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siyasantlani111 · 4 months

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Authenticity ~

So guys it's currently 1:17 Am and I'm writing a blog for y'all. I don't why but at night my thoughts get even more deep, like they are already so deep but they still choose to be the deepest. So todays topic is authenticity and I'm going to share my story about how I started practicing being my authentic self. I used to have this friend group in 6 th grade and all these girls used to be quite popular I'd say, they were mostly insta baddies or like uk the “aesthetically pleasing picture taking people” so like whatever they'd do would always be so beautiful, literally anything they'd do, their music taste, their dressing sense , literally everything. And then I became a part of this group and I had different tastes in stuff, which was really beautiful too, but that might not be that aesthetically pleasing to them. Now whenever I'd talk about things I like, like: The kind of food i like, my favourite colour, my style in cloths or literally even the kind of music taste I had never matched theirs. Or sometimes they'd just make faces and be like ok ew who likes that. So I started changing myself and all of these things, because their defination of aesthetic was different from mine. I also think I never really got the freedom to like make mistakes in certain areas of my life because of situations like this or extreme competition. Last year, I was extremely competitive in a certain aspect of my life, and I used to think everyone's patterns are the only patterns that exist, so however everyone would approach doing this one thing i'd do that too and I was highly competitive which got quite stressful for me, i also realised I'm not that fast of a learner but I'm also not like extremely slow, so I might take some time to understand certain stuff but when it's fully understood then I'm actually pretty good. Ok ik I'm being really very unspecific, but I'd only disclose this aspect after achieving my goals in it. So this year I started working towards it with my own patterns and allowed myself to make mistakes, and honestly this feels so free and i have started seeing progress too.

1) Be unapologetic and own it.

So when i say this I don't mean hurt other people or break their heart no. I'll explain this through something else. So uk in met gala all of us would have seen celebrities all dressed up, now regardless of people liking their looks or not, they don't give a shit, they own what they do, they own their style and they are unapologetic about it. Or literally even if they wear trash bags, or tissues paper, toilet papers they still walk with confidence and they are very unapologetic about it and thats beautiful. Because if wearing a toilet paper is their style, they don't feel ashamed of it and that's why people get drawned to most celebrities, because they dgaf about whatever the f they do as long as they like it ( this is not about all celebs.

2) Everybody won't like you

Now the thing with being your authentic self is everyone won't like you, but do you care? Nope you don't because guys listen to me everyone isn't supposed to like you, everyone's opinion doesn't matter. Stop thinking omg what if they like me or not, why do you care? Huh? Why do you care about someone liking you or being anxious or literally whatever the fuck you do why do you also have to take steps while thinking you are being watched by people. Guys I'm going to be very honest with you , recently I was embarrassed to do something in front of my classmates i did exactly that, because i was like let them judge me who cares? I have to grow in life. Then i was ashamed of doing something else in public, i was trying to do a pullup and lol i couldn't who cares? Do you guys think, people have the time to think about omg Siya can't do a pull-up, atleast i tried . And even they do remember, do I care? No i have other things to care about than this.

I used to have this friend and she would always make rude jokes about me and it used to hurt me so much, and whenever I'd say hey stop I don't like it she'd continue doing so and say you get offended easily so started changing myself to be accepted by her, however it didn't work out, and it not working out is the outcome. Because literally for her a friend is who doesn't get offended easily and takes her rude jokes, i wanted a friend who understood me i guess we are both disappointed, now the thing is this person exactly tried to make a joke about me and tried to tell me that you don't have common sense, and ukw i said, i said with a poker face and with a very “i don't like your comment expression ” “that I'm trying to learn something i don't understand i don't think common sense is related to that” and ukw after that she was like, oh okay she literally didn't approch me with her rude comments because yes she can think i get offended easily but honestly do I care? Why should i care about someone when they don't care about me? And that's when i realised we don't fit in and it's ok.

3) Accept yourself, realise it's ok to sit down.

Now when I say accept yourself I don't mean go do drugs, consume alcohol nope, I mean is accept yourself and try to change it, have passion for yourself guys, its ok if you are a slow learner, it's ok if you didn't score the first grade in exams , you still did better than the past exam, its ok if you are fat you are allowed to change it (if you want to). We are allowed to make mistakes, but also grow from them. Its ok its not that deep, relax. You guys won't believe there were certain versions of my self i didn't like , and when I used to see that in other people I'd be like ok thats actually boring, i never bullied them or anything, i just had that perception of I didn't like it and now that I have accepted that part of me i realised actually it doesn't matter . If you are a nerd accept it even if the world laughs at you, if you are a very religious person fine accept it who cares? We need to start realising if we care about dumb opinions we will stop our growth.

Now guys accept some other things about yourself for eg you not like being treated in a certain way, it's ok if people call you choosy and blah and blah you need to have certain standards in life and if you don't like someone treating you in certain way it's ok, accept it why do you have to change what you don't like, you just naturally don't like being treated badly it could be anything for eg: being left out in your friend group.

4) Allow yourself to make mistakes

Hey listen everything is not supposed to be perfect, i was studying the other day and i read something and connected it with my life, when we have bad experiences or when make mistakes we create certain rules through that experience in oder to make progress and i was like oh damn now I understand why am I so firm on my boundaries.

Recently i realised i was in a situation where i wasn't allowed to make mistakes thats why i was so scared to show my vulnerable self as making mistakes and letting people see it is vulnerable, and whenever i'd make a mistake people would make fun of me and would call me dumb, now the thing is because of those comments i realised i wasn't able to grow as if i made a mistake i'd always try to hide it, or if i wanted to know something i didn't but everyone did i won't because of stupid comments but then i was like fuck it, because this environment feels so restrictive. And little by little i started understanding myself and my patterns, how i approach things and let myself be vulnerable if i wanted to.

Now I'm like fuck it make jokes about me i don't care atleast I'm progressing in life.

Just because, you don't have to mentality.

I created this mentality, and what do I mean by this is, just because you like someone and they are constantly hurting, then you don't have to allow them into your life, just because someone who hurt you in the past gifted you something, you don't have to accept them and their bad behaviour again, just because you miss them doesn't mean you have to allow them back in your life. Because people who truly love themselves, would love themselves so much that they'd not accept people treating them in a bad way.

5) stop people pleasing

You know what people pleasing itself is a very unauthentic behaviour, and authentic people don't people please, because they are authentic. What is people pleasing? Do you guys know what is it? I'm not saying don't help others or don't be kind or be rude no, people pleasing is when you are letting yourself constantly get hurt in oder to provide for someone, it's when you are constantly being hurt and your feelings are not being understood still you constantly try to understand others at the cost of your own,it is when you truly don't like doing something however you still do for them. People pleasing is not being kind to yourself, and like I said before , when you do something for someone else do it for you too, that includes being kind to yourself.

Start realising when you stop people pleasing and start saying no , people are not gonna like it, but it's so much better than you feeling that people step all over you and take advantage of you. When you people please ,sit down and ask yourself how does that make me feel? Do you feel like you were taken for granted or you feel good and happy because I'll tell you when you feel taken granted for you are people pleasing and when you feel good then you are helping someone, helping people feels good but people pleasing doesn't.

Also start realising its ok to be disliked by people who don't like you when you stop people pleasing them, so i used to have this friend and i realised i was constantly costing my own feelings to understand their feelings and then i was like let's stop this, so one day they did something which I would usually shrug off, but i didn't that day I confronted them about their behaviour and mirrored their behaviour, the entire day their mood was off, angry and their face was showing that they didn't like it. And after that i felt bad for making them feel that way but then I was like its ok i would have felt bad too of I'd have allowed them to treat me so shitty. Because when you mirror this person's behaviour, they themselves won't like it, because when it's them it's not funny, when it's them it's actually very painful but when its you its very funny it's light. They themselves don't like being treated the way, they treat you.

6) start realising being your authentic self is a little vulnerable.

If you want to be yourself in public, then you have to let go of the thoughts of being watched or every single person is judging you, because when you are yourself you are letting the world see who you truly are and there's a possibility of people not liking it, and again let me tell you I'm not saying hurt other people or break their heart as long as you do none of that and you are being yourself there are still possibilities people won't like it, but also at the same time when you are authentic self some people would admire that about you, they'd be like “omg! Look at her, she loves her self, she's so free, she is beautiful her energy is so beautiful being around her makes me feel warm and free too” they'd also start being their authentic self in front of you and you will attract more and more authentic people.

I used to be friends with this person and they were mostly their authentic self, we went out one day and i saw them so care free and so much of being themselves whilst I was feeling everyone is judging me and they were like i don't care if someone is judging me, and that was so beautiful to be honest , and since that day I tried to be more of myself in public.

7) If you aren't your authentic self you won't get what you want.

So guys what I mean when I say this is that if we aren't who we are then we are just being fake. For eg: You are in relationship and you are the kind of person who loves receiving gifts, love letters, chocolate etc however your partner isn't that kind of person so they're like very chill and nonchalant, so now you are also pretending to be chill and nonchalant, because you want to feel loved by them, but then you won't receive what you want if you are not giving off your authentic energy and at the end of the day you won't feel happy in the relationship. Similarly it goes for other things you want in other relationships.

Make sure you let people know what you dislike. For eg someone left you on delivered for a long time once and you don't like that, so let them know you don't really like being left on delivered , “now when you let people know what you don't appreciate you will receive what you 'd like to receive ” and by chance if they continue doing that, then you know you are not important to them and you can take a step back. So this way if you say what you don't appreciate people who value you would deliver you with what you actually appreciate and this way you will also be able to easily realise who don't really value you or your boundaries.

8) Stop the fear of being called cringey or being disliked

You know what I think being cringey is, i think being cringey is actually being free, why do we always fear what are people going to think about us or what of they call us cringe? Whoever calls you cringey right, i think they never allow themselves to be free, because being your authentic self is being free.

You know there was a time in my life i'd literally not do things i wanted to do because i didn't want people to think of me as a cringey, but most of the times now I don't care. If I'm too religious then thats how I'm, thats the actually me, and it isn't hurting anyone so “I'm not going to let the chains of what other people are thinking of me hold me. ” Dont waste your precious time by not doing what you want to do because people might call you cringey or won't like you.

9) Know who you are and love your self

How are you going to be your authentic self if you don't know who you are? Start being alone and start spending time with yourself find things you like and you don't. This way you know who you are and your likes and dislikes this will help you be your authentic self.

And at the end of the day like i said being your “authentic self is actually being free” and you'd feel happy.

Ok guys i think I should end it here. I'm working on other blogs for you guys too. I love you guys so muchh❤️❤️❤️❤️.

Thankyou so much for reading❤️❤️❤️.

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment.

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly.

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches.

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.”

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest.

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement.

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room.

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up.

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently.

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric?

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends.

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back.

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.”

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school.

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High.

Cut all ties now. You have two days.

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon.

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.”

“It’s none of your business, Zara.”

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders.

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym.

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle.

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left.

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand.

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning.

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door.

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings @thaticecreambish @hee-hee-haw @dearnataliealoveletter @wasteofspacze @dcml04 @bbigbbrainn @dirtydiavolo @vanhakirja @rinzyx05 @misselsbells06 @ialexabsuniverse @im-a-depressed-gay @energy-drinkk @mothra-main @i-need-hugs @dragons-lurk-here @katj733 @m4r-s @vievi @dykeragee @waterstrawberry @aplaintart @kakamiissad @myunfinishedsymphony @nagitokinnieissad @autumnpleaves @justanothergirlwithdemons @zachariethememerie @moon-asia @m0on-blue @strawberrysodababy @akikko-yataro @haikkeiji @shiningsunrises @cinnamonmochi @queen-turtle-boiii @imanewsoul @sparkling-gayyyy @angelicaschuyler-church @vixenfoxpup @ella-ivanov @shio-yuki @mosstea-png @ijustshatbricks

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bumbleklee · 3 years

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What do you think Childe would be like when his s/o is on her period?

annoying. he would be so mf annoying /J

before reading: reader is afab but gn and is referred to as they/them. feel free to change it up in your mind besties. also it’s under a cut bc ik periods can make some people uncomfortable

childe is a himbo (no one can change my mind on this)

so when you stand up from the couch and you’re bleeding through your pants, he freaks out and immediately thinks you’re hurt

“you’re bleeding! are you okay? when did you get hurt? do you need to go to see baizhu?”

you panic a little at first, too. you didn’t know you were bleeding

and once you realize childe is talking about your period, you’re absolutely mortified and lock yourself in the bathroom

he comes around a while later and you tell him you’re on your period and like you, he’s embarrassed

he asks if you need anything and you just tell him to go away

you change and get situated and immediately dive into your bed, curling up into the blankets and falling asleep

you wake up later to cramps and frown, not wanting to move

childe checks on you when he hears you stirring and you give in, letting him crawl into the bed with you so you can use his body warmth as your own personal heating pad

he’s very sweet to you during the week, getting you whatever you want

if you send him out for pads/tampons, he’s very lost (he’s got the spirit though)

he ends up asking ganyu for help and she’s more than happy to help him pick out what you need

he’s just very doting and affectionate to you during your period because he knows how miserable you must be between cramps and mood swings and whatever else your period brings

you cuddle a lot

since you don’t want to move for the duration of your period, childe opts to snuggle next to you in the bed while you guys nap or childe tells you stories about his life as a harbinger to distract you from the pain

he hates seeing you in pain and hates even more that he can’t just stop the pain

Towards the end of your period, you had gained enough energy to let Childe lead you to a grassy hill in the middle of the night to stargaze. You were dressed in loose-fitting sweats and you definitely didn’t look your best but Childe was just happy you were finally getting some fresh air.

