been cooking up. and mulder finds a footprint and a missing dentist’s chair. 

NO!! scully is in the dentist’s chair at some undisclosed location. waking up to find her arms and legs bound with a pick on the table and gerry in the distance. she’s watching him…. and she says to let her go. 

he begins his german ranting that has happened before the other lobotomies, and she… RESPONDS???? in clumsy german??? she says she has no unrest and doesn’t need saving, but he insists she does??? WHAT!!!

good on her for remembering some words after all those years :,)

he says everyone has some unrest, but especially her. she thinks she must remind him of his sister, and they talk about “the howlers”, who live inside your head, and make you say and do things you don’t mean.

so she turns the tables on this, and says maybe there are no such thing as howlers, and maybe he made them up to justify what his father did to his sister, which sets him off further. OH… so she thinks gerry attacking his father and his sister’s death were related. damn… that’s heavy

she tries to convince him that the “howlers” are just in HIS head, and no one else’s, as he approaches with a camera to try and prove they do exist. because cameras cannot lie!!

back at the dentist’s office, mulder appears to be losing it. mumbling about the 6 fingers the howler had in the photos, and yelling “WHY are there 6?” to no one in particular, as if he can find an answer through sheer willpower. one of the cops is asking him what to do while he looks at the obituary and counts five headstones…. and the father makes 6? sure, if that makes sense to you king!

they’re off to the graveyard while scully is still in a mystery location, with tears in her eyes as gerry shows her the photos he took. he takes the photos to mean he doesn’t have much time left, and tapes her mouth… and oh my gosh, i think of what would go down here if i knew she wasn’t gonna pull through… until gerry hears a tapping and MULDER IS LOOKING IN!! YES!!!

gerry is doing this in a camper van! by the graveyard!!! mulder is peeking in, sees a tooth keychain, and realizes she’s in there!!!! he’s yelling her name, and she’s yelling that she’s in here, while gerry tries to hold her down!!!

mulder’s BEATING on the window of the camper with his hands, and when that doesn’t work, he finds a giant metal pipe and SLAMS it into the window, goes in, and shoots gerry. this escalated quickly, but it was almost not quick enough.

mulder asks if she’s hurt, and neither of them say anything as she walks out, with mulder kneeling down to see that the last photos gerry had taken were of himself dead on the floor. it’s a terribly thick tension that reminds me of the ending to irresistible, but without the tension bursting like it did in that episode with her finally revealing her fear to him. i wish that she did it again this time. 

scully is doing the episode wrap up, sounding terribly solemn. she is reporting that gerry had written a diary intended as a letter for his father, including the list of the women he hoped to “save”. and her name is the last entry. she has no explanation for the photographs. but she empathized with him, which her survival depended upon.

“i see now the value of such insight. for truly to pursue monsters, we must understand them. we must venture into their minds. only in doing so, do we risk letting them venture into ours?” (said while there are tears in her eyes, as she looks at the photograph of her being pulled by the howlers)

WHAT THE HELL.

okay, so chris carter… you and i need to have some words. 

i have a lot of thoughts. perhaps number one: what if mulder had been 5 minutes later… can you imagine him never being able to cope with that….? oh my gosh. oh my gosh. no, i shan’t imagine. but i’m sure they both were imagining it. and that is probably why she couldn’t say anything as she walked out of the camper van. it was too horrific.

second. this was a dark one. i was giggling at first and then it got really dark. lobotomies… are a hard subject.

third. when the writers make the bad guy have a mental illness, i do feel it to be insulting, because we don’t often get a character where a guy with schizophrenia is just a guy doing normal things like working at the store or going to get his oil changed. no, he’s gotta be up to something nefarious. i wish that wasn’t the case and that these episodes didn’t use mental illness in that way, and i understand that things were kind of Like That in the 90’s and arguably still are in media, but it has been observed with distaste. 

okay, final thoughts? like i’ve said before, i believe in gender equality when it comes to kidnapping and rescuing, and i hope that will be evened out at some point. i understand that gerry had a fixation on women for his own personal reasons, but that’s the doyleist vs watsonian debate thing. and i want a 1:1 ratio on who goes about saving the day. although the ratio was uneven in s2, i’m not recalling the ratio from s3, and we’re 4 episodes into s4 with a 1:1 ratio. so i hope that overall, the entire series ratio evens out eventually. damsel in distress is gender neutral

i was actually really invested in this episode, probably because it let us look into scully deeper, and also because the stakes were high, the pacing fast, and the horror a new kind rather than a standard serial killer we get in a lot of episodes. 

but… while i appreciate that, i’m not sure i can say i enjoyed it, you know? because even a “scully speaks german” lore reveal cannot save me from the feeling of… something adjacent to fear? not horror as in “ahhh i’m so scared” but maybe a sort of horror as in “stop putting her into these fuckass situations, let my girl have a day off” and also a bit of terrible grief in knowing that lobotomies were a very real thing and did untold harm. and to be clear, i’m not saying that fact shouldn’t be explored and discussed, i just think that for me it seems to provoke some intense feelings that make me want some fluff. now. 

deliver it. to my door. as we speak. in fact, here is an incomplete list of things i want to read our agents doing in fanfiction form:

apple picking and apple cider sipping, hiking and sharing weird facts they know about the things they encounter (scully will be all “this type of spider has a unique silk production gland” and he’ll be all “this type of wildflower is used to induce hallucinogenic states” while they look at a pretty view), ice skating (can they ice skate? need to explore that), getting ice cream cones, a visit to the beach, decorating for various holidays, a very serious game night- perhaps uno or some sort of trivia where it turns into a real nerd-off, arguing over unsolved mysteries, more implications of them starting a family together if you feel bold and brave, even, but for those who like it more reserved we can just have an aquarium date, watching a meteor shower, scully attempting to understand his fascination with the various sports of the world by tagging along on an anthropological expedition to a knicks game with him, baking, movie theater trip, etc

well! i have gotten myself so enthused at the idea of them doing silly stuff like handing out halloween candy that i have forgotten all about my initial feelings, which shall surely resurface soon when i go through and edit my notes, but you’re gonna sit there and tell me you don’t want to play dolls in your head of them getting hot chocolate together? 

canon? what is canon? c’mere, kid. let’s daydream about them eloping without ever having the “what are we” conversation and ignore the suffering 

[barris-events]

"Blue is the most human colour" (Regina Spektor)

Thomas and Richard go see Snow White (released in December 1937)

Molesley attempts to give Richard dating advice

Snowed in together

Richard gives Thomas a nice dark red sweater for Christmas as a gift (to them both)

Thomas gets a letter (or letters) from someone he treated while in the RAMC

“In the night when the moon is large, the world spreads blue in every direction." (Lynda Barry, Cruddy)

Richard overhears some more classic Downton bullying along the lines of "Thomas Barrow has kissed many a man" because to some of Thomas's (ex) colleagues, every man is one too many

"The mood is right, the spirits up. We’re here tonight, and that’s enough.” (Paul McCartney, Wonderful Christmastime)

Mod AU with neighbours Thomas and doctor!Richard in which Thomas knocks on Richard's door, asking if Richard could patch him up

Thomas takes Teo on long walks as a ruse to meet up with Richard

Thomas helping George eat his vegetables, possibly during the royal visit, and Richard sees him

"Oh, the fire is slowly dying. And, my dear, were still goodbye-ing. But as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

“And when I'm feeling alone, you remind me of home.” (TS, Christmas Tree Farm)

“I found what I was looking for, a love that's meant for me. A heart that's mine completely, knocked me right off my feet.” (Kelly Clarkson, Underneath the Tree)

“It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, toys in every store. But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door.” (Bing Crosby, It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas)

“They're singing ‘Deck The Halls,’ but it's not like Christmas at all, ‘cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year.” (Darlene Love, Christmas (Baby Please Come Home))

A hallmark Christmas plot where usually cynical about festive things Thomas falls in love with the cute ornament designer Richard Ellis

worrying about finding a Christmas present that is neither too little nor too much to someone far away

Mod AU where the bauble designing workshop is a team building exercise and Richard notices Thomas keeps being left out

If I should lose you, the stars would fall from the sky

If I should lose you, leaves would wither and die

The birds in May-time - they'd sing a mournful refrain

And I would wander around - hating the sound of rain

With you beside me, the rose would bloom in the snow

With you beside me, no winds of winter would blow

(Ralph Rainger & Leo Robin, listen)

A series of dates where one or other of them can’t focus because their work-honed senses are being offended by crimes such as a teapot at an incorrect angle, a waiter’s ill-fitting jacket, poorly polished cutlery, a too-true to life overheard impression of the king, etc.

"Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won't. This is what love is."