You both laid on the ground, your heads adjacent and flipped from each other. Childe was pointing out constellations to you, often comparing you the stars in the sky.

“You’re the best,” You smile, your nose brushing against his, “How did I get so lucky to end up with an amazing boyfriend like you?”

Childe laughs, cracking an obnoxious joke about his ego growing. “I’m sorry you have to go through this every month,” He said seriously, leaning close to you to rub your noses together.

“I’ll survive,” You said, “I’m basically done with this month’s.”

There’s a happy, content moment of silence. “You know, there’s one good thing that came out of your period this week.”

You raise your eyebrow, “What?”

“It means you’re not pregnant!”

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin self insert #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin tartagalia #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader

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noitsbecky127 · 3 years

Text

rebecca watches tos: journey to babel

ok ik which episode this is, it’s the one where spock’s parents are on the enterprise

I love how the episode description says Amanda is a Vulcan

I’ve never seen so many redshirts in one place

why is bones having so much trouble with the vulcan salute, it’s not exactly complicated

jim really just introduced spock to his own dad huh

and I love how neither of them even objected to this, they were both just like “Yes We Have Never Met >:|”

“ambassador sarek and his wife are my parents” *DRAMATIC MUSIC*

did spock just decide it was logical to not mention that the people being transported raised him

this situation is peak comedy my god

“you still haven’t learned to smile” yeah I don’t think your son does that (unless his bf is unexpectedly alive ofc)

jeez we know where spock got the bitchiness from

eighteen years??? bc spock joined starfleet?????? seems like an emotional reaction

I understand that in theory Starfleet uses force as only a last resort but also a redshirt dies in every episode so like

damn there’s a lot of different species aboard rn

why do vulcans know numbers so precisely, is that just a universal vulcan trait

wtf is that pig thing

a tellarite

bones immediately goes to asking for embarrassing stories of spock. love him

I fully support baby Spock and his giant dangerous teddy bear

wtf is that up ahead

“he is a vulcan” “he’s also human” are neither of you going to ask him what he thinks about this subject

so is the two-fingers thing a vulcan display of affection? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen people say it is

they keep encountering people going at warp 10+ but that’s Not A Thing

tellarites look so fucking weird my god

listen dude sarek is Not going to answer you and continually asking him isn’t logical

oh nvm he answered

christ these people want nothing more than to murder each other don’t they

damn rip tellarite

put your shirt back on jimothy

I love how Spock is just like “yeah it would probably have been a vulcan, yeah my father could easily have done it”

Why do people keep calling Amanda “Mrs. Sarek,” isn’t Sarek his personal name

is sarek having a heart attack rn

spock is very chill about dad having a heart attack

ok so someone is dead, someone else is maybe dying, and someone on the ship is communicating with a strange vessel. things are not going well huh

“there was nothing you could have done” yeah well she’s your wife, she still deserves to know!

ok idk how they plan to get enough blood for sarek

“I would estimate the odds—” “please don’t” amanda is a mood

spock taking this drug seems illogical but it seems like a vulcan can do any level of mental gymnastics to make anything logical

and meanwhile, jim’s being stabbed by an andorian in the galaxy’s most badly choreographed fight scene

and down he goes

damn spock changed his mind real fast

what is that accent the andorian has

spock. spock please. spock your dad is dying

baby spock got bullied :(

man this scene hurts

why doesn’t the door open when spock stands near it, does it know when someone wants to leave and when they’re being angsty

man this is what we gotta do to get spock to save dad huh

spock stop thinking about science things in the middle of your dad’s lifesaving surgery

there goes the antenna

honestly I’m not even interested in the A-plot so much as I am in the Vulcan family drama

this cannot be a good environment to perform surgery in

oh great now they don’t have power

ohhh it was a fake antenna, I just thought the effects were bad

alright, the enemy I didn’t really care about is down

kirk was like “let’s see if they want to surrender” and then they just go boom

and there goes the fake andorian

everyone on the enterprise is so difficult (except uhura) I love them

“I’m sick to death of logic” ma’am you married a vulcan

bones is definitely enjoying having the power here lmao

great episode!

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #star trek liveblog #star trek tos liveblog #star trek the original series liveblog #liveblogging #journey to babel

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charlotteswriting · 4 years

Note

So what would happen if like Fuyuhiko and Kokichi’s s/o got kidnapped by a rival gang or something? They’re just super chill about it “it’s Monday huh? K so can I have Doritos or something?”

Excuse me, what...? You Y/ns are this selfless?! -Mod Kaede

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

Ik my requests are closed but please request me Fuyuhiko- I love him sm

Just how in the world did this happen? He kept this relationship private—he didn't take you to public places (well, he did take you on dates but not my point) He didn't kiss you when anybody's around... Heck has anyone seen him NEXT TO YOU?!

So it seems his efforts of keeping you safe and sound and all to himself have failed.. What a pity.

"Shit!!" He hit against the table, almost dropping the photo frame of you and him. He took it on his hands and observed your cute face carefully. Oh, you looked so happy... He was missing you already. You needed to be found immediately.

With a knocking sound, Fuyuhiko placed the photo frame on his table and fixed himself and coughed, "What?"

"It's Peko. Young Master, we got an anonymous letter, you must see this.." Peko knocked on the door once again before entering with his permission, she handed Fuyuhiko a letter and he tore it down, not wasting a second, immediately reading the text written. It was written by no one other than his enemies—no shit Sherlock

In the letter it was written that they're holding you as their hostage. This got him rage up before he saw the photo below the letter. He expected some kind of threatment or you to be hurt, yep, worst case scenario because why not— but in the photo you seemed just fine. Heck, they didn't even tie you up yet you still sat on the ground with snacks around you and you were given... A switch? Are you playing games in this situation-

"What the..." Fuyuhiko stared at it in disbelief. He blinked for few times, is he imagining things?? He sighed in relief but was clearly disappointed. So even Yakuza gangs loved you, huh... But you were fine, this is what mattered to him...

"They seem alright... Are they really the victim here?" Peko asked trying to see the photo of you, it was hard since Fuyuhiko held it so tightly and hid it. Fuyuhiko frowned before folding the paper and placing on his pocket.

"The guy who conveyed this to us seemed suspicious, I will question him." Peko said and fixed her attitude. Fuyuhiko just nodded, trying to hide his embarrasment. He told her to bring you back to him as she left.

Peko was trying to hold her laughter back the whole time. It seems you and Fuyuhiko will have a talk when you get back to him...

Kokichi Ouma

I need to write for him more- I love him (feel free to request for him as well-)

Wait... Out of ALL people you got kidnapped?? The S/O of the Supreme Leader??

Ok! It was fine. This happened all the time! Right...? No! He was still afraid of losing you

He wasted no time to gather D.I.C.E and cry about it to them, they were fully shocked as well—out of all people it was you kidnapped? How come-?

"It doesn't matter how, dummies!! We must find my Y/n!" Kokichi almost yelled, trying to hold his not so crocodile tears. He ordered them to go and search out for you. You need to come back to him. *Cry*

It didn't take D.I.C.E to find your location since Kokichi had inserted a GPS on you before—don't ask me when, I just know for a fact that he did. Trust issues? Afraid of losing you? You name it

After a little while that was like forever to him, D.I.C.E finally managed to arrive to the stated location.

You on the other hand, been talking to the rival gang the whole time and asking them ridiculous questions. It's come to the point where they wanted to send you back to Kokichi—but no! This would mean they'd accept their fate. They didn't even realise you were actually saving time for D.I.C.E to come and get you by asking those embarrassing questions of yours.

"Shut up already!!" One of them finally snapped at you—you just rolled your eyes in displeasure. "Are you tired of me already? Well, you are no fun anyway. Can I have food at least??"

"That's it. Cover their mouth or I am leaving." Their leader,, probably??,, Ordered but before they could take action you have gone missing already, leaving all of them confused

Little did they know you were finally rescued and on your way to the HQ of D.I.C.E, with your boyfriend, being extra clingy than usual

"Y/n, are you hurt?! Did they touch youuu??" He said in a caring way but you could see through his act- But still chose to play along.

Don't worry, he's going to pull a prank on the rival gang as revenge when you get back home. Probably...

But for now, he's just going to guilt trip you so you won't get lost again—let him buy matching shirts so people gonna know.

Is this okay?! 😭 I feel like I forgot how to write 😭😭 Did I make my boys dirty??

#danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa imagines #drv2 #danganronpa goodbye despair #drv3 #danganronpa killing harmony #fuyuhiko kuzuryuu x reader #fuyuhiko x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #kokichi x reader

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ohmydamgods · 3 years

Text

Some Leo Valdez Headcanons because I love him <3

You either like him, or you don’t? It seems very black and white around camp. On one hand, Leo is energetic and kind and his goofy personality makes him fun to be around. On the other, he’s always joking making him seem like he can’t be serious and his lopsided grin makes him seem untrustworthy

He’s generally really nice though to absolutely everyone. Regardless of never talking to Leo before, it’s common to see people ask him for a favor. He’s kind of hurt by it sometimes but he thinks he would prefer that than to not be talked to at all

That being said, all his friends adore him. Even if they don’t tell him. It’s pretty much impossible to just be acquaintances with him because Leo is just so out there that people feel comfortable with him really quickly

He has gorgeous curls that everyone touches. He kind of just sighs at it by now because someone’s hand is always in his hair and it’s sweet and all unless he’s busy unless it’s Calypso because she can if she wants to

Out of everyone in the seven, he’s the least threatening. Some of the seven have rbf like Percy, Annabeth, and Jason. And the others can go from 0-100 very quickly in terms of looking threatening. Then there’s Leo LMFAO He just can’t and it makes him the target most of the time (he’s not amused by it)

He’s very attatched to a very specific blanket in his room on the Argo ll because it’s weighted, he says it’s very comfortable and doesn’t let anyone touch it except for the one time when Piper was sick and wanted to stay with him

Speaking of Piper, Leo braids her hair all the time. It started at wilderness school because they were both stressed so Piper had just leaned into him and it was instinctive. Later on, when they were all hanging out on the Argo ll (ik not everyone was friends leave me alone ) Leo would just sit there quietly braiding her hair

When Leo’s sick he almost always has a fever and his fevers are mad high. Due to high heat resistance his like low fevers are 104. He scared the living hell out of Piper with this once because he felt like crap so he sat next to her and put his face in the crook of her neck and he was burning up

He can also just tell people’s temperature by sticking his hand against their forehead

He likes when friends give him validation but he absolutely cannot take a genuine compliment. One time Jason clapped him on the back, smiled, and went “nice job Leo, I’m proud of you” and Leo just looked at him and sputtered

He over-engineers blanket forts for no reason. He just thinks it’s fun. He was talking with Calypso and she mentioned she was bored so he spent three hours making a fort and both of them will agree it was the best thing Leo has ever built on such short notice

He wears a lot of rings! He just has a lot of them on each hand and it’s become like a mini tradition to give Leo one. His favorite ring is one that Harley made him

He gets really nervous when it comes to physical affection. Growing up, physical contact usually meant getting the crap beat out of him so he’s extremely wary of it. So if and when someone touches or hugs him, he tenses up and it takes a few seconds for him to force himself to relax

That being said, if he trusts you enough to initiate physical contact, he’s very touchy and he’ll seek you out if he wants a hug

When he’s tired he tends to let his guard down and it’s usually when he has serious conversations with people. When he wakes up the next day he doesn’t really remember what he said but he’s usually more comfortable around the person he talked to

Kids love Leo and Leo loves kids. Kids tend to not hide stuff and they leave their feelings out in the open. He knows how to interact with them because they aren’t complicating it by hiding everything. He says they’re like little machines except easier to understand because they tell him what they want

So at Camp if there’s a new little kid who’s pretty freaked out, they kind of just throw them at him and Leo will get them situated

However he isn’t good with babies and toddlers. He thinks they’re really cute and they still adore him and like to pull on his hair but he gets too nervous around them because they’re small, easy to hurt accidentally, and can’t communicate properly

He’s very specific with how he keeps his stuff. To anyone else, it seems like he just throws it around but there’s an order to the mess. If you mess it up, he actually gets really frustrated and upset (not necessarily at you but in general it freaks him out and he can’t do anything else until he fixes it) and it’s one of the only times Leo actually wants an apology instead of just letting something go

He apologizes every time he explains his feelings. At this point, he kind of just expects everyone to tell him to get over stuff so when anyone takes the time to sit with him and listen to what he’s saying, he apologizes a bunch but when he’s done he also says a lot of thanks

Some people around Camp think Leo is dating Piper and some people think he’s dating Jason. Leo isn’t dating either (mostly because if they were to break up it would be awkward asf), but everytime someone asks him about either one of them, he smiles and says “yes! I’m their boyfriend :)” simply because it’s fun to watch people be confused when someone else says he’s dating the other one and to annoy Jason and Piper

Leo and the Stolls are frenemies. They find each other mega annoying but they work well together so they pull off some pranks together

He likes to sing. His voice is really calming and a lot of people really love to hear it but he gets embarrassed easily so the only one who ever really gets to is Jason.

He also likes to dance. He’s not as great at it as he is at singing but he thinks it’s fun

He plays with peoples hands. He fidgets all the time and if there’s no trinkets for him to take apart and put back together again, he’ll grab Jason or Pipers hand and start rubbing his thumb across it and playing with their fingers

He builds little trinkets for people all the time. Just for fun and just because he can but he likes seeing people smile because of it. He does it to the newbies too. Just drops it on their bunk. They never figure out who leaves it until later because they have to find out who left it themselves

#jule.txt #leo valdez #leo valdez headcanon #piper mclean #jason grace #tlh gang #tlh #the lost hero #heroes of olympus #hoo

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suntrastar · 4 years

Text

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful.

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog.

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed.

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him.

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves.

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief.

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine.

You hate him immediately.

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance.

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh.

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime.

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say.

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue.

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace?

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left.

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached.

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile.

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good.

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet.

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say.

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door.

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better.

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

***

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned.

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy.

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number.

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?”

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever.

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right?

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds.

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled.

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says.

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date.

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath.

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted.

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face.

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own.

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep.

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say?

That you like it?

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent.

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand.

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls.

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles.

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier.

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before.

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it.

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay.

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet.

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin.

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn.

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for…

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.”

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse.

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him.

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes.

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say.

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold.

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing-

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence.

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn.

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up.

***

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden.

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump-

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier.

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong.

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you.

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?”

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks.

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

310 notes · View notes

younghosfavewhore · 4 years

Text

mine forever . 1:27am

part 1 [a] / part 2 [s]

wc; 1.5k

plot; nctjohnny!boyfriend x femreader!girlfriend

the members of nct have been stirred up in dating rumors and scandals for the past month. when pictures of johnny meeting with a childhood friend begin to float around, you must remind johhny that he’s yours. forever.

prompts; [a]6 “She was nothing to you, was she? Then prove it.” [a]20 “People talk- people will always talk...”

warnings; (mentions of TAEYONG’s injury) fluff?!, jealous reader, angsty!!!

My eyes skim over the articles. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The headlines seemed to drag on forever, “Johnny Suh; NCT’s 5th member involved in Dating Scandal”. Another read, “NCT Johnny Caught with Foreigner; Photos Below”

photos?

I couldn’t resist clicking the link that my cursor hovered over. The full article was now displayed onto my screen. The pictures loaded for a second, then they were displayed before me. And there it was, Johnny Suh -my Johnny Suh- at a cafe with a blonde-haired foreigner. I continued scrolling, which was probably a mistake, but I was in shock. Certainly they were doctored by some vengeful sasaeng. Another link pops onto my screen, “NCT Johnny Suh has Foreign Girlfriend? VIDEO FOOTAGE”

you’re fucking kidding me.

A notification sound blares from my phone, the sixth one in the past half hour. I haven’t even picked up my phone, I know what the notifications are. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Johnny texting me a sad excuse for the video that’s now playing on a loop on my screen. I recognized her. Her blonde hair and small frame. It was his high school sweetheart; Madison. In the video -which was only about 8 seconds long- you could see him embrace her. They stood at the cafe table, drinks in hand, about to depart. Johnny’s long arms then spread out, welcoming her into a hug. He initiated it. Even in front of all these people, all these cameras. He hugged her. He knew exactly what he was doing. Another notification sound blared through my phone speaker. Why did this make me feel so threatened? So weak? I pick up my phone <6 unread texts from johnny❤> I open the messages, taking a deep breath as I do so.

johnny❤: baby?

y/n? text me when you get this.

ik you see my texts

i know you’re upset please just text me

i can explain, i promise…

im omw to the hotel, we’ll talk when i get there, ok?

My eyes widen at the last text. Why was he on his way here? What made him think that I wanted to see him?

me: dont bother, i dont think i want to see you rn

I send the text with tears welling in my eyes. I was just beginning to fully wrap my head around the events that unfolded before me.

*ding* <1 new text from johnny❤>

johnny❤: please, y/n

you know me better than anyone, don’t believe these rumors, y/n

Me: i saw the pictures johnny… and the video. what excuse could you have?

My head began to spin, no way did he think I was going to fall for his pity story.

johnny❤: this is why we’ll talk in person

i have a lot of explaining to do, i know. just listen to me please

i’m only 2 minutes away, ill explain everything i promise

Take a deep breath. I think to myself, convincing myself that maybe he would have a good excuse. After all, it's Johnny. Would he ever do anything to hurt me? I struggled to gain composure as I heard a familiar knock on the door. The lock clicked and the door crept open. I stood in the living room of the homey suite.

“y/n..” Johnny’s voice breaks the silence. He peeks from behind the door.

My eyes meet his and I feel faint. What’s going to happen? I ask myself, not knowing the right answer as hundreds of thoughts fill my head.

He continues inside, closing the door softly behind him. He takes slow strides in my direction, and that’s when the tears well in my eyes. Why? I’m not sure, I’ve always been one to get overwhelmed easily, but this was new. His hand reaches out to take mine and I flinch away. The images of him taking another girl into his arms flashing in my head.

“Why her? How--” My voice breaks and the tears finally fall from my eyes.

“It’s not at all what you think it is, baby.” His voice was soft and genuine. Almost desperate.

“Then what is it? Huh?” My voice changed from calm to angry. I took a deep breath in an attempt to try to calm myself back down and I back farther away from him. “I... I was patient. I knew this would happen. I was understanding of the rumors, the lies. But this? These pictures? These videos?” I began to lose my cool. “How could you possibly explain this?” Anger was tainting my words, what was I saying? “If you want to be with her then just say that.” I spit the words out.

Johnny looks taken aback, rightfully so. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it, Johnny?!” I shouted, menacingly. “It isn’t adding up.” I plead as my voice cracks. “Please, just fucking explain yourself.”

He walks towards me again, I don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. He takes my hand and places a light kiss on it.

“I know you’re confused. I know you’re angry.” He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine. “People talk. In this industry, people talk so fucking much.” His tone was so gentle; he was hurt but still so gentle with me. “People will always talk, okay, y/n?”

I nod, tears streaming down my face at this point.

“I’m in the wrong here. You saw the videos, I know, but there’s more to it than that.” He sits me down next to him on the couch.

“I just don’t understand.” My voice trembles. “With the other members, Doyoung, Mark, it was just gossip, easily dismissed. But…” My voice trails off.

“I know.” He sighs and pulls me close to him. “Those pictures were taken completely out of context.” where is he going with this? “Yes, it was Madison. And I’m sorry for meeting up with her without telling you, especially with everything that’s been going on…” He traced his fingers in small circles along my back, something he often did when he needed to calm me down. He sighs and pulls me closer to him, we sit in silence for a bit before he continues. “As you know, Taeyong… His injury?”

I nod my head against his chest. “I know…” I whisper in response. what does that have to do with anything?

“Well… Madison, when I met with her at the cafe,” He paused, awaiting a reaction but I didn’t give one. I wanted to hear him out. He continues, “She moved here a few months ago. It has nothing to do with me, or NCT as a whole.” He disclaims. “She’s studying abroad here for a journalist internship. She’s-”

“Get to the point,” I whisper, barely being able to hear him ramble on about her.

He places a kiss on the top of my head. “Everyone knew about Yong’s injury; the managers, the staff, even the stage crew noticed it.” I wince a bit at the thought of Taeyong having to deal with this kind of injury. “You were busy with studies and I didn’t want you worrying about me or the boys. I vented to Madison about it. She explained that she had ties to news sources that could have exposed SM for overworking him. So…” He sighs, “She threatened SM. Unless they gave us all a break or hiatus, she threatened to report it to national broadcasting stations.”

“Wait-” I interrupt him, the puzzle pieces finally fitting together in my head.

“Let me finish.” He cuts me off in return. “I wanted to treat her to coffee while she was still in town, as a thank you. Nothing more. Because of her, me and the boys were able to finally get a break and Taeyong is finally getting rest.” He explains.

im such a fucking idiot, i think to myself.

I was speechless, how could I have been this stupid. I finally built up the courage to look up at him; his eyes scanning my face for a reaction.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can mutter out in my state of embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. I promised to be transparent about this stuff and instead I hid it from you. I’m in the wrong too. I’m sorry.” He replies, softly. His hands trailed up and down my back.

I look into his eyes again, begging for forgiveness without saying a single word. He got the hint and leaned in to press a soft peck to my lips.

“I love you,” I said, my lips brushing against his as our foreheads rested on each other.

He smiles before kissing me back. “I love you, too.”

“So, she means nothing?” The sudden, whispered, inquiry was cold in the quiet air.

There was a pause, a moment that I nearly regretted asking.

“She means nothing.” He said, his voice was gruff and direct.

“Then prove it.” The words rolled off my tongue, and before I had time to think, Johnny’s lips were pressed back up against mine.

#johnnysuh #kpop #nct #nct127 #youngho #kpopangst #angst #this was gonna be smut but ??#i feel like the angst aspect is 10x better #unless a smutty pt 2 is needed #hmmm😏😏#ponderinggg #johnnyangst #nct angst #this is veryyyy different from my normal writing style so i hope its not too #...#bad

95 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 4 years

Text

found - aaron hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k (i got a little carried away with this one!)

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, torture, serial killers, reader’s father was killed in a car crash, reader is the victim of emotional and (a small bit of) physical abuse from her mother, nice and fluffy ending

Request: i ADORE your writing. could you do a hotch x female reader where the reader works at the bau but comes from a really rich business family and a case comes in where her brother's gone missing because they want money from the family. they save him but the reader's mother belittles and slaps her, and the team stand up for her in front of her family and then later she goes to hotch's office and just some cute fluff because they've been in love with each other for years? ik it's weirdly specific lol

A/N: First of all, thank you! Also, never apologise for specific requests, it only means that I don’t have to think up an idea myself, haha, always a good thing! This one got away from me a little, but I just really loved how protective the team were of the reader here (especially my man Aaron). Love to you all, I hope none of you ever have to go through a situation like the one below <3

---

The weight in your stomach was beginning to ache now. Your mind was playing the events of the past few days over and over but you couldn’t work it out. You’d found him, you should be fine, and yet there was something still bothering you.

There was no way the BAU ever would have taken this case were it not for the connection you had to it, there was no point kidding yourself about that. It was on Tuesday morning that you had practically run through the bullpen towards Hotch’s office, ignoring the concerned voices of the members of your team and not bothering to knock as you burst in on him.

“It’s my brother,” you said, out of breath, clutching the door with a painfully tight grip as your chest heaved and Hotch stood from his desk. His face would have seemed as stoic as usual to most people, but you could see the worried lines around his eyes better than most people, “Someone’s taken him, I don’t know who, but they want money quickly and my mother won’t give them the money and-”

“Y/N,” he quieted you with his soft utterance of your name, and you gasped in for breath that you didn’t have. There were tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall, “We’ll get everyone in the conference room, okay? Tell us all at once.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together and wiping a shaky hand down your face. He didn’t question you. Didn’t question taking the case. You had hardly told him anything and he was dropping whatever the hell he had been doing, and even in your haze of fear you couldn’t appreciate him more.