You can find the Nice image prompts here, and the Naughty ones here. Feel free to use whatever bits you like, and happy creating! ♥️🎄✨🌶♥️

[bisluthq]

Idk why no one is talking about this but So High School has “brand new, full throttle” and then The Prophecy has “hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh but it’s gone again”…. Like idk I mean I think logically she’s still with Travis but I mean … if I was him I’d be soooo upset with this tbh. Like you just said I was full force and reminded you of being in high school and then like five songs later you’re saying there’s no signs of soulmates… bro. I mean maybe they’re both just hanging out and fucking around for fun…both the Travis songs aren’t too serious tbh (tho she had to put the line about marry kiss or kill me bc girlie wants a ring from ANYONE at this point). Idk I love both songs but I wonder if she’s realizing Travis is really just Mr Right Now and not Mr Right

Well the album was done a fair while ago so I would guess her Travis feelings have gotten stronger and The Prophecy was written before he was in the picture or when they were starting out. They seem in a REALLY good place rn but I also do agree that if I were Travis I wouldn’t be comfy with this album. If I were Joe, songs like the 1 - but even Maroon or Question or Midnight Rain which are more directly autobiographical - wouldn’t bother me. Like Question might bother me in hindsight with the Matty of it all but not then and there because reflecting on a thing from forever ago is normal and like natural. My bf talks to his first ever gf every month and is in contact/friends with a few ex somethings and - this was actually very sweet - his first ever CRUSH from elementary school recently sent him a picture of them as kids over socials (they obviously don’t have each other’s numbers) and he told me all about how big of a crush he had lol and how embarrassing it was and we both spoke about how she’s still so so pretty actually and that’s a very sensible crush. If he were to release writing about her that could be really cute. If he wrote a novel about his cunt of an ex wife that was heartbroken and angry and shit, I’d also be very supportive because that happened a while ago but he’s allowed to never ever be over it because she really hurt him in the worst ways. If, when we first moved in together, he had written something THIS UNHINGED about that girl he was seeing in lockdown before me AND THEN I’d found HER UNHINGED ASS FUCKING ESSAY ABOUT HIM I’m ngl I’d have peaced tf out. I’d have been like “shit um y’all enjoy each other’s company I guess” and I’d have been hurt but yeah no I couldn’t have dealt with it. Travis and Gabby are in that situation atm and like they are far far stronger soldiers than me and I thought myself very unbothered. Also I think if I’d met him right after the cunt ex wife story I also wouldn’t have stuck around lol because by his own admission every conversation became about her and she was like haunting his life lol to the point of uprooting it.

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[kkusuka]

I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see."

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female! 

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics, 

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much 

Gojou Satoru 

Words: 700 

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill. 

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out. 

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser. 

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then. 

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year. 

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people. 

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness. 

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips. 

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-” 

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming. 

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’. 

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!” 

Fushiguro Megumi 

Words: 700 

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago. 

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in. 

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused. 

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more. 

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses. 

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least. 

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist. 

You would figure it out in due time!

 ❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel. 

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding. 

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved. 

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first. 

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster. 

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue. 

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!” 

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face. 

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too. 

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-” 

“Dear Lord, what did I get into” 

Itadori Yuji 

Words: 600 

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something. 

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him. 

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you. 

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed. 

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain. 

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile. 

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!” 

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die. 

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction. 

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back. 

But he didn't have a say anyway. 

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door. 

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You look great-” 

“You look crazy beautiful-” 

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one. 

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car. 

“You are the worst two humans in existence.” 

[missymurphy1985]

Second Chances - Part 2 of 3 (Cillian Murphy X fem!reader)

Warning - disability (reader is in a wheelchair after losing both legs) / smut / fluff / angst

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08 @queenofkings1212 @look-at-the-soul

Requested by @heidimoreton (also her idea for the storyline)

You sat on the edge of your bed and looked up at the dress. A long, flowing, ivory gown that your mum had helped you choose months ago. Glancing back down at your left hand, a smile crossed your ruby red lips, and a tear threatened to ruin your mascara. Again. Your makeup artist was certainly getting her money's worth with you...

Casting your mind back, the memories flooded through your mind. Good and bad.

The standing ovation you'd received as your first play since the accident closed, Cillian's proud smile at the side of the stage warming the very core of your heart.

The Facebook trolls claiming the only reason you won the Galway Performing Arts Award was because you were disabled and people voted out of pity.

When Cillian introduced you to his family, and they all welcomed you with open arms and hearts. Not once have they ever looked at you as anything other than a new daughter or sister.

Cillian's ex wife, Liane, making fun of you and Cillian to their 13year old daughter, Lila. 'What could a cripple have that she couldn't' was your favourite. that and 'you were only with him to revive your career'.

Lila coming home from school a week later and crying because she loved you and didn't want her mother to come between you and her Dad.

The subsequent drama of a jealous Liane trying to break you apart and win him back - trying to convince Cillian you were a gold digger.

The way he shut her down by reminding her of the divorce proceedings where she tried to take the house, the cars, half of his paychecks for any movies or TV shows for the rest of his career, and who the real gold digger was. He now paid child support for Lila, and fuck all to Liane. Not that she was bitter.

And the most incredible moment came during a holiday in the South of France, where he got down on one knee on the promenade and asked you to be his wife. Three days after his decree nisi was finalised.

The ring sat proudly on your finger now, two years later, and you knew you'd need Madeline back in to adjust your makeup for the seventh time that morning - and it was only 11am.

Your mum came through with your sister and Maid of Honour Rhian, followed by Lila, and Orla and Sile, Cillian's sisters. The trio would be your bridesmaids as you married Cillian in an hour.

"Are you ready, YN?" Rhian asked, handing you a tissue.

Nodding your head, Sile took the dress off the hanger and beamed at you.

"Let's do this Mrs Murphy-to-be."

************************************************************

Cillian stood at the altar picking his nails nervously. His brother, Paidi, stood beside him.

"Blood on your fingers isn't a great look for photos you know," he smirked, nudging him.

"I feel sick."

"That'll be the whiskey shot you necked before we left the hotel this morning."

"You said it would calm my nerves."

"Since when have you taken my advice?"

"Dickhead."

"Idiot."

"Boys!" Their mother snapped from behind them, refocussing them both back to reality quickly. They glanced at each other and chuckled. Even now at the ages of 35 and 33, their mother still had the knack of knocking them down a peg or two when required.

The music started, taking them both by surprise, and Cillian took a deep breath to settle his stomach. And heartbeat. He heard the doors behind him open, and Paidi turned around. Cillian turned to see his little sisters heading down the aisle towards him. Radiant in their red, satin gowns. He gave each of them a smile which they returned, tears in their eyes. He glared at them both, a silent threat not to cry because he was on the edge himself. Sile winked at him as they sat down next to their mum and dad.

Lila followed next, with Paidi's 4 year old daughter Alexa, the little girl dropping flower petals along the floor like a pro. He beamed at his daughter and goddaughter. Lila and Alexa sat the opposite side of his sisters, beside your mother. Alexa, the little beauty she is, waved at her Daddy and Uncle before plonking herself on Lila's lap.

Cillian spun around, facing the altar again, knowing you were next. He closed his eyes, calming himself, feeling the nerves in every inch of his body.

The piano played an instrumental version of your first dance song, Celine Dion's Because You Loved Me, but all Cillian heard was Paidi's gasp next to him, and a choke of a sob. Paidi never cried...

He turned around slowly and his eyes filled immediately with tears. There you were... With your father by your side...

Walking down the aisle.

Walking.

For the first time since he met you four years ago.

Each step taken steadily, holding onto your father's arm for support. You made eye contact with him and the first of many tears fell down his cheeks.

You only saw him. You didn't see your wedding guests crying. You didn't hear their gasps. You just saw him and the sheer pride in his eyes. The love. The admiration.

Reaching him at the end of the aisle, in front of your family and friends, your father handed you to your fiance with a smile and a nod to Cillian.

"Wow..." He choked, his eyes locked with yours, you were around three inches shorter than he was. And he couldn't quite believe it.

"Surprised?"

"When? How?"

"You remember those days I told you I was out with a friend, or at the gym?"

"Well now, lies before we've even got married isn't a great start YN," he smirked.

"Shut up and marry me, Mr Murphy."

************************************************************

You lasted an hour into the reception before your new prosthetics had to come off - Liane on hand to help you back into the wheelchair.

You'd done exactly what you'd planned - walked down the aisle, and had your first dance standing upright. But the plastic legs were painful and you were still slightly clunky and awkward on them, so they couldn't last long.

And now all the two of you had on your minds was one thing, and one thing alone.

Your wedding night.

The wedding done, and reception done, guests gone..

He had you over the threshold of your new home together in Monkstown 20 minutes after the last guest left the venue you'd hired.

10 minutes after that, he'd finished doing battle with the dozens of clasps and buttons on the back of your dress.

And now, fifteen minutes after that, he had you on the bed, legs open, his face buried between them devouring every inch of you while your fingers clasped his hair tight, afraid if you let go he'd stop.

You voice carried through to the neighbours, you were certain, as you came hard over his tongue, shivering as he blew a cold breath over your core after the waves of pleasure had finished coursing through you.

He crawled back over your body and kissed your lips, sharing your taste with you while he pressed his hard cock against your core.

"So Mrs Murphy..."

"Yes Mr Murphy?" You giggled at your new name, still not feeling real yet.

"Have you?"

"Have I what?" You teased. He responded to your teasing by licking a trail over your neck, shivers running down your spine. His lips met your ear and he whispered into it..

"The pill..." You paused, playing the game a little longer. He rutted his cock against your clit again making your back arch.

"Mm... Binned them."

"Fuck..." He sighed, grinning, images of you round and full with his baby inside you making his cock twitch against your clit.

"Put a baby in your wife, Cillian," you said, kissing his lips as he slid his cock home through your folds. Both of you groaning at the sensation, the thrill that your birth control was gone.

"My beautiful wife... Fuck you feel good wrapped around me," he grunted, his cock slamming hard and deep. Your arms around his shoulders, his forehead resting against yours as he thrust into you.

"Can't wait to have your baby," you panted, lifting your hips to meet each thrust.

"You're gonna - ah - we're not stopping at just one," he grinned.

"Planning on keeping me full are you?" You could feel how turned on he was by the throbbing of his cock each time he looked down at your stomach. Sitting up with your ass on his knees, he held his hand on your belly, stroking over the flesh as he pounded into you.

"So full.. oh fuck..." His eyes closed, focussing on not emptying into you too soon. His free hand played with your clit, needing you to cum before he did.

"Don't stop, don't stop..." You were panting hard, gyrating your pelvis up and down in time with his thrusts and his fingers, quickly reaching your peak just in time for his seed to flow into you. A low growl coming from his chest as he pushed his cock as deep as he could, ropes of cum flooding your walls.

He remained inside you, pulling one of the pillows under your hips.