“Thanks, Hotch,” you said quietly, and he simply nodded at you, resting a warm hand on your shoulder briefly as he passed you to gather the team together. Not five minutes later were you telling the team everything, from the rich parents you’d never previously mentioned to your brother’s disappearance, showing them a picture of the ransom note that had showed up on your mother’s doorstep that morning. Not thirty minutes later were you on a plane to your hometown, sat next to Hotch on the seat of four and listening to him and the team bouncing theories around.

It had taken three days to find him.

Three days of you being worried to the point of sickness. You’d thrown up multiple times. JJ had been there the first time, swiftly following you into the bathroom after the toe showed up in the mail. She held your hair back as you emptied your lunch into the toilet, your tears simultaneously streaming into the bowl. But the second time was after your mother refused for the fourth time to pay the ransom to save your brother. You only made it to a bin in an empty room in the police precinct, but Hotch was right behind you, rubbing your back with a firm hand.

You only found him in the end due to a connection Spencer made between the original ransom note and the note that came with the toe, an inconsistency that led Garcia to a name and you to an address. It all fell into place quickly, like it often did, and soon the two culprits were in cuffs, your brother was sent off in an ambulance and the case was closed with no lives lost. It should have been a good day.

But still, now, as you sat in the front seat as Hotch drove you to the hospital your brother had been taken to, your stomach was swirling with doubt and anxiety and you knew exactly why.

“You don’t look too happy,” he commented in a low voice, even though there was no one else in the SUV except for the two of you. As soon as your brother was taken away in the ambulance, your mother jumped in beside him and you were left on the pavement, before Hotch placed a hand on your back and jingled the keys beside you, spurring you into action, “Your brother will be fine, Y/N, they’re only taking him as a precaution.”

“Oh no, I know,” you said flippantly, turning to Hotch even though he kept his eyes on the road, “He’s a strong guy, he’ll take this in stride. There’s just something...else.”

You wondered whether you should tell him. It was a thought you dismissed as soon as it came. You and Hotch were close, closer than anyone else really realised, and if you told him there was no telling what he might want to do about it. There was nothing to be done, though, and so there was nothing to be said either.

“What is it?”

“I just-” you figured out your lie, needing it to be half-true so he wouldn’t see through it, “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that he’s safe.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. It was a sign that he knew you were lying, that he was waiting for you to crack and tell him the truth. A trick he’d learned from you, actually. Sometimes, you stayed late with him to help him out with paperwork, try to get him home a little sooner and you talked. You talked a lot. And whenever you’d ask him how he was, or whether something was bothering him and he would lie you would nod and go silent, waiting for him to speak again and inevitably reveal the truth.

It wouldn’t work on you this time. Instead, the rest of the drive passed in a slightly uncomfortable silence and when you got out of the car, the two of you headed into the hospital without words. Guilt poked at your heart but you pushed it away as you were given directions to your brother’s room and took purposeful steps in that direction.

Just as you reached the door, you pushed open the door to join him, your mother and the nurse that was checking him over.

“Hey little-”

“Y/N!” your mother cried, rushing over to hurry you out of the room again and you caught a glimpse of your brother’s apologetic glance before she was shutting the door in your face, “Can we have a word?”

The weight in your stomach was getting heavier by the second.

“I’d really like to see my brother and check he’s okay,” you said, tone clipped and formal. You felt Hotch’s presence a little way behind you, watched your mother’s eyes flick between you and him with disdain.

“And I would really like a word with you,” she said, her voice different to how it had been. She had an audience now, you thought silently, and fought the urge to roll your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind talking to your mother.”

She was trying to make you look bad and you knew it. You tried not to, but you could feel your embarrassment rising despite yourself. There was nothing to be embarrassed about and you knew it, but having Hotch there watching your mother talk to you like this, no doubt profiling you both made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Then let’s find somewhere private-” you attempted but she cut you off.

“No, we talk here.”

It had been her favourite method of doing things when you were younger too. As soon as your dad died, she began subtly belittling you in the house. Blaming you for his death was the only way she seemed to move forward, even though you quickly accepted that just because you had been in the car when he died didn’t make you at all responsible.

But it was when you went out with her that she truly came into her own, having the free reign to humiliate you as publicly as possible, making sure that other people heard it. You hadn’t seen her in a few years. You’d forgotten how difficult it was, even now, to avoid reverting back into that childlike state when she looked at you like that.

“Mother-”

“Again. Again, someone has hurt our family and again, you are the one responsible. Do you enjoying seeing me suffer? Is that was this is, Y/N?”

You stared at your feet and set your jaw. It was difficult to know whether to shout at her, laugh in her face, or start sobbing on the ground. You’d tried all three before. Nothing worked. And now - oh god - and now the whole team had rushed into the hospital to check on you and your brother and you turned your head a little to see Hotch hold up a hand to stop them from saying anything behind him. You bit your lip. The taste of copper filled your mouth with a welcome, distracting bitterness.

“How could this possibly be my fault?” you asked incredulously, looking up and meeting her gaze with all the anger you held towards her for so much of your life, all the resentment. You hoped none of the fear shone through alongside it. Apparently, your rage meant nothing, as she simply laughed, the hollow sound a haunting nostalgic tune.

“You’re meant to be a fucking FBI agent, and yet your brother has come home without two of his toes and one of his fingers,” she said, still laughing, shaking her head in disbelief at you, “You couldn’t find him in time.”

You were seething.

“If we hadn’t found him in time, he’d be dead. Things don’t always end this well, mother. He’s lucky,” you ground out and she reared back, stung.

“Lucky? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Mrs Y/L/N-” Hotch began, and you heard him take a small step forward behind you. You winced. You knew what was coming.

“Oh, Agent Hotchner,” she said, her tone sweet again and you felt your stomach churn. You were beginning to feel lightheaded. Your serial killer catching team were right there and you were being scolded by your mother. Don’t cry, you pleaded with yourself, “You must be so tired of dealing with my daughter and her lack of empathy. Thinking that her own brother is lucky when he’s been severely deformed, I mean, the lack of-”

“Severely deformed?” you said, chest heaving as you stared her down, “Sam is fine. He will be fine. He is not deformed. All thanks to me and my team. My amazing team, who do not want to see any of this so can we please-”

Part of you was hoping that maybe some of them would take your hint and leave, just so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your colleagues anymore, just so you wouldn’t have to handle them losing all their respect for you. But there were no footsteps.

“We’re not going anywhere. You’re not seeing your brother. I won’t let you hurt him more than you already have-”

“I have never hurt Sam in my life-”

“You know you’ve hurt him more than anyon-”

“For fuck’s sake, mother, I didn’t kill dad!”

She slapped you. Actually slapped you right across the face and your head whipped to the side. She’d never done that before. Perhaps she’d never had the heart when you were younger, or maybe you’d never actually said the words before, you didn’t know. You clutched your cheek as you kept your eyes downward and felt the tears staining your cheeks. Fuck.

You were already planning your resignation from the BAU in the stunned silence of the corridor.

JJ was first to run forward, putting an arm around you.

“Are you okay?” she murmured in your ear and you simply nodded, shrugging her away from you a little in your embarrassment.

“Don’t you ever mention your father to me,” she said, her voice dangerous, but you still hadn’t looked up, couldn’t fathom giving her the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You wanted to scream at her, slap her right back, maybe slam her against the wall but you knew none of it would help. You hardly had any dignity left as it was.

“You know what, Mrs Y/L/N,” Dave spoke up into the silence and you closed your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t say anything too bad, “I was wondering why you wouldn’t pay the ransom. I thought maybe it was the principle, or perhaps you were worried they’d just ask for more. But, I get it now.”

“Yeah, me too, Rossi,” Derek chimed in, “Now it’s easy to understand. Your kids simply aren’t worth anything to you.”

“Excuse me?” your mother’s voice was higher in pitch and part of you was worried she might slap them, but you knew she didn’t have it in her. JJ was still hovering behind you.

“You have two wonderful children, Mrs Y/L/N,” Emily continued, “Sam’s a doctor, the perfect child and yet the only value he has to you is in the bragging rights he provides.”

“And Y/N? She’s one of the best agents in the bureau. She cares about people-” Spencer’s voice cracked and you blinked out a fresh wave of tears, “-she cares so much. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. If you can’t see that, then it’s your loss.”

You finally stood up straight and looked to your team with eyes full of shame. Your cheek was no doubt a different colour to the rest of your face, tear stains galore, eyes puffy. No moment was worse, than seeing them all staring at you with pity in their eyes, and yet the warmth you felt radiating from them was stronger than any feeling you’d ever had from your family. This was your family, after all. Your real family.

“Y/N’s one of the best people I’ve ever met too.”

“Same here.”

“Me too.”

Came the replies from your team. You let out a shaky exhale as you stared at them. Thanking them and apologising to them all at once with just the look in your eyes. Your mother was still silent, clearly shocked that anyone could possibly care about you like this, let alone a whole group of people.

“She’s the best person I’ve ever met,” Hotch spoke up and when your eyes snapped to his, you didn’t see pity. You saw that fiery anger that he usually reserved for the lowest of the low. And yet now, he was staring at your mother with that stare that made killers recoil in their seats. She looked horrified, “And she’s going in that room to see her brother. You will go outside and wait until we’ve left. Then, and only then, can you come back inside this building.”

“But-”

“That’s an order from a federal agent, Mrs Y/L/N,” his voice was hard and unfaltering and you saw his hands clenched at his sides, longed to prise them open and slip your fingers in between his, “Rest assured that if I ever hear you speak to Y/N like that again, I will make your life a living hell. You’re a lawyer, right? I pull some strings, and you’ll be out of a job before you can blink.”

“She’s my daughter and I will-”

“Go outside.”

You surprised yourself when you spoke up. But the anger that boiled inside you had bubbled to the surface and now, there was no stopping you. Your team were behind you, literally, figuratively, in every way possible. It was enough. You weren’t a child anymore.

“Y/N-”

“I said, go outside. I don’t want to see you again, are we clear? We’re done,” when she just stood there dumbfounded, you pointed towards the exit and took a step towards her, your heart leaping when she took a step backwards, “Leave.”

And just like that, she left. She had to walk past every member of your team on her way and they refused to move out of her way, so she had to squeeze past each and every one, mumbling to herself the entire time.

She was gone and silence enveloped the little corridor to the private room yet again.

“And don’t come back,” Dave muttered, causing you to finally crack a smile in his direction, which in turn made him smile, and the rest of the team, even though they were hesitant. You wanted to say thank you, but you weren’t sure you had the words. You were so damn tired.

“Hey,” JJ spoke up beside you, a hand on your shoulder, “Go see your brother. You want to stay for a while? We can hold the jet.”

You shook your head.

“I’ll see him quickly,” you said, “I just want to go home.”

Everyone smiled again, more sympathetically and Hotch spoke up, his voice back to his normal voice around you. It was your favourite version of him. Soft.

“We’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

You nodded gratefully, turning and heading into the room without another word, because you didn’t have anymore. You just said a quick hello to your brother, gave him a tight hug. You’d never been close, the torment you’d been put through by your mother he had been immune from and it had put a rift between you. You’d never understand each other. But he was your brother, and you loved him all the same, so you wished him well and told him to call more often. When you left the room, true to their word, the team were still there and led you out of the hospital to the SUVs, shielding you with their bodies from your mother outside. You didn’t even see her.

There was no talking in the SUV. Hotch drove, Derek in the front beside him and you sat in the back with JJ. She insisted. Halfway to the jet, she reached over and grabbed your hand, not even looking over at you and you squeezed it gently. You were grateful for the grounding touch.

It was only back on the jet that someone spoke up. Hotch was busy in the kitchen. But everyone else was sat around. You were sat beside Spencer at the table, with JJ and Rossi opposite. Derek was sat on the couch nearby and Emily perched on an arm rest just so she wasn’t sat too far from you.

“When did it start, Y/N?” Derek asked once the plane had been in the air for a while, earning some sharp looks from JJ and Emily but you waved them away.

“It’s okay, guys, it’s not like I can hide it now,” you said, having calmed down significantly on the drive to the jet, JJ’s touch and the hum of the engine comfort enough to decrease your heart rate, bring you back to earth. Your shame was still there, but you had tucked it away for later. Right now, you wanted to salvage as much of yourself as you could, “As you guys know, my dad was killed in a crash when I was 12. But what you don’t know, is that I was in the car and that my mother blamed me for it. She made everyday after a living hell. I moved out as soon as I could and never looked back. I’ve not seen her much since, just family events and such, but she’s always the same.”

They all had varying looks of anger and sadness. Spencer asked the question on everyone’s minds.

“Has she ever…?”

You didn’t make him finish, because you knew the words would be difficult for him.

“Hurt me before? No, she hasn’t. I don’t know what was different this time,” you shrugged, subconsciously reaching up to gently touch your cheek, “I don’t think I’ve ever said outright that I didn’t kill him before.”

“But you know you didn’t, right?” Emily asked without thinking and you smiled at her.

“I’ve always known that,” you said honestly, “It would have been so much worse if I’d believed her, but I always knew she was wrong.”

Hotch emerged from the kitchen with an ice pack and you smiled at him a little, relaxing when he offered a small smile in return. You expected him to hand it to you, but to your surprise he sat on your armrest right next to you, your arm pressed against his side. He brushed your hair away from your face with gentle fingers and placed the icepack on your cheek, apologising under his breath when you winced from the cold sting.

“That’s what you were worried about in the car then,” he mused aloud, gaining the attention of everyone on the plane, “You knew what was coming.”

“Somehow, I did,” you grimaced, looking up at him, “And I’m sorry you had to see it,” you looked around at everyone, “I’m sorry you all had to see it. It’s so embarrassing and degrading and...well I understand that your perception of me must have changed but I assure you-”

“Woah, woah,” Derek interrupted, “The only way my perception of you has changed, honey, is that you’re stronger than any of us knew.”

When you looked at everyone else around the plane, they were in agreement with Derek, it was clear. You felt yourself welling up again, and cursed your weakness.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for what you said about me,” you began, voice shaky, “It just...it means a lot. I’ve never had a real family before.”

“Well, now you do,” Dave said simply, watching you with those kind eyes of his. You nodded with a smile before Spencer produced a blanket from behind you, offering it up to you if you wanted to sleep. You accepted gratefully, laughing a little when Spencer and Hotch on either side of you helped to tuck it around you snugly. Your laugh was a sign to the team that they could relax. That you’d be fine. As you fell asleep, you felt Hotch lean into you a little more, still holding the icepack on your face, and the knowledge he was there was enough to lull you into slumber.

---

Spencer woke you gently and told you that you’d landed. There was no one left on the plane, but you’d trapped him into the window seat. He waved you off when you apologised.

“You’re really important to us, Y/N,” he said, letting a few walls down now that everyone else had gone. You knew it must’ve been hard for him to hear her say those things to you. You’d talked about childhood bullying before, helped him to work through his own without telling him your experience. He’d probably feel guilty that he hadn’t known, but you pulled him into a rare hug.

“You’re important to me too, Spence,” you said, knowing that he’d really meant it personally. You felt his smile against your shoulder and grinned at him sleepily when you pulled away, both of you making your way off the jet. You walked into the office and shared compulsory hugs with the rest of the team, including Dave who you didn’t think you’d ever hugged before. When the hugging was over and people began to make their way home, you looked up at his office.

Hotch.

He was leaning against his desk. Not working. You knew he was waiting for you, so you hopped up the steps and let yourself in without knocking, letting the door close behind you with a soft click.

As soon as the door was closed, his shoulders fell and his posture became hunched.

“Hearing her talk to you like that…”

He trailed off and your heart melted. You walked towards him and rested your hands tentatively on his biceps, feeling the muscles relax at your touch.

“Hotch,” you breathed, “We’re home now.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he said, eyes flashing upwards to meet yours and that anger seemed to be back, but it was directed inward, “She was saying all this crap about you and I didn’t even do anything, I didn’t want to intrude but then she- she slapped you, Y/N.”

He was talking in facts, a trick he used to take the emotion out of situations in which he got too emotional. You recognised it in an instant. The small protective edge he had for you was one that you shared for him, so you noticed these things. Made a habit of it.

“I know,” you said, nodding, “But that icepack did the trick in bringing the swelling down- look.”

You reached down and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to rest on your face. You knew it wouldn’t hurt. His touch was so hesitant around you, always worried to overstep a mark that you wanted him to leap over. Now, seeing him care about you made you bolder than you had been with him in the years you’d loved him.

You’d realised you loved him, actually, really loved him about two years ago. It had been three for him. Two beings hopelessly devoted to one another, yet kept apart by paralysing fear. You were kind of over it.

You leaned into his hand, but he was the one who closed his eyes and relished in the touch.

“You took care of me,” you whispered into the relative darkness of his office, lit only by the soft glow of the overhead lamp, “See?”

He shook his head with a gulp.

“Shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

“What could you have done?” you asked, smiling, “Slapped my mother first?”

He cracked a smile at that and his chuckles joined your own giggles in a few seconds.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he insisted and brought his other hand up to cup your other cheek in an act of boldness spurred on by your own. Perhaps he was tired of not just being with you too. God, you hoped so, “You looked so...ashamed afterwards and you had nothing to be ashamed about. All I- all I wanted to do was take you in my arms and take you away from there.”

He’d never spoken like this before. You basked in his words, enjoying the pleasant tingling that had erupted down your spine. You were feeling lightheaded again, but this time you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“A nice thought,” you hummed, “I think I could get used to being in your arms.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you were breathless as you leaned closer to him, because now you’d had some of him it would never be enough. You needed it all. You needed every bit of him, because now you knew it could be yours if he said it. You needed him to say it.

“You wanna know something?”

“I really, really do.”

You were getting closer with every word. Breathier with every passing second.

“I’ve loved you for years,” his lips brushed against yours as he whispered the key to his soul, “And nothing hurts me more than seeing you in pain.”

You closed your eyes and brushed your lips against his again, fleeting, a promise.

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” you gave him your soul in return, because it was the fair thing to do, after all.

He pressed his lips against yours properly, for the first time. All at once, the world tilted and you had found a new course for the future, one where you hoped Hotch - Aaron, as you moaned when he began a path of kisses along your jaw - would keep kissing you like this for a lifetime.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #hotch x reader #hotch

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slutforalistairtheirin · 4 years

Text

Pe-Channas

A/n: in this imagine the reader and Legolas start out absolutely hating each other. Eventually they get used to one another, and then that turns into something more. This is set in The Hobbit, when the dwarves arrive in Mirkwood with their arachnid buddies. Enjoy!!

Also, Pe-channas means idiot in elvish.

Word Count: 2053

Y/n's P.O.V:

"No, Tauriel you don't get it! You're friends with him! I don't know how, but you are." You say angrily, while beating up a hanging sack filled with hay. Not to mention, imagining that stupid prince's face on it.

"Y/n, he's not so bad if you just give him a chance." Tauriel answers you pointedly, from her place sitting criss-cross on the floor.

"How does he not make your blood boil? Irk you to the core?" You ask, loose strands of your h/c hair going in your face as the door to the room you are training in opens, and the face you were just imagining pummeling appears from behind it.

"Oh hey princy! We were just talking about you!" You exclaim, false happiness dripping from your words. Legolas ignores your comment, and speaks only to Tauriel.

"It's our guard shift, take your friend and get ready." He says, and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Well, you heard him. We should go. " Tauriel says, standing up off the floor. You simply nod, and pull your once loose hair into a quick braid.

The two of you leave the room and meet Legolas and the other guards at the front gate.

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

Some time later~

Fighting brought you adrenaline. You absolutely love adrenaline. Therefore you love fighting. The only problem is, you hate when people do it better than you. Such as Legolas. The stupid prince, always had to be able to do something better. No matter what you did, for everything you could do better than him, he had three more he could do better than you. Fortunately, you are a better archer.

"Legolas! Duck!" You yell, and shoot an arrow just barely to the left of his head, narrowly missing his ear, and blowing a few strands of his hair around. You hit your mark, a spider's eye.

The blond haired prince glares at you, and continues killing spiders around him, more aggressively now.

By the time the spiders are all dead, Tauriel has already hurt the pride of a young, black-haired dwarf, who was pouting currently.

You approached a light-haired dwarf, with a braided mustache. He has pale green eyes. His hair is thick and chaotic, similar to a lion's mane. It also has several braids in different locations.

"Weapons, please." You say, a harsh tone taking over your voice. This tone is strange for the people who know you, but it's perfectly normal to people who don't, given your threatening atmosphere.

He hands over two large swords, pulls about 4 smaller daggers from inside his jacket, and then one dagger from each boot. He stops handing you weapons, and you give him a knowing look. He hands over six more blades and you know he has more. You aren't sure where. "Any more?" You ask, and he pulls one more out of the back of his jacket.

After being handed all of his weapons you direct him, forcefully, towards where the rest of the dwarves and elves are.

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

Some time later~

You're now standing in front of King Thranduil with the company of dwarves and the other guards. King Thranduil is talking about something, you're not really listening though. Instead, you wait impatiently.

Before you know it, he's giving the order to lock the dwarves up. The leader, whom you hadn't caught the name of, stayed while you and the guards took the rest of the dwarves to put them in cells.

As you're about to shove the golden-haired dwarf into a cell, you find another blade under the collar of his coat and take it out. He gives you an innocent look and you push him into the cell, shutting it after him.

You leave after pushing him into the cell, and turn a corner only to run into a certain blond haired prince. "Watch where you're going, pe-channas!" You say, and dust yourself off as if he has cooties. For some reason, unbeknownst to you, your face turns red, which you don't notice. When he doesn't respond, and just looks at you quizzically, you roll your eyes and walk away.

You're not sure where you're going, and end up in your sleeping quarters. Of course, your blush had faded by now. Not that you even knew it was there. You flopped on your bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Your dreams confused you a lot, they were snippets of different things, there were flashes of a war, you saw mounds of gold, and what confused you the most was seeing Legolas. For once, seeing his face didn't bother you.

You're awoken suddenly when you hear a knock on your door. "Yes...?" You say, rubbing your face groggily. You hear Tauriel's voice from the other side. "Y/n? Are you alright? You've been in there for hours." She asks and you can hear concern coating her words.

"Yes, I'm alright. Do you need something?" You completely forget your manners in your weary state, so she just opens the door without being invited in. "Have you been asleep?" She shuts the door gently behind her.

You nod, entirely puzzled as to why she is in your room. You half wish she would go away so you can go back to sleep, back to your dreams. Unfortunately for you she does not.

"I've been looking for you everywhere! Legolas tells me he ran into you earlier and you..." She stops, and scans your face inquisitively.

"I what?" You question, still half awake and hardly understanding what she was on about. But you did know she said Legolas's name. For some reason that caught your attention.

"You blushed!!" She exclaims in surprise that you didn't know. You laugh.

"Tauriel, I don't blush. Especially not because of that irritating twat. He probably made it up." You say, and Tauriel sighs.

"I had a feeling you'd say that, so I brought you this!" She hands you a mirror, and you look into it. To your surprise, you were blushing! You drop the mirror on the bed.

"What? I can't be blushing. Why am I blushing?" You stare at the mirror in horror, it's just not possible. That infuriating little prick could not make you blush.

Tauriel smiles, amused. "You like him!!" She squeals, nearly falling off your bed in excitement. "I knew it would happen eventually! I knew you couldn't hate each other forever!"

You shake your head. "No. There's no way. It's not possible. I hate that stupid, blond-haired, pretty boy prince! How could I like him? He may have a nice face, wait- no, he's uglier than a orc! I'm going to stop talking now..." You say, and rub your temples with your forefingers and middle fingers. This time you feel your face heating up and groan.

"I am only blushing because you embarrassed me!" You exclaim, trying to convince both her and yourself. "Not because I like the dumb guy." You say, softer.

"You do! Just admit it! I know you're thinking it! I'll tickle you if you don't admit it." You gasp, knowing damn well she will do it. "No, Tauriel no-!" Before you can say anything else she starts tickling you, and all you can do is giggle and try to squirm away.

"O-okay fine!" You try to gasp out, in between giggles.

"Fine what?" She asks, knowing exactly what you mean.

"F-fine, I l-l-l-ike him!!" She stops tickling you, and you try to catch your breath.

"That's better. Now you have to tell him."

"There's no way in all Middle Earth I will ever do that. You seem to forget the fact that the feeling of hate was mutual." She gives you a knowing look.

"Don't make me tickle you again." She threatens. You sigh,

"Fine, but when nothing happens don't come crying to me." You say. "Now can I go back to my nap?" She shakes her head and gets up off your bed.

"You have to tell him now!!" She grabs your hand and pulls you off your bed. "Well, not looking like that...." She frowns.

"Then I guess I can't do it!" You say, about to flop back on your bed, but Tauriel doesn't allow you to.

"No! We just have to fix you up some. Starting with your hair!" She gestures to what once was your braid, but now is a complete mess from sleeping.

"Fine... do with it what you will..." You say, although you wouldn't mind someone playing with your hair. She makes you sit down on your bed and locates your hairbrush. She sits behind you and runs the brush through your hair until it's smooth. She braids it neatly down your back and over your left shoulder.

"Perfect." She says. "Now at least straighten your clothes. Then you can go."

"Yay." You grumble under your breath as you step out the door, without doing anything to your clothes, out of spite. Tauriel smiles.