"Not losing a single drop of it," he laughed at your bemused expression as he hoisted you up onto the pillow.

"It'll take a while Cill, I've only just stopped taking the pill!"

"Without wanting to mention the witch on my wedding night, we got pregnant with Lila fucking quick YN. My seed is fucking superhuman."

"Mhmm. Yes dear. I'm sure it is."

[blackcur-rants]

Luz Noceda sat by herself at the bus stop, crying and covered in bruises. She clutched her copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” close to her chest, raging softly but fiercely at how much the cruel, indifferent bigots depicted in Harper Lee’s prose reminded her so much of all the people who laughed at and hurt her and Mami and how both Atticus and Mami had good, strong names derived from the Roman myths Papa used to read to her. 

(“Don’t cry, Luz” she said to herself, “Don’t cry. You don’t want to give people any more reason to make fun of you”). 

The bus seemed to take forever on that misty, moist afternoon that felt like it was about to rain but never did. The willow trees swayed softly in the wind, and the mist almost made the small town of Gravesfield, Connecticut feel as if it were a magician’s illusion ready to dissipate at the slightest touch. Luz wished the whole world would melt away and reveal something…anything…that was better than this Hell of a world where a bloated TV mogul of the kind Azura would have blasted into cinders in an instant could win huge portions of America over to his side, while Papi was gone from this world. 

Luz began to cry like she had last cried during the week when she was sitting Shiva for Papi. Why was the world so unfair? Why couldn’t Papi have been there to protect and hold her like he did when he was alive? Why would G-d allow any of this to happen?

(Why did the Lord create me as I am?)

Luz’s tears were interrupted by the feeling of a hand upon her shoulder. She cringed a little, scared to see who it was who was touching her. 

As it happened, when Luz looked to her side to see who it was, she saw a tall White woman with an aquiline nose sticking out of a gaunt, angular face. Her blonde hair extended down to her shoulders and smelt of the cornfields and sunflowers Luz had heard existed out in the Midwest, but Luz could tell it was dyed rather than naturally being that way, and her dark brown eyes were piercing but warm. 

“Great book you have there” the stranger said, “I read it for the first time when I was your age”. 

“Was it something the teacher gave you?” Luz asked.

“No” the woman chuckled, “I read it for fun. Same time I was getting really into Twain, King, McDowell, and Fitzgerald. Also Dickens”.

“I’ve heard of Dickens” Luz said, “Dad really loved this book of his called ‘Two Cities’ or something like that”.

“Tale of Two Cities” the woman responded, “Can’t blame him. It’s a really fun one, easily my second fave after the Expectations-Copperfield double team. God those two guys are so in love. Your father had good taste, Luz”.

“Huh?” Luz asked, “How’d you know my name?”

“Sorry” the tall woman said as she stumbled over her words, “I…have a bad habit of guessing people’s names too early. What’s your name?”

“Luz Isabela Noceda” Luz sighed out sadly. 

“That’s a pretty name” the woman said, “Sounds Spanish”.

“Sephardic, actually” Luz chuckled, pleased at the compliment, “My dad was from Puerto Rico while Mami’s parents came here from the Dominican Republic”.

“So I’m assuming your family fled from the Spanish Inquisition in the 1400s just as my ex-boyfriend and his current flame had ancestors who fled from the Tsars and their accursed pogroms in the 1800s” the tall woman said, practically spitting out the words as if she was casting contempt upon both Pope Sixtus IV and Tsar Aleksandr III. 

“Yeah, that’s true” Luz said, “Think they fled with some other families with names like Galante and Toledano and Margalit and de la Vega and Madrigal and Rivera. It’s like we’ve never belonged anywhere”. 

“I sometimes feel that way about myself, to be quite honest” the tall woman responded, “The man who begat me…he was a harsh, cruel man who kept me isolated from my mother and preferred to keep me in a boarding school rather than taking care of me. It was a hard experience, but I eventually escaped from that hellish domicile and I found my true father who loved me for who I was”.

Luz tried once again to hold back tears, and was only stopped from breaking down into uncontrollable sobs when the tall woman put her hand on Luz’s shoulders once again. 

“You miss your own father, don’t you?” the tall woman asked, “He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”.

“Si” Luz sobbed, “He and Mami are the only people I’ve ever met who understand me. I just feel so…alone…without him. It’s like the entire world is just…trapped in permanent eclipse”.

“Like that one kingdom in the third Azura book” the tall woman said, “I forget what it was called, though. It’s been a while since I read through those tomes and I forget a lot of how they went”.

“Grahanir” Luz said at last, “Grahanir was that kingdom’s name. It was shrouded under the vision of an eternal eclipse by a demonic lord named Roshvar because it wouldn’t give him love and tribute and worship, but Azura put a stop to that when she slew Lord Roshvar in battle and drove his ghost into the wilderness”. 

“Very good, little one” the tall woman said, “You have such a great memory”.

“Only for things I’m super into, though” Luz said, “When I’m not into a subject, it all flows out of my brain like water from a leaky dam”.

“I’m a little like that” the tall woman said, “Ask me about the intricacies of child psychology or the history of the Revolutionary War or cross-dimensional mathematics and I’m practically a super-computer. Ask me to understand why Putin is the way he is and I’m totally lost at sea”. 

Luz chuckled to herself, amused at the soft flippancy of the woman’s tone of voice. 

“Why are you so amazing…and I am not?” Luz asked, “You seem to know so much about the world and how to deal with your problems, and I’m such a loser who can’t do anything right other than edit together clips of ‘Monster Slayer Academia’ and ‘Spirit Devourer’ to rock songs and Broadway show tunes. And you seem to have crossed dimensions in your time”.

“Like I said” the tall woman answered back, “I’m not any more special than anyone else. I’ve never travelled much further than Spain and England in my time, I certainly couldn’t explain every intricacy of modern politics or economics to you even if I tried as hard as I could, and personally, I like to think that everyone in the whole entire world is special in their own way. That includes both me and you, and it’s not just a fancy way of saying that nobody is special, Luz”. 

With that, the tall woman gestured for Luz to kneel upon the ground as she herself did the same.

“Listen Luz” the tall woman said, wiping the tears out of Luz’s eyes, “I know it seems scary. I know it seems like this horror of grief and torment will never end, I know it seems like everything is so hopeless and bleak and the world is a hollow, horrible lie and that G-d has rejected you and left you to flounder, but keep your dream alive. That’s how the strong survive, little one”.

“What do you mean by that?” Luz asked.

“I mean that…” the tall woman answered, “One day, you will found people who are just like you and your parents. You’ll find people who love you as you are, people who won’t look down at you for your oddness or your neurodivergence. You’ll find that there are people who will lay down their lives for you and do anything to protect you from the people who want to hurt you. And the light that is your truest self, it will shine forth out of darkness and will melt away all of the ice that is this grief, and you, my child…will blossom into a new life and the fires of your mind and of your heart will warm and nurture others just as they warmed and nurtured you. And when you finally find true love…”

“Will we dance all night like Azura did with Prince Olivier!?” Luz asked.

“No” the tall woman chuckled, “but you will spread your wings and do a thousand things neither of you have ever done before!”.

Luz smiled again and kept holding onto the tall woman’s hand.

“What you and your true love will do together, however” the tall woman continued, “nothing will come between you, not even the powers of the earth or the stars above. For your love will burn so strong that even the most fearsome monsters of this or any other world will tremble to see it. And you will live together for many years and have strong and happy children who will make their Abuela and the spirit of their Abuelo as proud as you have. And when it is time, you and your love will fall asleep together under the most beautiful tree in the entire world and pass together into the Worlds Beyond, safe in the knowledge that you left behind a better world for those who will come after you”.

With those words having been concluded, Luz leapt into the tall woman’s arms and gave her the type of hug usually reserved solely for Mami and Papi. The tall woman was uncertain how to respond at first, until at last she gave in and wrapped her own arms around Luz’s tiny body as if she was hugging her own father back home in Indiana.

Thirty-five minutes later, the tall woman had carried Luz home in her arms before placing her down when they got home to the Noceda residence and knock knock knocking on the door. Camila had been so happy to see Luz that she and her daughter had hugged each other for five-and-a-half minutes straight before Camila and the tall woman had had a nice, long conversation about how Luz was such a great kid. The three women had tacos for dinner together that evening and discussed Mami’s veterinary work and something about old TV shows and movies before the tall woman had excused herself from the table at the end of the meal, saying that she had to be somewhere else and was just passing through Gravesfield on her way to a conference call in New York City. Luz and Mami were there to wave goodbye to her as she started to walk off into the mist and fog shrouding Gravesfield like a funerary veil. 

“Wait a minute, Señora” Camila Antonia Marchena-Noceda asked the tall woman just as she was about to leave town for other places, “What exactly did you say your name was again?”.

“Hopper” the tall woman said at last, “My name is Doctor Jane Elizabeth Hopper”. 

If the answers that I'm looking for are right before my eyes, gently, please just tell me that they are...