You wander around, not really looking for Legolas but if you happen to run into each other then you'll tell him. But you weren't about to intentionally look for him.

As luck would have it you did run into each other. Literally. Again. Except this time you fell. You also didn't have a snarky remark.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Legolas asks and leans down to help you up.

"Absolutely fine, dear prince. The floor is quite comfortable." You say, half sarcastically and take his hand to be pulled up. "Were you just.... nice to me?" You ask, astonished. He nods, confused.

"I thought Tauriel talked to you." He says, running a hand through his long blond hair.

"She did... what do you mean by that? She just told me to come find you." You say, and Legolas frowns.

"I should've known she was going to make me do it..." He mumbles.

"Make you do wha- oh..." You start, in realization. Your face starts heating up. "Well I guess that's what she sent me for, so... I- I really like you, and I thought I just hated you but I guess I just didn’t know how to handle the feelings I had for you."

Legolas's eyes light up in both surprise and joy. "You- you do? I thought you actually hated me."He says.

"Well I thought so too, but I guess I've never felt that way before, so I didn't know what it meant, so I thought I hated you and went with it." You reply, looking down at your shoes.

He chuckles softly, and puts his hand under your chin, and you look up at him. You can see the colors of his eyes, the pale blue and the soft, sea green swirling together to make a beautiful aegean blue. He also has gold flecks scattered like freckles in his irises.

While you were zoned out on his eyes, he was slowly leaning in closer. He captures your lips with his, and the hand that was under your chin moves to the back of your head, and his free arm wraps around your waist.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you wrap your arms around his neck, and since he's not so much taller than you, you don't have to stand on your toes or anything.

You have to pull away for air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"So, I guess that means you don't hate me anymore, huh?" He says, making you laugh.

"Leave it to you to ruin a moment."

A/N: I just felt like writing something silly, I promise I’ll write a more serious one.

#legolas #lord of the rings #the hobbit #legolas x reader

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 5 years

Text

Take Me, I’m Yours ♡

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You’re the baby of the group, a twenty something year old fire goddess and the untouchable sister of Thor Odinson, your sworn protector and overbearing brother. It's the fourth of July which means it’s Cap’s birthday, your long time teammate, but when an unexpected guest arrives, things don’t go according to plan.

A/N: oof I haven’t written in forever it seems, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy I hope you guys enjoy this ik I did writing it, this is set after Endgame but Tony and Natasha survived because I WANT THEM TO and I have never really written a Steve Rogers fic or at least in a long time cause I’m watching Avengers on Disney plus rn and it’s a lot be gentle and plz leave feedback it warms my heart and make my day I also crave validation

Warnings: slight angst, loads of fluff, cheesiness, sexual tension, tropes, violence, men being touchy, assault, language, smut, rushed writing, get ready

Steve is golden. You’re coal black, despite innocent appearances, you’re dark with jagged edges, but your blood is radioactive, glowing with power, just like your brother Thor. But that is what you two share, you and Cap, you’re both broken.

You’re the baby of the team, young, pink pouted lips, big, doe eyes that get you what you want, round face, flushed cheeks, ample curves, and honey suckle voice, velvet like your y/s/c skin, woven with power and fire.

You’re strong, smelling of a forest fire in the depths of winter, burning embers and cedar.

He sees this, all of it, like you admire his broad shoulders, hard muscle, all strength and statue, he’s Apollo, a Greek god made of heat, brick, and mortar. He’s let his chestnut hair grow out slightly, hanging over his face, enough to run his fingers all the way through, a rugged, barbaric beard you want to tug on into submission.

The goddess and the god-like man.

But he can’t have you.

---

You separate Thor’s hair into three strands, tugging them into a braid as you both watch the meeting planning Captain’s birthday party. Thor winces at your harsh pulling, trying to make it tight.

“For Odin’s sake, sister, be gentle,” he curses under his breath.

“You want it to last, don’t you? Stop being such a baby and let me work, remember I hold all the power here,” you continue, rolling your eyes with a hint of a smile. “God of thunder can’t handle getting his hair done, how ironic.”

“At least I have a soul.”

“I will light you on fire.”

“You two, stop bickering or I’ll put you on clean up duty,” Stark reprimands.

You roll your eyes, “Kiss my ass, Stark.”

You make the mistake of making eye contact with Steve from across the conference room, lips slightly parted subconsciously when his eyes, a darkened, stormy blue with lightning striking his irises, are drawn there, perfect pink mouth, resembling a rose petal in full bloom. He folds his arms over his chest and looks away while you duck your head down, embarrassed.

He’s hot and cold when it comes to you, longing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, silent, lustful touches on your waist when he passes you, an occasional wink when no one is around, flirting with you, a conversation or two at the crack of dawn when it’s just you two on the balcony, painted with gold and auburn from the sunrise. But other times he avoids you, going out of his way to be anywhere you’re not, cold words and stares that shiver you down to nothing but your bones, leaving you bare and he won’t even take the time to look at you, your undoing by him. He’s quiet around you at times like he’s hiding something.

Thor looks at you with a face of disgust and you pull his hair.

“I propose an idea when it comes to my party,” Cap raises his hand, looking at Tony.

“By all means, birthday boy, let us hear it,” Barton chimes in, Natasha casting him a look meant to kill.

“We don’t have it.”

“Proposition denied,” Tony says. “This is happening, and frankly, we could use the good press after the world nearly ending.”

“And celebrating that with a party is your idea of good press?” Bucky leans his weight against the doorway, Sam letting out a small chuckle.

“Hey guys we, as a human race, were all almost completely wiped out by the jolly purple giant but let’s forget about that by celebrating Captain America’s birthday that none of you are invited to,” Sam mocks. You giggle despite yourself, looking at the floor while tying off Thor’s braid, Natasha elbowing your ribcage playfully for encouraging them.

“Maybe I just want to throw a party,” Tony scoffs. “Sue me.”

“Believe me, if we could, we would,” Clint looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’d be so fucking loaded,” Bucky whispers to Sam.

Sam lets out a deep sigh, “Tell me about it.”

“Y/n... what do you think?” Tony asks, letting out a deep sigh, pinching the space between his brow with his fingers.

“What do you mean?” you look up, admiring the french braid you did on your brother, smiling to yourself before looking back up at Stark.

“About the party? What we’ve been talking about for the last half hour?”

“Oh I wasn’t listening...” you chuckle, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye, his lips turned up. “I um... well I think we should have a small party with all of us and friends, just enough to draw attention from the right people. We can fire up the grill and light a campfire, roast some s’mores... light fireworks, of course,” you trail off with a laugh.

Steve cracks a smile. “I like her idea.”

“That... sounds perfect, actually,” Natasha looks at you then to Tony.

Tony sighs, but he wears a large smile, adorning his face, “Meeting adjourned.”

---

You paired a baggy striped winter sweater with a pair of black jeans, tight and fitted to your curvy figure, definitely not going unnoticed by Steve, eyes outlining the curves of hips, thighs, dips, and soft round shapes on your body, plump and attractive. He watches you move to the music Tony blasts on his speakers, night just settling in on the sky and painting it black, sun peaking upon the horizon to say hello.

Natasha hands you a bottle of beer, condensation coating your hand, sweat there too, but the cold night is seeping in and you shiver, “Thanks,” you smile graciously.

“Have you... you know-” she demonstrates a crude sexual gesture and you scoff. “With you know yet?”

“I want to tell him I like him first,” you explain, taking a gulp of your liquor and feeling the cool bubble tingle your tongue and throat. “Not just fuck him and be done with it... I want more than that.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m serious, Nat. I really like him and he...” you look at her with begging eyes and she sees that you’re sincere. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” you look at the ground, chuckling dryly, nursing your beer. Your hands heat up, something that happens when you grow nervous, your powers light up, literally, a fight or flight reflex for survival. Except now anxiety from a crush.

You shake your head, taking a larger sip, “He’s so hot and cold.”

“That can be true, but the ways he looks at you...” she hums. “That can only be described as hot,” she snaps her teeth jokingly and lets out a giggle, officially buzzed.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, getting in the party spirit once again. “He doesn’t-”

Your interrupted when an old friend appears in your view and he waves in your direction, Timothy, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent from your starting days here on Earth with your brothers. He trained you alongside Fury before S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA fell, and you turned to the Avengers when they offered you a position alongside Thor. He did, however, have a temper and you and many others were sure Timothy had a crush on you for a long time, your fears of losing your colleague becoming a reality when he asked you out and you had to reject him, because you’d already fallen for Steve. He didn’t take it well at the time and you haven’t spoken since.

“Hey, Timothy,” you smile warmly, politely, moving to return his embrace, he squeezes you tightly, one hand holding a beer and the other wrapped around your waist. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Tony invited all the old S.H.I.E.L.D members, not the HYDRA ones, of course, but I decided to pop in,” he flashes a grin. “And Fury’s over there cutting up a rug,” he points to where Fury is being taught by Peter Parker how to floss.

You laugh and force a believable smile, “It’s good to see you.”

He looks you over not-so-subtly, something both you and Natasha catch, “It’s really good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”

You smile, a little anxious all of a sudden, especially when you begin to smell the liquor on his own breath and how grabby his hands look to become, reaching out to touch your waist. You move his hand away, uneasy.

Natasha frowns and moves to take his hand off of you, “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink there, buddy. Why don’t you go sit down?”

“Maybe you need to sit down, I’m talking to y/n,” he rips his hand back. “Mind your own business, bitch.”

“Talk to me or touch y/n like that again and I’ll break your fucking hand,” she seethes through her teeth and sets down her drink.

Shit, shit, shit.

Steve sees the commotion over everyone else talking and chatting, paying no mind to the altercation between you, Natasha, and Timothy. He catches the look on your face, retreating into yourself as Nat rips him a new one, pointing a finger into his chest. He walks over, pushing his way through friends, all out here on Tony’s terrace, past the grill but people keep stopping to talk, anger brewing in his chest at seeing someone hurt you.

Timothy grabs you by the waist, “Hey, I know it’s been a long time, baby, but I wanna get back to what we had.”

“Let go of me,” you push at his chest. “And don’t call me baby. We didn’t have anything.”

“You rejected me all that time ago,” he says, voice growing louder. “Why?” Natasha rushes off to get Tony to kick him out, knowing she shouldn’t cause a scene even further by hurting him, she had to get Tony.

“Because I don’t see you like that,” you push at him but he grabs both your wrists as you try to push him away.

“You’re lying, tell me the real reason.”

“I’m. not. lying,” you say but you know what he wants to hear, your eyes burning with tears. You wish you could your power, light him up, but you can’t, your mind is too preoccupied with the answer to his question and you can’t concentrate.

“Tell me the truth or I’ll tell him myself, say it,” he grows angrier, pulling you. “Say it!” and using your god like strength, you shove him to the ground at last and flames lick your hands.

“Because I’m in love with Steve!”

Just as the music goes quiet for Bucky’s toast to his friend, you catch everyone’s attention, head’s turned towards you and you want to crawl in a hole and get buried up again, to sink into the ground. Your face is hot with eyes on you and you can’t move. Tony and Natasha both look at you from the corner of your eye, unknowing of what to think.

You’ve said it. Said the damn words out loud and you can’t take them back. You’re breath is heavy and weighs on your chest when you look up.

Steve is in front of you, looking at you with wide eyes and a deep, questioning look and furrowed brow, chest heaving after he’s heard your confession, surprised.

Fuck.

“You bitch,” he gets back up and moves to hit you but Steve grabs his hand, forcefully and painfully.

He moves over further and manages to pull Timothy off you completely, hand curled in his shirt with his feet off the ground when he pulls him inches away from his face, “Get the hell out of my party, stay away, and don’t touch her again. Are we clear?” his voice is a deep timbre, a low growl with a warning tone.

He finally listens and grabs another drink on his way, shooting dirty looks to those who watch him leave and you’re left panting, out of breath with tears staining your cheeks, eyes glassy.

Fury trips him on the way out, “I knew you were trouble.”

You look up at Steve who’s in front of you now, “I-I... I’m sorry I ruined your party, Steve... I’m sorry,” you say when he moves to cup your face in his hands, soothing you with shushes and soft coos, wiping away your tears with his calloused thumbs. “I’m sorry-”

“Doll, you didn’t... he did, I’m sorry he was invited here if I had known...” he curses himself. “I’m so sorry.”

You meet his eyes. Oh, he’s so sweet, he’s so sweet it makes your heart ache.

But the question still remains, lingering over your heads: Now what?