-Hirahara Ayaka

Keep your dream alive,

Dreaming is still how the strong survive

-Howard Ashman

A dream that will need

All the love you can give

Every day of your life

For as long as you live

Climb every mountain

Ford every stream

Follow every rainbow

'Till you find your place

-Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II

[hoezhatelola]

Pretty Little Head

Yandere Deku x Fem!Reader

warnings: yandere tendencies(obviously), 18+ NSFW, gore/violence, drug usage, bondage, dubcon/noncon, praise kink, oral(female receiving), oral(male receiving), MDNI

a/n: this was actually a request i received outside of tumblr but i decided to make one here too! i’m so excited to write this one, i think that underneath deku’s innocent appearance he would make one hell of a yandere.

word count: 4.1k

deku had never anticipated someone like you would be the source of all his stress, pleasure, and love. despite being quirkless and utterly small compared to deku himself, you were always so kind. you were always there to take his hand and help him up when bakugou would push him down. you were always there to ruffle his hair and reassure him he’d do great on an exam. you were always there to offer him a snack or some extra lunch, even if you were hungry.

it left deku confused in the dust, as a child and still now, completely lost in how or why you were so nice to him. even when he took off to pursue his career of being a pro hero, which he was very successful in doing, you were still there to visit him or patch up his scratches.

in his bright green eyes and from beneath his curly green hair, this was enough for anyone to reserve the right to feel a burning hatred towards your significant other. he watched in anger as you sat on that blue-eyed idiot’s lap, tangling your fingers in his dark hair and whispering dirty nothings into his ear. he watched in jealousy as a stupid smirk spread across his lips, well aware there was something threatening to spring upwards as he palmed the fat of your thigh in response.

much to his dismay, he couldn’t watch you all hours of the day due to hero work. that didn’t mean he didn’t keep tabs on you however, which he accomplished by using his friends to update him on your whereabouts. who you were with, what you were doing, what you were wearing, what time you got home, when you fell asleep and when you wake up- he knew everything.

at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. you had invited him over one evening and you were telling him about your day, him smiling in response and just looking at you in awe, listening to you babble away.

“and then it started raining! so i had to run to my car and i ended up slipping, see?” you pointed towards your thigh where a large, and honestly, painful looking scrape was. his eyes widened in his response as he analyzed the mark. “that looks like it must’ve hurt, bunny.”

your heart repeated that same fluttering that it has been ever since you were teenagers at response to that nickname of yours. you’d think by now you’d have gotten used to it, huh?

“it did! and i was just laying there like an idiot in the rain for a good two minutes.” you laughed, emphasizing the word idiot. he chuckled in response, seemingly distracted with something else as he admired your smile and the way it lit up your entire cozy apartment.

“hey, you okay?” you asked suddenly, running a hand through his locks, the two of you seated on your sofa with the tv on in front of you. naturally as best friends, the two of you have had a few intimate moments, but they were always platonic. even though he knew this, he loved you too much for his breath not to hitch at the feeling of your soft fingertips playing with his hair.

“oh! yeah, i-i’m fine!” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck and beaming brightly. “hero work just gets me tired and all, you know?” of course you didn’t know. what was he thinking saying that? you were always insecure of being quirkless, your childhood bully, bakugou, not being any help.

you pulled your hand back and looked away, your eyelids slightly lowering themselves, giving you a less excited expression. deku felt his heart drop and his stomach turn inside out, he hated himself for getting so caught up in his own thoughts of fluffy handcuffs adorning your wrists and your bodies colliding that he had forgotten to think before speaking.

“i didn’t mean it like that, bunny!” he said quickly, reaching out to grab your hand when you dodged him. “what are you-”

“this isn’t the first time you’ve said something like that, deku.” you muttered, immediately questioning yourself afterwards. were you being too sensitive? “even if you didn’t mean it this time, i- i just hate hearing you say it…” your eyes locked into the floor, your fingers now fiddling with each other.

although deku didn’t always have the strongest memory, he never failed to remember that some things in the world were far too fragile to be left out there. that they were too sensitive and too kind and too innocent to be yelled at. but sometimes- and only sometimes, did they deserve to be punished.

he did his best to soften his voice before scooting closer and placing a much larger and scarred up hand on top of yours. “bunny, i really didn’t mean it this time. you know that there’s nothing wrong with being quirkless, right?” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, now revealing your tear-stained side profile.

head now resting on his chest as he sat next to you, wrapping his arms around you in attempt to comfort you, his heart beating through his clothes. “i’ve always wanted to be a hero, since we were little. pathetic how i thought i actually had a chance…” you mumbled into his chest, blinking back more tears and suppressing a sniffle. “when you got into U.A., and your quirk developed late, i was s’ happy fer’ you. i looked up to you and i- i always wa-wanted to be jus’ like y-you.” your words became more jumbled as your tears welled up and you hiccuped multiple times.

deku was then reminded of the significant fact that he never told you the truth about his quirk, and he never planned to. always wanted to be like him, huh? he allowed you to cry into his chest, enveloping you in all of the possible warmth that he could, feeling his opportunity nearing closer and closer.

“looked up to me? hah… bunny, i always looked up to you.” he tilted your chin up and wiped a tear away with his calloused thumb, his strong arms still around your smaller frame. “you’ve always been so kind and intelligent, and a lot stronger than me. hell, you stood up to kacchan when i couldn’t!”

a small smile worked it’s way onto your lips in response. “that’s my bunny, there’s that smile..” deku said, and you giggled, hugging him tighter than before. “aah, thanks deku.” you sighed, “maybe i was being a little, smh- dramatic.” you sniffled, shrugging your shoulders.

“not at all… hey, how about some of your favorite tea? you know i make it the best!” he said enthusiastically as you curled up with a blanket that he had gotten you on your last birthday. “why not?” you giggled as he walked into the kitchen and prepared your drink.

//

an unfamiliar, soft sensation could be felt on your wrists, restraining you from moving. the surface you were on was particularly soft and comfortable, and you hazily opened your eyes to be met with a large room. you looked up and spotted a pair of fluffy, pink handcuffs locked tightly onto your wrists above your head, keeping you restrained to the white, wooden headboard.

the four walls were painted a baby pink, a large mirror, decorated with swirls on the edges hanging in the middle, and the entire room lined with stuffies, trinkets, pillows and everything soft. from what you could see, the door had more locks on it than you could count with your blurred vision, and surely, heavy approaching footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door.

you held your breath and closed your eyes, turning your head and pretending to be asleep. your lips parted in a gentle breath for air, your body remaining still as the unknown person entered the room and locked the door behind them. you felt the right side of the bed dip as if someone was looming over you, attempting to get a better look at something.

“i know you’re awake, bunny. i heard you tugging at the pretty little handcuffs.” your eyes snapped open at the sound of your best friend’s voice. his eyes locked with yours as he set a plate down beside the bed and pulled you to sit up straight. “hey, pretty girl.”

“d-deku?” you stuttered, eyes widening as the feeling in your legs was now returning. “yes, my love?” he replied, the plate of food now in his lap as he began to cut the piece of meat for you. “what- what the hell is going on? why am i handcuffed to this bed? where even am i?”

“shh, shh… relax, bunny. eat a little first, i made your favorite!” he shoved the piece of steak up against your lips using the fork and you shook your head now. his knuckles gripped the fork so tightly they turned white, and so you complied and chewed. “remember how i told you i was renovating my basement? welcome! i made it all pretty and comfortable for you! i have all your favorite colors and i got all these fluffy plushies and blankets!” he said with too much excitement.

“ahh!” his eyes lit up, “we’re gonna have so much fun here, for the rest of forever!” you swallowed the bite you took before he was already offering you more, obviously eager to see you full. “deku… i’m still confused here. uncuff me, now.”

“tch… you’re really ungrateful, you know.” he muttered, continuing to feed you and caress you. “how am i ungrateful, huh?” you asked furiously, a complete fool for thinking you could even remotely amount to his level. you locked your eyes with his as he set the food to the side and forced you to drink water and remain hydrated. beyond his insane thought process and maniacal grins, even an idiot could see he still cared.

“first, i wake up in some completely random room, handcuffed to a bed! and then you come in here, offer me a meal, and then when i want to be uncuffed, im ungrateful? deku, you need to ex-” he leaned in a cut you off completely, your lips attaching.

you turned your head in attempt to look away, to which he grabbed your chin and held you still. his hands trailing down to between your thighs, effortlessly spreading them apart, your fighting back doing nothing at all. his hands tightened their grips on your inner thighs as his lips continued on your neck. he found your hopeless squirming adorable, but irritating.

“gah… stay still.” his tone firmed and his eyes narrowed, again looking into yours. you’d seen him mad before, of course, and you’d seen him determined and impatient and annoyed, but he was never so intimidating towards you. deku realized this shortly after, immediately softening his tone as he dipped his head down to between your legs, nibbling at the fat of your thighs.

“what are you- aah…” you gasped suddenly, your head snapping downwards to see his tongue run a long, clean lick over your slit from on top of your cute little panties. you knew you stood no chance against the number one hero, and you’d never admit to the growing dampness between your legs. your thighs threatened to grind together as his tongue and teeth continued teasing the edges of your panties, avoiding where you genuinely needed him.

“deku, pl-please don’ do th-this.” you gulped down, a tear making it’s way down your cheek. he looked up at you and smiled brightly and pulled down your panties, throwing them to the side, much to your confusion. “but look at you, bunny..” he ran two fingers along your now naked, glistening cunt as your juices coated them. “you’re completely soaked for me. you don’t actually want me to stop, do you? hmm..”he hummed.

“i… i don’t…” you struggled desperately to find words as your cheeks flushed red at the feeling of his eyes seeing things no one else ever has before. “right…” he smugly said both at the feeling of knowing how much you were second guessing yourself, and seeing you blush so furiously, spreading your legs apart even further, holding you down once again, effortlessly. “now just be my good bunny and take it.”

his words sent you over the fucking edge, your thighs grinding together for some type of friction as he laughed with a sense of superiority, now lying completely on his stomach and lapping at your folds. he wasted no time, and the feeling of his wet tongue slide across your womanhood was a sensation you were unfamiliar with. the last ounce of your strength was used when fighting back, and so you just lied there and took it, just like deku said.

your sweet taste drove him more insane than he already was. he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your brows knitted together, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again. his thumb was brought to your clit before he ran careful circles over it, blowing hot air against your pussy when you attempted to squirm away, causing goosebumps to rise against your skin. you could feel him smirking against you, and at this point you didn’t really care.

“de-deku… i’m- what the f-fuck..” you were at a loss for words. obviously you knew what an orgasm was, you’re not an idiot. this time was different than all of the other times you had willingly explored there on your own. it was something so much stronger, so much better. “i know, bunny. go ahead pretty girl… cum for me.” he spoke, muffled against your juices and folds.

his command was all it took for you to feel a strong coil within your stomach snap, and your mouth formed a silent ‘O,’ shape as your body shook in pleasure and you saw white spots all over your vision. your orgasm washed over you like a crashing wave, your desperate and pathetic fingers digging into the soft handcuffs you still wore.

“deku? ‘m tired now…” you mumbled in response to him unzipping his pants and undoing your handcuffs. “already?” he said playfully, but his face was nothing but serious. you nodded and hummed quietly in response as he looked down at you, noting how angelic you looked in this warm lighting that he had set up throughout the room using small lamps, cozy lights, and candles. not real candles, of course- what if you got burned when he wasn’t there?

“we’re not done yet, pretty girl. on your knees.” he looked down at you as he stood at the foot of the bed, watching you crawl over to him. you looked up at him, unsure of what to do next. “why am i here?” his eyes widened in realization that you actually didn’t know what to do this time, and it only made him more excited and honored to be your first. he pulled his pants down a little more, revealing his black boxers and a huge bulge.

“go ahead, take it out.” you hesitantly reached towards the bulge and pulled his boxers down, his large and throbbing member springing up and slapping you right in the nose. “ow…” you mumbled to yourself, and deku laughed. “fuck, you’re so cute. now take it in your hands and pump it a few times, use that pretty mouth.”

you ran your fingers across the tip, not knowing how much that stimulated him. after hearing a soft grunt when you ran your thumb across the tip, dragging his pre-cum along a large vein down the base, you assumed it was a good thing. your eyes explored the strange new thing as he took a fist of your hair. you looked up at him and winced at the sudden sting in your scalp.

“suck on it, bunny. use your mouth.” he repeated again, growing impatient. you grew determined to make him feel good too, all thoughts of fighting back leaving your mind. your hand nearly wrapped around his entire girth, but he was too thick for your smaller hands to do so. once again, hesitantly, you kitten-licked the tip a few times as his eyes shut calmly for a moment. your warm mouth wrapped around the tip as he basked in the feeling of the wetness, you released it with an unintentional pop.

“like this?” you asked innocently as he looked down to watch you suck his length, moving down slowly as you attempted to take all of him in your mouth. you could only go halfway before he hit the back of your throat, and when you gagged cutely around him, the grip on your hair tightened and a quiet whimper escaped the back of his throat. you picked up the pace in response and sucked even more furiously as best as you could, repeatedly gagging and hollowing your cheeks. “y-yeah… aauhh, jus’ like that, bunny.”

you continued your sucking and gentle pumping and tongue swirling around him as he continued to yank at your hair and admire your tear stained face and saliva covered mouth and throat. “aah.. yer’ sure you’ve n-never.. mgh, done this before?” he struggled to speak due to his many grunts and moans.

you nodded quietly as you felt him harden and pulsate in your mouth, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. he suddenly pulled your hair, hard, and you winced loudly. he got down to your level and cleaned your face using his hand and dragged a thumb across your lip, consumed in the way tears pricked at your eyes just for him. “wh-what was that for? ‘m not done.” you muttered, reaching towards his cock when he stopped you with a chuckle and a deranged grin.

“like it that much, hm? we’re not done yet, bunny. don’t worry.” you tilted your head, your eyes then widening. “y-you mean, we’re gonna..” you trailed off as he gently pushed you down by your shoulders onto you back, crawling on top of you and hovering over your body. he cupped your cheek with one large hand and used his knee to spread your thighs apart. he clicked his tongue and trailed kisses from your jaw down your neck to between the valley of your breasts, looking up at you with his emerald green orbs.

“don’t act clueless, bunny. i know you’ve thought about getting touched down here by a real man.” he chuckled, slapping his length against your cunt two times, causing you to jump. “d-deku, please don-” your own words were caught in your throat when he slid the first few centimeters in, causing you to gasp and tug roughly on your handcuffs. “g-get off.. aauh..” you whimpered, attempting to push him off of you, clearly doing nothing. you fought the growing sting in your velvety walls as he slowly inched in. 

“its okay, pretty girl. a little bit at a time..” he whispered into your ear, causing your walls to clench around his first few inches, to which he smirked and nibbled on your jaw.  “that’s it... good girl.” he praised as he filled you up completely. deku was so overwhelmed with the pleasure of his bunny wrapped around his cock, and the reality that he was your first that he forgot to wait for you to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

“deku!” you cried out in pain as his eyes widened and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you into his chest. “i’m so sorry,” he rapidly apologized over and over again, claiming he lost control and would wait now. “i-it hurts...” you muttered into his neck before nodding a minute later, signalling he could now move. he slowly pulled out and thrust back in, his tip barely brushing up against your cervix. he moved once more and a swirling pool of pleasure slowly took over any remnants of pain. 

“mmph.. faster, deku.” you mewled out his nickname that you’ve had for him since you were little, and his heart picked up the pace before looking into your eyes and drowning in your expression as he slid in and out of you, your walls pulsating tightly around him, your thighs and his balls now soaked in your juices. “fuck... aauh, you’re such a good fucking girl for me, hah.” he said in a cocky tone, now slamming into you relentlessly.

“while we’re here,” he said, his pace growing sloppier by the second. “let’s get one thing crystal clear.” he continued, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at his flushed face, his cock still pounding into your sloppy cunt, the lewd noises of him fucking you filling the room. “you’re mine, all fucking mine. this fucking pussy,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a light slap against your folds. “this body, that cute little expression in your eyes, and everything else about you belongs to me. not that blue-eyed shit-faced bitch.” he raised his voice causing you to flinch.

“we’re clear with that, aren’t we?” he asked as your eyes rolled into the back of your head due to him continuously hitting that spot with the tip of his member. “hey,” he growled, bringing a throat to your neck and squeezing it tightly, completely cutting off your oxygen. you clawed at his hand as best as you could despite your handcuffs, and your face grew a bright pink and almost purple. he hated slapping you or choking you or tying you up, and he hated himself for getting excited at that fearful look in your glistening eyes. he released his grip on your throat and you gasped desperately for air, glaring at him. “fucking answer me.” 

“y-yeah, mhnm...” you moaned out, still recovering from being choked. your pussy clenched around him as you felt your second, much stronger, orgasm nearing. he felt his own nearing as well, your beautiful moans not helping in holding him back. “yeah, what?” he smirked, knowing he was pushing your limits. “y-yeah, we’re ..mhgn, clear!” you yelled in frustration as he got a kick out of it, enjoying the idea of you thinking you could raise your voice at him. 

“you know what?” he pulled out rapidly, cumming all over your stomach before lying beside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. “wh-what?” you stuttered in shock and irritation, grinding your thighs together for some type of friction as you angrily yanked on your handcuffs. “now...” he kissed the tip of your nose and smiled at you brightly, as if all of this was amusing. “you don’t get to finish!” he exclaimed happily, giggling shortly after as you struggled and tugged at your restraints. 

“why?” you questioned the green-haired man, who said nothing. he wrapped a strong arm around your needy body and fought the urge to play with your clit using his fingertips. “why, deku? this isn’t fair!’ you whined as he chuckled dryly and tightened the soft handcuffs. “nothing is fair, my love. i have another shift now, so i’ll be gone for a few hours. need anything?” he asked in a condescending tone, knowing you would motion towards your dripping, aching cunt, which he wouldn’t help you with. he didn’t care to help your needy pussy.

he got up and grabbed the silver key he used to previously lock the basement door, glancing back at your distressed eyes one more time before leaving and slamming the door shut. 

“maybe next time you won’t get some silly idea in that pretty little head of yours that you can raise your voice with me.” 

[yutahoes]

Love and Letter

pairing : college student! Yuta Nakamoto x secret admirer

word count : 4.5k words

genre : fluff

summary : A series of letters melt the anti-love’s heart.

warnings : cursing

For the “...dear you” collab hosted by @theje0ngs 😄

I had fun writing for this story. I’m sorry if I posted this early, I’m just so excited to show this to you. Please enjoy and leave feedback. 😁

Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the rebel guy moms would always remind young girls to get away from. Pierced ears, long hair that defies the school rule, a scowl on his face as if hating everyone which he does. A total rebel that is feared by students and teachers alike. The classic bad guy who never showed up for classes, only staying a minute for attendance roll call then skipping. 

And he wanted it to stay like this for the whole year. 

Why does he have to attend Creative Literature class when he’s not even a Literature major? Annoyed, he pushed the door of his locker and was startled when a piece of paper fell from the said locker. His name was written in front in cursive form. To say that he’s not intrigued is a total lie but he waited until he was seated in class when he unfolded the paper. 

‘Hi, Yuta. 

Please don’t be alarmed, I’m not a bad person. 

I notice you a lot in the school hallways and honestly, you’re a little scary. 

I know you’re a nice person. Please lighten up a bit.

XOXO,🍎’

A chuckle escaped his lips. Just a little scary? Him? A nice person? Isn’t this weird? Who in their right mind would make an absurd letter like this? 

But a smile escaped his lips as his mind drifted on the letter in his pocket. Should he start smiling more? Talk to some classmates? Maybe he can find out who wrote the letter. Fuck, this is so dangerous. 

Although it is ultimately different from his usual aura, he greeted the discipline director waiting by the school gate. He also gave a bow to the teachers he passed, smiling lightly at his classmates he only recognized by faces. They were obviously surprised at the sudden shift in his attitude but greeted him as well. By lunchtime, he was hanging out with the guys in his Physics class and laughing at their jokes.   

‘I don’t know if you received my letter the first time but I noticed that you’ve been a little brighter and that you’ve been hanging out with some friends. 

That’s nice. 

I’m happy to see you happier. 