---

You’re in the living room of the compound following the events of the disastrous birthday party, curled up on the couch by yourself as everyone’s gone to bed, snacking on remaining popcorn and watching Friends. Tony had sent everyone home after what happened, which people understood, apologizing to the few other friends that attended and offering goodie bags for coming, stuffed with hundreds of dollars of Stark merchandise for good measure.

Thor had missed the party to visit Jane after they rekindled their romance since he’s back on Earth, but upon hearing the news of this guy touching his baby sister, he dealt with it in his own Thor way.

Trashing the guy’s house.

Then after, you and the team went inside, watched a movie, ate popcorn, and laughed at the crappy, Hallmark Christmas movie until your sides were sore.

But even now that everyone is asleep and in their respective rooms, you couldn’t sleep.

And so couldn’t Cap.

You look up at the sound of a door opening from the terrace, Steve walking inside after getting his nightly moment of fresh air and because he agreed to water Stark’s plants a long time ago, and because Tony is well, Tony, he assigned him that job for the entirety of his stay here, much to Steve’s dismay.

But sometimes he didn’t mind it, going out there at night and seeing the stars because you’re so far up here, set aside from the rest of the world in this safe little pocket of a home and solace and the benefit of seeing you out there with a drink in hand, getting some time to yourself. You with a robe on, nightgown peaking beneath, hair in it’s natural, messy form, bare face or face mask on, and glowing smile. That made it worth it.

Now it’s just the two of you after a night of you confessing your feelings for him, not directly to him per say, but he heard it nonetheless and he stood there, choking on his words because he had to get that leech of a man off of you, it wasn’t the time to discuss your feelings.

But unfortunately for the both of you at this moment, you can.

“Hey,” you say, the word somehow weighing on your lungs when you breath it out, muting the television.

“Hey,” he says back, smiling to put you at ease. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” you say, scooting over to give him room and patting the spot now open for him.

He chuckles at your nervous energy and sits down beside you. He scratches the back of his neck, all that suave nature leaving him. Captain America is anxious.

“I feel... like we should talk about what happened and what you said earlier,” he looks at you, the same begging eyes you look at with Nat when you want her to see you were serious. You see it in his too. They’re wide and pouring out from all seams, want and need.

“We should,” you nod, awaiting the rejection you’ve been preparing for all night.

“I��m.. so sorry about that guy, I wanted to kill him for what he did to you and what he was trying to do,” he says, visibly getting angrier but you lay a hand on his, soothing him into a relaxed, calm state.

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “Guys like that come and go, but guys like you who help, stay forever.”

He looks down at your intertwined fingers, softly comforting each other, smiles, and breathes a laugh, “I should have done more.”

You tilt your head, “You helped and he’s gone and that’s what matters, so thank you. Don’t take that blame.”

He finally looks at you. “And when you said that thing... I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” he admits, turning so he sees you in the eyes as you turn to look away from him now, not willing to face him fully. “If I had, I would have...”

“Said no sooner?” you laugh but there’s no humor found in it.

“Can you let me finish?” he tilts his head and smiles, lopsided and pretty.

You look at him as a signal to continue and he takes it, taking on a bit of your nervous energy in his stammering.

“I like you, y/n, I like you so much,” he says, open and out on display for you. You search his face for the lie, the catch in his words, how this’ll twist around to bite you in the ass and turn out to not be true, all some big elaborate lie or scheme. You don’t know what but what he’s saying can’t be true.

Not you. Not him.

“And for so long,” he laughs. “I’m such an idiot, I’ve just been so nervous,” he looks you in the eye, so raw and vulnerable. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You’re a flustered, flattered, blushing, blabbering mess.

“But... you... you avoid in me in the halls,” you say, stunned. “Y-you don’t look me in the eye and you don’t talk to me at times, sometimes for days, only when I initiate it, yet you’re always looking at me and around when I’m there a-and...” you blink hard and rapidly, coming to the realization.

“Oh.”

He gulps, embarrassed himself now, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how or if I had a chance with you, you’re brother’s one of my best friends and I-” He looks to you for forgiveness as he tries to muster up what he wants to say.

You swallow that lump in your throat and duck to kiss the corner of his mouth, that pink curl of lip you love so much when he’s smirking at something you said or just because, and pull away, looking down at your clasped hands, all of you on fire.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, voice low when you look at him through your thick lashes, demure. “I understand.”

His lips part and heavy sighs leave his mouth, cheeks red with lust and heat, eyes full blown to match.

He ducks down just as you did, looking in your eye and you nod slowly for confirmation, before he catches your lips in a feverish, desperate kiss, moving with your mouth as you slide closer to him with your hand pressed against his hard chest.

He takes hold of your thighs and pulls into his broad lap, erection potent against your inner thigh already as you straddle him, soft, flustered movements until you find the best position. His eyes hold both complete adoration and magnetism for you, a groan slipping past his perfect pink mouth when you move against his sweet spot of your doing. Your lips press together again and you move in tandem, tongue sliding past and licking his inner lip, like licking a flame, an ember of fire and ash and coal. You taste like summer rain and full promises of more to come, like hope after a long, hard day that things will get better, while also tentative and unsure.

His large hand slides up under your t-shirt while the other keeps you steady wrapped around your waist, he moves to pinch both nipples, tweaking the erect, pink bud between his fingers and digs his fingers into your side. Sinful mewls escape you as he tilts your head up for access to the expanses of your neck and down, peppering wet, sloppy, rushed kisses to anywhere he can find, a begging, starving man and you’re his only hope of salvation.

“Steve...” you let out, hand dipping down between his legs and he groans, deep and guttural before catching your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging, your fingers threaded in his hair and pulling, and the moans that fall from him make that tight coil in your gut curl within itself, exciting you.

His cock twitches when he solicits a series of whimpers from you, lifting and pulling your shirt off and over your head to suck your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive peaks, and biting, switching between them. His fingers dance down your stomach and snaps the lining of your panties, sliding a single finger into your sex, the two equally heavenly sensations sending you to that fateful, blissful release you crave, and when a second, a third, joins you’re wrecked, moans falling out and you collapse into him as it subsides, lasting longer than any has before and he’s barely doing anything.

So this is what it should feel like.

“You were so good, baby,” he kisses your cheek, then your temple, then your neck, your lips, nose, forehead. “So good for me,” he tells you. “Do you want more, doll?”

“Absolutely.”

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stray-tori · 4 years

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TPN S02E06 - Initial Thoughts (anime-only)

hhh everything went wrong with my reaction video this time - the video is lagging (so i replaced the screenrecording with the actual episode), also facecam broken so my friends won’t get to see me tearing up and the wrong mic input was recorded so I’m sorry for the shitty quality. I’m so upset :(

Edit: Google Drive Link! :)

I don’t even know what to really talk about because I liked everything?? it was such a good episode and I just... AHHH. I wish we had so much more of THIS. please give them more seasons.... ik its already too late for that but pleaseee fidusdj- they just... do so well when they adapt imo. the whole comparison panels I’ve seen of the interactions with Norman, I just... genuinely think it’s such a highpoint and they did so friggin well.

I just... I’m so sad this will likely be the last season. I hope we’ll get more, in whatever form. I know there’s the manga and unless we get an announcement about more anime content at light speed, I do plan on reading it! I just... I love the anime. And it’s art. The manga’s art is unique but the style isn’t my jam and some stuff just looks a bit too stylized for my liking hhhh-

That won’t stop me but... it does make me emotional, I guess.

Let’s hope they stay on this path now that they’ve joined back in with the manga, somewhat (still, you couldnt even give them 12 episodes??).

. the reunion

It gave me flutters!! it’s so nice and intimate and sweet and dusdhj- THE NORMAN SQUISH. And him noticing Emma’s ear is gone TvT Her sweet, kinda embarrassed “I left it back at home” efiojsd

also the clothing line here separates the two groups, alluding to the conflict between them later in the episode. They’re strangers on two sides, and Norman is the only connecting piece.

I didn’t really dislike anything aside from Ray being left out. I just wanted them both to run for him I guess :( though it makes sense to be more distant, he also was at the shipment itself but idk, it just makes Norman seem so,,, rude that he doesn’t acknowledge Ray at all until Emma is like “hey btw I brought him too” :”D

Slap kinda deserved, on multiple fronts haha-

Though the mutual “baka” calling between Norman and Ray was adorable duihdasjdas

. Emma’s arc

a few days ago, I made that whole “anime emma’s arc” post about her feeling useless and how that might come into play - and I do hope they address it and I think they kind of are? Because GF arc Emma was always ready to have her way, even if it seemed impossible.

Either way, I feel like part of why she didn’t speak up is kind of as alluded to, that she doesn’t feel like she has the right to when she doesn’t know any other way right now. And I hope that in the next few episode we will see her headstrong and do things and be pro-active and kind of challenge that and Norman.

. Norman (+ his crew)

It was kind of on the nose when Norman held that whole speech about what she had said before, a small hint to it would have been enough I feel like, for the audience -- because I think realizing that part of his motivation in all of this was just her words and that he wanted to do that for her (I think that’s the implication) is really sweet. He is kind of the carrier here and I hope that will change because it feels like we haven’t earned this bio weapon at all - which is okay, because it probably won’t be the solution, so it’s more of a plot-moving element than an actual solution. And I hope that whatever the solution really does entail will feel less like an ass-pull and more deserved.

I feel it may have been interesting to have a pov switch somewhere in ep4 or ep5 to Norman and what he’s been up to. The reveal was kind of “...? okay?” anyway so I feel like that would have made things a little interesting, but I also really enjoy getting to know his squad now.

I’m also HIGHKEY SUS (all alarm bells are ringing) at Norman being like “Oh I just did tests” like.... BABY. PRECIOUS SON, ARE YOU PRETENDING EVERYTHING’S FINE AGAIN?

The fact that Norman didn’t bother explaining further just solidifies (to me, anyway) that he’s avoiding talking about it somewhat. He spoke about it very distantly and from an objective viewpoint.

Alone getting that tattoo on his chest must have hurt a lot. So. Please, give me a lot of angst, CW.

I hope both him and his crew will get some flashbacks or trauma moments to really solidify how badly they’ve been treated (and deliver some juicy angst).

I really loved the close-up on the meat Barbara was eating in that scene too. I felt like it didn't even have to spell it out for us that they're eating demon meat but. Oh well - it was well conveyed but I guess the characters had to confirm.

I also love that whole part about how he’s always cold to them auidhjhs - I really do feel like making a gif out of that haha.

Lambda person: “Boss?” Norman: “What? :/” Emma/Ray: “Norman!” Norman: “Yes? :)”

Also only vaguely related but what’s with people who are made to be eaten, in a state of “dead??? who knows” and then coming back as a “boss” :D Yes I’m talking about beastars.

. Mujika

Norman called her the “evil-blooded girl” and the old guy called the temple “evil-blooded” too. And he said it wasn’t a place for kids to be --- and he likely assumed that they were demon kids.

Also some nice clue before we even know to connect Mujika with the temple.

A demon temple that’s “evil-blooded” and too dangerous for demon kids?

It could just be because it’s a ruin, but he IS praying for the world to change there. Mujika seems to be able to maintain her form without eating humans, so maybe that’s what this is all aiming towards.

I guess it also means that the statue with the violet veil is Mujika??? She does have purple hair I suppose.

At first, I was surprised that Norman recognized her just by the description - there’s more than one demon girl :D but I guess only one demon girl who doesn’t need to eat humans? - and I thought he may have crossed paths with her.

But for that to be the case AND for him to assume she’s alive because Emma and Ray have met her, it can’t mean he actually MET her. Because well, RayEm met her like 2 months after his shipment. Assuming he didn’t break out immediately, he couldn’t have met AND tried to do something to her (likely kill). So my guess is that she’s some sort of legend or diety or just like, commonly known and she’s supposedly dead and he’s shocked because she isn’t.

He also first asked “where did you hear about that?” assuming he also only heard about it. Norman's reaction to them having met them also isn't "when?" (so he could confirm if it was after or before his supposed encounter with her), it's shock that they met her AT ALL. Which to me, implies that she's supposedly dead (which lines up with the temple in ruin, so something happened to her line, or whatever she's a part of). And since Norman couldn't have met her before their escape (Mujika hasn't seen a human when they meet the GF escapees), that's my conclusion.

Assuming she’s dead also makes sense since her (religion’s) temples seem to be in ruin. maybe that’s why no other demons seem to have that ability (that we know of), because it was lost when her presence was destroyed (therefore the ruins) or something of the sort.

She’s never seen a human before apparantly though, so I’m not sure what exactly that means. She doesn’t seem to have wanted freedom for humans prior to meeting them either (she only seemed hesitant about eating them after all that), so I’m not sure what her own motivation in having that sort of religion would even be.