Thank you for making my days brighter, Yuta.

XOXO,🍎’

Yuta smiled. But it was the letter sender who made his days brighter. Does that person like him so much? Or is this something that is made up? He doesn’t want to know but he liked the feeling of receiving the letter. 

He’s used to it by now, saying good morning to the school guard and the discipline director before entering the school gate. He would smile at the other students who were early for class, even helping some with their things. 

Every morning, he would pass by the school’s soccer field. His turf back in high school. If only he continued playing soccer, maybe he can be a part of the team and defeat these guys with terrible form. He smiled while rubbing the back of his head, walking to where the Arts building is. Soccer isn’t for him. 

‘Do you like Messi? 

I noticed you’ve always stopped by the soccer field every morning. 

Maybe you can try out for the soccer team. Didn’t you use to play for the team back in high school? 

It will be cool to see you play again.

XOXO,🍎’ 

He glanced around to see if someone was watching him read the letter but the students are busy with their own things. That person knows that he plays soccer back in high school? Is that person a schoolmate from before? But he’ll have a hard time locating who it is considering that he went to a local high school near the university. 

Is this a sign from above? Should he really try out for soccer? He did miss the feeling of the ball in his feet, the smell of the grassy field, and the excitement it brought him. Why did he even stop playing for a girl who never cared about him?

With the letter in his pocket, Yuta got accepted in the soccer team. The coach even thanked him repeatedly for changing his mind, claiming that he had been coaxing Yuta into applying since his freshman days. The guy only smiled, rubbing his head while apologizing. “The soccer golden boy is back.” And he is. He’s happy to be back. 

But training is so tedious that it startled him. Back in high school, training is such a piece of cake. Why did you have to run fifty laps around the field now? Maybe his body is really startled that for the first time in his college life, he got sick. For two days, he skipped school and just stay at home to rest. Now, he’s debating if playing soccer is all worth it. Should he quit? But he just started. Can his body take on this intense training? 

His friends were greeting him when he returned to school. The other guys from the soccer team teasing him that it’s like that at the first time but he’ll get over this. Hopefully, he will. There isn’t a letter in his locker that made him feel odd. Well, what did he expect? Maybe it already stopped. But he kinda liked it. Even looking forward to it every morning. 

“Dude, you have to attend creative literature tomorrow.” Jungwoo, one of his classmates on the said subject claimed. “We already paired for the project. Your partner seemed really down.” 

Yuta laughed at that. “Who is my partner?” 

“Y/N. She always comes early in class, sitting on the back row.” 

“A girl? Can’t I pair up with you instead?” He revolted quickly that made his friend reason out that nothing will be done if they pair up for the project even asking him the golden question of all, ‘Why are you so scared of girls?’ But Yuta just shrugged, not wanting to explain it to him. 

‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away. 

I’m glad you’re feeling fine and that you’re back in class. 

Also, the apple juice from the vendo machine tastes great. 

I hope you’re not allergic to apples.’

XOXO,🍎’

Funny, that person will say that. He isn’t. And it’s not bad to try it out. 

When he entered the room for their creative literature class, he immediately saw the girl Jungwoo was describing with her face buried in the book. Why is he even scared of talking to a girl? 

Yuta breathed hard before sitting beside her. “Y/N? Am I correct?” He asked which made the girl turn to him. Yuta handed her the same apple juice he’s drinking. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto and we’re partners for the project?” 

The girl nodded, thanking him for the drink. “It’s an epistolary piece we should make…” 

“Epis…? What?” 

She lightly giggled at that which made him stare. “Epistolary.” She said emphasizing all syllables. “It’s a letter-type fiction. We write a story using letters.” Yuta nodded at that. Letters. “I have the idea already but since it’s a pair project, I can’t start on it until I show you.” 

Can’t she show it now? Can she just do the project without his help or without talking to each other? “Do you want to discuss it after class? I’ll be in the library if…” 

“I have soccer practice.” He immediately said that made her stop. He gave her his phone, asking if they can just talk through messages that made her nod, typing her number in. The moment she returned the phone, he immediately stood up to talk to his friend, Taeyong, in the first row.

---------

“You just ditched her?” Taeyong asked that made Yuta ruffle his hair. He shouldn’t have told him. “That’s a pair project, Nakamoto. You’ll both get a zero if you don’t cooperate.” 

Yuta showed the text message he shared with Y/N. “She said she’ll just do it. She’s smart. She can do it.” 

The other shook his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her? Y/N isn’t bad. The thing you’re scared of with girls. I’m sure Y/N isn’t like that.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “All I’m saying is that you should stop being this total jerk on her. He’s not like your ex, Yuta.” That took his attention. How did he know that? “There are talks around.” But before he could ask him to elaborate, Taeyong turned a sharp left. 

The rain was falling hard that made Yuta sigh while taking out his umbrella. Soccer practice ended early because of the muddy ground that made him hate the rain. Today, of all days? He just returned from sickness and yet there’s no training. As he neared the steps of the building, he saw a familiar girl with her hand held out in the pouring rain. “Y/N.” he called. 

The girl gave him a timid smile before returning to what she was doing. Weird. Does she love the rain so much? “Do you have an umbrella?” He asked that made her shake her head. “Do you want to share? I can walk you to the bus stop.” 

“It’s fine, Yuta.” Y/N whispered while shaking her head. Once again, she started playing with the droplets of rain. Truly odd. Maybe Taeyong is right, she really is different. Yuta handed the umbrella that startled her, “Yuta!” But he was already running in the rain. Shit, he might get sick again with this. 

‘It’s been raining non-stop this past few days. It’s so gloomy. 

Also, I learned a new word today.

Niwakaame. 

Isn’t it Japanese? 

Rain Shower. 

I love the rain shower. 

How about you? I hope you don’t hate the rain as much. 

It helps water the plants, you know?

XOXO,🍎’  

A giggle escaped his lips. It does, doesn’t it? 

He just had a reason to like the rain. 

Since soccer practices had been on hold because of the rainy weather, he would always find himself in the library working on that epistolary piece with Y/N. She would always type her ideas and he would check if it was alright. But really, what does he know about all of this? 

He was just thankful that she became his partner, she's really smart and creative. He'll probably pass creative literature with ease because of her help. Another thing is that she never talks when she's in front of her laptop and he was thankful that she's saving them from awkwardness. 

He put on the straw of the apple juice before slipping it beside her notebook. Yuta returned to his comic book when he heard her say in a soft voice, "I didn't know you like apples." Yeah, he honestly didn't know that he did either. 

‘Soccer is such a boring sport for me before. Why does it take so long for players to score a goal? 

But watching you play, scoring that goal in the last minute, I’ve never felt that thrill and happiness before. 

Congratulations! 

And if no one told you this before, I guess I’ll have to tell you now. 

You are really cool, Yuta Nakamoto!

XOXO,🍎’   

The class was cheering with excitement when Yuta entered the room, everyone was congratulating him for the amazing game. He beamed happily, thanking them as he poked a straw to the apple juice he was holding and putting it on Y/N’s table but she didn’t even look at him and was just typing in front of her laptop. 

“You’re being chummy with her.” Taeyong claimed while elbowing his side. “So what’s special about Y/N that she’s the only girl you talk to?” 

Yuta had to laugh, voice resonating to the whole room. Instead of the professor, it was the TA who came for class. He just asked them to talk with their partners that made the class scrambled on their seats. Yuta sat beside Y/N who kept on typing in her laptop as if not caring about anything. “Y/N.” He called softly. “Are you alright?” 

The girl almost screamed when Yuta held her shoulder. “Yuta?” She called then stared around. “I’m sorry. Is the class starting?” She immediately put down the screen of her laptop while biting her thumb. 

“The prof isn’t here. The TA just wanted the pairs to talk about the idea.” She whispered an ‘oh, I see’ before putting out her laptop which opened a document. “You seemed busy.” 

“Paper due today.” She answered while typing, bouncing her legs while she bit her lip. 

The TA started walking around the room to see what the students are doing which made Y/N close the document, groaning when she failed to save it. The girl bumped her head to the desk that surprised Yuta. “You can type your paper and pretend to listen to me.” Yuta suggested that made her look at him. There were tears in her eyes. “Just pretend that I’m telling you the story.” 

Y/N wiped her eyes then breathed hard before opening her laptop to start with her work. Yuta smiled when she started typing words on her laptop. “Someone is giving me letters.” But her typing didn’t stop and he wondered if she was even listening to him. “I don’t know why but that person gives me comfort all the time.” The TA approached their table and she started typing at a slow pace as he continued talking to her, “I always wait for that person’s letters every morning.” 

When the TA passed, Y/N returned to her usual typing that made Yuta shrug and just watch as she focused on her work. Maybe she isn’t interested in hearing his story but it feels good that he got this chance to tell someone about the mystery sender always giving him smiles. He placed his head on the table, facing her. “I hope you meet your letter sender, superstar.” Y/N said without looking away from her laptop. And he wished he did too. 

‘Ureshii. 

I’m happy you’re always happy, Yuta. 

I’m happy to hear your laugh echo in our room. I’m happy to see you smiling at everyone you pass by. 

I’m happy you’re coming to class and enjoying soccer. 

I’m really happy for you, Yuta.

XOXO,🍎’

A smirk appeared on his lips, so this person is in the same class as him? He usually passes by this person as well. He really wants to see this person once and thank him or her. 

A thought passed his mind. What if the sender is a girl? Can he actually talk to her? Maybe not. This is probably better. That he’s curious about the mystery letter sender. 

It was the midterm week. Everyone is super busy with the things they have to do, college life is so fast-paced that it scared Yuta. He’s used to getting left behind but what if he gets too left behind? He’s not super smart, not even studious. And a failing grade meant an automatic expulsion from the soccer team which he slowly grew to love. He should just be back from his usual rebel phase. 

The thing he was scared of happened because of Math, specifically Trigonometry. He had to admit that he was blank the whole time, the result of not going to class during the first few months of school. What’s more annoying is seeing everyone’s score on the bulletin board and his fifteen points in Math. 

“Take a tutorial class and retake the exam. It isn’t that hard.” The soccer coach said. “I don’t want to expel you in the team, golden boy.” But most of the tutors are all girls which scared him the most. Yet he didn’t want to fail. 

As he skimmed the possible Math tutors to help him, his eyes fell on one specific girl that he knew who could help him. The only girl he could talk to. 

‘Keep your head up. 

It’s Math. It is naturally hard. 

Don’t beat yourself up instead focus on what you did. 

You solved an entire equation, fifteen of it and that’s admirable already. 

Keep it up, Yuta! You’ve done a great job. 

XOXO,🍎’ 

“This answer is wrong, superstar.” Y/N claimed, circling her pencil to the number two which Yuta got as an answer. The guy looked at it curiously, sighing hard while bumping his head on the table that earned looks from everyone inside the coffee shop. The girl had to giggle at him before closing her book, “We can rest if you want.” 

Yuta followed her by closing the book then drank his apple juice that made her shake her head. “Y/N, do you remember the letter sender I told you about?” He asked before leaning his head on top of the books. The girl only nodded in answer. “Should I meet him?” 

“Him? Your mystery sender is a guy?” 

The guy shrugged. “But I want to think that the sender is a he so I won’t get too nervous.” But Y/N only gave him a confused look. “I’m not good with talking to girls. I mean, I’m really scared of holding a conversation with them especially after I broke up with my girlfriend.” Yuta breathed before continuing, “She gets jealous even if I just smile at another girl and maybe that was when the trauma started. When we broke up, I just can’t shake it off. I feel like it’s wrong for me to be talking to a girl.” 

Y/N nodded. “Well, you just told that whole sentence to me. And I’m a girl.” 

“Oh shit!” Yuta exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be offended.” Y/N shook her head, smiling at him. “I think you’re really pretty and smart.” 

“You think I’m friendly?” He gave her a confused look. Friendly? But he clearly said pretty. Yuta chuckled before nodding at her. 

It was Y/N’s idea to give the mystery sender a response in a form of a letter, just Yuta saying that he’s thankful for the letters the sender gave him. He even shared how he liked Keisuke Honda better than Messi, how he thinks the apple juice from the vendo machine is the best drink there is in school, and how he started to think of the rain in a better light. He thanked the sender for encouraging him to study Math and the support he got from playing soccer. By the end of the letter, he told the sender that he will wait in a coffee shop to meet him or her so he can properly thank him or her. 

"Y/N!" Yuta called while running in the hallway to where she was. He kept bumping on other students, apologizing quickly to them. "Y/N! He took the letter." She shrugged, looking at him confused. "Do you think he'll come to the coffee shop and meet me?" 

"Did you tell her that?" He leaned beside your locker while she took out books for her consecutive classes. 

Yuta nodded, taking her books for him to carry. "I'm nervous. What should I do?" Y/N was startled at the action. "What if the sender is a she? How can I even talk to her?" 

The girl giggled. "Like how you're talking to me, Yuta." 

He stopped walking and she was steps ahead when she noticed Yuta was gone. "Can you come with me later?" 

Y/N sighed, shaking her head at him. “You can do this, superstar.” 

--------

Yuta was so nervous that he kept on ordering water to ease his nerves. Every time the chimes of the door ring, he would stare at the door and hope that it was the letter sender. He lightly glanced at his wristwatch, it's been an hour. Will that person even come? 

He's in his fifth cup of coffee, almost two hours have passed since the time he told the person in the letter. Yuta had already given up. Maybe she wouldn't come. He was about to stand up when Jungwoo came inside the coffee shop and sat in front of him. The younger guy handed him a folded piece of paper, "Someone wants to give you this." 

"You know who it is?" 

He nodded, "I saw her putting the letter in your locker once." Her? "But Yuta please know that she has her reasons why she doesn't want you to meet her." 

"Can you just tell me who she is?" Jungwoo shook his head, apologizing before standing up to leave Yuta alone. 

‘I received your letter and I’m so sorry for not coming to meet you. 

I’m scared. I don’t know why but I am. 

I don’t want to erase your smile when you find out that this is just me, I appreciate your letter, I really do. 

And I’ll treasure it all my life. Thank you, Yuta. I’m sorry.

XOXO,🍎’ 

That's it? He won't get to know who she was. He cannot thank her for giving him something to look forward to every time. Is it possible to have your heart broken before it can even beat for a person? 

Creative Literature class. Today is the last day of submitting the epistolary piece he and Y/N had been working on. He did the usual morning routine, go to the vendo and pick up a juice for him and her. But he can't seem to find the courage to push the button for the apple one so he settled to the orange-flavored juice. "Shit!" he cursed. He never knew Y/N's favorite juice flavor. He would always give her the apple flavored one. So with a heavy heart, he settled on the apple one. 

Weird, he thought. It's almost time and Y/N isn't here yet. Taeyong entered the room and placed a folder in front of Yuta. "Y/N wanted to give you this." He was startled. There's always something fishy about Taeyong and Y/N so he asked him the question that's always bugging him. The other guy chuckled, "We're cousins, stupid." Taeyong supplied that made Yuta nod. He didn't know that. 

"Where is she?" Yuta asked while opening the folder. There's a page full of computerized words, the story she wrote. "Is she sick?" Five pages of the story and on the last page, hers and his names are written in her handwriting. 

"She didn't tell you?" Yuta shook his head in a questioning manner. "She's going to New York for the Exchange Student Program. It's her flight today." 

Yuta skimmed the contents of the epistolary piece she made then focused on the handwriting. Why did it take him so long to realize everything? Taeyong called for his name but he was already outside the door of their classroom. He heard Jungwoo calling him but he was already out of the gates and hailed a cab. "Airport. Please step on it." 

He took out the letters that he kept in his notebook, nine different letters to be exact. Yuta smiled seeing the hidden message in the letters. She cannot hide from him anymore. "Where are you?" Yuta asked when she answered the phone, his foot stepped inside the crowded airport. 

"Airport?" He answered 'I know', "Gate four."

"Wait for me there." She called for his name but he was already running to where she was, putting the phone in his pocket. "Y/N!" he called which made the girl turn to where he is. He lightly bowed at her parents, asking if he can talk to Y/N for a while. 

"It's you, isn't it? The letters." He asked which made the girl stop. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Then he shook his head. "After confessing, you're just going to leave me?" 

The girl giggled at that. "It's just for two months, don't overreact." The guy breathed hard. "Did Jungwoo tell you?" 

"I saw the pattern with the epistolary you did. Saw how you wrote my name and realized you never told me the juice you wanted and just went with the apple juice I always gave you." The girl smiled then he showed the nine letters he was holding. "Why the hell are you so smart that you have to put a secret message in your letters?" The girl giggled. 

The announcement for the plane passengers heading to New York can be heard, "I have to board, Yuta. I'll see you when…" 

But he pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. "I like you too, Y/N." A final call for the passengers can be heard and he hesitatingly let go of her. "I'll message you every day." Y/N nodded before saying goodbye to him and her parents, facing the boarding gate without even looking back. 

----

Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the soccer superstar every university wanted to have. The model student who greets everyone, female or male, when he passes by them in the hallways. The loyal boyfriend who only has eyes for one girl. 

He couldn't believe only a month had passed. He misses her so much even if the time they spent together is much longer than the time they're away from each other. 

A normal day, a normal scenario for him. He quickly went to his locker to get his books for Physics class when a piece of paper fell, making his heart race. 

'Did you miss me, my soccer superstar? 

How many girls have fallen for that smile? 

Or are you just smiling for me? 

If you do, Room 3F.

XOXO, Y/N' 

He slammed his locker shut then passed by the vendo machine to get an apple juice, even tapping his foot when it took a long time to go down. Yuta ran to the third floor, catching his breath when he's outside room 3F. 

The moment he opened the door, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. "Hi, Yuta." She greeted that made him smile. 

She's here. She's really here. 

"Why didn’t you tell me you’re back?” But he just wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. “And I was complaining last night about missing you.” 

Y/N giggled. “That’s why I went home early. I heard you’re famous with the ladies lately.” Yuta sighed, bopping her nose while teasing her for being so jealous. “Too bad we don’t have the same class together.” 

The guy chuckled worriedly. “Well, you know I had to skip class that day and go to you to the airport.” Y/N nodded. “I didn’t submit our project so the professor gave us a zero.” 

“What?”

Yuta laughed, shrugging. “On the bright side, we’re going to attend the same class in summer.”  

And he knew, from her grin, his anti-love phase is over. 

tagging : @jenosdaemi @notworthit24​ @smrutiisiva-13​ @justpeachygirl​ @notmejustmymind​

I know someone is going to ask me about the secret message in the letters but I’ll let you discover it. 😁 

[boneyfaun]

is the matchups open? i actually saw your pantalone & kaeya matchup (feel free to ignore this if its closed!)

i would preferably like male character romantically! (no bcs im actually curious who do u have in mind LMAO)

i am uhhh isfp-t + sagittarius !

appearance: i am on the smaller side when it comes to height & pale skin. i tend to cut my hair w different styles every often and different themed fits!

likes: gaming, staying at home because i easily get so tired unless im having fun!, i like exciting things such as risky relationships because it brings out my confidence (ex. enemies or one sided) and dancing (wink)

dislike: i hate the rain/cold, seafood & being competitive when it come to academics and solving any number or poem/riddle related.

others: i am always the one who makes the first move either friendship of romantic, thats why when someone makes the first move on me it gets me so flustered WHAHAHA

thank u so much!! have a great day/night !! ♡

I feel like with your more confident nature to approach others I match you with Xiao!