There’s of course also sonju, so maybe it is after all a religion-thing? Who knows-

As I’ve talked about before, I think it makes a lot of sense if the demons are part of the solution, I’m just really curious what that solution actually entails for the demons / what exactly Mujika is. I still think it’s plausible that another promise between Mujika and Emma will happen, considering the narrative mirroring TPN does a lot.

. other random stuff

there’s mass production farms! I shouldn’t be surprised, but I hope we get to know more about those (likely not since yknow 5 episodes left and all that)

I also liked how they showed the different plants while talking about it, mirroring how we too mutated plants and some animals to further benefit our needs and exploitation...

The pep talk from Ray was good and the sunrise was SO BEAUTIFUL, TAKE ME NOW ANIMATORS

generally the animation, especially in the trio scene and the lambda squad hideout scenes, was so BEAUTIFUL

I liked that I kept joking about how the WM system was rly insecure if a random guy just dropped the pen for Krone to find, but NOW WE HAVE CONFIRMATION IT WAS INTENTIONAL and Smee is truly the MVP / big brain puppet master of this series.

It did seem kind of weird that Norman just left like "yeah this will probably be discovered soon. anyway, I'm leaving you here to go to my base, see ya" - LIKE BRO TAKE THEM WITH YOU SO YOU CAN PROTECT THEM IF THEY SHOW UP LIKE, TONIGHT

#tpn s2 #tpn anime #tpn #tpn anime-only #tpn theory #tori talks #tori has opinions

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sunflowerhae · 4 years

Note

Fratboy lucas😳👀 yes 🅱️lease oml

AN•I made it a bit angsty, a bit fluffy👼🏻☁️ also this is long ahha, Ik it’s not like, FRATBOY fratboy, but I actually quite like it! lemme know what u think! Also this means I get to make a wayv masterlist eye-

This party was sweltering hot and you were not having a good time. First off, your dorm mate -Elise- left you almost immediately to go talk to a boy from this frat named Johnny, and second, you knew literally nobody else here, as far as you could see.

It wasn’t your fault, though. I mean, sure, you barely left your room unless it was to go to the canteen, your classes, the library, or to the silent films they showed at the theatre every Friday night, along with your two friends Mark and Renjun (who were both from this very frat, yet you couldn’t find either). And yeah, maybe you didn’t talk to people unless you were apologizing for bumping into them, or texting them about a group project. And okay yes, it took Elise two weeks to hear more than three words out of your mouth at a time.

But, honestly, it wasn’t your fault.

You got into this school on a scholarship, and you’d be dammed if you lost it because you stopped focusing on your grades. Elise had to beg -and bribe- you to come to this NCT frat party with her, yet she leaves you five minutes in.

Fuck this, I’m going home. You thought to yourself as you hastily made your way to the door. You had texted your two friends to see where they were, yet neither answered; or even read them, for that matter. As you rounded into the hallway leading to the door, you halted with wide eyes. This seemed like an episode of wipeout to you. The floor was covered in an unknown, slippery substance, and the hallway definitely had way too many people in it for it to NOT be a health code violation. You tried mapping out the cleanest and fastest way to the door, but came up short - besides one.

Okay, you technically lied when you said you didn’t talk to anyone for fun.

Because how could you not talk to Wong Lucas when he was the most beautiful person you’ve ever met?

You remember the day you two met like it was yesterday, and not your freshman year, almost two years ago.

It was almost 12 am, and the library would be closing any second. You boringly walked up and down the aisles, dangling your workers card lanyard to the rhythm of your footsteps. You hated working the night shift at the library, but were just thankful that you had gotten a job right off then bat, anyway, so you barely complained (key word: barely).

The bookshelf hallways were - as usual for this time - empty. As you almost always did (because you were lazy), when you got to the very last shelf, you didn’t even bother to check it, just doing a small turn and continuing the way you came - until you heard the familiar sound of what sounded like a book falling on the floor. Working in a library, you were used to the sound of books being dropped on accident; so much to the point that you didn’t even flinch anymore. But this time, you were quite scared. You considered taking the trek up to the front desk where your much larger coworker, Jaehyun, would have been able to check whatever the sound was. However, you didn’t want to seem helpless, you’re an adult, for Pete’s sake.

So you took the closest weapon you saw - a book on the shelf next to you - and slowly walked where you heard the sound. Rounding the bookshelf, you expected to see a scary, old man with a black trench-coat and a hook hand (in a college library, sure).

What you saw, instead, was a TALL boy with honey colored hair and a purple hoodie standing against the bookshelf with his eyes closed and his head rested against the shelf. A deep sigh suddenly came from him, and when he opened his eyes and moved to reach and grab the book that he undoubtedly dropped, he almost yelled at your sheepish figure and wide eyes staring at him, near the corner.

With his eyes opened, and his head rested normal on his shoulders, you could get a good look at him, and saw that you knew exactly who he was. Wong Lucas; on the football team, if you’re not mistaken. A new member of the NCT frat, along with your new friend Renjun from your physics class, and his best friend, Mark. Extremely popular, especially for a freshman. You were for sure intimidated by him now; not because he was a bigger human than you, but because he was looking at you with a gaze of anger.

Wait what did I do?

“Listen, can you all stop? I just want to study, and I already have to come in at late times to be alone. There’s 100s of boys on this campus, leave me alone, please.” You didn’t really know what to say, but you were definitely annoyed, and also humored.

He really thought you were one of his stalkers.

“Um. I work here. Just coming by to say we’re closing in 5 minutes. If you could get what you needed and come check out, or get it tomorrow. Thank you!” You walked away, but you didn’t miss the rose color that slowly painted his face.

He came up to the register not even three minutes later, a poetry book called “The Worlds Wife” slipped between his fingers, a book you actually had your own copy of. You said nothing while checking him out, just smiled at him while handing the book to him. You expected him to leave right after, but he scratched his neck while staring at his feet, apologizing for what he said and asking if you wanted to stop by the 7-11, or have him walk you home - the rose color on his cheeks still prominent.

Your new roommates words repeated in your ears -“you need to get out”- like a mantra as you uncharacteristically accepted his offer (Jaehyun - who was standing to the side, finishing up closing the computer system - was so shocked he had his mouth open like a fish).

You agreed to get slushies from your local 7-11, and you both sat on the curb, laughing about anything and everything for what seemed like hours - and it was. You were pleasantly surprised to see that he was actually such a good person, with kind values and hilarious jokes. He walked you to your dorm, and kissed your cheek as a goodnight, after getting your number, and watched you walk into your dorm before leaving himself.

After that moment, it was midnight date adventures and movie nights (that usually turned into more), for the next year. He had asked you to be his girlfriend two dates after that first night, and kissed you two after that one. You loved him, and wanted to show everyone; wanted to hold his hand while walking across campus, go on coffee dates between classes, and tell everyone that Wong Lucas was yours.

Lucas did not.

He loved you, and did want to do those things with you, but he said it was because of who he was. He had girls asking him out 24/7, and they were easily jealous. If they caught wind that you two were dating, he feared that they would rip you to shreds. You loved that he cared for you, that he wanted to protect you, but it hurt that he kept you hidden from the people in his life. I mean, not even Renjun or Mark - who were in his frat - knew you two had been dating for a year.

When you had told him you were going to his frats party, he was immediately turned off to the idea. He didn’t want to worry about you, because he wouldn’t be able to be around you. You were so mad, so fed up, that it resulted in probably the worst fight of your relationship.

“Why?” You didn’t want to yell. You didn’t want your RA to come knocking and see Lucas, because god forbid anyone know you two even knew each other.

“You know why, y/n! No one knows we’re together!” You can tell he didn’t want to yell, either - most likely for the same reason. That assumption from you just made your blood boil even more.

“Yeah, why! Why can’t we tell anyone, xuxi? We’re almost juniors in college! We’re not kids anymore, this secret dating thing is bullshit!”

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt, y/n!”

“No, just admit what it’s really about. Admit that you don’t want to be seen with me, a nerd, a loser-“

“Yeah! Is that what you want to hear, y/n? Yes, it’s because you’re a loser, you’re lame, you only have two friends and don’t talk to anyone else. Why must I always be the social one? Why can’t you just go socialize with people, huh? Why couldn’t I have a girlfriend cooler than you, better, more like me?! Yes, I’m embarrassed by you! you satisfied, y/n?” He just about yelled, and you were waiting for the pounding from your RA, or a grouchy neighbor, that never came.

Lucas didn’t say anything, just stared at the ground. When you let out a mumbled, “you should go,” he didn’t hesitate to push past you and slam your door in his way out, making you flinch.

You feared you two might break up from this one, and it seemed he felt the same as he pulled the girl leaning on him - from his spot on the wall - closer, and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.

He had a beer in his one hand, so you knew he was most likely drunk.

And you were right, he was drunk. By the time he got back to his frat house, he had finally calmed down enough from your fight to rationally think about it, and he immediately wanted to run to his car and drive straight back to you. He felt terrible for saying the things he did amidst his anger. Yet, when he was about to leave, he was roped into the party prep committee, and couldn’t leave. I mean, what could he say?

My girlfriend needs me? No, they wouldn’t believe he has a girlfriend - he didn’t come off as the type, and they would assume he just didn’t want to help. He should have told them, like you wanted so long ago.

So when he hadn’t been given an opportunity to text or call you, he figured that it might be for the best, and you needed time to cool off. And he definitely needed a drink after the lecture he got by his fellow brothers about how he never gets laid at parties, and nows’ the moment. When he was drunkenly shoved into the arms of Soojin - a member of a sorority on campus, and the girl who goes around constantly claiming that she will one day have Lucas (you hated her, she did not know you existed) - he just accepted it, because maybe it would get his brothers off his back, maybe it would get soojin off his back, and it’s not like you’d know. You weren’t there, right? You wouldn’t have come after that fight, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, definitely wrong. Wrong when he looked up from his gaze on Soojin, because he had smelt your delicious and amazing perfume that he loved so much. Wrong when he locked eyes with your own teary ones, trying to scoot past their bodies morphed together, while mumbling an almost incoherent “excuse me” that no one but someone looking would have seen. Wrong when you broke free from the tight space, and speed out of the house, and he didn’t even move, just stood there staring at your retreating figure while Soojin laughed about something that happened, not even knowing what just went down. Wrong when he never went after you, and never called or texted you for a week. Wrong, all wrong.

That week was hell for both you and Lucas.

No one new you too were even dating, so when Renjun and Mark came over because you hadn’t been answering their texts, only to find you burrito wrapped in a blanket with an absurd amount of mac-n-cheese, they assumed you failed a test or something and gave you WRONG words of encouragement (they tried). When Lucas was doing terribly at practice, and was acting completely out of it, nobody asked if he was having relationship troubles. They did ask if he was having girl problems, and when he was about to say yes, his teammates went into a ramble about how taxing a bad one night stand can be on a person. Lucas chose to stay quiet.

He felt like a wimp.

Was he really that much of a loser that he didn’t even try to get you back? Did he even deserve you at all?

However, one night - exactly a week later - Lucas grew a pair (fallopian tubes, of course. Men are whimps and women are TOUGH so from here on out when I say grow a pair, I mean grow a pair of Fallopian tubes) and mapped out the perfect plan to get you back.

Two days later, you were walking through the quad with your head down, on your way to the library, when you smelt a heavy aroma of flowers. When you looked up, you couldn’t believe what you saw.

The whole quad, almost every square inch, was filled with yellow and white daisies.

Yellow and white, your favorite colors. Daisies, your favorite flower.

When you looked around for some source, you locked eyes with a boy who was already looking right at you.

He was wearing a blue tux, and was standing in the center of the daisies with one single rose in his hand. When you slowly approached him and got close enough, he took your hand in his, gave you the rose to hold in your other.

“I know I’m just some lame frat boy. I know I’m a complete loser that thinks a good time is listening to trash music while getting drunk and high, and I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you. I mean, Look at you, and this is you on a regular day.” He was referring to what you were wearing. You had your hair softly curled, and was sporting a yellow, mid-thigh length dress with flowers on it and pure white vans with with yellow, banana socks. You thought you looked basic, but you had to agree that you fit in to the scenery. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said the things I did, and I shouldn’t have made you keep our relationship a secret. You’re a grown woman, and can handle yourself. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you. Please, forgive me.” After a few seconds of your silence, a familiar voice came from your left, and when you turned around, you saw a crowd of people had gathered, and Renjun and Mark stood at the front, with mark filming, and renjun shouting,

“KISS HIM!” You chuckled at your best friends words, and when you turned back to a hopeful looking Lucas, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a fairy tale kiss, standing in that daisy field.

The ending is out of character and weird, I know, but I was thinking of Bigfish when I wrote it 😳👉👈 anyway I hope you enjoyed it!👼🏻☁️

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