The yaksha would probably be a bit opposed to being approached so easily in all honesty, the man likes his solitude especially when mortal humans are involved. Xiao would be a hard man to crack with his preference for isolation but he seems like someone who longs for a connection again. It's just hard for him to open up to such concepts after such a long life and almost succumbing to his karmic debts. If you could handle his initially rough exterior and original efforts to try and come off as harsh I think he would start to lose that hard shell of his.

Something about just constant company softens him, maybe it's how consistently you greet him even if he doesn't say anything back. Perhaps it's the way you refuse to leave him alone on the balcony of his hiding spot amongst humans at the Wangsu Inn. He hates it at first, almost snaps at you before he realizes that you are just being kind to him. Why would you be kind to someone who tries to abhor you though? He can't quite place it and it is so frustrating for him. Then he starts to yearn for your so inconvenient attention though. He feels so conflicted by that very concept of wanting your time to be spent with him but he inevitably cracks to confessing as much.

A relationship with Xiao is a taxing one at first, the man has seen and been through so much. He is prone to feeling guilty for even wanting a relationship at times and he needs reminders that he is indeed loved. He is a very loyal partner though, and a very protective one. So much loss has built him to see it as an inevitable but he still strives for the happiness of his partner despite it. His love language is very much quality time but also acts of service and he would very much tend to you once he can admit to himself just how much he cares about you.

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV- Part 1

I've seen a lot of the memes going around, but I'm not funny enough to write that, so here's my addition to the trend :p

This is part one, because I had a lot of fun with this and want to do it more.

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

- - -

Sometimes, it was odd for the residents of the Dream SMP to be reminded of the fact that the constant state of chaos that their server was in was not, in fact, reflective of every server.

"Why did we move here?" One woman in Snowchester whispers to another as the sirens go off for yet another nuke test and they duck down into their bunker.

The other shrugs. She doesn't have an answer. No one does.

Things started out all right, the people supposed. There weren't any wars, at least. Some of those who lived on the server before the Revolution could remember back far enough to tell you about the first true conflict, between Dream, the creator of their home, and TommyInnit, a sixteen-year-old who could yell shockingly loud, even for a teenager. Dream fought against Tommy and Tubbo (yet another teenager), and it seemed to all be in good fun.

Some will tell you now, though, that the signs of tension were already there, and when Wilbur Soot joined, those tensions only escalated.

One moment, things on the server were normal, the next, there was a Revolution.

"Did anyone else hear Dream shouting about 'white flags' this morning?" One person would ask their friends, and receive nods in return. "Anyone know what it's about?"

"A Revolution," one would respond. "Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are starting a new country."

"Oh," the first would hum. "How long until they get completely crushed?"

"Eh, I give 'em a week."

It was only a week, but it did not end the way anyone thought it would. Instead, L'Manburg gained its independence after TommyInnit gave up his discs once he lost a duel with Dream.

"Is the L'Manburg cabinet missing someone?"

"No, I don't think so. Anyway, did you hear that Dream just declared that Eret is to be crowned king?"

"...Can he do that?"

"He's Dream. He can do whatever he wants."

After the Revolution, when the server finally had more than one ruling faction, more than one place to live, things seemed to pick up a bit. President Soot, with Vice President Innit (VP Tommy, the people called him), ruled over L'Manburg, and called it a place of freedom. When word spread to other servers, people came to see for themselves.

And often, they stayed.

It was peaceful, for a while.

"President Soot announced he's holding an election," one man said to his wife one day.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Said it was for democracy." The man snorted. "He and Innit are the only party running, though. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me."

"Darling, I know you're still salty about losing the war, but there's no reason to talk bad about a child," his wife said.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Still."

It was peaceful during the campaign.

For a while.

Then, though, Quackity announced that he was running for president, with GeorgeNotFound, best friend of Dream himself, as his running mate.

"This feels like a sitcom," one girl says as she watches the debate reruns with her friends.

"At least it's entertaining," her friend replies, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

And, for the people of the Dream SMP, from both L'Manburg and the Greater SMP, it was entertaining.

Until the election results came in, Schlatt was declared the winner, and President Soot and VP Tommy were banished.

"Dude, dude!" One teen says to their friends, running up to meet them on the Prime Path.

"What is it?"

"I just saw Technoblade join the server!"

The arrival of the Blood God shifted something in the people of the Dream SMP. When he joined Pogtopia, the rebellion being led by the two ex-leaders of the country, the people felt something settle within themselves.

All of a sudden, choosing sides wasn't as simple as where you live.

It was what you care about.

As the son of the ex-president burned down the old flag, the people of the Dream SMP, of (L')Manburg and of the Greater SMP, realized suddenly that they had to make a choice.

Without even wanting to, without doing anything to deserve it, they would have to fight.

Some people went to Pogtopia, some stayed in Manburg, some in the Greater SMP. Those in the latter two stayed where they were because they wanted to stay out of it.

It didn't change anything, in the end.

In Manburg, they watched their president (Emperor) fall further and further into alcohol, yelling at his cabinet and talking of expanding into territory that they had no right to.

In the Greater SMP, murmurs of King Eret's attempts to assist the Pogtopia rebels filled the alleyways.

In Pogtopia, people sat and watched the decline of the man that they had all once believed in. As Wilbur Soot slowly devolved until he was no longer recognizable as the man who had once led people to freedom, the residents of Pogtopia ate potatoes farmed by a man famous for his bloodlust and pretended that they were sleeping somewhere warm.

The day of the Manburg Festival, though, things felt better. Other than ex-president Soot and ex-VP Tommy (Wilbur and Tommy, the two insisted. No one listened), everyone, even the rebels in Pogtopia, were invited to attend. The people wandered through the stalls playing games, watching as Soot's son attempted (in vain) to drown Technoblade, buying food, and chatting with people from other factions, friends and family that they hadn't spoken to in weeks.

When the time came for the speeches, before the true festivities were set to begin, everyone was feeling good about the day. People congratulated Secretary Tubbo for a successful event, and offered him small words of encouragement for his speech coming up. The teenager would grin at all who spoke to him, and looked (rightfully) proud of how well he organized and decorated the festival.

Secretary Tubbo gave his speech, and people clapped, and then fell silent as President (Emperor) Schlatt laughed, asked for his Vice-President's assistance, and encased the teenager in a cage of concrete.

And then he called Technoblade to the stage.

And then, in front of the people of the Dream SMP, a teenager was executed in a spray of color that shot toward the sky.

Fireworks rained down on the people in the stands, then, and, regardless of where they were from, the people of the Dream SMP ran.

The Pogtopia ranks grew that day, and a nineteen-year-old who claimed to be a doctor without showing any credentials forced four other people to help her heal VP Tommy after he fought Technoblade in a pit, egged on by a man who once might have called himself his brother.

"How is this kid not dead yet?" One of the helpers asked, looking at the unconscious teenager's face.

"Pure spite?"

The first hummed. "Sounds about right."

One day, a bit after the festival, the people of Pogtopia woke to find Vice President Quackity walking through the ravine as if he owned the place.

One resident was noted to rub his eyes, blink three times, and then say, "It's too early for this shit," before heading back to bed.

A surprising number of people followed his lead.

Finally, the day of November 16th came, when Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit vowed to take their country back.

"I heard President Soot is planning to blow up L'Manburg," one Pogtopian woman mentioned to her friend as they suited up and prepared to fight, as they had signed up to be part of the forces.

"That's stupid," her friend replied.

"Bet you ten diamonds he blows something up."

"Fine."

As the country of L'Manburg blew sky-high, one woman was seen following another, screaming that she wanted her diamonds.

When Pogtopia won the war, the forces from both sides sat outside of the remains of the van as President Soot, VP Tommy, Secretary Tubbo, Dream, Technoblade, and many more, all piled inside to confront Emperor Schlatt.

They emerged fifteen minutes later, and Dream announced to the crowd that Schlatt was dead.

There was no time for the news to sink in, as they played hot potato with the presidency, going from VP Tommy to Wilbur Soot to Secretary Tubbo.

"President Soot is leaving, do you see that?"

"Probably going to the river to celebrate the win, if you know what I mean."

"Literally shut up. Never speak again. I hate you."

As the newly-inaugurated President Tubbo finished his speech, the people felt a wave of relief wash over them. Maybe the server could finally be peaceful once more.

Then, there was the tell-tale hiss of explosives under their feet, and the people ran as the ground beneath them fell away.

Stories of what happened next are conflicting, to say the least.

Words of President Soot dying in the explosion, of him turning the blade on himself, of another man killing him.

"He had wings," people who saw the man said. "Blonde hair, a green hat and robes. He stabbed Soot with the guy's own sword."

Technoblade apparently gave an incredible speech, and anyone who was there to witness it lamented that they hadn't recorded it.

Then, two Withers flew through the sky, and blood ran down the newly-exposed stones, and people who had never experienced death on the server before finally knew what it was like to die.

Afterward, though, when the anarchist had fled and the ex-President lay dead, President Tubbo, with VP Tommy by his side, stood and addressed the people, and made promises of a brighter future, and the hope and determination in his eyes was enough for the people to hope that maybe he was right.

("Whoa, cool wings, dude," a resident of L'Manburg said to their newest neighbor, a man in green with wings, burned across all the feathers, sprouting from his back. "Wait, what happened to them?"

"Oh, I was protecting my son from the explosion," the new resident replied.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is your son all right at least?"

"No, he died just a few minutes afterward. His last life, too." The man sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he probably deserved it."

A beat. "What did he do?"

"Well, you may have heard of him. Wilbur Soot? He was the president here before Schlatt, I believe."

"...Holy shit, you're the bird man that killed President Soot!"

"Yeah, mate, that's me."

"...He was your son?"

"...Yeah."

"...What the fuck is wrong with your family?")